Interested in Aristotle? Confused by Macbeth? Wondering what the former has in common with the latter? No? Well then, you probably don't want to read my essay on the subject:

Seriously, this is what my blog is going to be about. Occasionally people say they want to read my papers and I figured, rather than send them out individually, I'll just throw them up on The Gash.

This paper argues that Macbeth is not a Christian play, but operates on a more rationalistic morality defined by Aristotle in his "Golden Mean" - which I take pains to explain (though my teacher told me that was the weakest part of the paper; this is a glorified rough draft). This is not to say that Macbeth has no biblical principles, but Shakespeare has fashioned a world in which the traditional lens of Christ-centered salvation. Macbeth sins against a pagan moral order, and I think Shakespeare wants to show how sin doesn't always have ramifications on a transcendent plane. This goes with my thesis that, while Shakespeare's plays sometimes have Biblical undercurrents, ultimate he was not a Christian (it is not only my thesis, but I hold to it).

(Attention MLA format goons: everything was in the right place when i finished, but the fault lies not in my stars but microsoft word)

Here goes nothing:

“Measure, Time, and Place”: The Golden Mean in Macbeth

In his Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle writes about the “nature of the states of character that are produced” (953). The virtuous man must “act according to the right rule.” To elucidate the virtue, Aristotle employs a “sphere of actualization,” traditionally referred to as a “golden mean” (954). In order to comprehend the virtue, one must understand the proportionality that “both produces and increases and preserves it.” For example, in the case of the courage, Aristotle presents the alternate poles of cowardice and rashness. The virtuous man, then, will exist in between the excess and the deficiency, both of which will destroy him and the virtue he seeks to uphold. The mean preserves the virtue as a truly brave man can “stand (his) ground against them.”

The resurgence of an Aristotelian world order characterizes the Renaissance and its writers. Charles B. Schmitt writes, “the comprehensive nature and persisting validity of the Aristotelian synthesis still had value for the age” (Schmitt 33). Edmund Spenser, in particular, sought to synthesize Aristotle’s pre-Christian teaching with Biblical doctrines of temperance, holiness, and humility.

In analyzing William Shakespeare’s Macbeth, one might assume that in his depiction of such depraved “dread exploits” (IV.i.164), the author purposely removes virtue. The focus does seem to be on Macbeth’s immediate descent into vice through the vehicle of selfish ambition, vain trust in apparition, and a darkening of heart and conscience. It puts the emphasis on the personified idiot’s tale that the doomed Macbeth makes life to be, “full of sound and fury, signifying nothing” (V.iv.30).

Throughout the play, however, there is a clear moral imperative, similar to Aristotle’s, to “temper” ambition. Also, the results of the excessive vices that Aristotle mentions are vividly portrayed. In Shakespeare’s fiction, the tragic result of this violation is Macbeth’s recognition that the world is an idiot’s tale, ultimately meaningless, when removed from the divine ratio. As Harold Bloom notes, Macbeth “allows no relevance to Christian revelation” (519). Macbeth’s sin is not against God, but man, and in a humanistic order that the Golden Mean upholds. His primary blasphemy comes in the distortion of the Aristotle’s proportional virtue, and in this offense he falls victim to the “punishment” that is also “a kind of cure” (Aristotle 595) For violating the mean, Macbeth realizes that “what’s done cannot be undone” (V.i.71) and accepts a bloody fate. In the closing scenes, when few examples of moderation remain, the audience experiences the cathartic reminder of temperance when Malcolm exhorts the need for “measure, time, and place” (V.viii.86) in the kingdom to come. Catharsis, a term familiar to Aristotle, makes Shakespeare’s play a stark and subtle (at times subliminal) but masterfully intricate actualization of the Golden Mean.

Rather than the traditional optic of Christian morality, I will view Macbeth through the ancient, but inherently applicable prism of Aristotle’s ethic. Seen through this lens, scenes take on new layers, as the man who does not “despise things that are terrible” (Aristotle 594) faces a grisly fate. The horror of Macbeth becomes a humanistic nightmare for those who seek success outside of Aristotle’s definition of virtue.

Each of the “weird sisters” welcome Macbeth with a progression of titles: first as Thane of Cawdor, next as Thane of Glamis, and finally as “king hereafter” (I.iii.51-54). His previous position, before an exhibition of distinguishing valor, the Thane of Glamis. represents the deficient state for Macbeth. As Duncan will point out, “I have begun to plant thee and will labor to thee full of growing” (I.iv.32-33). This “harvest,” as Banquo calls it, is a worthy reward, “the proportion both of thanks and payment” (I.iv.22). For the moment, Macbeth proves to have the virtue the previous Thane of Cawdor lacked. Such prophecy from the mouth of the second witch is not altogether noxious, but accurate, as this “supernatural soliciting” finds fulfillment (I.iv.43). While the first and second witches’ words represent the (deficient) past and (virtuous) present, the third witch offers him a glimpse of excess – kingship. Macbeth immediately recognizes that such a title is akin to “borrowed robes” (I.iii.115), and reminds both himself and his companion Banquo not to “eat the insane root that takes men prisoner” (I.iii.85). Brave Macbeth is not without his neuroses, but such soul-searching proves appropriate. He lacks the experience, virtue, and nobility necessary to accept these “robes.” Still, the stirring ambition in Macbeth, in the form of a “horrid image”, inspires him to achieve what he cannot and that what for which he is not ready. The demeaning and seditious words of his wife will lead him to commit murder, thus taking what does not belong to him, and veering into the excess of his just state.

Stirred by ambition, Macbeth struggles with accepting the merited position, Thane of Glamis, that Duncan offers him. Lady Macbeth convinces him that this position is wholly beneath him, and that the position of king is due him. She finds the present “ignorant” and wants to feel the future in an “instant” (I.vi.65-66). In encouraging Macbeth to find his present state deficient, Lady Macbeth further steers Macbeth toward the excess. Macbeth recognizes “vaulting ambition” (I.vii.27) as necessary for him to achieve this state. He must “vault” over the appropriate state to which he belongs, and in doing so commit the dastardly act of murder. When Macbeth announces he will “proceed no further in this business,” (I.vii.34) Lady Macbeth challenges him, saying:

. . . Art thou afeard

To be the same in thine own act and valor,

As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that

Which thou esteem’st the ornament of life

And live a coward in thine own esteem,

Letting “I dare not” wait upon “I would,”

Like the poor cat I’ th’adage? (I.vii.43-49)

Macbeth responds, “I dare do all that may become a man. Who dares more is none” (I.iv.51). Here, Macbeth argues, like Aristotle, that what “becomes a man” are just and temperate actions, while Lady Macbeth distorts Macbeth’s idea of virtue into cowardice. It is this distortion of the Golden Mean that causes Macbeth to commit his foul deeds, as his wife’s emasculation helps to rid him of his innate virtues. His association of “cowardice” with inaction guides his next step. Ever the valiant soldier, Macbeth must prove that he belongs, that he is a man – to his wife, to his countrymen, and even to the king he must slay. Macbeth can stand being a step below a king, but he cannot take such demeaning talk from his wife. Her exhortation to “screw your courage to the sticking place” is in reality a twisted directive to act rashly, out of unjust ambition and murderous intent. Macbeth has now disassociated courage with the ideal, moderate virtue that Aristotle describes, and replaced it with a vision of his own selfish glory.

After killing Duncan, Macbeth remarks, “To know my deed, ‘twere best not to know myself” (II.i.93). Nonetheless, Macbeth makes a game attempt at wearing the “borrowed robes” that have been placed upon him. However, consumed by Banquo’s “dauntless temper” (III.i.56), and by the earlier prophecy that his sons will become kings, Macbeth worries that his crown is “fruitless” as long as Banquo lives, but takes comfort in the fact that Banquo, like Duncan, is expendable (3.iii.43). Macbeth strikes quickly and hires murderers who swiftly kill Banquo. Perhaps in celebration, Macbeth holds a banquet and invites many noble Lords to attend. This is a display of his kingship, his adequacy. His words resemble not only the earlier kingly speech of Duncan, but also the proportional vocabulary of Aristotle. Inviting the Lords to sit, He reminds them that they know their “degrees” and that the hostess, Lady Macbeth, equally keeps her “state” (3.iv.6-7). Now the banquet table becomes an apt metaphor for proportion and measure. As the scene opens, everyone sits in his right place, and the woman serves her royal purpose. The latter is most ironic, as Lady Macbeth surely dominates and emasculates her husband. The very act that put Macbeth in his position came from Lady Macbeth’s jests, as opposed to his own capacities. Nothing about the scene is true, least of all Macbeth’s noble standing. The ridiculous spectacle he will create is further evidence of his undoing.

The deceit continues when, after his guests are seated, Macbeth comments, “Both sides are even. Here I’ll sit i’ ‘th midst” (III.iv.11-12). The scene depicts order, but the immediate entrance of the murderer shows the underlying chaos. Since Banquo’s son Fleance remains alive, the murderous spree will continue. In an aside, Macbeth fears Fleance, lamenting, “I had else been perfect . . . but now I am cabined” (III.iv.23,26). When Macbeth returns to the table, he finds Banquo, in ghostly form, sitting in his place. The Lords may know their respective degrees, but Macbeth’s state has been blurred, as only he can see the spirit. There is a dual symbolism in the appearance Banquo’s ghost. First, he represents the complicit guilt that Macbeth feels, and will never be able to escape, for his lost comrade. But that the ghost chooses to sit in Macbeth’s seat, in the “midst” of the table, reminds both Macbeth and the audience that he will never be able to return to a noble middle state.

Unbalanced by the ghost, Macbeth creates a spectacle with an apparently insane tirade. When the ghost finally leaves, Macbeth feels “like a man again” (III.iv.131). Lady Macbeth rebukes him, telling him that he has “displaced the mirth . . . with most admired disorder” (III.iv.132-134). The orderly distinctions that the Golden Mean upholds have given way to frightening apparitions. Truly now, “nothing is but what is not” and those who would trust Macbeth to lead now see him for the truly excessive, dangerous figure he has become.

As a rebellion against Macbeth grows, Malcolm, Duncan’s son, tests the loyalties of Macduff. In doing so, he reveals the true qualities of a king, stating that he has none in an attempt to reveal Macduff’s true nature. He announces:

. . . The king-becoming graces

As justice, verity, tempr’rance, stableness,

Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,

Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,

I have no relish of them but abound

In the devision of each several crime,

Acting it in many ways. Nay, had I power, I should

Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,

Uproar the universal peace, confound

All unity on earth. (IV.iii.115)

Macduff is outraged and terrified at Duncan’s apparent world-view, bemoaning, “O my breast! My hope ends here!” (IV.iii.132) The act is a subversive ploy to test Macduff’s loyalties, but by contrast Malcolm’s words represent the qualities, discussed in Nicomachean Ethics, that Macbeth lacks and a truly noble king should possess. Malcolm instantly admits to his necessary trickery, claiming that “modest wisdom plucks me from overcredulous haste” (IV.iii.139). Whether or not Malcolm is truly virtuous, or merely setting himself up as a foil for the depraved Macbeth remains to be seen. But in his subversive espousal of “modest” virtues, he at least recognizes the traits a king should have, and in which Macbeth has fallen deficient.

As the play draws to a close, Macbeth recognizes his world is falling apart. After learning his wife is dead, he ruefully personifies life as the brief but gravely meaningless ranting of an idiot. Macbeth also senses his impending doom as the prophetic fulfillment of the apparent movement of Birnam Wood signals his downfall. He declares, “I ‘gin to be weary of the sun and wish th’estate o’ th’ world were now undone” (V.v. 55-57). In this “weary” confession, Macbeth recognizes the guiding moral order that he attempted to overthrow. Just as Duncan can represent a virtuous ruler in his kingly manner and speech, so does the sun represent a fixed position in the sky, a constancy and order that stands in bright contrast to the disorderly chaos of Macbeth’s kingdom. Macbeth’s weariness is not at himself, but at his failure to defeat this order. Wishing the “estate” were now undone, he perhaps imagines a Scotland where his evil goes unpunished, forgiven by moral relativity, pragmatic logic, or a miracle of Christian grace. Instead, he is guilty of violating the mean that Aristotle takes pains to depict. He is punished not for his violation against the heavens, but against the guiding values of man. Malcolm’s concluding call for “measure” is no mere mandate for the new kingdom. It is the closing word on Shakespeare’s exhortation to avoid the excesses into which Macbeth falls.