What’s going on!? WITCHES vanish (1.3.65-73) #DaggerDrawn #SlowShakespeare

MACBETH      Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more.

By Sinel’s death I know I am Thane of Glamis,

But how of Cawdor? The Thane of Cawdor lives

A prosperous gentleman. And to be king

Stands not within the prospect of belief

No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence

You own this strange intelligence, or why

Upon this blasted heath you stop our way

With such prophetic greeting. Speak, I charge you.

Witches vanish          (1.3.65-73)

 

Are the witches already giving signs of departure? Turning away? Perhaps, once again, they have their fingers to their lips, in a gesture of silence. They’re imperfect because there’s clearly more to be said, but also because what they’ve said is so gnomic, so—equivocal. There’s a sense of incompleteness. Macbeth’s response is admirably clear. He knows he’s Thane of Glamis, because he inherited the title on the death of Sinel (his father). He knows that. So far as he knows (although he doesn’t use the terminology of knowledge here, but it’s implicit), the Thane of Cawdor is still alive, a prosperous gentlemen, and everything’s fine with him. (Although he must know that Cawdor, the traitor, lost the fight.) And he can’t possibly believe—it’s beyond belief—that he could be king. That’s as unbelievable as being the Thane of Cawdor. (But perhaps he has some doubts, he’s starting to think through what might have happened to Cawdor now?) This play is interested in the relationships between knowledge and belief, between thought and action, and the difference that thinking something, let alone putting it into words, can make. So the immediate question here is, where have the witches been getting these ideas? from whence do they owe this strange intelligence? (Intelligence a loaded word here, meaning knowledge, but also suggesting espionage, subterfuge: intelligencer is a usual word for a spy.) And why have the witches stopped them here, on this blasted heath, in the middle of nowhere, anyway, let alone with such prophetic greeting? Who are they? What the hell’s going on? An order: Speak, I charge you. Witches vanish. (Of course they do.)

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