Lady Macbeth, represented as a furious Megæra who uses her husband only as an instrument of her own ambition, is wanting in all inward truth, and, still more, in all interest. Such a woman would be incapable of that profound feeling of her own crime and misery so fearfully expressed in the sleeping scene; it is only in the presence of her husband, and in order to give him courage, that she always seems the stronger; that she shows neither fear nor remorse; that she jests at them in him, and seeks to deafen herself to their voice in her own heart. She is certainly not a gentle, feminine character; but womanly love to her husband is nevertheless the leading motive of her actions. As the poet reveals to us her secret agonies in the night scene, so likewise does he suffer us to perceive that Macbeth had long ago betrayed to her those ambitious wishes lurking in his breast, which he had scarcely confessed to himself: and thus it is that the witches choose Macbeth as their own,--as worms and moths attack what is already diseased and decaying,--only because they find him ripe for their purpose. She knows then, the inmost desires of his heart; to _satisfy him_, she hurries with passionate vehemence to his aid, and, with all the devoted impetuosity of a woman, far outstrips even his thoughts. The more Macbeth falters and draws back--half acting a part with himself and with her,--the more is her zeal quickened; she represents herself, to herself and to him, more cruel, more hard-hearted than she is; and works herself up by artificial excitements, only that she may inspire him with the courage and determination necessary to accomplish his ends. To him she is ready to sacrifice not only all that stands between Macbeth and his wishes, but _herself_; the peace of her own conscience--nay, all womanly thoughts and feelings towards others; and to call the powers of darkness to aid and strengthen her. It is only when viewed in this manner that her character appears to me dramatic, or the progress of the piece psychologically true. Viewed in the other light, we find nothing in it but a caricature--a thing impossible to Shakspeare's creative spirit, which always paints possible men, and not unnatural monsters or demons of the fancy. And thus do they mutually urge each down the precipice; for neither, singly, would have fallen so far;--Macbeth, however, manifestly with greater selfishness; and therefore is his end, like his torment, the more painful.