I read once that great literature often doesn’t provide answers to life’s questions, it poses the questions. I’ve been wondering what Shakespeare tries to ask and explore in the story of Richard II. What makes a king? What marks out a king from an ordinary human being? These are some of the questions I’ve been thinking about.
What makes a man a legitimate king? The first-born son of the previous king? How about the second son of the previous king, like Henry VIII? How about the oldest surviving daughter of the previous king, like Elizabeth I? Do their character and achievements matter? Someone who is strong in body and mind? A natural leader whom the common people love and the nobles respect and flock to? In that case, can anyone who’s capable become king no matter who he descends from? There are many examples of this dilemma throughout British history. Is one made king by the grace of God or by human achievement?
To help the discussion, Shakespeare creates two kingly figures in this play that are at opposite ends of the spectrum. Richard II is recognised as king anointed by God. He is king purely because his father was the first born son of the previous king, who was the king before him. Richard is a king “by fair sequence and succession (A2S1)”. He’s anointed king because of his descent. It sounds a bit fantastical for us now, especially as, to many people, God doesn’t seem to be very relevant, but it was a deep-seated belief at the time. Take one example from the play. Gloucester is murdered by Richard’s order. John of Gaunt knows the truth but he will not avenge his brother.
GAUNT
God’s is the quarrel, for God’s substitute,
His deputy anointed in His sight,
Hath caus’d his death, the which if wrongfully
Let heaven revenge, for I may never lift
An angry arm against His minister.
(Act1 Scene 2)
Gaunt says to his sister-in-law, Gloucester’s widow, your complaint is against God because the murder is done by God’s anointed. Heaven will revenge but not I.
Shakespeare, to make the comparison between Richard and Bullingbrook explicit, portrays Richard the king by God’s grace as completely useless. There’s not a trace of good work, achievement, or character that can be added to Richard’s account. And then on the other side of the spectrum we have Bullingbrook, who’s the embodiment of competence, leadership and hard work: he’s courageous in combat, he amasses an army with the click of a finger, his argument for his return mid-banishment is strong and moving, he’s admired and followed as a leader by people high and low. Is it OK to make a king through political and military power like Bullingbrook?
Shakespeare is famous for not giving his clear stance on things, either religious beliefs or political debates, we can’t quite tell what Shakespeare thinks. Can we get any sense of what he thinks about the making of a king? Which of the two would make a better king? By the end of the play, Richard is deposed, Bullingbrook sits on the throne and the winner takes it all, like Richard says, ‘our lands, our lives and all are Bullingbrook’. And Richard deserves it, he can’t rule at all and he behaves awfully toward Old Gaunt. So it looks like Shakespeare and history itself prove that a king can be made through military and political power. But there are a few things that pull the argument the other way.
As a character, Bullingbrook is not under a favourable light either. That I guess you can argue is arbitrary. One reason is that you can see his triumph as a result of his opponent being excessively weak, rather than Bullingbrook himself particularly strong. Another reason is how Shakespeare presents his silent craftiness. I don’t like the inconsistency between what he shows on the outside through his words and deeds, and what he thinks inside. Throughout the whole play, he swears allegiance to King Richard as he carries on plotting the treason and rebellion. He’s polite and respectful to York and Richard. He doesn’t say anything ambitious or aggressive about wanting to be king himself. Even when he executes Richard’s followers, he does it for the sake of the king first, then for himself. It’s so implicit that I can’t quite tell at what point he starts to have the idea of taking over the throne. Because at one point we see him coming back from exile swearing that “his coming is but for his own (A2S3)”, as in he only wants his lawful right as the Duke of Lancaster, the next thing we know, he “ascend the regal throne (A4S1). How does it happen? I don’t feel like I know him, like the way I know Richard. Even though I don’t like Richard, at least I know him. But I don’t know Bullingbrook and I don’t trust him. For example his lament over Richard’s dead body at the end, I can’t tell if he’s genuine.
So that’s one reason why I don’t think Bullingbrook is a better king. The second reason I don’t think it’s a good idea to become a king Bullingbrook’s way is that, look what happens after this. I don’t know English history enough to say that this is the first ever case that a king by birth is deposed by a king by force. But he’s definitely not the last and it seems to start a trend. In history, the grandson of the Duke of York starts the famous Wars of the Roses by challenging the reign of the grandson of Henry Bullingbrook the Duke of Lancaster, a civil war that lasts over 30 years. The Bishop of Carlisle prophecies:
CARLISLE
And if you crown him let me prophesy:
The blood of English shall manure the ground
And future ages groan for this foul act.
Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels,
And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars
Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound.
Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny
Shall here inhabit, and this land be call’d
The field of Golgotha and dead men’s skulls.
O, if you raise this house against this house
It will the woefullest division prove
That ever fell upon this cursed earth.
Prevent it, resist it, let it not be so,
Lest child, child’s children, cry against you woe.
The curses become true, the Wars of the Roses follow, Richard III happens, cousins plotting against each other and grabbing power again and again. Is this a better way?
The third reason is that Shakespeare gives Richard, the supposed loser, so much depth and richness in his inner life. As I said in the last post on Richard II, as he falls from grace as a king, he seems to grow and rise as a human being.
So Shakespeare presents us two models of kingship, either by God’s grace or by human achievement. Which one is better? What’s the solution? In A5S5 shortly before Richard dies, he gives this last long soliloquy, trying to figure out the two options, is it better to be ambitious or to be content with the lot you’re given? There are a lot of references and allusions to the Bible in Richard II, especially from the book of Genesis and the Gospels. In this soliloquy Richard quotes from the Gospel of Matthew. He says
RICHARD
The better sort,
As thoughts of things divine, are intermix’d
With scruples, and do set the word itself
Against the word—
As thus: ‘Come, little ones,’ and then again
‘It is as hard to come as for a camel
To thread the postern of a needle’s eye.’
(Act 5 Scene 5)
A small detour just in case you’re not familiar with the Bible, these two quotes are from two stories in the Gospel of Matthew. The camel story comes straight after the ‘come little ones’ story. Let me fill in the context which the Elizabethan audience would know well, in order to make sense of Richard’s thought process. He says there are so many thoughts in my head and they’re contradicting each other. Even things from the Bible seem to contradict. And he gives these two quotes as an example.
Then people brought little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked them. [Because they think Jesus has better things to do than entertaining children. But] Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” When he had placed his hands on them, he went on from there. (Matthew 17.13-15 NIV)
Jesus seems to be saying, it’s simple, be like a child and you can enter the kingdom of heaven. Straight after this, Jesus meets a rich man, who comes up and asks Jesus a question.
Just then a man came up to Jesus and asked, “Teacher, what good thing must I do to get eternal life?” “Why do you ask me about what is good?”Jesus replied. “There is only One who is good. If you want to enter life, keep the commandments.” “Which ones?” he inquired. Jesus replied, “‘You shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not steal, you shall not give false testimony, your father and mother,’ and ‘love your neighbour as yourself.’” “All these I have kept,” the young man said. “What do I still lack?” Jesus answered, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” When the young man heard this, he went away sad, because he had great wealth. Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Truly I tell you, it is hard for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” (Matthew 17.16-24 NIV)
Jesus seems to be saying, it’s going to be hard and almost impossible to enter the kingdom of heaven. So Richard asks, which is it then? By the way, Jesus’ words from the two stories do not contradict each other, because the camel story doesn’t stop there.
When the disciples heard this, they were greatly astonished and asked, “Who then can be saved?” Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” (Matthew 17.25-26)
Without turning this into a sermon, the point is, to put it simply, just as a child depends entirely on his parents, so depend on God and not on wealth or works to enter the kingdom of heaven — end of sermon!
So back to Richard, should I be ambitious like Bullingbrook then? Would that have been better? Or be contented with the lot I’m dealt? He can’t reconcile in his head what has happened to him and what he has done wrong.
RICHARD
Sometimes am I king,
Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am. Then crushing penury
Persuades me I was better when a king,
Then am I king’d again, and by and by
Think that I am unkinged by Bullingbrook,
And straight am nothing.
(Act 5 Scene 5)
Sometimes he remembers he was a king but the disgrace makes him want to forget he was ever so high and proud. But his previous life is still so fresh in his memory. ‘Life as a king was so much better, I was loved and glorious. But look at me now. I’m SO low, alone and desolate that it would have been better if I had been a plain beggar with nothing to lose.’ Being high makes the downfall more crushing and humiliating.
RICHARD
Yet I well remember The favours of these men.
Were they not mine? Did they not sometime cry ‘All hail!’ to me?
(Act 4 Scene 1)
I find it a complicated emotion. It’s a bit like losing the man or woman you love to another person. ‘You loved me, you used to say all those sweet words to me. They are still so vivid in my memory. Why do you desert me?’ That’s sorrow and grief for happy and good things lost. But to keep your last shreds of dignity, you try to hold it together and not cry. Richard like the deserted lover puts on a brave front and does not beg.
For that pride and backbone, I feel for him and, I’m a bit surprised to find myself saying this, I admire him. Because I understand his sorrow and struggle. Even though I’m never anyone high and mighty brought down low, I know the anguish, regret, hopelessness, loneliness and grief of someone who was dearly treasured and loved and one day, NOT, anymore. On top of that, he’s badly hurt by the betrayals and he’s angry.
RICHARD
So Judas did to Christ, but he in twelve
Found truth in all but one, I in twelve thousand none.
(Act 4 Scene 1)
Shakespeare is a master for writing about every human feeling and emotion accurately and intensely. Richard turns from a cold and unlikable king to a flesh-and-blood human over the course of the play. The more he leaves his kingly identity behind, the more human he becomes.
Richard compares himself to Jesus in the play. The most obvious example, as we just saw, he calls the traitors Judas, he does it twice in the play. During the deposition, Richard says to a silently watching court:
RICHARD
Nay, all of you that stand and look upon me
Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself,
Though some of you with Pilate wash your hands,
Showing an outward pity, yet you Pilates
Have here deliver’d me to my sour cross
And water cannot wash away your sin.
(Act 4 Scene 1)
Richard might think of himself as God’s anointed king on earth and even compare himself to Jesus, but I doubt he ever for a minute thinks himself the saviour of the world. But in a small way, he IS a bit like Jesus.
RICHARD
Down, down I come, glistering Phaëthon,
Wanting the manage of unruly jades.
In the base court? Base court where kings grow base,
To come at traitors’ calls, and do them grace!
In the base court come down. Down court, down king,
For night owls shriek where mounting larks should sing.
(Act 3 Scene 3)
Obviously Richard comes down without any choice, he is forced to do so while Jesus chooses to, willingly. In a way that Richard doesn’t realise, both he and Jesus leave their kingly glory, come down from on high and become low and human. Doesn’t this strike a chord when Richard says:
RICHARD
I live with bread like you, feel want,
Taste grief, need friends. Subjected thus,
How can you say to me I am a king?
(Act 3 Scene 3)
I can totally understand when people at the time looked at Jesus and said, he lives with bread like us, feels want, tastes grief, needs friends; how can you say he is God? We can relate when Richard talks about all the human necessities and discusses questions that mere humans face, like want, loneliness and death. He was never able to do that when he was the king. I need to be careful here comparing Richard with Jesus, unlike Richard Jesus is never a bad king. But do you see what I mean, Richard comes down from his throne and surrenders his crown, he suffers life and death. He is betrayed by his friends and followers. He takes the humiliation meekly. One scene that breaks my heart is when Old York tells his wife how the deposed king rode into London streets after the proud and triumphant Bullingbrook.
YORK
No man cried ‘God save him!’
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home,
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head,
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,
His face still combating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience,
That had not God for some strong purpose, steel’d
The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted
And barbarism itself have pitied him.
But heaven hath a hand in these events,
To whose high will we bound our calm contents.
(Act 5 Scene 2)
This is exactly what Cleopatra would not endure. She would not be paraded in Rome as a loser and loot. She chose death over humiliation. But enduring humiliation is part of being human. So Richard goes through the humiliation.
The image of a scale weighing up Richard and Bullingbrook appears twice in the play. As Richard sinks in power and authority, Bullingbrook rises. Just before Richard sinks to his grave, Bullingbrook rises to the height of not just a king, but god. After he pardons Aumerle’s treason, the Duchess of York says:
DUCHESS
A god on earth thou art.
Bullingbrook becomes god on earth. And straightaway exercising the power over life and death as a god, he decrees the destruction of men. In contrast, King Richard becomes man.
RICHARD
But whate’er I be
Nor I nor any man that but man is
With nothing shall be pleas’d till he be eas’d
With being nothing.
Richard’s deep search into his soul about life and death is said to be an early model of the mind of Hamlet. I especially love this reflection on the power of death, and the futility of life of a king as well as all of us.
RICHARD
For within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court, and there the antic sits
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene
To monarchize, be fear’d, and kill with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit
As if this flesh which walls about our life
Were brass impregnable, and, humour’d thus
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall and farewell king!
(Act 3 Scene 2)
Though we’re not kings and queens, the illustration of death as a clown watching us and mocking us can be easily transferred to our lives. We think we’re safe and well, and will live and rule our little kingdom forever, but disaster could strike us unprepared and death could catch up on us any minute.
A Day of Small Things 