between these groups.  It cannot be simply this.  For though Hamlet and the King are mortal foes, yet that which engrosses our interest and dwells in our memory at least as much as the conflict between them, is the conflict within one of them.  And so it is, though not in the same degree, with Antony and Cleopatra and even with Othello; and, in fact, in a certain measure, it is so with nearly all the tragedies.  There is an outward conflict of persons and groups, there is also a conflict of forces in the hero’s soul; and even in Julius Caesar and Macbeth the interest of the former can hardly be said to exceed that of the latter.

The truth is, that the type of tragedy in which the hero opposes to a hostile force an undivided soul, is not the Shakespearean type.  The souls of those who contend with the hero may be thus undivided; they generally are; but, as a rule, the hero, though he pursues his fated way, is, at least at some point in the action, and sometimes at many, torn by an inward struggle; and it is frequently at such points that Shakespeare shows his most extraordinary power.  If further we compare the earlier tragedies with the later, we find that it is in the latter, the maturest works, that this inward struggle is most emphasised.  In the last of them, Coriolanus, its interest completely eclipses towards the close of the play that of the outward conflict. Romeo and Juliet, Richard III., Richard II., where the hero contends with an outward force, but comparatively little with himself, are all early plays.

If we are to include the outer and the inner struggle in a conception more definite than that of conflict in general, we must employ some such phrase as ‘spiritual force.’  This will mean whatever forces act in the human spirit, whether good or evil, whether personal passion or impersonal principle; doubts, desires, scruples, ideas—­whatever can animate, shake, possess, and drive a man’s soul.  In a Shakespearean tragedy some such forces are shown in conflict.  They are shown acting in men and generating strife between them.  They are also shown, less universally, but quite as characteristically, generating disturbance and even conflict in the soul of the hero.  Treasonous ambition in Macbeth collides with loyalty and patriotism in Macduff and Malcolm:  here is the outward conflict.  But these powers or principles equally collide in the soul of Macbeth himself:  here is the inner.  And neither by itself could make the tragedy.[8]

We shall see later the importance of this idea.  Here we need only observe that the notion of tragedy as a conflict emphasises the fact that action is the centre of the story, while the concentration of interest, in the greater plays, on the inward struggle emphasises the fact that this action is essentially the expression of character.

3

Let us turn now from the ‘action’ to the central figure in it; and, ignoring the characteristics which distinguish the heroes from one another, let us ask whether they have any common qualities which appear to be essential to the tragic effect.