On August 15th, 1058 Macbeth was killed by Malcolm at Lumphanan in Mar. He was buried on Iona.
Ard Righ MacBheata Mac Findlaich
(High King Son of Life, Son of Findlaich) -
Macbeth, King of Scots 1040-1058
The one remaining tower of one of several castles in Scotland attributed to Macbeth. This one is in Peebles.
Photo Jeremy White
Every year in August the famous Edinburgh Festival of the Arts is held in Edinburgh. In 1957 the musician Harry Legge 'invented' the Rehearsal Orchestra, which has run each year since then during the same period. Each section of this orchestra is led and coached by a professional player, and students, amateurs and young professionals explore a wide repertoire of music, far broader than they could hope to meet in their college or local orchestras.
One of the most faithful summer students was Miss Macbeth, an elderly Scots lady, who was a violin teacher in Ayr. Wednesdays were half-days at the course and on one particular Wednesday afternoon Miss Macbeth decided she'd like a trip out of Edinburgh on one of the many sight-seeing coach tours on offer. The trip took her to many of the wonderful Scottish sites and she enjoyed herself tremendously. Until they came to a ruined castle which the tour guide introduced as " .....and this is the castle of the notorious murderer, Macbeth".
Whereupon little Miss Macbeth rose from her seat, bristling with indignation, and replied, in her finest lady-like accents, "Sir, I'll thank you to speak civilly of my ancestor".
The last, but by no means least, word goes to the Bard himself, who took the story of Macbeth and turned it into fiction. But what fiction!
Act V Scene v
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty face from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,