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it is in the opulent variety of the footnotes that the erudite brilliance of this formidable
book is most dazzlingly displayed.
acquiesce without protest as the argumentstands the tragedy on its head, indeed, the
implicationthat we have actually been viewing Macbeth upside down in our prejudiced
way for close to five centuries are all characteristicof Eagleton's style, engaging and
maddeningby turns (or perhapsboth at once), in which the foxes of irony have forged
well ahead of both the tigers of wrath and the horses of instruction.
And yet the mildly disruptiveoften has its effect. Like Freud'srepressed,the outraged
majesty of The ElizabethanWorld Picture has a tendency to return in the criticism of
Macbeth, yielding all too often the familiarspectacle of a temporarilydiscomfitedNature
expelling a troublesomeforeign body so that the Forces of Good may regain control and
live happily ever after. Eagleton suspects that the body in this comforting scenario may
not be foreign at all, and there is much in the play to confirm his suspicion. Violent
competitiveness, for one thing, seems institutionalizedand normativein Macbeth's Scot-
land, not supervenientor adventitious.It is clear that the bloody rebellion in the process
of being quashed at the beginning is not a mere aberration,and the fact that the play
ends with the severed head of anotherwould-be usurperin an uncannyrepetitionof the
action of the opening sequencemust make us wary of any attemptson the partof survivors
at closure and finality. The witches articulatesomething importantat the heart of the
social (dis)order, and the tendency of their language to cast the signifier loose from its
snug mooring in the harborof pietistic ideology may well be experienced as value, a
creative roiling of the smooth surface of official pronouncements.We may not go all the
way with Eagleton to seeing the witches as "inhabitingtheir own sisterly community"
on the fringes of society, "refusingall truckwith its tribalbickeringsand militaryhonors"
(p. 2)-what is the dispute about the rump-fedrunyon's chestnuts if not bickering, and
ratherunsisterly bickering at that?-but it is easy to concur in the notion that to project
the witches as some radical other preying on a normallypeaceable organismis seriously
to mistake the characterof humanevil in Macbeth.
There is neverthelessan insistent hedgehog who occasionally edges out the fox in Eag-
leton's writing, a hedgehog who is so securely in possession of one big thing that his
ways with the text are sometimescavalier. This hedgehoginsouciantlyassigns Mowbray's
speech in RichardII (I.iii. 154-67) to Bolingbroke, and he hangs an argumentof some
consequence on the misattribution(p. 9). It is then Bolingbroke whose tongue is "en-
jail'd" and "portcullis'd" by Richard's decree, Bolingbrokewho contemplatesexile as
the deprivationof language. And yet Bolingbrokeseems in fact unruffledby such a pros-
pect, perhapsominously so. We may sense some wheels beginning to turn when he re-
sponds to Richard'sshorteningof his sentence ("How long a time lies in one little word!
. . . such is the breath of kings," I.iii.213, 215), but he is surely not contemplating
speaking in a certain way in orderto become king: he is contemplatingbecoming a king
in orderthat he may speak in a certainway-an altogetherdifferentmatter, and one that
turnsout to be a good deal more complicatedthan Bolingbrokecan at this stage imagine.
To make Bolingbrokethe one who fears loss of language is to elide the deep irony that
it is ultimatelyMowbraywho engages in that hearty, wordless, and unproblematicaction
in the Holy Land that the executive Bolingbrokeas Henry IV, suddenlyembroiledin the
symbolic complexities of language he has previously ignored, can only yearn for.
We may detect the hedgehog again in Eagleton's discussion of Viola's single exchange
with Feste in TwelfthNight (III.i). "What has discreditedlanguage in Feste's view," we
are told, "is commerce, the breakingof bonds: 'But indeed words are very rascals since
bonds disgrac'dthem' " (p. 28). It is the apposition, "commerce,the breakingof bonds,"
thatwe may findtroubling,for surelythe breakingof bonds is the corruptionof commerce,
which must depend for its orderly operationon the keeping of promises and not on re-
neging. Broken promises are corruptwords and Feste's whole metaphorrelies on this
fact. It is not commerce he implicitly rejects but its perversion. Eagleton, of course, is
perfectly awareof this, and yet his largerdesire to see Shakespeareresistingthe transition
to capitalist exchange in his nostalgic wish for the benign reciprocityof the feudal order
(which nonetheless turns out to be rather less benign than it seems) perhaps covertly
enforces the equationof commercewith the breakingof bonds. Here is one big thing the
hedgehog knows.
But all this is not so much to carp at minims as to suggest the characterof Eagleton's
style of argumentation,which proceeds in large, if not sweeping, pronouncements.He
has much to say about language in general, ratherless to say about words in particular,
so if he occasionallydistortsthe odd parole in the course of uncoveringthe baleful effects
of langue, it is hardly surprising.Yet one of Eagleton's own recurrentconcerns is the
operation on concrete cases of the abstractand overarchingsystem, whether conceived
as language, desire, money, or the law. All of these have in common a tendencyto afflict
reality with a sort of hemorrhage,to bleed the diverse vitality of the materialworld to
a universaldead white, ignoringdifferencesin a drive for stability and order. If we adopt
the perspective of langue and the synchronic in an attemptto stabilize meanings from
utteranceto utteranceand over time, Eagleton argues, we are in danger of ignoring the
diversity of parole, the wanderingof meaningfrom instanceto instance, which may well
have to be policed in the interest of intelligibility, but which is just as surely part of the
creativity of language, indeed of its poetic use. How to reconcile the demands of order
and coherence with the fecundity of the creative, how to maintainexchange, the life of
any community,withoutdenyingthe individualcharacterof the objectsexchanged,whether
goods or bodies or words? This is for Eagleton at the heart of the problem Shakespeare
confronted, entailing, as it seems, an ultimately undecidablechoice between a conser-
vative ideology of orderand the potentiallyanarchicpower of poetic creation. It just may
be a problemunavoidablyreplicatedin Eagleton's own argumentaboutthe Shakespearean
corpus.
It is doubtless a problem with any argumentat all, but particularlywith one that tries
to yoke togethersuch a diverse arrayof humaninstitutions.Eagletonis fond of the expres-
sion "ratherlike," as in, e.g., desire is "ratherlike" money, or "ratherlike" the law
in its tendency to homogenize the diversity of materialexperience. The expressionpoints
to metaphor,the unstable figure of likeness-in-differencethat hovers uncertainlybetween
a collapse into indistinguishableidentityon the one handand a fragmentationinto a series
of unrelatedparticularson the other. Negotiating the terrainbetween these extremes is
not really a matterof striking some static balance for good and all, of adding a pinch of
this and a dash of that until a satisfactory mixture emerges, because, as Eagleton re-
peatedly argues, the extremes inhere in one another. It is not possible to communicate
without langue, and yet any utteranceis parole and thus involved in the errancy, inad-
vertentor not, of language as it is used. Perhapsany discourse which aims at coherence
will gravitate toward the first pole, toward the synopsis of metaphor, the hedgehog's
ultimate hedge. The reader can only hope that the fox will remain vigilantly aware of
what the hedgehog is up to.