Enter Macduff’s Wife, her Son, and Ross

WIFE   What had he done to make him fly the land?

ROSS   You must have patience, madam.

WIFE   He had none.

His flight was madness. When our actions do not,

Our fears do make us traitors.

ROSS   You know not

Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.

WIFE   Wisdom, to leave his wife, to leave his babes,

His mansion and his titles, in a place

From whence himself does fly? He loves us not;

He wants the natural touch; for the poor wren,

The most diminutive of birds, will fight,

Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.

All is the fear, and nothing is the love;

As little is the wisdom, where the flight

So runs against all reason.   (4.2.1-14)

 

The pace of the play, already swift, is picking up, and in ominous ways: Macduff’s family have been mentioned only just at the end of the previous scene, and now here they are, and in a state of some agitation. There’s an obvious contrast between Lady Macduff and Lady Macbeth, not least because the former has a child with her, a son (and in performance there’s often at least one other child, sometimes a baby in a basket), but there’s also a contrast between Ross and Lennox in the previous scene: while Lennox is, apparently, a Macbeth loyalist, Ross now seems to be much more detached, perhaps more loyal to Macduff, although he’s cagey (and in performance, Ross can sometimes be playing a double game). Lady Macduff’s opening question (except it’s not, this is a conversation in full flow) isn’t why’s he gone, or where’s he gone, but rather the more suspicious (or more worldly) what had he done to make him fly the land? There has to be something, some grave cause that’s made Macduff leave, and apparently without saying goodbye, or at least explaining himself, a hurried, furtive departure. He must have done something terrible, his wife thinks. You must have patience, madam; Ross, the pacifier, the prevaricator, perhaps. But there’s no comfort: Macduff had none, no patience, no wait and see, no sit it out. Lady Macduff has considerable political acumen: when our actions do not, our fears do make us traitors. Simply the fact that he’s fled will now be interpreted as evidence of guilt, even if he hasn’t done anything. Ross, trying again to reassure (but perhaps with a misguided hint of, don’t worry your little head about that): you know not whether it was his wisdom or his fear. Perhaps he knew something, could anticipate something that you don’t and can’t. He was getting out while he still could.

 

Lady Macduff is having none of that. She’s tough and smart, yes, but she’s also hurt and frightened and angry. Was it wisdom, to leave his wife, to leave his babes, his mansion and his titles, in a place from whence himself does fly? Just to walk out, run away: why’s he done that, if the situation’s so dire, if he’s so frightened for himself? Wasn’t he frightened for us as well? Why couldn’t he stay and protect us all, if things are so bad? All I can think is that he loves us not, he doesn’t love us after all. He wants the natural touch; he’s cold, unnatural, lacking in affection. (This is all, by opposites, setting up Macduff’s actual character, warm, loving, fiercely committed to his family. It sounds more like Macbeth, not least in the acting out of fear.)

 

Then Lady Macduff picks up fly, as in flee, run away, and develops a comparison with birds (this is, after all, a very bird-y play). Even the wren, she says, the most diminutive of birds, proverbial for its smallness, if its nest, its home, its family, its young are threatened by the owl (bird of ill omen, as ever, and bird of prey, a hunter, a silent flyer, hurtling out of the dark) then the wren fights. The wren, she tries, even if it’s hopeless; she doesn’t abandon her chicks. Macduff—well, all is the fear and nothing is the love. (That sounds like Macbeth too.) That’s all that’s motivating him, it seems, fear, and the desire to save his own skin. And he’s not just being unloving, he’s being stupid, going off like this, showing as little wisdom as love, apparently, because the flight so runs against all reason. What’s going on? Why’s he done this to us?