Although Janet Adelman’s important “‘Born of Woman’: Fantasies of Maternal Power in Macbeth” first appeared more than two decades ago, her claim that Macbeth enacts an elimination of the female as a solution to the problems of masculinity still inspires much debate. However, rather than a “solution,” a term that implies resolution, this article posits that Macbeth intentionally leaves the audience ill at ease. This discomfort at the close of the play can best be elucidated by an application of two key Hegelian theories: the Hegelian state and the master/slave dialectic. Although Shakespeare offers a solution to the two large crises of the play—those of gender roles and disruption of monarchy—the solution is complicated by the play’s elimination of the female. Instead of leaving the audience with a sense of restoration of order, Macbeth illustrates that the enactment of an all-male realm is one that not only threatens the stability of both genders but that of the state as well.
Adelman and the Fantasy of the “All-Male Family”
Essential to Adelman’s argument in “‘Born of Woman’: Fantasies of Maternal Power in
It is at this point that Macbeth becomes obsessed with the possibility of a man not born of a woman, for it is on this notion that his very survival hinges. Adelman notes that the remaining text contains variants of this phrase seven times (90). It is then revealed that a man can in fact be not born of a woman when Macbeth is told that “Macduff was from his mother’s womb/ Untimely ripped” (5.7.45-46). However, Adelman notes that this fascination of a motherless society has existed all along in the text. While discussions among the characters center on the definition of “man,” it indeed is the fantasy of the removal of the feminine that is enacted, as seen in the murder of Duncan, the sexually-ambiguous representation of the witches, the challenging of gender roles in Lady Macbeth, and finally the deaths of Lady Macbeth, Macbeth, and Lady Macduff.
Adelman begins with the traditional feminist theory that “the play gives us images of a masculinity and a femininity that are terribly disturbed” (93). William T. Liston supports this claim in arguing that the play is “explicit in demarcating man from woman” (232). As Liston notes, the word “man” in its various forms appears more than forty times in the play, with “woman” and its forms appearing about one-third as frequently. What is interesting about the play’s use of these terms is that they appear “almost always with a conscious sense of defining the term” (Liston 232). In other words,
The witches, in turn, embody the anxiety caused by the hybridity of the two sexes. As Banquo states upon first encountering them, they “should be women,” and yet their “beards” prevent him from deciphering their gender (1.3.5-6). While the witches physically exhibit attributes of both the feminine and the masculine, it is their affinity with Lady Macbeth that most complicates the gender question in
Macbeth, of course, represents the exact same gender dilemma, for while he excels in the manly attributes of combat, he lacks strength of character and the control of his own actions. He relinquishes agency to his wife, the witches, and even phantasms such as the imagined dagger in Act II, Scene i. Most notably, he is accused of being “too full o’ th’ milk of human kindness” (1.5.16), milk clearly associated with that which women nurture their children. Hence, as Adelman argues, the characters of
To solve this dilemma of gender, the elimination of these characters appears to be vital. As the play appears to argue for a return to traditional gender roles, or a clear male/female binary, those who do not conform are removed. However, the murder of Lady Macduff then becomes problematic and most supports Adelman’s claim that
However, Adelman seemingly ignores the continued existence of the three witches. She sets up her argument aligning Lady Macbeth with the witches, and implies that in her elimination from the play, the Weird Sisters have also been eliminated. This is the only reading of Adelman that accounts for her statement that the feminine has disappeared by the end of the play. It is perhaps due to their hybridity of gender—seemingly constructing them outside of gender rather than of both genders, as Stallybrass suggests above— that allows for Adelman’s claim. However, while the witches are no longer present onstage, they still exist within the realm of the play; in fact, as will be discussed below, their continued presence is one of the many aspects contributing to the ambivalent ending.
Despite her avoidance of the issues raised by the Weird Sisters’ continued existence, though, Adelman does adeptly prove that the play moves towards the elimination of the female. What I take issue with is her contention that Shakespeare offers this move as a solution to masculine vulnerability. If “the purely male realm” is the solution offered at the end of
1Although this line is repeated throughout the play, it first appears 1.1.11. The Oxford edition will be used for all references to Macbeth. For references to other works of Shakespeare, The Norton Shakespeare (2008) will be used. The Norton Shakespeare: Based on the Oxford Edition, 2nd Ed., New York: Norton, 2008. 2A discussion of the gender implications of the witch figure is far too great a topic to address in a project of this scope. However, works examining this issue include Deborah Willis’s Malevolent Nurture (1995), Diane Pukiss’s The Witch in History: Early Modern and Twentieth-century Representations (1996), and Mary Daly’s Gyn/Ecology (1977).
“Fair is Foul”: The “Solution” of Macbeth
By the middle of Act V, Scene vii, Macbeth has discovered the double meanings of the witches’ prophecies and warnings. Indeed, “fair is foul,” but he declares that he “will not yield” (5.7.57) unto Macduff, the man he was told to beware and has now been shown to be born not of a woman. He understands his fate and decides to fight to the death. When Macbeth is shown beheaded, Macduff exclaims to Malcolm, the new king, “Hail King, for so thou art./…/Hail, King of Scotland” (5.7.5,9). As the crowds cheer in honor of their new king, there is an abrupt scene change—a silent, gloomy shot of the forest, in which the audience—and the audience alone—views Malcolm’s brother Donalbain in search of the three witches, presumably to learn his own fate.
For any reader familiar with the ending of
While Polanski’s film is unusual for its staging of the fifth act, it is by no means the only one to underscore the unease brought on by the events of the play. Marvin Rosenberg, in his
In order to discuss the ending of
What should first be noted here is that the speech is remarkable for its “unremarkable” nature. This is not the St. Crispen’s Day speech in
However, the elements Malcolm chooses to emphasize in his language are telling. The three references to time within fifteen lines cannot be ignored. The first time it is used, Malcolm is not only addressing his few remaining haggard subjects onstage, but also the theatrical audience—indicating that although this is the briefest of all Shakespearean tragedies, the play is about to come to an abrupt end. Rosenberg notes that it is almost as if Shakespeare “is in a hurry to clear the stage” (652). While the play easily could have ended with a formal coronation of Malcolm, instead the text only indicates a flourish of “Hails” followed by this speech. Again, Shakespeare makes it difficult for an audience to feel appeased here. The other instances of time refer to the past and to the future, supporting Garber’s assertion (and Polanski’s interpretation), that the exact historical and textual moment of the play is of no consequence, for the plot is circular and unbreakable. Additionally, the play refuses to allow the audience to forget these patterns in time, for the only prophecy that has yet to come true is the one stating that Banquo will beget kings, but shall never be one (1.3.67). With his son Fleance still alive, one must wonder what struggles over power are yet to come.
And, finally, there is Malcolm himself, the newly crowned King of Scotland. While natural order has been restored, in that it is his rightful place due to his lineage to be king, the audience must wonder if the turmoil caused by gender confusion has truly been resolved by the placement of Malcolm as king. As mentioned earlier, Adelman labels King Duncan as a feminized king based on his rhetoric of motherhood in nurturing his heirs and kingdom. In honoring Macbeth early in the play, Duncan states, “I have begun to plant thee, and will labour/ To make thee full of growing” (1.4.29-30). Malcolm mimics this language when he references “planting,” leaving the audience to wonder if he too will be a feminized king. Yet this nurturing rhetoric also rings false, for in his discussion with Macduff as to what constitutes a man, he argues in favor of anger and revenge as male traits (4.3). So what type of king will now rule Scotland? A true monarch, a despot, or an emasculated king? It is impossible for the audience to decide, as Shakespeare has only offered minimal but contradictory insight into this character.
It is thus at the closing of
Hegel and the “State” of Macbeth
There are few names more recognizable in English studies than Shakespeare and few philosophers as influential as Hegel, and, yet, surprisingly, very little Hegelian analyses of Shakespeare exist in print. Although Hegel himself wrote on Shakespeare, most notably on Juliet in
However, one of the only Hegelian analyses of a Shakespearean text readily available in English is Sara MacDonald’s examination of
Since MacDonald begins with Hegel’s discussion of
However, as divine law has been gendered female and human law male, many feminist theorists have taken issue with Hegel’s construction of the state. For Hegel, women are relegated to the responsibility of training children to be citizens of the state—“in educating them to independent personality,” but they are not granted the same rights in participating in that state (
As MacDonald notes, Shakespeare’s text begins with “a conflict between the political community and its laws…and the subjective interests of individuals” (16), for the laws of Shakespeare’s Athens do not allow for the individual interests of Hermia and Lysander. However, she finds in Theseus’s reconsideration of the law a willingness of the reasoned state to accommodate its citizens, including the feminine. She writes, “The interests of the characters…collide but are ultimately reconciled without destroying the underlying social order. The Shakespearean state…avoids tragedy by finding a place for human subjectivity” (16). She also notes that “the original patriarchal order is overturned in favor of one in which the wider interests of its citizens, particularly women, begin to be recognized” (134). Therefore, MacDonald concludes that a Hegelian state (albeit in fiction) functions because it not only creates a space for the divine law and the human law to acknowledge and respect each other—that the individual is willing to make accommodations for the state because the state respects his or her needs—but that it also allows for the emancipation of women through an overturning of patriarchy.3
Returning to
The consequences of Macbeth’s disruption of monarchy are seen throughout the play, but most particularly in the way it also disturbs nature. Owls shriek (2.2.3), storms erupt strong enough to blow down chimneys (2.3.56), horses become cannibalistic (2.4.18), and the “earth/ Was feverous and did shake” (2.3.61-62). A discussion between Ross and the Old Man highlights the link between the murderous deed and the disruption of nature, when the Old Man states, “’Tis unnatural,/ Even like the deed that’s done” (2.4.10-11). As Macbeth embarks on mass-murder, becoming what Malcolm calls “the butcher,” it is clear that he has not only disrupted the order of monarchy but eliminated any ability for his Scotland to be an ethical state. In Hegelian terms, he has put his individual subjective needs not only before the welfare of the universal, but in place of the state itself.
However, if the only issue causing anxiety in the play involved sovereignty and monarchy, then this unease would be relieved in the end as Malcolm takes his rightful place as king. And yet, and yet, as Greenblatt says (112). Clearly, the restoration of monarchy does not resolve this anxiety. While perhaps some of this apprehension may stem from the type of character embodied in Malcolm, for as Rosenbaum notes, “pale and diminished are the survivors, in contrast with the size and grandeur of the dead” (652), I contend that there is more at work here. For, if the restoration of the state does not allay the audience’s anxiety, then the “solution” to the other large theme of the work must be the cause. And, here is where this discussion must not only return to Adelman’s concept of the “excised female,” but look forward to feminist interpretations of Hegel’s lord and bondsman dichotomy.
3MacDonald avoids much of the ambiguity seen at the end of Midsummer Night’s Dream. While she is correct in portraying Theseus as the representative of both the state and of reason, his infamous speech in praise of reason at the expense of imagination and poetry is highly problematic—as he is a mythical figure himself (5.1.2-22).
Feminist Appropriations of the Master/Slave Binary and Macbeth
Arguably the most famous feminist discussion of the master and slave dichotomy is Beauvoir’s
“Lordship and Bondage” serves as Hegel’s explanation as to why the two categories of lord and bondsman exist—and here he is referring to a specific historical time period—for the question does not rest with why there is a master but why a slave submits to his position in this dichotomy. It begins with the self-awareness of one subject that self-consciousness exists. When two individuals happen upon each other, they each become aware of not only the other, but that they are viewed as the other. From that point on, selfconsciousness “exists only in being acknowledged” (para. 178). As both desire to be the subject, the solution to this dilemma is to negate the other. They enter into a fight to the death, for only in eliminating the other can they also eliminate being viewed as an other. However, “the trial by death” does not resolve the conflict, for in the death of the other, no one remains to recognize the subject (para. 188). Hence, “self-consciousness learns that life is as essential to it as pure selfconsciousness” (para. 189). Once this lesson is learned, it is inevitable that one of the two will back away from death, becoming the bondsman. The one who has risked his life becomes the lord.
While in all outward appearances the lord has the power, Hegel makes an interesting turn here in claiming that the bondsman is closer to truth. The lord is dependent on the bondsman for not only his labor and the items it produces, but also for his identity. Additionally, his identity comes into question upon the realization that “the object in which the lord has achieved his lordship has in reality turned out to be something quite different from an independent consciousness” (para. 192). If the other is dependent, then his own self-consciousness is in turmoil. In contrast, the bondsman exists purely for his labor and is tied to the land; his identity is not constructed in relation to the lord, but to his work. Hence, he is “transformed into a truly independent consciousness” (para. 193).
This elevation of the bondsman reveals a humanist perspective, which is often seen in Hegel’s other works as well. In
It is with this point that Beauvoir begins her discussion of the master/slave dialectic as a male/female relationship.
At first, as Bauer notes, her discussion of the male/female dichotomy aligns with the Hegelian notion of the master and slave. Just as the lord defines the bondsman in relation to himself (and is ultimately troubled by just how much the bondsman differs from this construction), Beauvoir begins with the statement that “man defines woman not in herself but as relative to him,” and then spends the latter half of her tome detailing how unlike that construction woman truly is (xxii). Hence, in what Bauer calls the simplistic reading of Beauvoir, “Men are subjects and women are objects and that ending the oppression of women requires that they become subjects” (Bauer 80-81).
However, even this crude interpretation of Beauvoir, when applied to
However, while this simplistic statement may be where Beauvoir begins, this is far from where she concludes. Instead, by furthering Eva Lundgren-Gothlin’s work in
This unequal and disparate relationship may refer back to Hegel’s notion of the lord and bondsman; however, the dichotomy presented by Beauvoir cannot be philosophically glossed over by elevating the consciousness of the woman. Instead, the implications of man needing woman but only as a pleasure, highlights her diminished role in society. While man may require her as a source of escape, she is an escape from the “real” struggle of life—that which occurs between and among men. She is extemporaneous and runs the risk of being disposable. Beauvoir does not conclude with this thought; instead, she closes as many theoretical texts concerning any variant of the master/slave dialectic do: with a hopeful look forward. She argues for man and woman to be “equal in concrete matters” and states that “when we abolish the slavery of half of humanity, together with the whole system of hypocrisy that it implies, then the ‘division’ of humanity will reveal its genuine significance, and the human couple will find its true form” (731). Beauvoir’s emphasis aligns closely to that of Hegel; however, while she issues a call to action for her readers to enact in the future, he underscores the enlightenment that has come from the past. He claims the purposive nature of history, as throughout history an increased understanding of selfconsciousness, freedom, and who can embody the free consciousness has occurred.
This idea is echoed in MacDonald’s reading of Hegel, in which she states that
Where we truly are at the closing of
While Adelman calls this a solution to the question of masculinity, instead this Hegelian analysis of the state and the master/slave dialectic demonstrates that Shakespeare’s construction of the all-male realm illuminates how unstable the enactment of this fantasy is. In
4A note about capitalization: Some theorists capitalize “master” and “slave” (or “lord” and “bondsman”), either to imply an absolute relationship or in reference to Hegel’s characterization. For clarity, I will not be capitalizing these categories, unless I am referring to the actual chapter in Hegel entitled “Lordship and Bondage.” This becomes more important as Beauvoir makes a great distinction between “other” and “Other,” and I want that difference to be supported through the use of capitalization.