The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1867-10-25


nation they desire.
But the Scottish monarch sought those to |
whom alone he could CO. those midnight hags |
whose prophecy had led him on to its fulfil
ment, and who, he judged, could tell him what |
was yet to be- Saul had possessed other
means of knowing the future, and had en-
ployed them, but in vain. He had inquired of
the d, but the Lord answered him not,
neither by Dreams nor by Urim, nor by pro-
phets. No details are given; we do not look
in upon the workings of Saul's mind as we do
in the case of Macbeth, yet from the hints
supplied we can easily conceive his forlora
and Iitiable condition. Day after day he
knocked at Heavens gate and waited for
such replies as had come in other days,
but waited in vain. Day after day he
cried great questions, as it were, into
the ear of God, but received no answer save
the echo of his own importunate words
Breathess anxiety deepened into unutterable
anguish, hope deferred made the heart sick;
the soul of the Lords anointed was whelmed
and sunk in woe as the awful truth grew
palmer and palmer that the Lord had forsaken
| him. OF all men he had most need OF Heavens
help and guidance; but Heaven to hun was
| voiceless, he had lost his former hold upon it.
He must turn, therefore, to those who, like
| himself, were the objects of Gods anger and
vengeance. Since good had left him, he must
| learn from evil. He bade his servants seek
| out woman who had a familiar spirit,
! that he might inquire of her. They told
| him of such an one who dwelt at Endor a
village about sixty miles north of Jerusalem.
So Macbeth, stained with Banquo's murder
as well as Duncan's haunted by his con-
| science, which evoked the slain chieftain from
| his bloody resting-place by the roadside, and
| seated him at a banquet in the palace; know
| ing that all men suspected and hated him;
| without human counsellors on whom he could
| rely, or human sympathizers whom he dared
| wholly trust; resolved in his hour of deep
necessity to seek the witches with whom he
had before traficked in affairs ofdeath.
| "I am bent to know
| By the worst means, the worst"
The next morning, when he meets them at
the pit of Acheron, his language shows the
desperate determination of one whose hope of
Heaven is utterly gone, and who seeks aid and
counsel from the powers of HE'LL
"Thougn the treasure
OF natures germtns tumble all together,
| Even till destruction sicken, answer me
To what ask yout"
The king of Israel disguised himself and put
on other raiment and, accompanied only by
two of his servants, iourneyed through the
land until by night they came to the woman
at Endor. Then he demanded that she should
by her familiar spirit bring up him whom he
should name. The woman, perhaps suspect
ing to whom that tall form belonged, and natu-
rally distrustfui of any stranger, since Saul
had put to death all who were known to have
practised with familiar spirits, refused to en-
| ploy her art until by the most solemn oaths
her safety had been assured. There IS
in this remarkable coincidence with
tl,o relation eustained by the Scottish
| Thane to the weird sisters The popular sup
|, | position is that Macbeth was tempted by
, them to his bloody deeds, but the text shows
| that thew were rather tempted by him. In
, the opening of the tragedy they throw them
selves in his way; bat it is because they re-
cognize in HIM a secret influence which
, attracts them. Floating hither and thither in
search of methods and instruments of wicked
a ness, they are drawn towards the successful
I warrior as the lightning in a wandering
+ cloud is drawn towards a rod of steel. a
/ hidden affinity exists between these secret
i black, and midnight hags and the
o seemingly frank and generous Thanc
n of Glamis. Meeting him and Banqut
r on the blasted heath, they make M
g reply to the latter captain, ''each her choppy
IS finger laying upon her skinny lips" but a.
70 Macbeth's command they respond, not IL
It answering his query as to what they are, bu
Ie in oracular proclamation of his present ant
d future titles
Of "All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be king here
10 At the words he starts like one whose secre
). thoughts have been unfolded, whose dim an,
v half formed purpose has been revealed, VIII
!. hears plainly and loudly spoken what hithert
has been only family and vaguely whispers
: in the dark chambers of his heart. 1t is tn
e chemical solution bringing into view tn
/ image lying unseen upon the sensitive plate 0
IS the photographer. Thane of Cawdor he ha,
a not thought to be, but the mention of kingl.
10 | honor and estate was like the recurTenc
id Of some dim, almost forgotten dream. Il
IL a moment messengers arrive from tn
@ king announcing to Macbeth that he is mad
,l Thane of CawdOr, the former owner of tina
r title having been condemned to death for trea
,e son. 1t would seem reasonable and natura
that, the first prediction having been thus ful
filled without step or action on his part h
10 might well have been content to wait for tn
ID coming of the greater honor foretold by tn
same authorities. But instead of that he leap
q at once to bloody and dreadful conclusion
He will murder Duncan and so succeed to hi
high ofice:-
70 "My thought, whose murder yet is but fantai
10 tical."
Only man bad in grain, utterly selfish
and with an outraged conscience, could o
would rush into such cruel and bloody wa
% in the absence of any suggestion to that effect
The witches made no mention of murder
II they but prophesied that he should
king. The fulflment Of their first prediotio
it that he should be "Thane of Cawdor'-fo
lowed upon the very heels of their foretellinl
D. They judged rightly in supposing that tn
m mere mention of kingly honors would be
y, talismanic word bringing into life and powt
an the latent evil of his nature. Wicked then
lg selves, they felt the subtle power of inherel
n and controlling wickedness in him, an
an sought him of kin with themselves Uncol