Political Animal. Victor L. Cahn
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after the death of his father, John of Gaunt, violates the fundamental law of primogeniture. Thus by acting against the King, Bullingbrook invites retribution; yet even as he does, he leads England into the modern age. Therefore a paradoxical vision emerges: although the deposition of Richard was an outrage that caused grievous suffering to both Henry IV personally and the nation at large, the action was politically and socially necessary.
Henry IV, Parts 1&2 have enjoyed a rich stage history, although for generations after Shakespeare’s death, most productions focused on the more flamboyant characters: Falstaff and Hotspur. During the twentieth century, however, as Scott McMillen explains, and especially after the 1951 presentation of the entire sequence at Stratford, focus shifted to the maturation of Prince Hal/Henry V (McMillen 1, 3). In recent years, Henry V and its title character have become especially controversial because of our sensibilities about the wisdom and morality of all military campaigns, especially those in the latter portion of the twentieth century and the beginning of the twenty-first. As a result, any new presentations of this play must set Henry’s aggression against his determination and charisma, while simultaneously weighing his ruthlessness and religious faith. Whatever the final judgment, however, grappling with the complicated progression of his character has become essential.
Shakespeare’s first mention of this young man occurs near the end of Richard II, when Henry IV, newly crowned, bemoans the antics of his wayward heir:
Can no man tell me of my unthrifty son?
‘Tis full three months since I did see him last.
If any plague hang over us, ‘tis he.
I would to God, my lords, he might be found.
Inquire at London, ‘mongst the taverns there,
For there, they say, he daily doth frequent,
With unrestrained loose companions,
Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes
And beat our watch and rob our passengers,
Which he, young wanton and effeminate boy,
Take on the point of honor to support
So dissolute a crew.
(Richard II, V, iii, 1–12)
The word “effeminate” implies that Hal has become too weak or dissipated to assume the royal responsibilities which will eventually be thrust upon him. Henry Percy adds to this picture of debauchery by noting that Hal intends to wear a whore’s glove at the jousts to be held in honor of his father’s coronation (Richard II, V, iii, 16–19).
Nevertheless, the King has not lost all faith: “As dissolute as desperate, yet through both/ I see some sparks of better hope, which elder years/ May happily bring forth” (Richard II, V, iii, 20-22). Our first reaction to these lines may be to imagine the smiles that must have crossed the faces of Shakespeare’s original audience, who knew what future glories awaited this apparent reprobate. We should also keep in mind that the King’s speech incorporates unflattering aspects of the Prince’s life that were popularly accepted, as well as recorded in Shakespeare’s primary historical source, Holinshed’s Chronicles of England, Scotland, and Ireland. These flaws include Hal’s habitual absence from court, his excessive drinking, and his indulgence in more illegal behavior.
Yet we also wonder what kind of fellow the Prince is. Does he idle away his life among thieves and prostitutes because he is content to be a wastrel? Do the King’s words indicate that Hal has rejected his father’s values? Or does the Prince temporarily prefer the company of individuals less exalted than those we have met in this play? Certainly the characters in Richard II who usurp the throne are a grim lot. Although they claim that they seek to depose the abusive King for the good of the country, we sense that they also intend to exert their own authority. Does Hal’s current alienation suggest that when he assumes power, he will conduct himself more compassionately? With what methods, and according to what principles, will he achieve the eminence that awaits him?
No doubt Shakespeare’s audiences would have deliberated over these and other questions. Of course, attendees at his plays knew what events had unfolded two centuries earlier, and thus where any plot about Hal had to lead, but they could not be certain how the playwright would present this titanic ruler. He would surely be great, but in what way? What traits would Shakespeare emphasize? How would he reveal the man beyond the historical record?
From our own perspective, we wonder how Shakespeare’s Hal relates to political figures from recent times. Do his attitudes and strategies have contemporary parallels? What themes presented here resound today?
Such concerns are endemic to all historical drama. Whether the subject is the founding of the American republic, World War I, scientific discoveries, or political assassination; when events are generally known, a playwright is both limited and liberated. The challenge is to offer an enlightening dramatization of the matters in question.
In this volume I shall focus on this single character who looms so large in both English and world history, as well as in Shakespeare’s canon. My goal is to establish for Hal/Henry what in theatrical circles is often called a “through line”: a set of consistent psychological precepts that encompass a character’s language and action. Over the course of my effort, I also hope to reconcile many of the critical judgments that have been directed toward him.
My text is The Riverside Shakespeare (Houghton Mifflin), and all quotations from the plays are taken from that edition.
Henry IV, Part 1
The opening scene of this play follows directly from the ending of Richard II, when the new King vowed: “I’ll make a voyage to the Holy Land,/ To wash this blood off from my guilty hand” (Richard II, V, vi, 49–50). His mourning was bi-partite, for he was saddened not only by the literal murder of Richard at the hands of Exton (who claimed to have carried out Henry’s wishes), but also by Henry’s own policies that led to the deposition of a ruler placed on the throne under God’s sanction. That lugubrious tone continues into Henry IV:
So shaken as we are, so wan with care,
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant
And breathe short-winded accents of new broils
To be commenc’d in stronds afar remote.
(I, i, 1–4)
Only a short time has passed since Henry became King, but he seems to have aged a decade, as he broods that he is the cause of the civil disorder that plagues his kingdom. Nevertheless, “all the conscious piety of his life cannot justify him, even to himself” (Pierce 176). Like any practical politician, he urges that opposing sides should work in harmony for the common good, but his regrets and hopes yield to more pressing issues, including the capture of Mortimer, Earl of March, by the Welshman Glendower, as well as the valor of Henry Percy, nicknamed “Hotspur.” At first, the King admires the latter figure, the offspring of his ally Northumberland:
A son who is the theme of honor’s tongue,
Amongst a grove the very straightest plant,
Who is sweet fortune’s minion and her pride,
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonor stain the brow
Of my young Harry.
(I, i, 81–86)
Yet the impetuosity of this young man vexes the King, as he articulates to Westmoreland:
What think you, coz,
Of this young Percy’s pride? The prisoners
Which he in this adventure hath surpris’d
To his own use he keeps, and sends me word
I shall have none but Mordake Earl of Fife.
(I, i, 91–95)
Historically Hotspur was older than King Henry, and more than twenty years Hal’s senior, but Shakespeare