Another sit-rep: Ross, on the Norwegian power at Fife (1.2.45-50) #DaggerDrawn #SlowShakespeare

Enter Ross and Angus

KING               Who comes here?

MALCOLM      The worthy Thane of Ross.

LENNOX         What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look

That seems to speak things strange.

ROSS               God save the King!

KING               Whence cam’st thou, worthy thane?

ROSS               From Fife, great King,

Where the Norwegian banners flout the sky

And fan our people cold.                   (1.2.45-50)

 

There’s just a moment, as Ross and Angus enter, when the audience can wonder: is this Macbeth and Banquo? Not yet, though (sorry, Ross and Angus, am sure you too are formidable warriors etc.), a bit more suspense and build-up to come. Another drip-feed of key words: this is the first use of thane, a title that does a lot to establish the Scottish setting, its distinctiveness and also its temporal distance (thane—thegn—is wholly archaic in an English context by this point; it denotes a high-ranking noble, equivalent to earl). What a haste looks through his eyes! Ross is agitated, impatient (has he entered running, even?) He’s full of urgency; so should he look that seems to speak things strange. But it’s not just urgent news that he’s bringing, it’s strange, unexpected, wonderful, even. (The idea of speaking things strange is quite unsettling, too. Uncanny.) More suspense. In spite of all this, Ross observes the formalities: God save the King! (He comes back again and again in the play as a kind of reliable functionary, not necessarily the quickest on the uptake.) He’s come from Fife (and we don’t know exactly where this conversation is taking place)—it’ll emerge later that Fife is Macduff’s territory (Macduff isn’t explicitly present in this scene: pet theory, the actor’s doubling the Captain). But the point is, that’s where the Norwegian power is. Is it a fleet, or an army? Unclear, but Ross’s description is vivid and chilling: the Norwegian banners flout the sky, there’s a sea of flags, high and defiant, aggressive, mocking. And they fan our people cold, chill them to the bone with fear, a rushing wind of impending slaughter. An uncanny description, as if the banners themselves are enough; no mention even of the warriors who bear them.

View 5 comments on “Another sit-rep: Ross, on the Norwegian power at Fife (1.2.45-50) #DaggerDrawn #SlowShakespeare

  1. And the meter! It follows the breathlessness of the messengers! Some of the old editors struggled to rearrange lines, but the irregularities are just right for this scene–like Lennox’s hasty alexandrine! I count 3 alexandrines in the Captain’s speech, 4 short lines, 7 feminine endings, and two broken-backed lines (including the first one shared with the King). I think the opening lines of this segment, shared between the King and Malcolm are another example of a broken-backed line: “Who COMES here? ^ The WORthy THANE of ROSS.”

    1. breathless indeed! I think broken-backed is a really good way of putting it too, rather than trying to label feet even – it all comes out in a rush – but it’s still got a pulse, a kind of relentlessness to it. To say that iambic pentameter is a heartbeat is a cliche, but the sense of a racing heart, jumping in the chest here is wonderful. I think that the line you quote probably begins with three stressed syllables?

  2. Yes, one could read those first three syllables as all stresses, but I do think “come” should have more emphasis. Verse is so much like music—you can’t really pin it down to notation. There has to be some fluidity of interpretation. As you say, sometimes labeling feet is not the best answer. “Broken-backed,” BTW, is a term used by George T. Wright in “Shakespeare’s Metrical Art.” Brilliant book.

    1. I was thinking of ‘who comes there’ as being equally stressed by analogy with ‘who goes there?’ as a challenge – it’s not just a simple request for information, it’s jumpier and more contingent than that? I tend not to label feet very much – but looking out for hypermetric lines and inverted feet – always useful, I think.

  3. It’s funny, meter is a very personal thing. I would read “who goes there” as who GOES there. I like to think in terms of feet, but I understand your point of view and, of course, spondees tend to have intermediate stresses, with one foot usually stressed more than the other (making them difficult at times to differentiate from iambs or trochees–supporting your approach). And I often change my mind about what to call a particular foot, or whether or not a syllable is elided. Which makes our views of meter not very far apart, I suppose. For me, I think it just helps me find the rhythm. What I definitely disagree with is the tendency of editors to attempt to “regularize” lines. Shakespeare’s meter is at its most glorious when he mixes up hyper metrical lines, short lines and even prose with his verse.

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