The Real Macbeth:

Shakespeare’s Greatest Con Job?

So many theater lovers and English majors banter the name Macbeth. Murderer. Usurper. Tyrant. The ambitious thane manipulated by his evil wife into regicide and madness. We think we know the story. Do we?

Let’s unpack this myth and discover the deception.

Shakespeare was not writing history when he penned Macbeth around 1606. He was writing for his job security. The playwright understood his audience with surgical precision, and his most important audience member had just ascended the English throne three years prior. James VI of Scotland had become James I of England in 1603. Shakespeare needed the new royal patronage. The new Scottish king needed legitimacy on English soil.

The Match Made in Theatrical Heaven

The Historical Macbeth

Mac Bethad mac Findlaích ruled Scotland from 1040 to 1057. That was seventeen years of stable rule in medieval Scotland. This was unheard of in the Scotland of the 1000’s where kings were routinely murdered, deposed, or challenged. Tyrants did not last seventeen years.

The historical Duncan I bears no resemblance to Shakespeare’s wise, elderly, benevolent king. The real Duncan I was young, weak, and foolishly aggressive. He invaded Macbeth’s territory of Moray in 1040. Macbeth slew him in the of Battle of Pitgaveny near Elgin. Warrior to warrior – an honorable death between combatants rather than the stabbing of an elderly sleeping guest in his bedchamber.

Macbeth possessed legitimate claim to the Scottish throne through his wife, Gruoch, granddaughter of King Kenneth III. Under the tanistry system of Scottish succession, Macbeth’s claim stood as valid as Duncan’s. Arguably stronger.

During his reign, Macbeth made a pilgrimage to Rome in 1050 to meet with the Pope – a pilgrimage possible only by a secure monarch. Chroniclers of the period recorded that he “scattered money like seed to the poor.” A guilt-ridden, paranoid murderer does not leave his kingdom for months to distribute charity abroad. Only a secure, prosperous, pious king would do so at the time.

The real Macbeth wore regal clothes. Shakespeare stripped them off and dressed him in villain’s rags.

Why the Lies?

Follow the money. Follow the power. This is how we uncover truth in any century.

James I needed several things when he took the English throne. He needed legitimacy, as a Scottish king ruling England was hardly popular with English subjects. He needed cultural acceptance. He craved flattery of his royal lineage. And he demanded entertainment that reinforced his divine right to rule.

Shakespeare delivered all of it with the precision of a master.

By making Duncan righteous and murdered, James’s ancestor became the martyred good king whose death must be avenged. By making Macbeth the evil usurper, anyone who would challenge rightful succession became damned by association. By making Banquo noble and prophesied to father a line of kings, Shakespeare flattered James’s other claimed ancestor as the hero whose bloodline fulfilled destiny. By adding witches and supernatural elements, the playwright appealed directly to James’s obsession with witchcraft. The king had written Daemonologie and fancied himself an expert on the subject. And by showing divine punishment for regicide, Shakespeare reinforced James’s claim to rule by divine right.

This was not art. This was propaganda dressed in iambic pentameter. Magnificent propaganda, certainly. Effective beyond measure. Propaganda, nonetheless.

The Matilda Connection

The bloodlines become truly fascinating when we examine how Scottish royal heritage eventually claimed the English throne.

After Macbeth’s death in 1057, Malcolm III assumed the Scottish crown. This is the “Malcolm” who defeats Macbeth in Shakespeare’s play, the son who avenges his father Duncan’s death. Malcolm married Margaret of Wessex, an Anglo-Saxon princess who fled to Scotland after the Norman Conquest of England.

Their daughter, Edith of Scotland, was born around 1080. When Edith married King Henry I of England in 1100, she changed her name to Matilda. The name sounded more Norman, more acceptable, less conspicuously Scottish to English ears.

This Matilda, born Edith, became the crucial bridge between kingdoms. Through her, Duncan’s blood flowed into the English monarchy via Malcolm III. Through her mother Margaret, descended from Alfred the Great, Anglo-Saxon royal blood joined the mixture. Matilda became the convergence point of Scottish and English royal heritage.

Matilda’s daughter, Empress Matilda, fought for England’s throne during the civil war known as the Anarchy. Her descendants became the Plantagenet kings who ruled England for centuries. The bloodline continued its steady march through history.

When Elizabeth I died childless in 1603, James VI of Scotland possessed the strongest claim to the English throne precisely because of these bloodlines. They traced back through the centuries, through Matilda the name-changer, through Margaret of Wessex the refugee princess, through Malcolm III the avenger, through Duncan the historical king Shakespeare would later slander.

James was not merely some Scottish king seizing an English throne. He represented the convergence of Scottish, Anglo-Saxon, and Norman royal blood meeting in one person. His legitimacy ran deep, and he knew it. He needed others to know it as well.

Shakespeare ensured they did.

A Small Digression

The Shakespeare 2020 Project founded by author, Ian Doescher, had a complete syllabus and timeframe for reading. I read and listened fast and thoroughly, then dug deep into historical relevance. I often listened to the plays while walking my dogs along the magnificent trails of parks and paths in my area. When I arrived at my ‘magiclands’ to find them closed due to the dread virus, I ushered the dogs back into their seats in my car and drove non-stop to a closer park. Furious, I decided that NOW was the time to hear Macbeth! Hear it, I did! We walked for the entire reading. When I returned to my book – I read it in its entirety with the readings still ringing in my ears. Yet, the play was enough. It did not send me on a single rabbit trail. I was too mesmerized by the psychological depth to worry about historical veracity. Until now, that it. Why? Nothing terribly intellectual – a short YouTube video addressing the very topic. I was hooked and the rabbit trail led me to rooms and rooms of pre-1000’s Scottish, English, and Norman history to the assertion of the throne by Macbeth.

What happened to King Macbeth? He was killed at the Battle of Lumphanan by Malcolm Canmore (later Malcolm III), son of Duncan I.

Why has Macbeth been an ill-fated play – sets fell, and actors died then theatrically referred to as simply “that Scottish Play?” Marginalizing and demonizing a past king? Lincoln quoted lines from Macbeth, “Out, out brief candle…” following the fall of Richmond on April 9, 1865. On April 15, 1865, SIX days later, he was assassinated by John Wilkes Booth who had played the title role in Boston two years earlier. Exactly who assassinated Lincoln? Booth or Macbeth?  Where is Macbeth’s reach?

Perhaps we should view all historical narratives with a skeptical eye. Whether from 1606 or from 2025, those who write the story control what becomes truth. Those who flatter power shape how the past is remembered.

The Lesson

I love Shakespeare for his poetry, his psychological insight, his timeless exploration of ambition, guilt, and the human condition. He was a genius wordsmith. In reality – he was a businessman, a survivor, a man who understood power and how to serve it while appearing to entertain.

Macbeth is splendid theater. The poetry soars across centuries. Lady Macbeth’s guilt, the dagger speech, “tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow” are extraordinary achievements in dramatic writing. The play deserves its place in the canon.

History? Not close.

The real Macbeth deserves better than four centuries of slander. He ruled well. He ruled long. He had legitimate claim to his throne. He was pious enough to pilgrimage to Rome and generous enough to scatter money to the poor. History should remember him as he was, not as Shakespeare portrayed him.

Politicians make promises. Playwrights craft myths. The winner writes history. The powerful control narratives.

Whether the emperor wears clothes or stands naked before us depends entirely on who holds the pen.

I like to see for myself.

Artist Fellow Elise Ansel's interpretation of Macbeth's witches

When Shakespeare Meets Canvas:

From Old Masters to Modern Mavericks

Excerpt from Image No. 6. Romeo and Juliet. Act 5. Scene 3. Painted by Mr. Northcote, R.A.

Before the play, Julius X, started I spent the early evening viewing the latest Folger Shakespeare Library exhibition, Imagining Shakespeare: Mythmaking and Storytelling in the Regency Era. I realized that different artists perceive the same Shakespeare scenes in wildly different facets. At the entrance to the exhibit, I was greeted by Henry Fuseli’s witches from 1793, complete with dramatic robes and theatrical setting, juxtaposed with Artist Fellow Elise Ansel’s 2024 abstract interpretation of that same scene, where the witches dissolve into swirling brushstrokes of orange, white, and red against deep black.

Same story. Different worlds.

The Boydell Collection: Shakespeare as Blockbuster

Walking past modernism, I was greeted with Regency Era historical heavyweights. The fourteen canvases now hanging at the Folger come from the Boydell Shakespeare Gallery—the 18th century’s attempt at a Shakespeare cinematic universe. John Boydell and his nephew Josiah opened this fashionable London gallery in 1789, amassing 173 paintings (almost half of them life-size) by 35 different artists. Think of it as the Metropolitan Museum meets a Shakespeare theme park.

Only about one third of these paintings survive today. The Folger has the largest remaining collection. When seen together for the first time since 1805, one realizes that these were not simply illustrations. They were storytelling on a grand scale.

The artists read like a who’s who of British painting: Robert Smirke (32 paintings), William Hamilton, Richard Westall, Francis Wheatley, George Romney, James Northcote, and Julius Ibbetson. Each brought their own style to Shakespeare’s words, sharing a common vision: make the drama leap off the page and into visual space.

When Witches Get a Modern Makeover

Artist Fellows “…tease out the threads connecting the early modern world to our lives today.” Above, Henry Fuseli’s Macbeth Consulting the Vision of the Armed Head (1793) has been reinterpreted by Artist Fellow, Elise Ansel with color, light, and shape.

Fast-forward to today where Folger Artist Fellow Elise Ansel takes on the same Macbeth witches that Fuseli painted in 1793. Instead of recognizable figures in a dark landscape, she renders visual energy—what she calls “graceful, wavelike brushstrokes, echoed in watts of gold.”

In her piece The Nature of Witches, abstract shapes suggest bodies without defining them. In Untying the Winds, the witches become more elemental—muted swirls that might “untie” the winds from Macbeth. The gray brushstrokes feel darker, more aggressive, as if the painting itself embodies the storm building in the play.

Where Fuseli’s witches are frightening and haggish (as Shakespeare wrote them), Ansel transforms them into something more ambiguous. They are powerful, fluid, almost beautiful in their danger.

What Makes Old Master Paintings “Old Master?”

I noticed, as noted, when standing in front of the Boydell paintings that they were created by men for men. That is not a value judgment. This was the art world of the early 19th C. The subjects, the perspectives, the portrayal of women reflected a specific and limited viewpoint.

In her contemporary pieces, Ansel deliberately disrupts the male thesis. By using color and abstraction in what she calls “open-ended visual languages,” she creates “new ways of looking and engaging for modern viewers.” She is not replacing the original stories. She is showing us different angles, different emotional temperatures.

Like hearing a jazz musician interpret a classical piece, the original composition remains; suddenly revealing notes and rhythms never before noticed. One such piece: Beethoven’s Für Elise as updated and performed by jazz pianist, Chick Corea in 1993.

Looking at the Paintings

The Folger stays true to the original Boydell Shakespeare Gallery tradition by providing visitors free booklets listing each painting denoted with a number. Further in the booklet, the paintings are described by play title, act and scene, a description of the scene’s events, the artist’s name, and excerpts from the play’s text.

In the gallery, I was on my own to view, search and interpret. Without immediate instructional labels, the exhibition affords space for interpretation while the booklet affords greater depth, if desired. Standing before the massive canvas of the awakening woman in white, I felt the folly of the deception and ignorance of the friar. When you look, you can recognize your feelings and reactions to the play. Having deep-seated conflict about that play, I first saw deception then agony. What you see will depend on your attitude.

Digging further into the context of the paintings, I opened the booklet to learn about the artist, the play, and the scene. Who painted this? When? What was happening in their world? How did knowing that painting No.10 was from King Lear affect my view? I did not need the booklet to tell me. I also did not need the booklet for painting No. 8. However, painting No.1 could have been any one of Shakespeare’s female characters dressed in men’s clothing. Painting No. 14 is not a play scene; it is a semi-deification of the Bard himself.

From British Imperialism to You

There is truth embedded in these beautiful paintings. By the time the Boydell Gallery closed in 1805, Shakespeare had become “The Bard.” He was no longer a brilliant playwright, but “a larger-than-life symbol of British imperialism and economic power.” These paintings were not simply representational art. They were essentially cultural propaganda.

Two hundred twenty years later, we appreciate the artistry while acknowledging the intent. Shakespeare’s words have always been interpreted through the lens of whoever is doing the looking—whether that is a Royal Academy painter in 1790 or a contemporary Artist Fellow in 2025.

The Contemporary Conversation Continues

The Folger’s Artist Fellowship program ensures that this conversation does not stop with historical canvases. Current Fellows like Elise Ansel join Missy Dunaway, Dominick Porras, Mandy Cano Villalobos, and Alexander D’Agostino create art works “…grounded in research on the stories, art, and objects in our collection,” per the introductory statement.

These artists are not merely making art about Shakespeare. They are using the collection as a springboard to explore how art and literature shape each other; how visual language can expand or challenge written words, how what we see influences what we think we know.

Come See for Yourself

These are not paintings you can experience on a screen. You should stand before them and feel their scale, see the brushwork up close, and notice details that disappear in photographs: how light plays across Ansel’s textured surfaces, the depth of detail and scope of the Boydell canvases, designed to overwhelm and impress.

The 14 Boydell paintings are now permanent residents at the Folger. The contemporary art rotates with each fellowship. Both are free to visit. Both will make you think about Shakespeare in ways you have not before.

Next time you are near Capitol Hill, visit the collection. Spend some time with witches old and new. See what happens when you allow visual artists to have their say about those famous words.

Shakespeare wrote for theater—a visual, physical space where words created the story. These artists are continuing that tradition, reminding us that these plays are as much visual as they are heard.


The Contemporary Art at the Folger exhibition featuring Elise Ansel runs October 3–November 9, 2025. The Boydell Shakespeare Gallery paintings are on permanent display. The Folger Shakespeare Library is located on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC, and admission is free.