Posted by The Bard on 29 April 2008
This is a short but economical scene; some might say it is undramatic, but it serves a useful purpose. The brief action hinges around the use of Artemidorus’ letter to Caesar, warning him to beware of the several plotters against his life. The quizzical might wonder how Artemidorus knows of the plot, but in the theatre the action passes swiftly enough that perhaps only the fully alert will realize this point. (In fact, Artemidorus is a historical figure, and knew about the plot because he knew some of the conspirators, and doubtless Shakespeare picked this up in his source.) Additionally, dramatists of all stripes (even the redoubtable Bernard Shaw who generally deprecated the use) use letters as a means to further the action/plot (one of Shakespeare’s notable uses occurs in Romeo and Juliet, with concomitant dire consequences). Shakespeare does flesh out Artemidorus’ scene a little. After having him read his letter out loud (otherwise the audience would not know its content!!), Artemidorus provides a snippet of commentary favourable to Caesar: “My heart laments that virtue cannot live / Out of the teeth of emulation.” Moreover, he ends the scene with the suitably ominous lines: :If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayest live; / If not, the Fates with traitors do contrive.” (NB: Fate, traitors, connivance–all aspects of murderous plots.)
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© 2008
Posted in Julius Caesar | Leave a Comment »
Posted by The Bard on 24 April 2008
This scene also provides variety so far as its essential quality goes. It is a duologue between two lesser characters (one is even named simply “another lord”) who are peripheral to the central action. They do, however, know a great deal about what has happened and what is happening. In short, it is an informational scene that provides background information that would otherwise occupy considerable stage time were that information to be played out before us dramatically. The scene also allows these two characters to provide an objective commentary upon events, thus guiding the audience’s reactions. For example, Lennox’s opening speech details the various and sundry murders and questions why sons should kill fathers (his questions have an underlying sarcastic note). All becomes plain when Lennox introduces the word “tyrant” at line 22, the same word being taken up by the Lord at line 25. (Interestingly, Macbeth’s name is mentioned only once in this scene, line 4, but he clearly dominates it.) The other newsworthy part is that Malcolm is seeking the help of the English king and that Macduff is a part of Malcolm’s cause.
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© 2008
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Posted by The Bard on 23 April 2008
23rd April is Shakespeare’s birthday only by tradition, though there is some, but not conclusive, evidence for assigning his birth to the 23rd. We know certainly that he was baptized on 26th April. Shakespeare died on 23rd April, and this fact also lends something of a romantic air to him being “born” and dying on the same date in the year. Moreover, 23rd April is St. George’s Day, and St. George is the patron saint of England; what better day than the 23rd, therefore, for England’s “patron” dramatist.
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Posted by The Bard on 23 April 2008
There’s good reason to believe that this scene is spurious, with parts of it written directly by or derived from Thomas Middleton. Some lines are taken from his The Witch that may have been acted by the King’s Men at the Blackfriars Theatre around 1615. Whatever the exact facts, what is interesting is that such interpolations did take place, and presumably were introduced to give some sort of added interest to an already known play (or some similar reason). Whether Shakespeare approved of the practice, we’ll never know; however, he had been a collaborator with other playwrights early in his career (as well as late). Moreover, he made no bones about utilizing other people’s plots and generally pilfering ideas–always, of course, making them uniquely his own.
Apart from that, the scene serves to reintroduce the supernatural element directly.
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© 2008
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Posted by The Bard on 21 April 2008
This scene falls at roughly the mid-point of the tragedy, and provides just the right elements to maintain the audience’s interest when it might be on the point of flagging. (Audiences of most kinds can usually sit for about an hour before their attention begins to wanes quite rapidly. In the modern theatre, an interval would be appropriate after this scene. In Shakespeare’s day, the play would be performed right through without a break, and moving fluidly from scene to scene.) We have just had a murder, now our interest is in knowing what the result will be. The result is postponed by the quite opening of everyone sitting down to the banquet at Macbeth’s invitation–“You know your own degrees–sit down.” In that brief remark we are reminded of the hierarchical notions of the chain of being, and also that Macbeth has risen in the hierarchy by foul means (which signifies that disorder can only result.). Shortly thereafter the murderer brings news of the murder of Banquo, a moment that obviously must be played away from the banquet table. Even further away must be Macbeth’s aside after he learns that Fleance has escaped and “now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in / To saucy doubts and fears.” (This movement away from the table, as it were, provides spatial and visual interest, and the movement is also from numerous people to Macbeth and the murderer to Macbeth solus.) When poignant moment of the scene occurs when Lady Macbeth invites Macbeth back to the banquet table and the Ghost of Banquo makes his appearance. Obviously this supernatural appearance ties in well with the other supernatural elements in the play (e.g. the witches), and it is a device Shakespeare has used previously to good effect in Hamlet. However, Banquo’s Ghost makes not only an appearance, but occupies Macbeth’s place at the table–a visual reminder of the opening line of the scene and of who should really be occupying the seat at the head of the table. Although Banquo’s Ghost is “usurping” Macbeth’s place, the real usurper is, of course, Macbeth. When a dramatist is on to a good thing, it is usually good theatrically to repeat the effect, which is what happens here with the return of the Ghost. In all this, Lady Macbeth demonstrates her own strength of purpose and quickness of mind with her ready excuse for Macbeth’s behaviour before the startled Lords, etc–“My lord is often thus, / And hath been from his youth. Pray you keep seat.” She also endeavours to stiffen Macbeth’s resolve “Are you a man? . . . This is the very painting of your fear. / This is the air-drawn dagger which you said / Led you to Duncan.” (Again, this exchange takes place away from the banquet table, for the same reasons as above.) The imagery, blood-infused, of this part of the scene should also be obvious in its intensity, and perhaps reaches its zenith in Macbeth’s comment: “It will have blood, they say: blood will have blood. . . The secret’st man of blood.” The scene is rounded out by Macbeth’s determination to see the weird sisters again and his acknowledgement that “I am in blood / Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more, / Returning were as tedious as go o’er.”
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© 2008
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Posted by The Bard on 16 April 2008
Three? Murderers, that is. The presence of the third murderer in this scene nearly always raises questions as to why he is there and who he might be. One suggestion is that he is accounted for by Macbeth’s comment in 3.1.130 (“Acquaint you with the perfect spy o’ th’ time”), and “spy” certainly has subliminal associations. However, the overall sense of that line would seem to be that Macbeth will let the murderers know the best/exact time for their dastardly deed to be committed. Another hypothesis is that the third murderer is Macbeth himself, but that is contradicted by his behaviour in 3.4 when he learns that Fleance has got away. One obvious answer is that Macbeth thought the job needed three people (after all, the murderers have two people to kill), or that the third murderer is there to ensure the other two do their job (see 3.3.2 “He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers / Our offices and what we have to do / To the direction just.”). Note that the additional murderer, obviously, raises the number on stage to three people, and the play began with the three witches, and three is one of those numbers symbolic of much. Against all this supposing it should be noted that the scene is very brief and thus allows an audience in the theatre little to no time for such speculation. Moreover, the audience’s interest lies in the murders, or as it turns out, the one murder of Banquo. That in and of itself is the theatrical/dramatic point–Macbeth extending his reach and power by having Banquo murdered, but then placing himself in further jeopardy because of Fleance’s escape.
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© 2008
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Posted by The Bard on 9 April 2008
As though to emphasize that Macbeth was dominant in the last scene partly because of Lady Macbeth’s absence, 3.2 opens with her presence. Nevertheless, it is clear that she is still a very necessary element is upholding Macbeth’s strength of purpose: “Things without all remedy / Should be without regard. What’s done is done.” However, Macbeth realises that his (and her) task is not complete–“we have scorched [slashed with a knife] the snake, not killed it.” (Incidentally, “scorched” is sometimes emended to “scotched” as suggested by early editors; the emendation isn’t necessary.) Macbeth then argues that they must continue vigilant against further threats. In all this, particularly noteworthy is Macbeth’s comment “the affliction of these terrible dreams / That shakes us nightly” since Lady Macbeth will become afflicted thus. Similarly, “the torture of the mind to lie / In restless ecstasy.” Both these phrases pinpoint appositely how the guilt of murderers develops into a psychosis. Macbeth moves closer to his full meaning when he points out that Banquo and Fleance are still alive and says “there shall be done / A deed of dreadful note.” He declines to be specific, though one wonders whether Lady Macbeth’s “What’s to be done?” isn’t rather disingenuous.
The words and images of the final twenty or so lines of the scene are remarkably evocative with their stress on darkness, night, blood, bat, crow, and preys (with some variants), and prefigures the murder to come. It all comes to a head at line 46 with “Come, seeling night,” where Macbeth’s speech takes on the tones of a supernatural incantation reminiscent of the witches. His penultimate line is an inversion and perversion of the human norm: “Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill” (although that is often the mantra of evil doers).
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© 2008
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Posted by The Bard on 9 April 2008
The remainder of the scene divides into two: Macbeth’s soliloquy followed by his “interview” with the two murderers. At the start of his soliloquy Macbeth hits the proverbial nail on the head with “To be thus is nothing, but to be safely thus”–an adage many usurpers and dictators and similar tyrants have always discovered. It is one thing to have become king (by murderous means), it is entirely another matter to be secure in that position. As the first part of the scene has made clear, Banquo is Macbeth’s biggest threat. Indeed, Macbeth’s musings upon Banquo’s qualities in this soliloquy demonstrate fully why a) Banquo is much the better man; b) why Macbeth need fear him. Banquo possess “royalty of nature,” “dauntless temper of mind,” “wisdom,” so that “under him my genius is rebuked.” Moreover, there is the witches prophecy. Perhaps significantly, Macbeth ends by declaring “come, Fate, into the list, / And champion me”–a reliance upon fate rather than personal qualities. Something to mull over.
It would seem that Macbeth has, at an earlier meeting the day before, enumerated how the two murderers have been “crossed” by Banquo (it is an open question whether this is actually so, but it suffices for both the plot and Macbeth’s purposes). His next ploy is to challenge their masculinity and strength of purpose: are they merely a category of men, as it were (just as different breeds of dogs are classified generically as dogs), or do they possess valuable traits (“the valued file”) fitted for the task. They take the bait, and Macbeth further seals the deal by saying he could “with barefaced power sweep [Banquo] from my sight,” but for various reasons of state (“For certain friends that are both his and mine”) needs their assistance. (And for good measure, Fleance is to be murdered as well. ) It is worth noting, even though it is not surprising, how Macbeth dominates this scene and the murderers verbally. Indeed from line 44 to the end, the scene might almost be a monologue from Macbeth, just punctuated by brief interjections from the murderers. This demonstrates not only Macbeth’s command of the situation, but his growing “stature” (for want of a better word) as a characters. Previously we have seen him being prompted by Lady Macbeth, for example; but here he asserts himself and is very much in control of the situation.
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© 2008
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Posted by The Bard on 3 April 2008
Caesar made his last appearance in 1.2, and his absence reveals almost as much about his importance as does his presence; for although he has been absent, Caesar and his role and function in Rome etc has been very much to the forefront of what has transpired in the interim. Moreover, the very fact that his assassination has been debated and plotted also reveals how important he is. Once on stage, Caesar is associated immediately with the ongoing storm and the chaotic turbulence it embodies and symbolizes. In addition, as a suitable omen, Caesar reports that his wife, Calphurnia, has been dreaming and has cried out “They murder Caesar.” To reinforce the point, Calphurnia appears and recounts her fears for Caesar’s life (she also reports other accounts of “most horrid sights seen by the watch,” etc recalling similar accounts earlier, in Act 1). Caesar, demonstrating both his bravery and stubbornness, insists “Caesar shall go forth,” and speaks one of the play’s famous adages: “Cowards die many times before their deaths; / The valiant never taste of death but once. / Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, / It seems to me most strange that men should fear, / Seeing that death, a necessary end, / Will come when it will come.” (A stoicism that finds echoes in Hamlet.) However, superstition now plays a (temporary role) with news from the augurers (that they could not find a heart within an animal) and Calphurnia’s insistence that “Your wisdom is consumed in confidence!” Caesar changes his mind swiftly, declaring he will not go to the Senate House. Cue plot manipulation, with the arrival of Decius, one of the conspirators, who manages to convince Caesar that the dreams have been misinterpreted, and casts a favorable interpretation on them. The icing on the cake, as well as Caesar’s ego, is Decius’ news that “The Senate have concluded / To give this day a crown to mighty Caesar.” The final thirty or so lines of the scene form a visual irony as the now reinvigorated and confident Caesar is surrounded (unbeknownst to him) by the conspirators (he calls them friends) come to lead him to the Senate. The final two lines consist of a brief aside from the still somewhat troubled Brutus who also remarks “That every like is not the same,” a reminder of the appearance versus reality theme (since everything that can be labeled “like” is not actually identically the same, or exactly alike).
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© 2008
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Posted by The Bard on 2 April 2008
If the title of A Midsummer Night’s Dream carries very English connotations, the opening scene presents the audience with something entirely different–ancient, mythological Greece. Theseus is the Duke of Athens, something in and of itself to conjure with. Ere there “dukes” in ancient Greece? And why use this setting rather than England? In ancient Greek legend, Theseus was, of course, famous for slaying the Minotaur as well as fighting the Amazons. Chaucer also used Theseus (as Duke of Athens) in The Knight’s Tale, in which he also married Hippolyta. Hippolyta is obviously Queen of the Amazons, and at least in Shakespeare’s version of the tale, about to be married to Theseus. So what indeed might Shakespeare be doing here employing these characters switched from Greece to the English stage. The clue perhaps lies in the words myth and tale–both are fictions, although some might lend some degree of credibility to myths. Midsummer is also a fiction, a theatrical fiction, and hence these internal references become meta-fictional, and meta-theatrical as well. There is indeed an atmosphere of total unreality presented here, and yet the audience doesn’t walk out. Rather it is instantly charmed by the whole notion, this complete fantasy. Moreover, the key ingredient is making all this work is the use and power of the imagination, on both the part of Shakespeare and the audience. This will be a major theme of the play.Further, Theseus’ opening line also establishes another major theme in using “nuptial,” and therefore marriage, wedding. Weddings more frequently are the result of two people meeting and falling in love. And, one might well ask, is “love.” It is, naturally, a feeling of varying intensity, and I leave it to the reader to conjure up what he or she might mean by the word. Usually, people know when they are “in love” (as opposed to, say, in lust), but quite what love is far more difficult to pin down, and often people describe other attributes that go along with the concept. So what we now have is a more or less indefinable universal feeling that men and women pursue with more than a degree of avidity being another major theme in a play which is a fiction about fictions. All as slippery as quick silver running through one’s hands.
Yet, in addition to all the above, this sub-scene ends with a touch of bawdy innuendo. Theseus declares “Hippolyta, I wooed thee with my sword, / And won thy love doing thee injuries.” The sword lends itself easily to the innuendo, and Freudian interpreters might make even more of the two lines. Nevertheless, Theseus ends on an elevated, more honourable note, promising to wed her “in another key.”
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© 2008
Posted in Midsummer Night's Dream | Leave a Comment »