Macbeth. How a guilty conscience gives birth to a crime.

Contemplation of how a guilty conscience can lead us to a bigger downfall – using Shakespeare’s tragedies as an example.

 

Of all of Shakespeare’s tragedies, ‘Macbeth’ is perhaps the darkest.

 

At the beginning of the play, Macbeth is one of the generals of King Duncan’s army. He is praised by the king after a military victory, but soon after meets three witches who make the prediction that he, Macbeth, will be king. Enticed by the witches’ prediction, Macbeth kills Duncan and blames the deceased king’s sons (who are forced to flee) for the deed. Macbeth seizes the throne. With these events the spiral of murders begins to unwind – Macbeth tries to hold onto his power, eliminating real and apparent threats, until finally the whole country turns away from him, and he dies.

 

All the while it cannot be said that Macbeth is completely devoid of a conscience. On the contrary, his conscience is troubling him, constantly providing him with terrible visions. But not only do these visions not stop him, quite the opposite is the case – they only strengthen his desire to kill.

 

In ‘Hamlet’, King Claudius, who had killed his own brother with the aim of becoming the king, also suffers from pangs of conscience. Moreover, Claudius is well aware of the lowness of his action (“O, my offence is rank it smells to heaven”), unlike Macbeth, who does not admit this to himself. In this regard, Claudius is above Macbeth. Yet Claudius also aspires to kill his nephew, Hamlet; albeit only after he realizes that Hamlet is dangerous, but still.

 

Would Claudius have decided to kill Hamlet if he hadn’t first killed his brother (Hamlet’s father)? I believe not. Murder was not the only way to resolve that situation, and was not even the best.

 

Goethe writes of Hamlet’s “feeling of nothingness”. But Claudius’s “feeling of nothingness” is no less than the prince’s. The reasons behind those feelings are different: for Claudius, it is the feeling of guilt, and for Hamlet, a feeling of helplessness – but in reality they both result in more or less the same thing. The energy level of these feelings is low. The feeling of worthlessness led Hamlet towards a catastrophe, but it also led Claudius towards a catastrophe.

 

And that same feeling manifests most deeply in Macbeth. His guilt is driven inside him, yet at the same time he is a brave and strong man who is used to winning, with many past victories to his name. He is not like Hamlet and not even like Iago. But strength, determination and courage not only do not save him, they turn against him. His conscience does not give him peace, and all that he does only worsens his situation.

 

Having decided to kill Duncan (that is, to commit a dishonest act, and doubly so – for Duncan is not only the king, he is also Macbeth’s guest), he makes a choice. And this choice is more serious than it seems to him initially. It is not just a path to power by way of stepping over others to get ahead; it is a path towards the inner feeling of one’s own worthlessness. And it is easier to follow this path than to step off it. Or, in Macbeth’s own words:

 

Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.

 

Macbeth stoops very low indeed, far lower than most of the other negative characters in Shakespeare’s works. He fully comprehends the futility of the life he had lived.

 

I have lived long enough: my way of life

Is fall’n into the sear, the yellow leaf;

And that which should accompany old age,

As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,

I must not look to have; but, in their stead,

Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,

Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.

 

What is interesting is that Macbeth understands everything,

 

Nought’s had, all’s spent,

Where our desire is got without content:

‘Tis safer to be that which we destroy

Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.

 

but intellectual understanding gives him nothing. He does not have the strength to leave the path that he had chosen.

 

In the 17th century, India was ruled by Emperor Aurangzeb, the sixth ruler of the Mughal Empire and the great-grandson of the famous Akbar the Great. Aurangzeb got his throne through killing his brothers and imprisoning his father (though the fratricide was typical of the eastern empires). Aurangzeb was outstandingly educated and well-versed in the arts. He was a remarkable military commander, and, despite his great wealth, adhered to modesty in clothing and everyday life.

 

During the reigns of Akbar and his successors, a cornerstone of the Empire was religious tolerance. Hinduism and Islam coexisted fairly peacefully in the empire. Aurangzeb abolished this tolerance and began to propagate Islam with fire and sword. Hindu shrines were desecrated, and a tax was imposed on non-Muslims. This caused fierce resistance – and rebellion after rebellion was spawned. Aurangzeb darted around the state, quenching one uprising after another, while still successfully waging war with his enemies (during his reign the territory of the Empire expanded to its maximum limits). The military power of this emperor was tremendous, and his military art was exceptional.

 

Unlike Macbeth, Aurangzeb lived to be an old man. Before his death at the ripe old age of 88, he wrote in a letter to his son:

 

I came a stranger into this world, and a stranger I depart. I do not know who I am, nor what I have been doing. The instant which has passed in power has left only sorrow behind it. I have not been the guardian and protector of the empire. My valuable time has been passed vainly…

 

But Aurangzeb does not attempt to deny the value of life as such; he only expresses regret that his own life was in vain. Macbeth goes farther, much farther (or rather, much lower), and denies the value of life itself.

 

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

 

He exhibits the two main signs of deep depression: thoughts of suicide and the desire that others should have it even worse:

 

I gin to be aweary of the sun,

And wish the estate o’ the world were now undone.

 

How did the pangs of conscience – the purpose of which is actually to elevate us – lead Macbeth and Claudius downwards?

 

Paradoxically, Macbeth and Claudius would both have been much happier and more successful if their conscience had not tormented them. For example, if they had been villains to the core.

 

If Claudius had been a villain, Hamlet would have been slain before the play had even begun. On the other hand, if Claudius had not killed his brother, he would hardly have set out to kill Hamlet; but rather, he would have found a milder way to protect himself and his power. Especially since he had the full support of the queen.

 

The fact is, however, that neither Claudius nor Macbeth can become such villains who have no remorse whatsoever. They have already passed that stage of their development, and there is no way back for them. Just like an adult can no longer return to a state of childhood.

 

And at their stage of personal development, that which previously would not have caused them to experience any emotions (remorse, guilt), now causes such. A villain who kills left and right without any feelings acts in accordance with his self-image and is whole. Meanwhile Claudius’ and Macbeth’s actions contradict their respective self-images – and that is their tragedy. With each new crime, they move further away from their ideal, i.e., from who they want to be deep inside themselves; and with each such step, the insufferable pangs of conscience grow, and then become suppressed. Suppressed emotions are a terrible thing, and their strength always turns against us.

 

All of Macbeth’s actions after the murder of Duncan are somewhat convulsive, almost hysterical. At the same time, Macbeth is not a coward; Shakespeare emphasizes this repeatedly. But his energy moves downward, and then comes fear. Fear forces Macbeth to run to the witches and to cling superstitiously to their predictions. Externally, Macbeth is strong, he is still trying to face fate’s challenges, but inside he is already broken. Fear stands behind the hectic actions of a once brave man. And behind the fear are (repressed) remorse and the feeling of guilt. It is they which direct the movement of energy downward.

 

But the path of Macbeth and Claudius is not the only one, and is certainly not mandatory.

 

Here is the example of Hadji Murat, the hero of Leo Tolstoy’s short novel called “Hadji Murat”. He is an Avar (highlander) leader who had risen against the Russians and fought them for a long time. At the very beginning of his journey, Hadji Murat erred. He fled from the battlefield, leaving his friends to die.

 

I ran there and saw Umma Khan lying prone in a pool of blood, and Abu Nutsal was fighting the murids. One of his cheeks had been hacked off and hung down. He supported it with one hand and with the other stabbed with his dagger at all who came near him. I saw him strike down Hamzad’s brother and aim a blow at another man, but then the murids fired at him and he fell.”

Hadji Murad stopped and his sunburnt face flushed a dark red and his eyes became bloodshot.

“I was seized with fear and ran away.”

“Really? . . . I thought thou never wast afraid,” said Loris- Melikov.

“Never after that. . . . Since then I have always remembered that shame, and when I recalled it I feared nothing!”

 

I shall not compare Hadji Murat’s and Macbeth’s situations; it’s one thing to flee from the battlefield in the grips of fear, and quite another to kill the king, a relative and guest, most traitorously in his sleep.

 

But Hadji Murat shows the true purpose of remorse, of feelings of guilt. We need them so that we can change, so that we become different. Hadji Murat does not hide his past action from the Russian nobleman (whom he barely knew), even though after so many years this action still causes strong emotions in him. But Hadji Murat was able to use his misstep and his remorse to become a different person.

 

Unlike Hadji Murat, neither Claudius nor Macbeth is able to use the power of guilt to his advantage. While Hamlet had come a long way from the consciousness of his own worthlessness to an awareness of his own strength and integrity (even if it happened just before his death), Macbeth went in the opposite direction – from the awareness of his own power to the consciousness of his own complete worthlessness and of the futility of his life.

 

Emotions are a force. And a force can be used in many ways. If it is used incorrectly, then it turns against us. But the real purpose of this force is to help us:

 

To become a different person.