Whendidmacbethstartrollinghisr’s?
Sean Connery might have been the first actor to play Shakespeare’s regicide with a proper Scotish accent, says Susan Morrison
It's only taken about 60 years, but Montgomery Scott of the USS Enterprise now has a genuine Scottish accent, provided by Paisley-born actor Martin Quinn. To be fair, James Doohan’s accent wasn’t the worst. Mel Gibson still makes Scots wince. Conversely, Sir Sean Connery rarely played a Scot, but never failed to deploy the accent.
It took a lot longer other for other great Scots of stage and screen to sound the part. Take Macbeth. When did he get a real Scottish accent? It's hard to know. Dr Simon Forman dates the first public performance of Macbeth at the Globe Theatre to April 1611. English actor Richard Burbage played the lead.
It's a meaty role. Scottish actors may well have wanted be Macbeth, but no dice. Prancing about on stage was all very well for London, but Edinburgh had little time for such flummeries and frivolities. The elders of the Reformation had actors in their sights.
An Act of the Parliament of Scotland 1575, expresses very familiar concerns about the impact of theatrical performances on public morals. There were, the act claimed, “great abuse and offenses” being caused by stage plays. It’s a familiar cry through the ages, echoing fears over penny-dreadful comics, violent films and graphic computer games. Plays, announced the kirk, should be regulated. Macbeth included. Which isn't to say that he wasn't being performed somewhere in Scotland. It’s entirely possible that groups of friends would have low-key, ‘cabinet’ readings. One of these amateur productions might unwittingly have been the first sound of Macbeth in something like his native accent.
By the 18th century, visiting actors were coming to town, apparently undaunted by the Kirk’s vitriol. In November 1727, Edinburgh Town Council denounced stage plays and banned the lot. The Court of Sessions reversed the magistrates’ decision, sending Rev Robert Woodrow into a tailspin of sanctimonious fury. He denounced plays as “seminaries of idleness, looseness and sin”.' Sounds like a great night out.
That was tame. A pamphlet of the time described actors as "the most profligate wretches and vilest vermin that hell ever vomited out... the filth and garbage of the earth, the scum and stain of human nature, the excrement and refuse of all mankind”. Some performers at the
Edinburgh Fringe would be delighted by that write-up.
They shut the Scots Company of Comedians, formed for dramatic entertainments, in 1729. Effectively, they banned comedians. Something else to remember during the Fringe.
The thespians didn't give up that easily, but they did proceed with caution. In 1727, Allan Ramsay wrote his “Some Hints in Defence of Dramatic Entertainment”. Note the careful use of the word “Hints”.
A small theatre was established in Carruber's Close in Edinburgh with Ramsay's help, but it was as short-lived as a West End flop. The 1737 Licensing Act brought the curtain down on the stage, but people still wanted to go to the theatre, even if it meant getting busted for it. That's exactly what happened in 1739 when the Presbytery of Edinburgh swooped in to close an illegal production of Macbeth.
The Caledonian Mercury of January 9, 1739, breathlessly reported that the authorities were acting upon a signed “Complaint and Information”. In other words, they'd been dobbed in. The cast, listed as John Morison, Messers Miliar, Thomson, Waldegrave, and shockingly, women such as Mrs Woodward, Mrs Gifford, and Mrs Millar had defiantly “last Friday staged the Tragedy of Macbeth, in open Defiance of a late Law, the whole Dramatis Personae to appear this Day… in the Council chamber”. Our reporter, perhaps starstruck and hoping for a career as a reviewer, promises his readers that in his next edition “we may perhaps inform our Readers how they ACT before the Magistrates”. See what he did there?
No matter how hard the grim grey man of the presbytery tried, they couldn't stop people liking plays, any more than Macbeth could stop blood-soaked Banquo crashing his party. Theatres flourished in Scotland, despite their unfortunate habit of burning down. Stage lighting was largely provided by naked flame, a dangerous combination around painted backdrops and heavy curtains.
By the middle of 18th century Shakespeare was enough of a hit in Scotland to be the butt of one of the greatest heckles in Scottish theatrical history. The play Dougla” opened in 1756. It was written by Leith’s John Home. Astonishingly, he was a minister of the kirk. Douglas is truly epic. Just about everyone is dead by the end. On the first night, when the curtain finally came down, the audience sat in stunned silence until a voice gloriously boomed “Waurs yer Wullie Shakespeare, noo?” Cue rapturous applause. No one attempted to arrest the cast.
The Victorians adored Shakespeare, and Scotland’s cities began to boast beautiful theatres fit to stage the tragedy of a king. The Scottish Play came home to tremendous acclaim. In 1889, the Scottish National Observer became mildly hysterical at the appearance of Ellen Terry and Henry Irving performing Macbeth at the Lyceum. It was to be, they promised, a “theatrical event which is likely to keep the English-speaking artworld agog for so many months to come… It is meat for men, not flummery for children”. But Macbeth and his queen still had English accents. Bit-part players might “Scot Up”, or been local performers, with genuine accents, but Shakespeare's kings spoke with mellifluous received pronunciation.
However, by the 20th century, Macbeth rolled his R’s properly. In 1961, a rising Scottish actor played the royal anti-hero in a Canadian TV film. His name was Sean Connery. The reviews say it was an arresting performance.
Prancing about on stage was all very well for London, but Edinburgh had little time for such flummeries and frivolities