Part One: Queens and Other Weird Sisters
When considering the balance of power between the characters in Macbeth, it could be assumed that Macbeth would not have acted as he did, had it not been for the actions first of the witches and, second, of his wife. In other words, were it not for excessive agency (unnatural for the time) of the dominant female characters in the play, the tragedy of Macbeth would simply not have occurred. Writing in a court of newly restored male domination (after Elizabeth I’s ‘Golden’ 45 year reign) and a mere year after the assassination attempt on the markedly less dynamic and physically striking King of Scotland, it is worth deciphering Shakespeare’s intention in writing Macbeth when he did - and why. A play about the successful assassination of a King and a usurper who is then destroyed by his own ‘vaulting ambition’. What was he actually trying to communicate? And why did he invoke such a strong female influence in order to achieve it?
At the end of an exhaustingly violent story, and after denying Macbeth a hero’s death on stage, Shakespeare closes on a note of anticlimax as the uncharismatic Malcolm - already proved a rather sly and craven character - ensures the ‘dead butcher and his fiend-like queen’ are thoroughly dispatched before, like his father before him, making vague promises of reward to those who have shown him loyalty and popping off to Scone to collect the crown. There are two possible reasons for ending the play this way. The first is to ensure, as Shakespeare appears to do throughout the play, that it is still possible to feel some reverence for an anointed king. Most of Macbeth’s most violent acts are secreted from the audience throughout. The audience does not witness him doing ‘bloody execution’ on Macdonwald or driving a dagger into Duncan and the murders of Banquo and Macduff’s family are carried out by others on his orders. The audience does not see him as a killer in person and ultimately, does not see his own death at the hands of Macduff. Instead we are presented with dreary Malcolm - whose own claim to the throne is a little dubious - essentially breathing a huge sigh of relief while still acutely aware that his crown, while ostensibly restored in the spirit of peace and diplomacy, has been won by and must be defended with violence.
Was Shakespeare issuing a warning to King James that the ‘flame-haired’ woman might be gone but the English court was not a place where complacency could be allowed to set in? Given the shock events of November 1605, it must have been fairly obvious to all that merely re-installing a man on the throne would not be enough to secure peace in the realm. Instability still abounded even after half a century of uncertainty entirely dominated by female monarchs. Henry VIII’s failure to have a healthy son and the subsequent attempts to interfere with The Divine Right of Kings in order to secure his bloodline caused far-reaching unrest that ironically only ended with the succession of man of a completely different noble house who was also the son of a Scottish Queen controversially executed on the orders of Henry’s daughter. They say that revenge is ‘a dish best served cold’ but surely nobody wants to pick ice cubes out of their partridge and parsnips.
Therefore, a more likely purpose for Malcolm’s final speech was to underline the restoration of the order of things and as commentary to the notion that blazing, bloody and dynamic personalities may make exciting footnotes for the history books, but ultimately the people
need leadership and stability, which does not always translate into a twenty-four hour cheese and wine party. Duncan was boring. Malcolm is boring. Good leadership requires a strategy that is often reflective in nature and, in the theatre of politics, 'equivocation' is often preferable to inflexible policy. Today’s friends may well become tomorrow’s enemies. Malcolm understands this in a way that his father did not. When promising reward for loyalty, he keeps it vague and general, while clearly trusting no one. And this, for now, is a good way to retain the status quo while Scotland licks the wounds of Macbeth’s short, but barbarous, reign. Things might be a little less sensational now that he’s gone but, at least order is restored with a sage and righteous court. This may well have resonated with James, and, with a couple of minor interludes, a succession of Kings maintained the status quo in England for a couple of centuries.
So a central tenet of Macbeth is how women do have a tendency to cause chaos when allowed to interfere in the business of men and therefore, for everybody’s sake, should not be allowed to do it. That the audience is encouraged to feel sympathy for Macbeth right up to (and including) his final heroic stand would seem to support this theory. And the unexpected and surprising attention paid to Lady Macbeth’s suicide where Malcolm says she ‘took off her life’ in the final lines hints at the idea of the defeat of both of the Macbeths - ironically as equals. The fact that she ‘took off’ life by choice also suggests a note of distaste from Malcolm about how much agency Lady Macbeth was perceived to have. Hanging up her own crown as it were and, like her husband, cheating justice by leaving the world very much on her own terms.
But is Shakespeare really saying that women shouldn’t be given power or was Macbeth a commentary on how women are just fundamentally devious and untrustworthy? Or both? Women (who weren’t ordained of God to rule) didn’t have any overt power in the 17th century at all. They could be freely beaten, ridiculed, starved or chucked in the nearest moat for expressing even the most minor of opinions, so why were they so feared? Surely, the patriarchal structure of society ensured male predominance? If so, how was it possible to claim that women were a powerful bad influence when their influence amounted to nothing?
It is more likely that Shakespeare’s apparent empowerment of the females in his play was more to do with theatrical dynamics than agency with Lady Macbeth being presented in her status as feme covert - treated as one with her husband by virtue of their marriage. In this way, Macbeth could be distanced from his seamier qualities by loading all of his moral shortcomings onto his wife and thus, absolving himself to some extent of responsibility for his actions. Macbeth is one of the only Shakespeare plays that actually explores the intimate nature of marriage between two characters. This is highly unusual and therefore, we must conclude that it is deliberate. Was he making a point about how, unchecked, a wife’s influence can go too far? Shakespeare presents us with the paragon of ideal Jacobean womanhood with the fretful, pathetic and two-dimensional image of Lady Macduff and foils her purposely with a fully formed and loaded Lady Macbeth. Then, like most of his other powerful heroines, he spends a good deal of the play punishing and pulling her apart like warm bread. Whatever his reasons, Shakespeare was no apparent advocate of female empowerment preferring instead to use them as a device to pepper his plays with caution, complication and, ultimately, retribution.
Another reason for presenting Lady Macbeth with such dynamism was political. James I’s own relationship with women was somewhat knotty. He was rumoured to have been
homosexual although, by the time Shakespeare wrote Macbeth he had done his royal duty and been married to Anne of Denmark for 17 years. Anne had duly produced an heir, a spare and would go on to have 6 more of his children - which perhaps belies his reputation - and their marriage did what was necessary to secure protestant relations with England on the continent. Depending on which source you read, James was either a terrible and neglectful husband or a fabulous father and provider, but it is his approach to the winkling out and destruction of Europe’s witches (predominantly women) that gives us more insight into his attitude to the fairer sex. Shakespeare’s use of the Supernatural in Macbeth is most likely a nod to what was at the time a trending fascination with demonic possession. Much like horror movies, the inclusion of witches and supernatural power both thrilled and fascinated audiences in addition to flattering a fanatical king.
Interestingly, Macbeth is in fact the only instance where witches appear on stage in any of Shakespeare’s plays. In The Tempest, the supernatural is heavily invoked, mainly through storm imagery and Julius Caesar features a soothsayer (a kind of fortune teller) but, despite over half a century of the witch craze at home and abroad, Macbeth is the only Shakespeare play to actually feature women who could have been tried and executed for dabbling in the dark arts. Again, this feels deliberate. James had an unshakeable conviction that so-called ‘witches’ (or persons who chose for whatever reason to live outside of society's constrictions), were suspicious and dangerous. Was Macbeth therefore encouragement to James to keep up the good work? This very much depends on how much power we are supposed to attribute to the witches themselves.
There is a theory that the witches were never intended to be construed as ‘real’ and that they themselves are a construct amounting to psychomachia that helps to fuel and speed the tense opening scenes of the play. Psychomachia (popular in early modern theatre) is the manifestation of inner struggle or mental conflict that is externalised in some way - usually through personification or pathetic fallacy and may explain why Macbeth is more psychologically struck by them than Banquo is. It is possible that Banquo only sees ‘wyrd sisters’ who could do well to spend more time in the kitchen to avoid prejudice because he lacks Macbeth’s innate ambition. Banquo himself wonders at their reality - ‘are ye fantastical?’ - or whether he and Macbeth have somehow been drugged or tricked into ingesting ‘insane root’. From this, and the fact that they ‘made themselves air’, the audience knows that there is something about the witches that is not of this world which must have caused consternation in the theatre and served to ready them for the all too earthly reaction of Macbeth’s wife in the subsequent scenes.
Whatever the motive, it is a terrifically fast-paced and sensational way to begin the story of Macbeth’s downfall and goes a long way to suggest that Shakespeare was trying to distance his tragic hero from assuming all blame for subsequent events from the beginning. Much like Lady Macbeth acting as an agent of her husband, it is possible that the witches are a means to reflect a general fear in society about insidious female influence. If the witches are intended to be psychomachial, this could be an early explanation for why a killing machine and career soldier has his hair ‘unfixed’ in the presence of mere women and why later the ‘heavens’ seem ‘troubled by man’s act and Duncan’s horses turn and ‘ate each other’. The witches could represent Macbeth’s inner conflict about how his awakened ambition leads him irrevocably to his own doom and why the witches make no appearance at the end of the play. The ‘dead butcher’ no longer has a conscience and, like air, the witches are no more.
Gone, like Lady Macbeth, when their influence can no longer hold any sway or do any damage.
Once the witches have completed the task of awakening Macbeth’s ambition, it becomes the task of Lady Macbeth to ensure it doesn’t flag or fail. Tellingly, this seed of regicide is now cultivated in the lair of another female character. Throughout Macbeth, the fortress of Dunsinane and the surrounding area of Inverness is portrayed as a toxic receptacle of loss, violence and grief until, ultimately, it marks Macbeth’s own grave.The ‘abhorred tyrant’ believes until the last second that his power pervades there not appreciating, perhaps ironically, that Shakespeare has foreshadowed his tragic demise at the castle from the first with frequent and ponderous images of death..
Fittingly, the first time we encounter the Macbeths’ bleak ancestral seat, is when we meet Lady Macbeth for the first time. She is alone, but not in spirit. Macbeth’s ‘partner of greatness’ is united with her husband with the device of a letter bringing her news that Duncan will honour the hero of the battle with a visit from himself and an entourage of a few hundred close personal friends, lieutenants and adjutants. The etymology of the word ‘dun’ is unintentionally ironic here. Meaning ‘drab’ or ‘dark’ in old English speaks to the bleakness of Macbeth's home which is devoid of light for more than one reason. Even though Dunsinane and Duncan reflect real historical references, one imagines Shakespeare’s creativity being tickled at the coincidental recurrence of the prefix because, as we learn, the Macbeth’s have recently suffered a tragic and upsetting loss that has cast an even darker shadow over the castle.
Lady Macbeth, it seems, is unable to successfully bear her husband's heirs. With the revelation that she has ‘given suck’ and is indeed still lactating - ‘take my milk for gall’ - the audience learns that the loss of their baby is a recent event - possibly a mere matter of weeks in the past. While the history books might relay death in infancy as commonplace in mediaeval times, there is no reason to think that the loss of a newborn would be any less devastating for the parents then than it is today. Macbeth’s duty to fight for Duncan and his need to connect with his wife on intimate terms through letters does suggest that the Macbeth’s were keeping the home fires burning while privately concealing pain that was acute and lethally catalytic in nature; her lack of wifely distraction possibly making her more susceptible to brooding and negative reflection than she might otherwise have been.
Duncan’s decision to grace Dunsinane with his presence under these sad circumstances is characteristically insensitive. He is consistently portrayed as tactless, mercurial or inexplicably clueless old man which, despite his popularity, makes him appear weak. First, he placed ‘absolute trust’ in Macbeth’s predecessor and then immediately placed ‘absolute trust’ in the new Thane of Cawdor - as if he is incapable of learning anything from his mistakes - or at the very least lacks any sense of irony. On his approach to Dunsinane, he comments on how the castle is ‘a pleasant seat’ where ‘the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself’ to his noble nose. This, to the audience, is almost laughably incredulous since we know that Lady Macbeth - despite her ‘undaunted mettle’ - is recently bereaved and already plotting his death within a matter of hours. Her revealing assertion that ‘the raven himself is hoarse that croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan under my battlements’ suggests a note of bitterness at the lack of consideration for her situation in spite of Scotland’s victory. Dunsinane is a castle in mourning. A party - even one to celebrate the glorious favour of her husband - seems deeply appropriate.
Nonetheless, Lady Macbeth pulls on her hostess armour and gets to work because, in writing to her, Macbeth has called on her to do her duty. The possessiveness of the statement that the ‘battlements’ of Dunsinane are hers confirms that she is in no doubt as to the transferred authority with which she must proceed. Duncan may have secured his throne, but Lady Macbeth is the ruler of her castle when her husband is not at home. It might seem odd that Macbeth writes to his wife knowing that he will see her in a matter of hours although it could be explained by their intense intimacy. But the device of the letter has other purposes. It does indeed indicate a level of equality in their partnership that makes her influence more credible. The letter also indicates the astonishing and unusual closeness of their partnership. Macbeth keeps his wife informed in a way that devoted Macduff does not. Lady Macduff, for example, wasn’t receiving revealing letters from her husband and he’d gone off to betray his country.
Another interpretation of the letter that explains not only his decision to write ahead but the rapid precipitation of events that follow. It might surprise us to see a seasoned killer like Macbeth baulk at the idea of regicide in the way that he does. He is declared by all to be ‘brave’, ‘worthy’ and ‘valiant’. But it is his wife who knows him best. While he might think nothing of carving up Norweigians in the name of King and Country, she relates how he is ‘too full of the milk of human kindness’ to realise his ambitions to be anything more than ‘valour’s minion’ in Scotland’s hierarchy. The assertion that he is ‘too full’ implies an abundance of the mercy she seeks to eliminate when she commands supernatural powers to ‘fill’ her ‘top full’ of ‘direst cruelty. Her husband, it seems, cannot succeed without encouragement since, a dedicated professional soldier, he is conditioned only to kill on command. He knows this and, like the strategist that makes him a great leader and warrior, he has chosen for himself a wife capable of compensating for the flaw of his soft-heartedness which renders his ambition - for the time being at least - dormant.
Cleverly, by having her read Macbeth words, the audience is immediately inclined to dislike Lady Macbeth for her crude masculinity - even though the words she reads aloud are not her own. As a highborn woman, her language ought to be sweet and poetic. But her speech in the early scenes reflect an unnatural tone that would have unsettled and offended the audience from the beginning and the intimacy of the letter’s revelations binds the Macbeths as an inseparable pair from the outset. This is illustrated throughout Act 1 and the early parts of Act 2 when they behave as one in the conspiracy to murder Duncan echoing and reflecting the rollercoaster of doubt, ambition, fear, panic and tension that the experience lends which adds pace to the structure of the early narrative. By doing so, Shakespeare affords the audience the full, uncut spectacle of their dastardly bid for the crown.Their joint conspiracy is like an elaborate dance with each partner marking the other in perfect synchronicity and the whispering and bickering behind closed doors is reminiscent of the covert machinations of the Gunpowder plotters cowering secretively in back rooms and priest holes making ready to strike. Like good conspirators, they seek safety in the collective semblance of fealty to render themselves above suspicion. Lady Macbeth calls on his masculine strengths to galvanise her resolve - ‘unsex me here’ - while she counsels her husband to adopt her feminine traits to avoid detection - ‘be like the innocent flower’ - that they both might successfully avoid detection by hiding in plain sight.
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