The reality of witchcraft or enchantment, which, though not strictly the same, are confounded in this play, has in all ages and countries been credited by the common people, and in most by the learned themselves. These phantoms have indeed appeared more frequently, in proportion as the darkness of ignorance has been more gross; but it cannot be shown, that the brightest gleams of knowledge have at any time been sufficient to drive them out of the world. The time in which this kind of credulity was at its height, seems to have been that of the holy war, in which the Christians imputed all their defeats to enchantments or diabolical opposition, as they ascribed their success to the assistance of their military saints; and the learned Dr. Warburton appears to believe (Suppl. to the Introduction to Don Quixote) that the first accounts of enchantments were brought into this part of the world by those who returned from their eastern expeditions. But there is always some distance between the birth and maturity of folly as of wickedness: this opinion had long existed, though perhaps the application of it had in no foregoing age been so frequent, nor the reception so general. Olympiodorus, in Photius's extracts, tells us of one Libanius, who practised this kind of military magic, and having promised χώρις όττλιτῶν κατὰ βαρβάρων ἐνεργείν, “to perform great things against the barbarians without soldiers,” was, at the instances of the Emperess Placidia, put to death, when he was about to have given proofs of his abilities. The Emperess shewed some kindness in her anger by cutting him off at a time so convenient for his reputation.

But a more remarkable proof of the antiquity of this notion may be found in St. Chrysostom's book De Sacerdotio, which exhibits a scene of enchantments not exceeded by any romance of the middle age: he supposes a spectator overlooking a field of battle attended by one that points out all the various objects of horror, the engines of destruction, and the arts of slaughter. Δεικνύτο δὲ ἔτι παρὰ τοῑς ἑναντίοις καὶ πετομένους ἵππους διά τινος μαγγανείας, καὶ ὁπλίτας δι᾽ ἀέρος φερομένους, καὶ πάσην γοητίας δύναμιν καὶ ἰδέαν. “Let him then proceed to show him in the opposite armies horses flying by enchantment, armed men transported through the air, and every power and form of magic.” Whether St. Chrysostom believed that such performances were really to be seen in a day of battle, or only endeavoured to enliven his description, by adopting the notions of the vulgar, it is equally certain, that such notions were in his time received, and that therefore they were not imported from the Saracens in a later age; the wars with the Saracens however gave occasion to their propagation, not only as bigotry naturally discovers prodigies, but as the scene of action was removed to a great distance.

The Reformation did not immediately arrive at its meridian, and tho' day was gradually encreasing upon us, the goblins of witchcraft still continued to hover in the twilight. In the time of Queen Elizabeth was the remarkable trial of the witches of Warbois, whose conviction is still commemorated in an annual sermon at Huntingdon. But in the reign of King James, in which this tragedy was written, many circumstances concurred to propagate and confirm this opinion. The King, who was much celebrated for his knowledge, had, before his arrival in England, not only examined in person a woman accused of witchcraft, but had given a very formal account of the practices and illusions of evil spirits, the compacts of witches, the ceremonies used by them, the manner of detecting them, and the justice of punishing them, in his Dialogues of Daemonologie, written in the Scottish dialect, and published at Edinburgh. This book was, soon after his accession, reprinted at London, and as the ready way to gain King James's favour was to flatter his speculations, the system of Daemonologie was immediately adopted by all who desired either to gain preferment or not to lose it. Thus the doctrine of witchcraft was very powerfully inculcated; and as the greatest part of mankind have no other reason for their opinions than that they are in fashion, it cannot be doubted but this persuasion made a rapid progress, since vanity and credulity co-operated in its favour. The infection soon reached the Parliament, who, in the first year of King James, made a law by which it was enacted, chap. xii. That “if any person shall use any invocation or conjuration of any evil or wicked spirit; 2. or shall consult, covenant with, entertain, employ, feed or reward any evil or cursed spirit to or for any intent or purpose; 3. or take up any dead man, woman or child out of the grave, —or the skin, bone, or any part of the dead person, to be employed or used in any manner of witchcraft, sorcery, charm, or enchantment; 4. or shall use, practise or exercise any sort of witchcraft, sorcery, charm, or enchantment; 5. whereby any person shall be destroyed, killed, wasted, consumed, pined, or lamed in any part of the body; 6. That every such person being convicted shall suffer death.” This law was repealed in our own time.

Thus, in the time of Shakespeare, was the doctrine of witchcraft at once established by law and by the fashion, and it became not only unpolite, but criminal, to doubt it; and as prodigies are always seen in proportion as they are expected, witches were every day discovered, and multiplied so fast in some places, that Bishop Hall mentions a village in Lancashire, where their number was greater than that of the houses. The Jesuits and sectaries took advantage of this universal error, and endeavoured to promote the interest of their parties by pretended cures of persons afflicted by evil spirits; but they were detected and exposed by the clergy of the established church.

Upon this general infatuation Shakespeare might be easily allowed to found a play, especially since he has followed with great exactness such histories as were then thought true; nor can it be doubted that the scenes of enchantment, however they may now be ridiculed, were both by himself and his audience thought awful and affecting.2(VI.369)

“And fortune on his damned quarry smiling.” Thus the old copy, but I am inclined to read “quarrel.”b “Quarrel” was formerly used for “cause,” or for “the occasion of a quarrel,” and is to be found in that sense in Hollingshead's account of the story of Macbeth, who, upon the creation of the Prince of Cumberland, thought, says the historian, that he had “a just quarrel” to endeavour after the crown. The sense therefore is, “Fortune smiling on his execrable cause,” &c. This is followed by Dr. Warburton.(VI.373)

The old copy reads, They doubly redoubled strokes.(VI.375)

It is probable that this passage was first corrupted by writing “safe” for “save,” and the lines then stood thus: doing nothing Safe tow'rd your love and honour. which the next transcriber observing to be wrong, and yet not being able to discover the real fault, altered to the present reading.

Dr. Warburton has since changed “fiefs” to “fief'd,” and Hanmer has altered “safe” to “shap'd.” I am afraid none of us have hit the right word.(VI.389)

This writer thought himself perhaps very sagacious that he found a meaning which nobody missed, the difficulty still remains how such a meaning is made by the words.g

“If that which I am about to do, when it is once done and executed, were done and ended without any following effects, it would then be best to do it quickly; if the murder could terminate in itself, and restrain the regular course of consequences, if its success could secure its surcease, if being once done successfully, without detection, it could fix a period to all vengeance and enquiry, so that this blow might be all that I have to do, and this anxiety all that I have to suffer; if this could be my condition, even here in this world, in this contracted period of temporal existence, on this narrow bank in the ocean of eternity, I would jump the life to come, I would venture upon the deed without care of any future state. But this is one of these cases in which judgment is pronounced and vengeance inflicted upon us here in our present life. We teach others to do as we have done, and are punished by our own example.”(1773: IV.428)

This topic, which has been always employed with too much success, is used in this scene with peculiar propriety, to a soldier by a woman. Courage is the distinguishing virtue of a soldier, and the reproach of cowardice cannot be borne by any man from a woman, without great impatience.

She then urges the oaths by which he had bound himself to murder Duncan, another art of sophistry by which men have sometimes deluded their consciences, and persuaded themselves that what would be criminal in others is virtuous in them; this argument Shakespeare, whose plan obliged him to make Macbeth yield, has not confuted, though he might easily have shown that a former obligation could not be vacated by a latter: that obligations laid on us by a higher power, could not be overruled by obligations which we lay upon ourselves. (VI.399)

Night is described by two great poets, but one describes a night of quiet, the other of perturbation. In the night of Dryden, all the disturbers of the world are laid asleep; in that of Shakespeare, nothing but sorcery, lust and murder, is awake. He that reads Dryden, finds himself lull'd with serenity, and disposed to solitude and contemplation. He that peruses Shakespeare, looks round alarmed, and starts to find himself alone. One is the night of a lover, the other, of a murderer. (VI.404)

When the reading is thus adjusted, he wishes with great propriety, in the following lines, that the “earth” may not “hear his steps.”(VI.405)

I believe every one that has attentively read this dreadful soliloquy is disappointed at the conclusion, which, if not wholly unintelligible, is, at least, obscure, nor can be explained into any sense worthy of the author. I shall therefore propose a slight alteration. Thou sound and firm-set earth,4 Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my where-about, And talk —the present horrour of the time! That now suits with it.—

Macbeth has, in the foregoing lines, disturbed his imagination by enumerating all the terrors of the night; at length he is wrought up to a degree of frenzy, that makes him afraid of some supernatural discovery of his design, and calls out to the stones not to betray him, not to declare where he walks, nor “to talk.”—As he is going to say of what, he discovers the absurdity of his suspicion, and pauses, but is again overwhelmed by his guilt, and concludes, that such are the horrours of the present night, that the stones may be expected to cry out against him. That now suits with it.

He observes in a subsequent passage, that on such occasions “stones have been known to move.” It is now a very just and strong picture of a man about to commit a deliberate murder under the strongest conviction of the wickedness of his design. Of this alteration, however, I do not now see much use, and certainly see no necessity.k

Whether to “take horrour from the time” means not rather to “catch it” as communicated, than to “deprive the time of horrour,” deserves to be considered.(VI.406)

It is not improbable, that Shakespeare put these forced and unnatural metaphors into the mouth of Macbeth as a mark of artifice and dissimulation, to show the difference between the studied language of hypocrisy, and the natural outcries of sudden passion. This whole speech so considered, is a remarkable instance of judgment, as it consists entirely of antithesis and metaphor.(VI.417)

Each of these words might easily be confounded with that which I have substituted for it by a hand not exact, a casual blot, or a negligent inspection.

This note was written before I was fully acquainted with Shakespeare's manner, and I do not now think it of much weight; for though the words, which I was once willing to eject, seem interpolated, I believe they may still be genuine, and added by the authour in his revision. The authour of the Revisal cannot admit the measure to be faulty. There is only one foot, he says, put for another. This is one of the effects of literature in minds not naturally perspicacious. Every boy or girl finds the metre imperfect, but the pedant comes to its defence with a tribrachys or an anapaest, and sets it right at once by applying to one language the rules of another. If we may be allowed to change feet, like the old comic writers, it will not be easy to write a line not metrical. To hint this once, is sufficient.n (VI.424)

That this remark may not appear too trivial, I shall take occasion from it to point out a beautiful passage of Milton evidently copied from a book of no greater authority, in describing the gates of hell. Book 2.V. 879. he says, On a sudden open fly, With impetuous recoil and jarring sound, Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate Harsh thunder.

In the history of Don Bellianis, when one of the knights approaches, as I remember, the castle of Brandezar, the gates are said to open “grating harsh thunder upon their brasen hinges.”6(VI.424)

Macbeth is assuring the assassins that they shall not want directions to find Banquo, and therefore says, I will—- Acquaint you with a perfect spy o' th' time. Accordingly a third murderer joins them afterwards at the place of action.

“Perfect” is “well instructed,” or “well informed,” as in this play, Though in your state of honour I am perfect, though I am “well acquainted” with your quality and rank.

The authour might mean, “It is better that Banquo's blood were on thy face, than he in this room.” Expressions thus imperfect are common in his works.(VI.433)

The common afflictions which the malice of witches produced were melancholy, fits, and loss of flesh, which are threatned by one of Shakespeare's witches. Weary sev'n-nights, nine times nine, Shall he dwindle, peak and pine.

It was likewise their practice to destroy the cattle of their neighbours, and the farmers have to this day many ceremonies to secure their cows and other cattle from witchcraft; but they seem to have been most suspected of malice against swine. Shakespeare has accordingly made one of his witches declare that she has been “killing swine,” and Dr. Harsenet observes, that about that time, “a sow could not be ill of the measles, nor a girl of the sullens, but some old woman was charged with witchcraft.” Toad, that under the cold stone, Days and nights has, thirty-one, Swelter'd venom sleeping got; Boil thou first i' th' charmed pot. Toads have likewise long lain under the reproach of being by some means accessary to witchcraft, for which reason Shakespeare, in the first scene of this play, calls one of the spirits “Padocke” or “Toad,” and now takes care to put a toad first into the pot. When Vaninus was seized at Tholouse, there was found at his lodgings ingens bufo vitro inclusus, “a great toad shut in a vial,” upon which those that prosecuted him veneficium exprobrabant, “charged him,” I suppose, “with witchcraft.” Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt, and toe of frog;— For a charm, &c. The propriety of these ingredients may be known by consulting the books De Viribus Animalium and De Mirabilibus Mundi, ascribed to Albertus Magnus, in which the reader, who has time and credulity, may discover very wonderful secrets. Finger of birth-strangled babe, Ditch-deliver'd by a drab;— It has been already mentioned in the law against witches, that they are supposed to take up dead bodies to use in enchantments, which was confessed by the woman whom King James examined, and who had of a dead body that was divided in one of their assemblies, two fingers for her share. It is observable that Shakespeare, on this great occasion, which involves the fate of a king, multiplies all the circumstances of horror. The babe, whose finger is used, must be strangled in its birth; the grease must not only be human, but must have dropped from a gibbet, the gibbet of a murderer; and even the sow, whose blood is used, must have offended nature by devouring her own farrow. These are touches of judgment and genius. And now about the cauldron sing— Black spirits and white, Blue spirits and grey, Mingle, mingle, mingle, You that mingle may. And in a former part, weyward sisters, hand in hand,— Thus do go about, about,

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Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine, And thrice again to make up nine! These two passages I have brought together, because they both seem subject to the objection of too much levity for the solemnity of enchantment, and may both be shown, by one quotation from Camden's account of Ireland, to be founded upon a practice really observed by the uncivilised natives of that country. “When any one gets a fall,” says the informer of Camden, “he starts up, and turning three times to the right digs a hole in the earth; for they imagine that there is a spirit in the ground, and if he falls sick in two or three days, they send one of their women that is skilled in that way to the place, where she says, 'I call thee from the East, West, North and South, from the groves, the woods, the rivers, and the fens, from the fairies red, black, white.'” There was likewise a book written before the time of Shakespeare, describing, amongst other properties, the “colours” of spirits.

Many other circumstances might be particularised, in which Shakespeare has shown his judgment and his knowledge. (VI.444)

He who can discover what is meant by him that earnestly exhorts him to “bestride” his “downfal birth-doom,” is at liberty to adhere to the present text; but it is probable that Shakespeare wrote, like good men, Bestride our downfaln birthdom — The allusion is to a man from whom something valuable is about to be taken by violence, and who, that he may defend it without incumbrance, lays it on the ground, and stands over it with his weapon in his hand. Our birthdom, or birthright, says he, lies on the ground, let us, like men who are to fight for what is dearest to them, not abandon it, but stand over it, and defend it. This is a strong picture of obstinate resolution. So Falstaff says to Hal, When I am down, if thou wilt bestride me, so.

“Birthdom” for “birth-right” is formed by the same analogy with “masterdom” in this play, signifying the “privileges” or “rights” of a “master.”

Perhaps it might be “birth-dame” for “mother”; let us stand over our mother that lies bleeding on the ground. (VI.457)

The author of the Revisal conceives the sense of the passage to be rather this: “And may the success of that goodness, which is about to exert itself in my behalf, be such as may be equal to the justice of my quarrel.”q

But I am inclined to believe that Shakespeare wrote, and the chance, O goodness, Be like our warranted quarrel!— This some of his transcribers wrote with a small “o,” which another imagined to mean “of.” If we adopt this reading, the sense will be, “and O thou sovereign Goodness, to whom we now appeal, may our fortune answer to our cause.”(VI.462)

The authour has “May” in the same sense elsewhere.2 (VI.472)

“More and less” is the same with “greater and less.” So in the interpolated Mandeville, a book of that age, there is a chapter of India “the more and the less.”(VI.475)

Such was once my conjecture, but I am now less confident. Macbeth might mean, that there would have been a more convenient “time” for such a “word,” for such “intelligence,” and so fall into the following reflection. We say we send “word” when we give intelligence.(VI.476)

When Seyward, the martial Earl of Northumberland, understood that his son, whom he had sent in service against the Scotchmen, was slain, he demanded whether his wounds were in the fore part or hinder part of his body. When it was answered, in the fore part, he replied, “I am right glad; neither wish I any other death to me or mine.”(VI.482)

The danger of ambition is well described; and I know not whether it may not be said in defence of some parts which now seem improbable, that, in Shakespeare's time, it was necessary to warn credulity against vain and illusive predictions.

The passions are directed to their true end. Lady Macbeth is merely detested; and though the courage of Macbeth preserves some esteem, yet every reader rejoices at his fall.(VI.484)