The Bard’s plays like ‘Henry V’ and ‘Richard III’ highlight the power of the common man in a monarchy and remind people of the perils of political apathy and silence
Henry V is among William Shakespeare’s most charismatic characters. A young man who has to take on the responsibility of the throne, he quickly and expertly adapts to his new role as king and leads his country to victory in battle against France. He, as the Chorus (a storyteller, who addresses the audience directly), describes, is “the mirror of all Christian kings”. He is heroic, godly and fair. He leads a small army to war, at the end of which, ten thousand Frenchmen have been slain and the English count comes to 29 deaths. He ascribes his victory to God, deals fairly as a king, and shows no favouritism for his friends. Toward the end of the play, this mighty warrior turns into an embarrassed lover, trying to woo a woman with heartfelt awkwardness. He is popular in public imagination and the people see him as a good man, a hero, a deliverer and a representative of God.
But as is common with Shakespeare, there’s more to the story than becomes apparent at first glance. Henry V can also be seen as a ruthless, albeit efficient, fighter, who incites war and death for personal gain. He dismisses military law and flouts rules for what he describes as a higher purpose, but ultimately it is so he can rule a larger kingdom. He coldly rejects his former, lowbrow companions and distances from his past, focusing instead on building a fresh and practiced image of himself in the present through moving and rousing speeches and public displays of goodness and religiosity. He talks about brotherhood but with both the French and English that lie dead his classism comes through, as he mentions names only of the nobility while the common man is left to obscurity.
Henry V: Not buying into the leader’s narrative
There are often two starkly opposing ways of seeing an influential leader, largely because power is achieved through stepping on the backs of others. In analysing this character, it can be a worthy exercise to think about the experience of the Frenchmen and of his former friends, the people who Henry has ‘othered.’ It’s worth considering a less obvious narrative, different from the one endorsed by the leader, and analysing him as a person instead of a gift from God. While popular sentiment sees Henry in one way, a different perspective issues a whole other character, as evil as the popular is good.
In the play, the Chorus goes a long way in establishing this heroic view of Henry V. It offers a sort of epic structure and feel to the play. With a chorus, it becomes easier to accept high intensity drama, the narrative device originating, for Shakespeare, from Greek classical plays. It also frames the scenes that will follow. It describes Henry in lofty terms — That every wretch, pining and pale before, / Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks: — and directs our thoughts in that direction. So we see Henry as a good leader and a brave-hearted man. The Chorus subtly propagandises for him.
But what’s interesting to note is that the Chorus speeches, which act as prologues to all five acts, are entirely absent in the quarto versions of the play. Quartos are essentially small chapbooks, where a page has been folded over four times, and the play printed on it. They were cheap and in circulation during the time that Shakespeare was writing. His earliest readers read Henry V without the Chorus’ speeches. The Chorus is introduced in the First Folio, the first time Shakespeare’s plays are presented as a collection, prepared by his colleagues John Heminges and Henry Condell and published in 1623, seven years after Shakespeare’s passing. It is commonly accepted that Shakespeare had nothing to do with the Folio.
There’s much speculation about why the Chorus speeches are missing from the quartos, but what stands out is that Shakespeare seems to be critically engaging with and presenting a complex, layered character on stage, seemingly reminding his audience not to buy into the narrative that a leader is building from their self and instead considering all the facts and thinking for themselves. That’s a valuable lesson that can just as easily apply to any other influential leader, irrespective of the time and place they are situated in. The message to be taken from Henry V is universal. And therein lies Shakespeare’s genius.
Richard III: Putting on a show of being the hero
If Henry V is generally seen as a hero who people believe is great and perfect, Shakespeare presents a stark contrast to him through Richard III. The latter is aware that he’s no hero. But he puts on a show of being the hero who is great and perfect, a godly man who will finally bring peace. And because the citizens are too wary to say anything, Richard accedes to the throne. When it comes to voting, silence isn’t neutrality and it certainly isn’t dissent. It’s a waste. What could have been a point against power becomes a whimper that falls through the cracks. And in Shakespeare’s Richard III, the citizens learn this lesson the hard way.
In a pivotal scene, after having killed off several people in the line of succession and imprisoning younger heirs in a tower, Richard posits himself as the answer to the vexing question of succession, and asks one of his allies to go out on the streets and weave tales that will capture the imagination of the general public. His ally, Buckingham, slanders the opposition in humiliating terms and speaks about Richard’s power, discipline and humility. He then asks the crowd to join together in vigorously and energetically proclaiming Richard as the king. But, as Buckingham narrates to Richard about their response:
“So God help me, they spake not a word
But, like dumb statues or breathing stones,
Stared each on other and looked deadly pale;”
At that gathering, Richard’s glories are repeated and a few of Buckingham’s own men cheer loudly in favour of having Richard as king. And public consensus has been earned. The mayor, with a few citizens, representing public opinion, later comes to meet with Richard. For them, Richard puts on a show of religious piety, and Buckingham, once again slandering Edward, the opposition, reports:
“Ah ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward!
He is not lolling on a lewd love-bed,
But on his knees at meditation;
Not dallying with a brace of courtesans,
But meditating with two deep divines;
Not sleeping, to engross his idle body,
But praying, to enrich his watchful soul.
Happy were England would this virtuous prince
Take on his Grace the sovereignty thereof.”
Richard is painted as a devout man, almost a God-send, to rid England of rot the opposition is made out to be. The man who orders a string of murders and imprisonments is branding himself as a saviour and the answer to all of the country’s turmoil and unsteadiness. By putting on little shows, he’s convincing people that he is in fact what they have been looking for this whole time. Richard continues to shrewdly carry out the plan that will eventually lead him to the throne. And those who aren’t sure about him are left staring at each other numbly in the wake of the breakneck speed at which his brilliant ploys continue to unfold. Through Richard III, Shakespeare seems to be teaching us that silence works as a cushion, supporting those in power. Instead of staring like ‘tongueless blocks’ at each other, people must show up, having their say in who leads them.
The hollowness of silence
Historically, Richard III has a short rule and is soon overthrown by Richmond. The latter is seen as a symbol of stability and prosperity — at long last. With him, not just Richard’s deadly reign but also the War of the Roses comes to an end. Richmond is, supposedly, the solution to all of England’s problems, a symbol of Tudor victory. He becomes Henry VII, grandfather of Queen Elizabeth I, who’s the reigning queen at the time when Shakespeare is writing this play. Early scholarship of Shakespeare’s works often reads this play as Shakespeare’s way of buying into the then-prevalent belief that through the Tudor dynasty, God was leading England toward prosperity.
However, there’s other ways of reading the play and speculating about Shakespeare’s possible intent. The play was written sometime between 1591-2. The Queen was in her late 50s by that time, around 58. Unmarried, with no heirs. There was much anxiety during that time about who would occupy the throne after her. Writing a play that suggests that the Tudors are the answer to everything, during this time, seems rather conflicting with general public sentiment and apprehension.
But this play was a huge success at that time, having six editions of quartos printed. They are titled The Tragedy of Richard III. Richard speaks 32% of the lines in the play, while Richmond has 4% of dialogues. Richard is clearly the protagonist for Shakespeare’s earliest audiences. But this protagonist, although a villain, isn’t meant to inspire unbridled hate for himself. Audiences learn of his physical deformity and insecurity and of a dark childhood with neglect and a stark lack of love. He’s complex, though not likeable either. It’s frustrating, but one must grudgingly accept that he’s exceedingly shrewd and intelligent, and his plans impactful.
In the play and among audiences, while some might sympathise with Richard, others hate him with a passion. But there’s no escaping him. So what exactly is Shakespeare saying? If he’s not focused on Richmond as the answer to everything and isn’t trying to incite favour for Richard, it’s possible that Shakespeare was making a statement about the political uncertainty that’s looming for England in the 1590s. After this, Shakespeare writes his other histories, which talk about what happened before the events of this play. He’s going backward, to The War of the Roses and more turbulent times.
He’s perhaps expressing anxiety at who or what type of ruler might descend to England’s throne next. Is this person going to inspire a golden age or use murder and deceit to amass power and position? Whatever the outcome, Shakespeare seems to be using his play to remind people of the perils of political apathy and silence. And if he’s highlighting the power of the common man in a monarchy, one can only imagine the type of rousing encouragement he would offer to people in the world’s largest democracy, telling them to go out and vote and reminding them of the hollowness of silence.
