Macbeth Act 5.5

Again scene juxtaposition is crucial. 5.4 demonstrated how Malcolm and his forces were threatening Macbeth’s castle, and, importantly, fulfilling one of the prophecies. 5.5 begins with Macbeth’s defiance, his bravery, perhaps his hubris, as he proclaims “Our castle’s strength / Will laugh a siege to scorn,” etc. This is an almost constant technique of Shakespeare’s–look at this, now compare that this–a very practical approach to dramaturgy. That established, Shakespeare moves on to some character development as Macbeth’s hears the off-stage cry of some women. He comments: “The time has been my senses would have cooled / To hear a night-shriek, and my fell of hair / Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir / As life were in’t. I have supped full with horrors, / Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts / Cannot once start me.” Here is evidence of both how far Macbeth has changed from what he was originally and of his own self awareness. Self-insight is another crucial factor in tragedy and in the audience’s perception of the central tragic figure. That is intensified by the news of Lady Macbeth’s death; this, interestingly, takes place off-stage, and therefore does not shift the focus and intensity from Macbeth. Rather, Shakespeare’s concern is with Macbeth’s reaction to his wife’s death, a reaction that is sincere and moving, and results in another of the play’s famous speeches:

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour on the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Even if an audience doesn’t understand absolutely everything here, the overall import carries a tremendous impact. What is also significant is Shakespeare’s use of theatrical imagery at this high point of the drama. The actor playing Macbeth reminds the audience that he is indeed an actor, and everything an actor does on stage is transient and impermanent. It reminds us that the actor is not the thing itself, but only an illusion (albeit real for the length of the performance). But then so is so much of life itself. This meta-theatrical allusion captures exactly what it’s all about. (It is also one of Shakespeare’s favourite ploys, yet a natural one considering that the theatre was indeed his profession. Just as an artist has particular tools of his trade, so does the dramatist).

The scene is then rounded out by an illusion becoming reality–news of Birnam wood apparently moving.

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Macbeth Act 5.4

This is the first of a series of shorter scenes designed to speed up the pace as the play moves swiftly to its conclusion. It quickly fulfils the audience’s expectation/questioning about how Birnam Wood might move to Dunsinane, and thus fulfil one of the prophecies. It is, of course, the familiar ruse of cutting down branches to act as camouflage: “Let every soldier hew down a bough / And bear’t before him. Therby shall we shadow / The numbers of our host and make discovery / Err in report of us.” Strictly speaking, of course, the wood itself doesn’t move, but that would be too literal an interpretation, but one that Macbeth has placed his faith in. However, the ruse gives the appearance of the wood moving, and thus we have a favourite Shakespearean theme–appearance versus reality, illusion versus truth.

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Macbeth Act 5.3

5.2 reported information, and 5.3 illustrates facets of that information–Shakespeare is, as he does so frequently, indulging in a form of show and tell, or scene juxtaposition, if you will. Previously we were reminded briefly of the witches’ prophecies, here in the opening lines of the scene, Macbeth reiterates them, but more fully. His repetition is also an aspect of his character since he is obviously placing much faith on what the witches have said. Is that the sort of character that adds up to a truly tragic figure, especially since an strong element of superstition is involved, at least tangentially. On the other hand, figures like Macbeth have held firm to similar convictions/predictions.

After his brief soliloquy, a Servant enters with news of the English forces’ arrival. The moment has some minor added significance because of the lines Macbeth addresses to him:

“The devil damn thee back, thou cream-faced loon!
Where got’st thou that goose look?”

lines that have often been used (or at least were used) as a comic insult by many a teach/student/whoever.  Equally memorable is Macbeth’s response to the news: “my way of life / Is fall’n into the sear, the yellow leaf [a leaf become yellow as it dries “sears”], / And that which should accompany old age, / As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have.” Here is a crucial moment of recognition, self-insight on Macbeth’s part.

When Macbeth turns finally to the Doctor (who entered with him, and who has waited patiently), we learn that Lady Macbeth is still suffering mentally, and that she is beyond his ability to heal her. This moment also reveals a more sympathetic side to Macbeth as he displays his concern for her, wanting her to be cured. It also draws another schoolboy’s favourite insult: “Throw physic to the dogs” (suitably altered, in my day at least, to “physics”). The scene ends as it began (a nice symmetry) with Macbeth placing his faith in the witches: “I will not be afraid of death and bane / Till Birnam Forest come to Dunsinane,” which fuels the audience’s anticipation of how that might be achieved (since Shakespeare has harped on it so frequently).

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Macbeth Act 5.2

This short informational scene tells us that Malcolm and Macduff and their forces are close by and ready to attack Macbeth, which is essentially all we need to know, and it saves Shakespeare having to stage a larger scale scene. However, it is worth noting how certain words direct what our responses should be. The following are loaded in favour of Malcolm and company: “good Macduff,” “dear causes,” “unrough youths.” Malcolm’s cause is such that even dead men would be “excited” [i.e. raised alive]. Macbeth, on the other side, is still “the tyrant,” with his “distempered cause,” and “secret murders.” Macbeth’s forces act only because he commands them to, not out of a sense of following a higher, worthy cause. Carefully planted too are references to Birnam Wood and Great Dunsinane, a spur to the audience’s memory with regard to the witches prophecies.

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Macbeth Act 5.1

It is worth comparing 5.1 with 4.2. Both are scenes focusing on a wife–Lady Macbeth and Macduff’s wife. The murder of the latter (albeit off-stage, and remembering her son was murdered on-stage) establishes her innocence in the realm where Macbeth is the ruling tyrant. In 5.1 Lady Macbeth is the tormented sleep-walker  carrying a taper (note it is yet another nighttime scene, as are so many in Macbeth–a darkness that is both physical and symbolic). Ironically the taper that, under other circumstances, might be a light to show the way does not essentially fulfil that function here. Rather the emphasis of the scene (carried out under the scrutiny of the Doctor and a Lady-in-Waiting) is on Lady Macbeth washing her hands in an attempt to rid herself of the “damned spot” (a symbol of her complicity in Duncan’s murder). An obvious, almost unavoidable parallel that lingers in the literary memory would be Pilate washing his hands of Christ’s blood, though that is a conscious act, while Lady Macbeth’s action is more subconscious (she is sleep-walking after all). However, there is also a parallel in the play, Arden of Feversham that it is quite likely Shakespeare knew. In that play a wife, Alice, is unable to wash away the blood of the husband whom she has murdered. An interesting coincidence is that two characters (both murderers) in the play are called Black Will and Shakesbag (see The Shakespeare Diaries, p 66). The Doctor provides a suitable summary at the end of the scene: “Foul whisp’rings are abroad. Unnatural deeds / Do breed unnatural troubles. Infected minds / To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. / More needs she the divine [priest] than the physician.”

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Macbeth Act 4.3

To be perfectly honest, this long scene is pretty static and dull, alleviated only somewhat by the arrival of Ross who announces the news of the deaths of Macduff’s family. The obvious question is why would Shakespeare write such a scene. In fact, his plays are loaded with such scenes which is some indication that he knew his audiences would tolerate such a technique, and would, presumably, listen fairly attentively. After all, Malcolm is trying to determine Macduff’s loyalty to Scotland, etc (by means of pretending to be a bloody tyrant himself). And it is the nature of the language (with an emphasis on bloody, tyranny, murder, lust, vulture, and so forth, sometimes compared with more innocent words such as lamb, wives, daughters, maids) that helps tie the scene strongly to some of the play’s thematic concerns. Another reason for this type of scene is, as often mentioned here, to give variety of pace, tension, and to provide a juxtaposition with what has gone before immediately, and what is to follow. 4.2 had much shorter speeches, with pathos, wit, and some humour, together with swift violence. Here the discussion is much more drawn out and slower. What is to follow, of course, is the climax of the tragedy, so far as both Macbeth and his wife are concern. So although there is turmoil in the language of 4.3, there is also a certain quietness as well.

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Macbeth Act 4.2

This scene is suffused with pathos, that sympathetic feeling for the weak and helpless, as Lady Macduff and her son are murdered (although her death takes place off-stage). She is the apparently abandoned wife, he the “fatherless” child. She believes at the beginning of the scene that Macduff’s “flight was madness,” and it has certainly left her and her child defenceless against Macbeth. For her, her husband “wants the natural touch,” which is possessed even by such a lowly bird as the “poor wren,” that fights to protect its young. Her son is a rather pert character realising that she is lying when she tells him his father is death. His wittiness (“Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men and hang them up”) provokes some humour, or at least a wry smile. And it is interesting to note that Shakespeare frequently injects humour into some of his grimmest scenes. On top of his wit, the son is quite fearless in telling the Murderer “Thou liest, thou shag-eared villain!” in the moment before his death. Moreover, his last thought is of his mother, telling her “Run away, I pray you!” Clearly such moments are meant to colour strongly are our opinion of Macbeth.

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Macbeth Act 4.1

After the previous rather mundane scene, 4.1 spices things up somewhat with the reappearance of the three witches. The scene also serves as a timely reminder of the supernatural element in the play and the role that element plays (raising the question/idea of leaders being influenced by the supernatural, fate, and so forth). 1-47 provides suitable witchcraft incantations as the prelude to Macbeth joining them. One curiosity is Hecate’s appearance (togther with three additional witches), which may well be a spurious interpolation; nevertheless, it provides some visual spectacle.

When Macbeth does arrive his quest is obviously to learn more about his future from “you secret, black, and midnight hags.” The answers lie in a series of apparitions conjured by the witches. It is worth noting that these together with the “show of eight kings” probably owe much to the then current popularity of masques being presented at King James’s court (and elsewhere). Indeed, Ben Jonson, one of Shakespeare’s friends, was a fairly prolific purveyor of court masques, and Shakespeare may have learned a trick or two from Jonson. In any event, Shakespeare was hardly likely to pass over a chance to use a popular theatrical trend. The apparitions reveal three things to Macbeth: to beware of Macduff, that “none of woman born / Shall harm Macbeth,” and that “Macbeth shall never vanquished be until / Great Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane Hill / Shall come against him.” Macbeth, as would most people, gains great comfort and confidence from this, believing “That will never be.” Audiences, of course, know better than characters, and one of the delights of the play (even if one doesn’t know the outcome already) is seeing how the prophecies will be fulfilled. (The theatrical trick is to raise audience expectation and then fulfill it.) Macbeth, however, is also shaken by the show of kings that reveals that the line of Scottish kings will stretch from Banquo.

The scene ends with brief information from Lennox who repeats the import of what we saw in 3.6, and with Macbeth’s (rather clumsy) aside in which he determines on further immediate bloody action–namely the killing of Macduff’s wife and children as a punishment for Macduff’s flight to England. Killing the innocent never provokes sympathy, except perhaps in the psychopathological; that said, it is worth asking the effect of that upon Macbeth as a tragic figure. Can one be moved by the downfall of a figure who indulges in such an act?

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Ewan McGregor as Iago on BBC

Ewan McGregor’s performance as Iago (with Chiwetel Ejiofor as Othello) can be heard on BBC Radio 3 Sunday 4 May 2008 20:00-22:45. Details available at: http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio3/dramaon3/pip/lo0mw/    (copy and paste).

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Julius Caesar Act 2.4

Artemidorus’ final line in the previous scene was designed to elicit sympathy for Caesar, and that same sense is carried over in 2.4 which, however, shifts the emphasis to Brutus’s wife, Portia, and her concern for her husband. This maybe a stereotypical response-the association of wife and sympathy–but it nevertheless works (in this regard it is worth pondering Portia’s aside in lines 6-9 that provide a measure of self-analysis/insight). The boy Lucius works in similar fashion. Portia is so concerned about Brutus that she initially omits giving the boy a message to carry to her husband. The message itself concerns Brutus’s health, and (ominously)  “what suitors press to him [Caesar].” The passing Soothsayer (the scene is set outside Brutus’s house) serves to increase the ominous tension as he answers Portia’s additional questions (NB: as with 2.3, parts of this scene provide swift information). Portia is concerned whether “any harm’s intended towards him [Caesar],” which leads the Soothsayer to point out how the narrow street permits people to throng about Caesar and how all kinds of people “will crowd a feeble man almost to death.” One question is how the actress portraying Portia will play this scene, particularly the degree to which she may verge on hysteria, and what that effect might have. There are certainly signs that she is only in borderline control of herself–not giving the boy a real message, and her “Oh, I grow faint” at the conclusion of the scene. That “Oh, I grow faint” is a firm Shakespearean indication, and is tantamount to a built-in stage direction.

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