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Navigation- The Author’s Note

Everything is pretty easy to find if you use the sidebar on the right.

If you click on Blog Posts, you will be lead to all four blog posts. Blog post 1 is the first in the play, and blog post 4 is the last in the play.

If you click on Featuring Macbeth, you will be lead to all pieces of inspiration that have Macbeth in it.

If you click on Music, you will be lead to Lady Macbeth’s favorite songs. Most of them have a feminist element to them, since I interpreted Lady Macbeth as a woman who likes to be in charge and does not follow stereotypical gender roles. She is the true mastermind, and is not scared of opposing her husband.

If you click on Visual Inspiration, you will be lead to all pieces that inspired my interpretation of Lady Macbeth.

If you click on Quotes, you will be lead to quotes that inspired the way I wrote Lady Macbeth.

If you click on Navigate, you will be taken back to this post.

If you click on Appearance, you will be taken to posts of the actress I think would best play Lady Macbeth. Adelaide Kane plays Queen Mary in CW’s show Reign. Fun fact: Queen Mary herself is Scottish.

If you ever need to be taken back to the home page, click the Refresh button, which is on the left side of the screen.

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Baby, you're the man But I got the, I got the, I got the power You make rain But I'll make it, I'll make it, I'll make it shower You should know, I'm the one who's in control I'll let you come take the wheel, long as you don't forget

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Blog #4- Suicide Letter

For whomever finds this,

In my final moments, let me set the scene for you.

I, Lady Macbeth, on the third day of my rule as Queen of Scotland, am waiting in the highest tower of the castle I share with the King of Scotland, Macbeth. Outside, my husband’s small forces are preparing for battle against thousands of troops from England. Those troops are led by Malcolm, a man’s whose father Macbeth and I killed, and Macduff, an honorable man whose wife and children Macbeth slayed. Macbeth is preparing in a nearby field, sure that he will not die as long as the witch’s prophecy will come true.

I used to believe the witches were real. I wanted to believe that my husband was not crazy and the prophecies he made up were from some supernatural force. But while Macbeth is an idealist- I am a realist. Supernatural forces do not exist. Prophecies only come true when they are self-fulfilled. Unfortunately, Macbeth is fulfilling his own.

The prophecy itself will die with Macbeth. I do not hear much from him anymore, so I do not know what exactly it says. But lately Macbeth has been strutting around the castle like he had a surge of confidence. He thinks he’s safe, but he is not, not as long as Malcolm and Macbeth are hungry for our blood. They will not stop until they kill him, and kill me too. We are guilty of our crimes. I feel bad for all that I have done. The deaths I have caused are inexcusable and worthy of being punished. However, unlike me, Macbeth is willing to go to hell as long as he is able to keep his crown. He is willing to give up his relationship with his own wife in order to kill. Macbeth is willing to give up his sanity and his strongest morals so he can reign as Scotland’s most unpopular king. Nobody in court likes him. They gossip behind his back. Yet, he does not care. He just wants to stay king.

I feel like we have switched places in a matter of days. Now I am the scared one. I spend my days inside my chambers, never coming out. I do not take action. Instead, I would rather wait for all of this to end. As long as I keep getting these visions, I am too petrified to do anything.

Like I said before, I am smarter than Macbeth. Macbeth believes his visions are real. But I know what I’m seeing are fictional. I’m aware I am dealing with the same disease that has haunted Macbeth for decades. Yet, whenever they come up, they are so vivid I am easily convinced they’re real. They only get wilder with each passing day, but some keep reappearing. There is one vision where I see blood on my hands. Sometimes I think it’s Duncan’s blood, sometimes Banquo’s, and on the worst days, I imagine it is Lady Macduff’s or one of her children’s. I try to wash it off, often for hours at a time, but it stays. What, will these hands ne’er be clean? (5.1.48) I cannot keep living like this. This is not me. I am a queen. I do not want to spend the rest of my days with an inattentive husband and the fear of my inevitable, early death. I cannot live with the person I have become, and the person I have turned Macbeth into. I must escape this world.

If you somehow find this letter Macbeth, I am sorry that I have chosen to go so early. I have failed you as a wife, seeing that I am supposed to support you, but I cannot support your vicious actions any longer. Take comfort in knowing I will see you again, whether it be in heaven or hell. Our story will be one told for centuries. The best loves are the one that are the saddest, and the best villains never die.

To whoever finds this, I hope you tell our tale so others do not make the same mistakes we did. Oh, what a lovely play this would make. No, not a history, a tragedy. The rise and fall of Scotland’s king and queen, Macbeth and his Lady.

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Blog #3- Sleepwalking Letter

Dear Macbeth,

Or should it say, “Dear Macbeth, the constantly worried King of Scotland, heartless and cold murderer of children and women, and the future father of our young”? You make me question if I should even include the last part. You don’t seem to value children the way I do. While I see them as innocent youth, they are simply pawns in the sick game you have taken too far. Killing Banquo was foolish, but killing Lady Macduff and her children is incomprehensible. You have gone from being the king to the castle fool. What’s done is done, but what’s done cannot be done. (3.2.14 and 5.1.71) There is no going back… but I wish we could.

The visions you have must be getting worse. That is the only excuse I can think of. Did the witches come again and tell you to kill innocent women and children? If fate thinks Lady Macduff deserves to be killed, then I must be the next to die. She did nothing wrong, but look at what I have done. I helped kill Duncan. Duncan, a good man, the former king of Scotland, is dead because of me. He has been replaced by you, a monster. After what you’ve done, I can say with confidence your enemy would make a better ruler than you. I would like to think Macduff is not willing to kill children and women whose only crime is being associated with their husbands and fathers. But perhaps he will come after me as revenge for your petty act. It would not be unjustified.

Your careless actions are not entirely your fault. I grieve for the good man you once were. You used to be better than this. You used to feel guilt and fear. The thought of killing a man made you cower, as any human would. You couldn’t even say the word “kill” out loud, and when you tried, it was choked out. You used to pace the room, standing on the border between “I will” and “I won’t”. You crossed over to the wrong side. Now you see killing as the only solution, the only thing that keeps you sane. If you didn’t kill, you would go mad from the paranoia.

I am upset I am the one who has turned you into this psycho killer. If I didn’t pressure you so much, maybe you would have been content with being the Thane of Cawdor. I hurt you until you changed. I insulted your masculinity and called you a coward. At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing. I loved you the way you were, but I wanted you to be more like me- more aggressive, more brash, more willing to take the risks it took to gain power. I thought being king would make you happy, but it only made me happy. I neglected to see the thing that made you so perfect was your kindness. When you put Duncan before yourself, I was disgusted. I thought that made you weak, but it only proved you were loyal. I cannot believe I took that away from you.

I write this letter now as an apology to you. These days, you do not tell me anything. I have to get information from Lennox, Ross and Donalbain. But I can still read you like one of my favorite books. I see the struggles you have tried so hard to hide from the rest of the castle. You say we’re invincible, but I know you can easily see us falling. The prophecy only provides you so much comfort. I am your wife- it is my job to soothe your worries and fears. But I see that it is too late for that. We have both gone too far. At the rate we’re going at, we will not even live long enough to have children. Not after all we’ve done.

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Blog #1- The Plan to Kill Duncan

It only took 10 years, but Macbeth is finally seeing things my way.

Now, I am not saying that Macbeth is better than I am, but Duncan’s murder is going to change him. He may still be soft, but not as soft as before. Kind, but not as kind. Empathetic, but not as empathetic. Now, Macbeth is strong, or so I hope.

Both Macbeth and I are strong by nature (court politics changes one), but I will always come out on top. Where I cannot be swayed, Macbeth can. In an argument, he is quick to give in, but convincing him to kill Duncan required a whole new level of persuasion. Macbeth is strong because he has sound morals. But in the end, I think he realized I was right. He needs to kill Duncan in order to be get the position he has been waiting for all his life. Everything I do is for Macbeth, but sometimes he seems to forget. This is no exception.

I heard Macbeth before I saw him. It was earlier this afternoon, and even though he was supposed to be preparing for Duncan’s murder tonight, he was completely awake. His heavy footsteps pounded at the ground like he was trying to smash stones with his soles. He was rambling something that I can only assume was complete nonsense from his fast and panicky tone. As I came in, he clutched my shoulders and shook. All in one breath, he said, “We will proceed no further in this business.” (1.7.32.) I narrowed my eyes at him, but was able to hide my sigh. Of course he didn’t want to do it. He was simply too good. He cared about everything, which most would say is a good trait only found in a select few, but he just cared too much. He cared too much about Duncan, the fact Duncan was a good king. He cared too much about how many people would mourn when Duncan was dead. He cared too much about what would happen if we failed. While he rambled, he completely forgot one thing- the witches said that it was his fate to become king. It was impossible to get caught.

My belief in the supernatural is complex. While I believe in supernatural spirits (after all, they have made me the woman I am today), I do not believe Macbeth’s witches are magical. In fact, most of the time, I do not think they are even real. For the longest time, I was convinced all of Macbeth’s spirits were simply figments of his imagination, created out of his mental condition. But lately, his newest figures, the witches, are making me think otherwise. The witches Macbeth sees can tell the future. At first, I was skeptical, but once Macbeth became the Thane of Cawdor, my doubts vanished. If they say Macbeth will be king, I believe them. His fate has already been sealed, so why is he going back on our plan? I didn’t have time to think about it. We only had so much time before Duncan left our castle. I had to get Macbeth up on his feet as quickly as possible.

I had to hit him, hard. I slapped away his loving hands and said, “What beast was ’t, then,/ That made you break this enterprise to me?/ When you durst do it, then you were a man;/ And to be more than what you were, you would/ Be so much more the man.” (1.7.49-51.) Macbeth staggered back, hurt. I went even farther, asking him where his masculinity and determination went. Macbeth’s masculinity is so fragile. I needed to beat him down until he felt like he had no other choice but to kill Duncan, so that’s what I did. Finally, once his masculinity shrunk enough that he was defeated, I coaxed him. I told him that as long as he had the courage to kill Duncan, his murder would run without a problem. When Macbeth looked up at me, his eyes were dark and bloodshot, but ready.

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vintage & more.

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Blog Post #2- Banquo’s Banquet

Tonight had to be the worst night in all of Scotland. It could ruin my life. Maybe it’s already starting to crumble.

Everything started when Macbeth and I hosted our banquet. As queen, I had been planning this event for weeks. Everyone knows the mark of a strong queen is a good banquet. Macbeth’s rule as king is still young- everything we do is judged by the rest of court. It was essential that the banquet went over well. With the organizing all done by me, Macbeth did not have much to do. In fact, all he had to do was appear. If he did anything more, he might have been a threat to it running smoothly. So when Macbeth announced that he had a plan, one that did not involve me, I was stunned.

If you want to be a strong queen, you should know that you need a stable king at your side. There is nobody I depend on more than myself, but Macbeth is worthy of my trust. He is too full o’ th’ milk of human kindness, but that is why I love him. He is gentle, loving, and kind. Everything he does is with good intent. He is the right to my wrong, the good to my supernatural evil. Most of all, he is always loyal to me, and I am to him.  It is hard to get my thoughts together now that he’s gone rogue.

Whatever his plan was, I worried that he would not be able to pull it off. After all, his compassion has always been his biggest flaw. It stops him from doing the “wrong” thing, even if it benefits him. When I saw that Banquo was missing from the banquet, I strongly suspected it was my husband’s doing. At my side, I felt Macbeth cringe as we laid our eyes on the same spot. I saw the empty space where my husband should have been sitting, but he must have seen something else. He started to insist the table was full, despite my protests and Lennox’s. Macbeth paled to a ghostly shade of white, one that was similar to my own. The blood was draining from our faces like we were looking death straight in the eye. That’s when I knew everything was going to go downhill.

Whenever Macbeth has visions or doubts, I am his voice of reason. I wasn’t lying when I told the rest of court, “My lord is often thus/ And hath been from his youth.” (3.4.64-65.) Macbeth and I met when we were young, right after my brother was born when I was 10. Up until then, I was being raised by my parents to be the Queen of France. Tutors taught me military strategy, court politics, and every academic subject thinkable. After Charles was born, I married Macbeth. He was three years older, but I knew just as much about ruling as he did, if not more. I have always been the more intelligent one. Sometimes, I wonder if the visions that have haunted him from our youth stops him from living up to his full potential.

Since I have known him for so long, I know how to stop his visions and calm him down, but this time, he refused to be consoled. He kept on saying Banquo was sitting in his spot, bloodied and ragged. The court was starting to get suspicious. Before this, I knew his plan was going to fail, but I did not predict this. I had no choice but to use my strongest weapon, an insult that hurt Macbeth so deeply that I felt pain when I used it too. However, if I didn’t, then I worried Macbeth would have confessed his crimes to the entire court, something I could not risk.

“Are you a man?” (3.4.70.) I hissed in his face, far away from the crowd. I had attacked his masculinity only once before, right when we were going to kill Duncan. That time, he gave in. This time he shuttered then went still. Banquo’s ghost still haunted him. There was nothing I could do but make sure nobody would hear his fit. Macbeth cried that since he had already killed Duncan and Banquo, there was no turning back now. I don’t think my heart could have broken faster. I have turned my husband into a killer and a monster. Both titles are things I embrace, but Macbeth was better. I was the one who gave up my pure morals for power. He was supposed to be the good one, but now that has changed. I have destroyed my husband tonight, and that is my biggest regret of all.

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Take care. You’re standing on the knife edge of fate.

Sophocles, Antigone (trans. Robert Bagg)