SOURCE: Luke, K. McCormick. “Lord Byron's Manfred: A Study of Alienation from Within.” University of Toronto Quarterly 40 (fall 1970): 15-26.

[In the following essay, Luke claims that Manfred's guilt stems not from a possibly incestuous relationship with Astarte, but from his failure to prevent her death.]

From the time of its publication, critics have ever emphasized the Faustian elements in Byron's Manfred. The emphasis is crucially misleading because by definition the Faustian character deliberately chooses to strike a bargain with evil in exchange for knowledge and power. Byron makes it explicitly clear that Manfred has at no time bargained with evil, that he has gained his knowledge of earthly and occult matters by means of studious and daring endeavour. His quest is self-oblivion, not the self-gratification pursued by the central character in Marlowe's A Tragical History of Dr Faustus, with which Manfred is most often compared. The perversion of knowledge and degeneration of character which form the dramatic momentum of Dr Faustus are elements totally absent from Manfred. There is no evidence within Byron's play which points to an evil act or decision whereby Manfred deliberately invites his suffering. In fact, the dark hour of Astarte's death, when Manfred's grief begins, marks an event for which he assumes the responsibility but for which external evidence of his guilt remains equivocal.

The source of Manfred's guilt and consequent agony of soul is conventionally attributed to his relationship with Astarte, a relationship implied within the play as having included the deadly sin of incest. The biographical circumstances of Byron's life have perhaps caused undue stress to be placed on what is always referred to as the incest theme in Manfred. Within the play there are two references to possible incest, involving six lines of dialogue. In a play of 1341 lines, sheer weight of numbers would disallow concern with incest the status of theme. Lamentable though it may be, the incestuous aspect of his relations with Astarte troubles Manfred hardly at all. Rather, Manfred's intense agony of soul and conscience is obsessively centred in Astarte's death by her own hand and in his responsibility, both real and imagined, for that death.

The source of Manfred's desolation of spirit, Astarte's death, is gradually revealed as part of the dramatic development of the play. But the terms of his suffering and the agents of his torment are clearly and strictly defined in a lengthy incantation which occurs in the first scene. The incantation is pivotal to the intellectually cohesive unfolding of the drama. Its terms determine the dramatic course taken by Manfred in an attempt to resolve or escape from his overwhelming sense of despair and guilt. Yet the incantation has come under severely negative criticism. Leslie A. Marchand in his excellent critical introduction to Byron's poetry finds the incantation inappropriate to the context of the drama. In a more exacting dismissal of its total dramatic value, Andrew Rutherford in a critical study of Manfred remarks that the incantation intensifies a sense of mystification to a point which borders on dishonesty. Rutherford recognizes the irrefutable fact that Manfred's character traits as described in the incantation are quite inconsistent with the elements of his nature as revealed throughout the action. As long as the source of the voice that pronounces the incantation is ascribed to Astarte or to an external spirit or force outside Manfred himself, the critical consensus that regards the intellectual cohesiveness of Manfred's dramatic development as obscure remains well-grounded. Actually, the source of the voice is difficult to determine. However, Byron termed the play a psychological exploration of various aspects or moods of the central character. Viewing the incantation as an aspect of Manfred's own mind will bring the play into focus; recognizing Manfred as his own accuser will reveal an orderly progression of the dramatic structure from cause to effect.

In Manfred, Byron created the now traditional Byronic hero, the alienated and ill-starred man whose destiny is to be taken out of his own control, leaving him free only in the manner in which he chooses to face that destiny. It is Manfred's response to his destiny of grief and desolation, as manifested by his relentless search for self-oblivion, that is the structure of the play. Within this structure his character is gradually revealed. It seems worthwhile to examine the play in an effort to determine the nature of the central character, who may well prove neither determined by Faustian motives nor tormented by the awareness of incestuous sin, but bound only by the unconscious confines of his own mind.

The play opens with Manfred alone, speaking of the vigil he must keep, a sleepless vigil of enduring thought wherein his ‘eyes but close / To look within’ (i.i.6-7). He defines his vigil as being within his own heart and his search is within himself. The barren grief he has felt since ‘that all-nameless hour’ (i.i.24) has left him bereft of response to any aspect of the world around him; he has neither hopes nor wishes nor ‘lurking love of something on earth’ (i.i.27). ‘Good, or evil, life, / Powers, passions’ (i.i.21-2), all things that concern other men, are to him ‘as rains unto the sands’ (i.i.23). He feels himself outside the bounds of humanity, bearing only ‘the aspect and the form of breathing men’ (i.i.8). Closing his strangely passionless but desolate soliloquy, he says, ‘Now to my task.’ (i.i.28)

Manfred's task is to summon ‘the spirits of the unbounded universe’ (i.i.29). The word ‘task’ in conjunction with the summoning of spirits implies a resignation rather than an excitement or enthusiasm. He calls the spirits first by means of a written charm and secondly by the voice and sign ‘of him / Who is the first among you’ (i.i.37-8). The spirits fail to appear; he summons them the third time by ‘a tyrant-spell, / Which had its birthplace in a star condemned’ (i.i.43-4), ‘by the strong curse which is upon my soul, / The thought which is within me and around me’ (i.i.47-8). The spirits now appear, and we see that his power has its source in his own will, in his soul which he defines as cursed.

The spirits appear in an order that possibly represents the progress of Manfred's life before we encounter him in the beginning of the play. The First Spirit is that of air. The air personified here is not that of dawn; it is air housed by the breath of twilight and gilded by sunset. If we assume Manfred to be doomed or ill-fated from the beginning, then we may accept that his life began, figuratively speaking, at sunset. At any rate, it is the sunset to which he addresses his life's farewell, saying, ‘as my first glance / Of love and wonder was for thee, then take / My latest look’ (iii.ii.25-7). The Second Spirit represents the mountains. Manfred's youthful development evidently was closely connected with the mountains; in act two he tells the Witch of the Alps that during his youth he had little communion with men, that instead, ‘[his] joy was in the wilderness’ (ii.ii.62). The Third Spirit is the ocean. In his poetry, Byron often uses the ocean as a symbol of that aspect of earth which man cannot alter or pollute. In Manfred the spirit of the ocean perhaps represents Manfred's search for knowledge as an answer to or escape from mundane life. The Fourth Spirit represents the core of earth, which seemingly suggests Manfred's delving into the hidden sources of knowledge or the occult. Manfred painfully recognizes that ‘the tree of knowledge is not that of life’ (i.i.12), but he says, ‘I / Take refuge in [earth's] mysteries, and pierce / To the abodes of those who govern her’ (ii.ii.39-41).

The first four spirits express an obedient willingness to respond to Manfred's commands, saying, ‘Mortal—be thy wish avowed!’ (i.i.59), ‘Thy wishes unfold!’ (i.i.97), and ‘Thy will be my guide!’ (i.i.99). Evidently he has control over these aspects or phases of his life which the first four spirits represent. However, there is a marked change of tone in the replies of the remaining spirits. The Fifth Spirit, representing the source of storms, speaks of tragedy to come and says only that he sped to reach Manfred; he does not inquire of Manfred's desire or command. The Sixth Spirit, who is night, asks shortly why Manfred's magic must torture him with light; the spirit's darkness does not graciously accept the painful light of investigation. The aspects of Manfred's life represented by storm and night respond to his summons but evince no willingness to come under his command.

The Seventh Spirit is the eternal destiny that ruled Manfred's star even before earth began. This spirit speaks of Manfred's star and says that ‘space bosomed not a lovelier star’ (i.i.115) until ‘the hour arrived’ (i.i.117), and it became ‘a pathless comet, and a curse’ (i.i.119), ‘a bright deformity’ (i.i.122). The contrast between what this star of destiny was and what it became when ‘the hour arrived’ is drawn so clearly that it seems reasonable to assume that, whatever his past, he was not actually doomed until ‘the hour.’ Supporting evidence for this assumption is indicated in his opening soliloquy when he speaks of ‘that all-nameless hour’ (i.i.24) in which his grief began. His actions may have led him along a course which made the deformity of his once bright star inevitable, but that is moot, and we must deal with his destiny from ‘the hour’ onward.

The Seven Spirits ask Manfred the nature of his quest, and he answers in one word, ‘Forgetfulness’ (i.i.135). The spirits reply that they can give him only what they possess: they offer him power over the earth and control of the elements. He repeats that he wishes only ‘oblivion, self-oblivion’ (i.i.145). The spirits admit that such is outside their skill, but they offer him death. He asks if death will bestow oblivion. The spirits answer that they are immortal and cannot assess the conditions of death. He orders the spirits back to their realm with ‘Ye cannot, or ye will not aid me’ (i.i.166). Again the spirits offer what is in their power: ‘Kingdom, and sway, and strength, and length of days’ (i.i.170). They question once more if there is anything they may offer which will not seem worthless to him. He says there is nothing, but adds that he would like to behold them in their accustomed forms since he sees only a clear star and hears their voices. They tell him they have no form beyond the elements of which they are the principles; they suggest that he select a form. Since nothing on earth evokes a response in him, he asks that the most powerful among the spirits assume a form which seems fitting. The Seventh Spirit, the eternal principle which rules Manfred's star of destiny, appears in what is evidently the form of Astarte. Manfred cries out that if it were really she he might be most happy. He reaches to touch her, and the form vanishes. He despairs, ‘My heart is crushed!’ (i.i.193). He falls senseless.

This scene with the Seven Spirits reveals a fundamental of Manfred's character: he has no desire for power of any sort. His only response is one of legitimate curiosity; he wishes to see what they look like. The principle that rules his star of destiny, the Seventh Spirit, is defined as the strongest of the spirits, stronger than the principles of nature, which are the other six. If one accepts the spirits as the progression of Manfred's life, then the hour which reshaped his destiny is stronger than all that went before. Since the spirit of his star chooses Astarte's form as ‘most fitting’ (i.i.188), the choice and its extreme effect illustrate Manfred's destiny as crucially bound to Astarte.

As Manfred lies unconscious, a voice utters a long and somewhat ambiguous incantation. The terms of the incantation are clear enough, but it is difficult to assess the nature of the voice, which says that at all times ‘shall my soul be upon thine, / With a power and with a sign’ (i.i.201-2). From the sense of the incantation, the voice seems best defined as the soul of Manfred's guilt. The incantation viewed as an expression of the unconscious guilt which determines his destiny becomes, in this context, Manfred's own self-accusation. The reference to ‘the brotherhood of Cain’ (i.i.250) implies that unconsciously he feels he actually killed Astarte, even though in his conscious mind he knows he did not. That is to say, internally or emotionally he bears the guilt of direct agent, while externally or intellectually he accepts the responsibility for her death. From the beginning of the play he shows acute self-awareness of his desolation and of the curse upon his spirit, but after the appearance of Astarte's form, a literally unconscious Manfred has his doom inexorably confirmed.

The voice of guilt says that Manfred will ever be under his spell and will ever feel his unseen presence. Manfred is to know neither joy nor quiet; he will wish for death, but it will not be granted. The voice asserts that the vile elements of Manfred's nature have provided him with the ingredients necessary to compel Manfred to be his own proper hell. Manfred is not to be placed in the thrall of an external agent; his trials will stem from his own nature and will be realized by both his heart and brain. The voice of guilt intones that the spell has begun to work and ends, ‘O'er thy heart and brain together / Hath the word been passed—now wither!’ (i.i.261-2).

It is important to realize that the vial poured over the unconscious Manfred's head by the voice of guilt contains the ingredients ‘which doth devote [him] to this trial’ (i.i.254). The vial contains a distillation of Manfred's own nature as defined by the voice of guilt. The self-destructive character attributes enumerated by the voice as among the contents of the vial are base in themselves, fiercely dark attributes which may be recognized as the self-accusations of a tortured soul. Unless this horrific description of Manfred's character is recognized as emanating from a source unreliable in objective accuracy, though devastatingly accurate in subjective effect, the reader will be left with a necessarily conflicting set of appraisals regarding Manfred's nature. At no time during the play does he exhibit the black traits described by the voice of guilt, nor is he accused by anyone else in the play of cruelty, hypocrisy, guile, and so forth. His forthright, if unusual, behaviour throughout belies guilt's description.

Scene two of the first act places Manfred alone on the cliffs of the Jungfrau mountains. He longs to plunge from the cliffs and end his life, but he cannot. He recognizes that there is a power which makes it his fatality to live in ‘barrenness of spirit’ (i.ii.26) and to be his ‘own soul's sepulchre’ (i.ii.27). He makes a deliberate attempt at suicide but is held back from the cliff's edge by a Chamois Hunter, who has been approaching during the soliloquy.

Act two, scene one, takes place in the Alpine cabin of the Chamois Hunter, to which he has taken Manfred in order to care for him. The Chamois Hunter offers him a cup of wine. He refuses, imagining that there is blood on the brim. He says:

I say 'tis blood—my blood! the pure warm stream
Which ran in the veins of my fathers, and in ours
When we were in our youth, and had one heart,
And loved each other as we should not love,
And this was shed: but still it rises up,
Coloring the clouds, that shut me out from heaven,
Where thou art not—and I shall never be.

[ii.i.24-30]

This is the first mention of Astarte's death. The blood which Manfred imagines on the cup and which he feels bars him from heaven is Astarte's, and is the external symbol of his own internal sorrow and guilt. Astarte is not in heaven, but this passage implies that Manfred feels eventually she will be. The phrase ‘as we should not love’ suggests incest or illicit love, depending on the closeness of the blood relationship. This reference and one direct statement by Manfred in act three are the only two mentions of incest, but Astarte's death will be referred to throughout the play. It is not an incestuous love which torments Manfred; it is Astarte's blood. Her death marks the ill-fated hour at which his desolation and trial begin.

The Chamois Hunter feels that Manfred's hallucination is the result of ‘some half-maddening sin’ (ii.i.31) and recommends ‘the aid of holy men’ (ii.i.34). Manfred rejects such aid, saying that he is not as other men. Listening to him, the Chamois Hunter mutters that Manfred is mad. Manfred says he wishes he were, for then his life would have been only a bad dream. He remarks on the virtuous, innocent life of the Chamois Hunter, who then asks if he would exchange lots. Manfred replies that he would not thus wrong anyone. He says he can bear ‘in life what others could not brook to dream’ (ii.i.78). The Chamois Hunter observes that with ‘this cautious feeling for another's pain’ (ii.i.80) Manfred can hardly be so evil. He asks if he has revenged an enemy. Manfred cries:

                                        Oh, no, no, no!
My injuries came down on those who loved me—
On those whom I best loved: I never quelled
An enemy, save in my just defense—
But my embrace was fatal.

[ii.i.83-7]

In his life, Manfred has not taken unjustified revenge. The phrase ‘my injuries came down on’ suggests accident rather than design, especially when it is followed by the restrained anguish of the last line.

The scene ends as Manfred takes leave of the Chamois Hunter, after having thanked him and admonished him not to follow. In this scene of human contact Manfred exhibits a thoughtful and considerate, if tormented, nature.

Act two, scene two, finds Manfred in a lower valley of the Alps. He summons the beautiful Witch of the Alps and tells her that since the mysteries of nature neither comfort nor aid him, he wishes only to gaze on her beauty. She questions what it might be that is not in the power of the rulers of the invisible and encourages him to state his quest. Manfred speaks to her of his past life: his feeling of alienation from all human beings other than Astarte; his search into the realms of death and the occult sciences, which fed his thirst for knowledge, leaving him powerful and joyous in his intelligence, until—. He pauses and tells the witch that he has spoken of his ‘idle attributes’ (ii.ii.99) only to delay speaking of the core of his heart's grief. The witch encourages him to proceed, and Manfred speaks of Astarte. He describes her as being alike to him in physical and mental qualities, sharing with him ‘the same lone thoughts and wanderings / The quest of hidden knowledge’ (ii.ii.110-11). But he adds that Astarte had humility, which he did not possess, and tenderness, which he felt only for her. He concludes, ‘I loved her, and destroyed her!’ (ii.ii.118). The witch asks, ‘With thy hand?’ (ii.ii.118), and Manfred answers:

Not with my hand, but heart—which broke her heart;
It gazed on mine, and withered. I have shed
Blood, but not hers—and yet her blood was shed;
I saw—and could not stanch it.

[ii.ii. 119-22]

Manfred clearly assumes responsibility for breaking Astarte's heart, which withered. In act one, the voice of guilt ends his damning incantation over Manfred with the words ‘now wither!’ (i.i.262); Manfred's doom is pronounced in the same terms he himself uses to describe Astarte's heart. Astarte's death was violent, not natural, since blood was shed. Evidently Manfred saw her dying and tried to stanch the blood but could not. In a later passage he refers to a like situation wherein a Roman soldier tries to stanch the blood of an emperor who is dying of a self-inflicted wound. This later passage reinforces the indication in lines 119-22 that Astarte committed suicide. Had Astarte been murdered, a man of Manfred's temperament would have taken revenge. Manfred did not kill her, but he consciously assumes complete responsibility for her death.

In response to the revelation of the source of his agony, the Witch of the Alps shows disdain that Manfred, with his spirit-like powers, would have such a care for a mere mortal. Manfred speaks to her of the intensity of his torture, saying that he has sought madness and death as avenues of oblivion, but that they do not come to him. The witch says she might help him if he will swear obedience to her will. Outraged, he orders her to leave, saying he will never be the slave of spirits he commands. As he refused power from the Seven Spirits, he now refuses to sell his soul, as it were, even for the possibility of what he most longs for—oblivion.

Act two, scene three, takes place on the summit of the Jungfrau. Various spirits or destinies of evil discuss their accomplishments on earth while they await the forthcoming festival in the Hall of Arimanes, the principal spirit of evil. These passages contain the only general commentary of a broad social nature within the play.

In scene four of the second act the destinies of evil hail Arimanes on his throne as ‘prince of earth and air’ (ii.iv.1). Manfred enters the Hall of Arimanes, and one spirit says he recognizes Manfred as ‘a magician of great power’ (ii.iv.32). The spirits insist that he bow down and prostrate himself. Manfred refuses outright, saying that he has already endured complete humiliation in his despair and has knelt to his own desolation. A spirit asks if Manfred dares refuse to Arimanes what the whole earth accords, that is, obeisance to evil. Manfred replies that if Arimanes will ‘bow down to that which is above him, / The overruling Infinite—the Maker / Who made him not for worship’ (ii.iv.47-9) then he, Manfred, will kneel with Arimanes. In short, he refuses to do the bidding of evil, to bow to Arimanes. He avows an infinite power greater than evil. He states that evil is not meant to be worshipped.

The spirits threaten to crush him, but the First Destiny orders the others back, saying that Manfred is not of the common order of man. He adds that Manfred may or may not be theirs, but that as yet, ‘No other spirit in this region hath / A soul like his—or power upon his soul’ (ii.iv.72-3). In other words, Manfred is not under the sway or dominion of evil.

Manfred tells the destinies that he has come in quest of deeper powers than theirs. He asks them to call up the dead so that his questions may be answered. Nemesis, one of the spirits, asks Manfred, ‘Whom wouldst thou / Uncharnel?’ (ii.iv.81). Manfred replies, ‘One without a tomb—call up / Astarte’ (ii.iv.82-3). Use of the word ‘untombed’ reinforces the concept of Astarte's suicide; death under such circumstances would have precluded formal burial in consecrated ground. Here ‘untombed’ probably means that Astarte was not buried in the family crypt or tomb. The same fate would have been Ophelia's had not intercession and intervention prevailed. The untombed Astarte is immediately summoned by Nemesis with an incantation ending, ‘Who sent thee there requires thee here!’ (ii.iv.98). Thus, the spirits of evil pronounce that Manfred sent Astarte to her grave; this is the only confirmation of Manfred's responsibility made by anyone other than himself, and it is probably wise to consider the source in this instance.

Astarte appears, and Manfred, feeling that he is unable to speak to her, asks Nemesis to bid her forgive or condemn him. Astarte does not respond either to Nemesis or to Arimanes. Nemesis tells Manfred, ‘She is not of our order, but belongs / To the other powers’ (ii.iv.115-16). These lines imply that Astarte, despite suicide and possible incest, belongs to the forces of good, although she is temporarily barred from heaven. Failing to evoke a response from Astarte, Nemesis tells Manfred that the spirits are baffled and that his quest is in vain. Then Manfred pleads with Astarte, begging her to speak to him. He tells her of his unending search for her, his enduring grief which has left him desolate; he says, ‘the grave has not changed thee more / Than I am changed for thee’ (ii.iv.120-1). Manfred admits that Astarte loved him too much, as he loved her, but that even though it were ‘the deadliest sin’ (ii.iv.124) to love as they did, they still were not made to torture one another with silence. He begs her to tell him what will grant him rest: that she does not loathe him, that he will bear the punishment for both their sins, that she will be among the blessed, and that he will die. Astarte speaks his name, and then, ‘Manfred! Tomorrow ends thine earthly ills. / Farewell!’ (ii.iv.152-3). Manfred's last words to Astarte repeat his first concern: ‘Say, thou lovest me’ (ii.iv.156). To which she replies with only his name. She disappears. Manfred suffers a convulsion, but masters himself and takes leave of the Hall of Arimanes. This last scene of act two echoes closely the description Manfred makes in act two, scene two, of Pausanias' summoning of Cleonice's spirit, and the parallel situation offers persuasive evidence that Manfred did not knowingly provoke Astarte's suicide.

The final act takes place in Manfred's castle. It is not necessary to give such close attention to its progress from the point of view of character revelation. What remains is Manfred's final struggle with evil and his death.

In act three, scene one, Manfred returns home and feels peace of soul for the first time. He recognizes that the feeling will not last long but that it is good to have known it, however briefly. One can only speculate why he feels peace of soul at this moment. Certainly, it is the only respite or grace throughout his torment. Perhaps having seen Astarte and learned from her that his earthly sorrows are drawing to a close, he feels the peace of accomplishment at the conclusion of his quest. At any rate, the omnipresent curse of act one has been abated or stilled for a moment at least, which suggests that Manfred is not entirely outside the realm of grace.

The local abbot visits and offers Manfred the aid and comfort of religion. The abbot's concern for Manfred's soul is prompted only by his knowledge of Manfred's withdrawal from humanity and by his fear that Manfred's studies lean toward the occult; no mention is made of Astarte. Manfred kindly and gently refuses the abbot's offer, saying, ‘It is too late!’ (iii.i.98). These words with which he ends his refusal are quoted by Manfred from a story he has just told the abbot. In the story they are the words used by a dying Roman emperor to address a loyal soldier who tries to stanch the self-inflicted wound at his commander's throat. In the circumstances, for Manfred to identify his own position with that of the emperor and the abbot's with that of the soldier seems a long and unreasonable leap indeed. It seems more likely that Manfred is thinking of Astarte's death and the blood he ‘could not stanch’ (ii.ii.122). The verb ‘stanch’ is common to both passages. In this case Manfred's role would be identified with that of the loyal soldier, and the suggestion comes to mind that the dying Astarte may have quoted to Manfred the emperor's words: ‘It is too late—Is this fidelity?’ (iii.i.96).

Manfred speaks to the abbot of the aspirations of his youth, ending, ‘but this is past, / My thoughts mistook themselves’ (iii.i.114-15). It is a sadly sober admission. The abbot leaves Manfred for the moment, but intends to continue his watch over him, feeling that he has the elements, though disordered, of a noble creature. In the two main scenes of human contact, both the abbot and the chamois hunter see good in Manfred and long to bless him.

Scene three contains the last mention of Astarte. Two servants of the castle speak between themselves of Manfred's hours spent studying in the tower and of a tower room kept always locked. The younger servant asks the older to tell him of the dark event which happened and concerns the tower. The older servant begins the tale, saying that it took place on a night almost identical to the present one. Manfred was in the tower with Astarte, whom the servant describes as Manfred's sole and constant companion, the only thing on earth he seemed to love. At this point the servant's tale is interrupted by the arrival of the abbot. It is possible to infer from the servant's story that Astarte's suicide took place in the tower. We know that Manfred will die on this night, which is described as almost identical to the one on which Astarte died.

In scene four the abbot, in the tower with Manfred, again offers help. Manfred asks the abbot to spare himself distress and peril by leaving. Evil spirits arrive with the intent of claiming Manfred's soul. The abbot orders them away, but it is Manfred who denies and defies them. He scorns them with the strength of his last breaths, saying that he has striven with powers greater than evil and that his own power was never purchased by compact with evil. Recognizing that death is upon him, Manfred orders the evil fiends away, saying, ‘I have not been thy dupe, nor am thy prey— / But was my own destroyer, and will be / My own hereafter’ (iii.iv.138-40). The evil spirits disappear. Manfred bids the abbot a dying farewell and takes his hand. Perhaps, in the touch of the good abbot, death gives Manfred the contact with humanity which his life's destiny denied him.

Manfred's statement that he was his own destroyer is true in every sense of the word. His death was not due to accident, supernatural machinery, or bodily disease, but to self-recrimination so intense that it left no option but death. Manfred does not die of remorse for some half-revealed crime or sin. He dies of grief for Astarte. Whatever sins Manfred may or may not have committed are unimportant. In fact, had he committed no sin he would have had to invent one for which he could curse himself. He did not kill Astarte, but he did not and could not prevent her death. It is this human limitation and his response to it which makes him indeed not as other men. Normal grief and sorrow give way in him to despair that borders on madness and that is ultimately annihilating. The progression from cause, grief, to effect, death, forms the structure of the play. Within that structure Manfred moves toward his own destruction.

Throughout the play we are given glimpses of Manfred's young manhood when he is pictured as enthusiastically pursuing knowledge, taking joy in his own intellect, and finding delight in nature. Although alienated from all mankind except Astarte, he is content with his own endeavours and with his one love. The love, Astarte, dies. And his grief and suffering give way to the morbid self-evaluation and guilt expressed in the incantation. From that point on, the play depicts Manfred's search for relief or release from his suffering. In that search he tests the elements of his life that formerly were for him both strength and solace. External agents cannot grant reprieve; he was his own accuser and must be his own pardoner. He cannot pardon himself, but neither can he condemn himself so far as to give in to the attributes of evil. He accuses himself of every vile characteristic, but he does not assign to his own nature the final curse of having been under the influence of evil. To classify oneself as evil is to abandon responsibility altogether and to become willingly de-humanized. Manfred retains the self-aware responsibility of Astarte's death, but the unconscious guilt, which he is unable to forgive, leads to figurative and literal death. Toward the end of his quest he remarks, ‘The sternest answer can be but the grave’ (ii.ii.180). For him the sternest answer is the only answer.

Manfred's struggle with evil is not Faustian in nature. That is, by resisting evil Manfred retains his soul. The Faustian character struggles with evil in an effort to regain his soul. Neither Manfred's soul nor his character undergo change throughout the play; however, his apprehension of his own soul and character undergoes a change that proves fatal.

In Manfred the Byronic hero is as always ill-starred, fated to suffer, alienated. But in this play the dramatically operative alienation of the hero is not from society, as in Childe Harold and Don Juan: rather it is alienation within himself. Byron did not always burden his marked-man hero with a conscience. But in Manfred the author illustrates that he was familiar with the inner workings of a conscience by creating a hero tormented not within the bounds of social order, but within the disordered bounds of his own mind.