Hautboys
MACBETH Why sinks that cauldron? And what noise is this?
FIRST WITCH Show.
SECOND WITCH Show.
THIRD WITCH Show.
ALL WITCHES Show his eyes, and grieve his heart.
Come like shadows; so depart.
A show of eight kings, [the] last with a glass in his hand, and Banquo
MACBETH Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo. Down!
Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs.—And thy hair,
Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first.—
A third is like the former. Filthy hags,
Why do you show me this?—A fourth? Start eyes!
What, will the line stretch out to th’ crack of doom?— (4.1.104-115)
Hautboys, double-reed instruments like the modern oboe, but much louder and far less refined, more akin to a shawm; on the stage, they’re associated with magic, mystery, and enchantment, an ominous sound. Here they would also cover the noise of the cauldron evidently disappearing into the trapdoor (perhaps using a winch) and also any noise that might accompany the show of eight kings—if they entered through another trap, for instance. (Certainly at the Blackfriars, and very probably at the Globe too, there were at least two traps, one mid stage and one in the inner stage or discovery space; the latter would work very well here.) The (triple) show is a command to reveal, to demonstrate, but it’s also a theatrical show: here is a little pageant of kings, the sort of thing that would be familiar in masques and civic pageants. Show his eyes and grieve his heart, another instance of Macbeth getting what he thinks he wants—an answer to his question about Banquo and the succession—but being discomforted, even traumatised by it. Come like shadows; so depart. The kings are to enter and exit in an otherworldly fashion (a modern imagination thinks of slow motion perhaps?), shadows as shadows, yes, but also as reflections, with which the word is often interchangeable (it’s especially appropriate here if the glass is a mirror)—and a shadow is also an actor, fleeting, transient, not quite there, not secure in their own personhood. The word will return in that sense later in the play.
It seems likely that the kings enter in a stately procession. If they appear from the trap, they would only become visible one by one; whereas the apparitions could well be played by children, these are more likely to be adult men, crowned. Eight of them, for the Stuart kings of Scotland who preceded Mary Stuart, Mary Queen of Scots, King James’s mother. The glass might be a mirror, or a magical crystal or scrying glass, used to foretell the future. The first one seems to look like Banquo (is it Fleance, even? Banquo’s last in the procession, perhaps not visible until the end) and the sight of the crown on his head does sear mine eyeballs. The second resembles the first, apparently in the colour of his hair? But it’s the gold-bound brow that draws the eye, the crown, and the third is like the former. So that’s three made to look alike at least superficially. Macbeth’s breaking off to insult and berate the witches—filthy hags, why do you show me this? (well, you asked for it, mate, this is what you said you wanted to know, be careful what you wish for)—perhaps allows the rest of the kings not to resemble each other so closely, which would be theatrically expedient in the matter of wigs, for instance, although it seems unlikely that they went to too much effort for an episode which, although spectacular, is very brief. And then a fourth? Start eyes! I can’t believe it! What, will the line stretch out to th’ crack of doom? How many more of them are there? Will this dynasty last until doomsday? (A compliment, of course, to the latest Stuart king, King James, and also carefully avoiding the awkward matter of Mary Queen of Scots.)
