Download Character Analysis in Shakespeare's Macbeth and An Inspector Calls and more Summaries English in PDF only on Docsity!
Arthur Birling Arthur’s primary concerns are the Birling family’s good name and his ability to climb in early-twentieth-century English society. Arthur is aware that, although his firm is successful, it is not as successful as the Crofts’. Arthur also does not yet possess a formal title as the Crofts do, so he gleefully tells Gerald in Act One that he is expecting a knighthood. Although Arthur does seem somewhat upset at the idea that he contributed to Eva Smith’s death, he is more upset that his family’s implication in the scandal would become public. This would mean that the knighthood might be withheld, and that Birling would no longer continue his social ascent. Arthur’s opinion, that men ought only to look after themselves as individuals, is a strictly capitalist mentality, in which owners of capital value only profits, and do not care for workers’ rights. As Sheila says in Act Three, the Inspector calls just as Arthur tells Eric and Gerald that they must put their own interests before anyone else’s, and that socialist ideas of human brotherhood are strange and not to be trusted. Sheila wonders if the Inspector’s visit was meant to prove to Arthur that people’s lives are actually very complexly intertwined. Sybil Birling From the start, Sybil—the matriarch of the Birling family—maintains a chilly and aloof attitude toward the proceedings, as evidenced most notably by her refusal to help the pregnant Eva. That someone as uncharitable as Sybil might be in charge of a charitable investigation is presented as cruelly ironic, as is the fact that Sybil unwittingly denied aid to her own grandchild. When confronted about her lack of generosity, Sybil denies responsibility and insists her behavior was correct; Eva, in her eyes, was unworthy of help. But Sybil wasn’t merely uninterested in helping Eva. She’s also uninterested in, or in denial of, the investigation as a whole. She offers a defensive and occasionally combative attitude towards Goole and an unwillingness to cooperate throughout. Her issues with the Inspector have less to do with the information he conveys, and more to do with her belief that it’s inappropriate for a stranger to make such baseless claims. Her chief concern is with reputation; she writes off references to Eric’s drinking habits, for instance, and though she’s upset to learn of Gerald’s affair, she’s more worried about the prospect of the affair becoming public and causing a scandal. She calls the Inspector “impertinent” for having the gall to ask questions. She can’t conceive of someone of her social station being met with such scorn, enabling her to act, in her view, as if she is the victim. Goole demonstrates that Sybil herself has violated social conventions by denying help to Eva, and has even violated the Birling family’s own personal maxim—that they should only help themselves and their families—once it's revealed Eva’s child was also Eric’s. Despite the trap the Inspector has laid, all but forcing Sybil to condemn her own son and herself, she ultimately refuses to take accountability.
Sheila Birling Sheila is the conscience of the Birling family. She realizes very soon after the Inspector’s arrival that her anger at Milward’s resulted in Eva/Daisy’s dismissal, and that, because Eva/Daisy went on to commit suicide, Sheila played a role in her demise. Sheila wonders how she will live with the grief her actions have caused, for herself, and of course for Eva/Daisy. She seems genuinely upset and lost, and reminds the rest of her family that they, too, have acted wrongly. She wants the family never to forget what they have done, despite their desire to proceed as though nothing is amiss. Sheila’s position is, broadly, an empathetic one. Although she does not seem to care much for the Inspector’s implicit critique of capitalism, she does believe that humans are responsible for one another’s good will. She is despondent that she cannot undo what she has done, but is committed to the idea that the family can change going forward. She is also willing, at the play’s end, to forgive Gerald his infidelity, because he appeared to have genuinely cared for Eva/Daisy, even if at Sheila’s expense. Eric Birling Eric’s position is similar to his sister’s, in that he, too, is wracked by guilt after learning of the Eva/Daisy’s suicide. But Eric’s addiction to alcohol and his moodier, wilder temperament keep him from reasoning as succinctly as Sheila does at the play’s end. Eric believes that he behaved justifiably in stealing from the family business to help Eva/Daisy. And, when he learns that his mother refused Eva/Daisy from her charity despite being pregnant, he is aghast at his family’s lack of sympathy. Different characters interpret Eric’s alcoholism in different ways. Arthur sees it as a sign of weakness, an indication that Eric is lazy and was spoiled as a child. Sybil refuses to acknowledge that Eric has a drinking problem, despite Sheila’s protestations. And Gerald, though he wants to believe that Eric’s drinking is “normal” for a young man, admits that very few young men drink the way Eric does. Gerald Croft Gerald offers a contrast to the combative attitudes of Arthur and Sybil Birling in regards to Inspector Goole’s questioning. He isn’t quite as quick to defend himself, nor to denounce others; he and Sheila serve as voices of reason throughout the investigation, and Gerald’s desire to process what’s been said speaks to his level-headed nature, one that complements his easy confidence as the privileged son of an industrialist. It’s his lofty position in society, and the success that comes with it, which grants him a certain lack of deference to consequences. He is less affected by Inspector Goole’s accusations because he enjoys the invulnerability of the upper classes. The Birlings, on the other hand, prize their social standing precisely because it is not set in stone; they are lower on the rung than Gerald, and will stop at nothing to maintain what they
Macbeth Because we first hear of Macbeth in the wounded captain’s account of his battlefield valor, our initial impression is of a brave and capable warrior. This perspective is complicated, however, once we see Macbeth interact with the three witches. We realize that his physical courage is joined by a consuming ambition and a tendency to self- doubt—the prediction that he will be king brings him joy, but it also creates inner turmoil. These three attributes—bravery, ambition, and self-doubt—struggle for mastery of Macbeth throughout the play. Shakespeare uses Macbeth to show the terrible effects that ambition and guilt can have on a man who lacks strength of character. We may classify Macbeth as irrevocably evil, but his weak character separates him from Shakespeare’s great villains—Iago in Othello, Richard III in Richard III, Edmund in King Lear —who are all strong enough to conquer guilt and self-doubt. Macbeth, great warrior though he is, is ill equipped for the psychic consequences of crime. Before he kills Duncan, Macbeth is plagued by worry and almost aborts the crime. It takes Lady Macbeth’s steely sense of purpose to push him into the deed. After the murder, however, her powerful personality begins to disintegrate, leaving Macbeth increasingly alone. He fluctuates between fits of fevered action, in which he plots a series of murders to secure his throne, and moments of terrible guilt (as when Banquo’s ghost appears) and absolute pessimism (after his wife’s death, when he seems to succumb to despair). These fluctuations reflect the tragic tension within Macbeth: he is at once too ambitious to allow his conscience to stop him from murdering his way to the top and too conscientious to be happy with himself as a murderer. As things fall apart for him at the end of the play, he seems almost relieved—with the English army at his gates, he can finally return to life as a warrior, and he displays a kind of reckless bravado as his enemies surround him and drag him down. In part, this stems from his fatal confidence in the witches’ prophecies, but it also seems to derive from the fact that he has returned to the arena where he has been most successful and where his internal turmoil need not affect him—namely, the battlefield. Unlike many of Shakespeare’s other tragic heroes, Macbeth never seems to contemplate suicide: “Why should I play the Roman fool,” he asks, “and die / On mine own sword?” (5.10.1–2). Instead, he goes down fighting, bringing the play full circle: it begins with Macbeth winning on the battlefield and ends with him dying in combat. Lady Macbeth Lady Macbeth is one of Shakespeare’s most famous and frightening female characters. When we first see her, she is already plotting Duncan’s murder, and she is stronger, more ruthless, and more ambitious than her husband. She seems fully aware of this and knows that she will have to push Macbeth into committing murder. At one point, she wishes that she were not a woman so that she could do it herself.
This theme of the relationship between gender and power is key to Lady Macbeth’s character: her husband implies that she is a masculine soul inhabiting a female body, which seems to link masculinity to ambition and violence. Shakespeare, however, seems to use her, and the witches, to undercut Macbeth’s idea that “undaunted mettle should compose / Nothing but males” (1.7.73–74). These crafty women use female methods of achieving power—that is, manipulation—to further their supposedly male ambitions. Women, the play implies, can be as ambitious and cruel as men, yet social constraints deny them the means to pursue these ambitions on their own. Lady Macbeth manipulates her husband with remarkable effectiveness, overriding all his objections; when he hesitates to murder, she repeatedly questions his manhood until he feels that he must commit murder to prove himself. Lady Macbeth’s remarkable strength of will persists through the murder of the king—it is she who steadies her husband’s nerves immediately after the crime has been perpetrated. Afterward, however, Lady Macbeth begins a slow slide into madness—just as ambition affects her more strongly than Macbeth before the crime, so does guilt plague her more strongly afterward. By the close of the play, she has been reduced to sleepwalking through the castle, desperately trying to wash away an invisible bloodstain. Once the sense of guilt comes home to roost, Lady Macbeth’s sensitivity becomes a weakness, and she is unable to cope. Significantly, she (apparently) kills herself, signaling her total inability to deal with the legacy of their crimes. The 3 Witches Throughout the play, the witches—referred to as the “weird sisters” by many of the characters—lurk like dark thoughts and unconscious temptations to evil. In part, the mischief they cause stems from their supernatural powers, but mainly it is the result of their understanding of the weaknesses of their specific interlocutors—they play upon Macbeth’s ambition like puppeteers. The witches’ beards, bizarre potions, and rhymed speech make them seem slightly ridiculous, like caricatures of the supernatural. Shakespeare has them speak in rhyming couplets throughout (their most famous line is probably “Double, double, toil and trouble, / Fire burn and cauldron bubble” in 4.1.10–11), which separates them from the other characters, who mostly speak in blank verse. The witches’ words seem almost comical, like malevolent nursery rhymes. Despite the absurdity of their “eye of newt and toe of frog” recipes, however, they are clearly the most dangerous characters in the play, being both tremendously powerful and utterly wicked (4.1.14). The audience is left to ask whether the witches are independent agents toying with human lives, or agents of fate, whose prophecies are only reports of the inevitable. The witches bear a striking and obviously intentional resemblance to the Fates, female characters in both Norse and Greek mythology who weave the fabric of human lives and then cut the threads to end them. Some of their prophecies seem self-fulfilling. For
King Duncan King Duncan stands as a symbol of stability, and as an idyllic representation of the possibility of just leadership. Boasting admirable traits indicative of a benevolent ruler, it is in fact Duncan’s level-headed, kindly nature that all but sets him up for an untimely demise. As a bastion of peace and order, his character offers a contrast to the other major players as they engage in varying degrees of threats and sabotage in an effort to seek his titleship. In folk or fairy tales, long-standing peaceful traditions are often represented by an old or dying king. In the case of Duncan, his moral compass serves as a contrast to those who not only wish to see him usurped, but desire to have a direct hand in doing so, and his death signifies the end of that peace as well as the onset of a corrupt regime. Duncan’s decency and trust in both Cawdor and Macbeth not only pave the way for a more dramatically ironic betrayal, but also speak to the precariousness of power in a world where power corrupts. Even if the king is a just and fair one, he is all the more at risk of having his life and legacy destroyed at the hands of those craving power Lastly, as the representation of that which is stable and all that came before, Duncan stands as a seemingly immovable force to which all of his surroundings react. The existence of the structure that Duncan provides essentially forces the status quo to either remain as it is, or be destroyed entirely. The prophecies uttered by the three witches foreshadow these changing tides, culminating in his death at the hands of Macbeth. Malcom Like his father, Malcolm represents stability and lawfulness. But where Duncan stands as an old guard representation of what has come before, Malcolm’s prospects speak to the future. Literalizing the family dynamic, Malcolm doesn't merely offer a possibility of future peace; he would extend Duncan’s reign directly. However, Malcolm’s character also showcases the dangers and burdens of holding such a title. When Duncan is killed, Malcolm’s very life presents a challenge to Macbeth’s reign, and he must leave Scotland for fear of being killed. In Act IV, Malcolm and Macduff discuss leadership. Even as Malcolm initially “admits” his own shortcomings and vices to gauge Macduff’s loyalty, the pair hold common ground in regards to their loyalty and love of Scotland, a crucial thread that speaks to the purely idealistic, if naive, trap of ruling. A tyrant like Macbeth seeks power for power’s sake, and therefore lacks the loyalty of those who put the nation first, like Duncan and Edward, and Malcolm and Macduff. The younger generation’s hope for a more idealistic and enlightened society pits the viewpoints of Malcolm against those of Macbeth, whose persistent ambitions, expertise
on the battlefield, and warring neuroses make him a turbulent, violent force within the play. Malcolm is driven to destroy Macbeth, recruiting Macduff to join him after his family too is killed. Here, Malcolm decides to do what is necessary and stop the usurper. Yet Malcolm still holds onto his humanity, furthering his contrast to Macbeth, who remains a cautionary figure for Malcolm. Macduff encourages Malcolm not to lose sight over what has been lost, as grief, not merely revenge, will keep him grounded when nearly everyone around him falls further into the temptation of power. Even though it is Macduff who ultimately kills Macbeth, the play ends with Malcolm being sworn in as king, allowing Shakespeare to explore a contrast between the proper inheritance of one’s title versus the act of stealing it. Malcolm’s duty and responsibility prompt him to do what is right for the good of the nation, contrasting with Macbeth’s bloodthirsty attempt to thwart the natural order. Malcolm is the king by divine rule; Macbeth is a usurper. By the end, the former is rewarded, while the latter meets his demise, thus reinforcing the legitimacy of the line of succession. In his speech boasting of peace and just rulership, the coronation of Malcolm offers a chance for stability, much like what King Duncan stood for. Malcolm invites everyone to his ceremony, suggesting a new cycle of equality and order and marking a distinct contrast from the conflict that previously plagued the country.
