Shakespeare's Kings (121 page)

was
hamstrung
by
a
series
of
parliaments
more
uncooperative
than
any before
the
seventeenth
century.
His
son
Henry
V
sought,
as
Edward III
had
sought
before
him,
to
bury
his
domestic
problems
by
renewing the
war
with
France.
A
courageous
and
inspiring
leader
of
men
though
a remarkably
indifferent
general,
he
won
a
glorious
but
largely
undeserved victory
and
thereby
immense
popular
acclaim;
but
he
died
at
thirty-four, leaving
the
country
in
no
better
state
than
he
found
it.

Once
again
an
early
death
exacted
its
toll,
and
a
far
greater
one
than before:
Richard
II
on
his
accession
had
been
a
boy
of
ten:
Henry
VI was
a
babe
in
arms.
More
serious
still,
he
effectively
remained
one
for the
rest
of his
life.
A
strong
hand
at
the
helm
might,
at
this
point,
have averted
catastrophe;
under
Henry,
and
under
the
baleful
influence
of his
councillors
and
his
Queen,
the
Wars
of
the
Roses
were
inevitable. The
King's
life
was
to
prove,
to
everyone's
surprise,
not
so
much
too short
as
very
much
too
long;
even
so
it
was
plain,
in
the
absence
of
any suitable
Lancastrian
successor,
that
the
throne
must
pass
to
the
House of
York.
That
it
should
have
done
so
during
Henry's
lifetime,
and should
then
have
been
returned
to
him
at
the
whim
of
a
jumped-up nobleman,
says
all
that
needs
to
be
said
about
the
depths
to
which
the monarchy
had
fallen.
Could
Edward
IV,
after
his
second
coronation, have
redeemed
it
as
successfully
as
his
great-great-grandfather
and namesake,
a
hundred
and
fifty
years
before?
Quite
possibly
-
he
possessed many
of
the
qualities
necessary
for
the
task.
But
he
made
one
calamitous mistake:
he
married
a
Woodville.
As
a
direct
result
of
that
marriage
the Yorkists
were
split
in
two:
and
thus,
with
Edward's
early
death
while his
sons
were
still
defenceless
children,
the
way
was
laid
open
for
the usurpation
of
Richard
III
-
and,
indire
ctly
,
for
the
accession
of
Henry Tudor.

It
was
said
of
Henry
that
he
had
never
been
young;
but
a
military upbringing
at
the
hands
of
an
uncle,
followed
by
an
adolescence
and early
manhood
spent
largely
in
exile
and
in
constant
danger
of
capture and
execution,
are
hardly
conducive
to
joie-de-vivre.
Seldom
if
ever
did Henry
show
any
of
the
passions,
the
overwhelming
emotions,
the terrible
rages
of
his
son
and
granddaughters.
Cruel
and
inflexible
he could
be,
but
his
decisions
were
always
ruled
by
the
head
rather
than the
heart;
far
more
freque
ntly
he
amazed
his
advisers
by
his
mercy
and tolerance
-
which
sprang,
however,
not
from
any
deep
wells
of
kindness or
compassion
but
from
the
conviction
that
his
primary
task
must
be to
reconcile
the
old
factions
and,
slowly
and
patie
ntly
,
to
bring
the aristocracy
to
its
senses.
At
long
last,
the
country
had
a
superb
King;
it had
waited,
heaven
knows,
long
enough.

The
history
of
England
in
the
late
fourteenth
and
fifteenth
centuries is
tragic
indeed,
but
it
is
never
lacking
in
drama;
no
wonder
Shakespeare saw
it
as
fit
material
for
his
pen.
There
were
of
course
danger
areas,
of which
the
most
perilous
was
probably
religion.
Only
forty
years
before he
wrote
his
plays,
under
Bloody
Mary,
English
men
and
women
were being
martyred
for
their
Protestant
faith;
Elizabeth
had
to
some
degree restored
the
equilibrium,
but
feelings
were
still
running
high
on
both sides.
Shakespeare
solved
this
particular
problem
by
ignoring
it:
there are
few
contemporary
writers,
in
England
or
even
in
Europe,
in
whose work
the
affairs
of
the
spirit
play
so
insignificant
a
part.
Except
for
the speech
of
the
Bishop
of
Carlisle
in
Act
IV
of
Richard
II a
nd
the
doggerel quatrain
¹
on
his
tomb
-
which
it
is
almost
impossible
to
believe
that
he wrote
himself
-
there
is
scarcely
a
line
in
all
his
work
that
mentions, uncorrupted
and
in
a
serious
context,
the
name
of
Jesus
Christ.

More
inescapable
were
the
dethronements
of
Richard
II
and
Henry VI.
The
Queen
was
known
to
be
sensitive
on
such
matters,
and
it
must always
be
borne
in
mind
that
these
plays,
written
for
the
most
part while
Shakespeare
was
still
in
his
twenties,
are
Elizabethan
rather
than Jacobean.
Besides,
as
things
turned
out,
Her
Majesty
had
good
reason to
be
uneasy:
on
Friday
6
February
1601
did
not
a
party
of
supporters of
the
Earl
ofEssex
demand
a
special
performance
of
Richard II,
promising to
pay
forty
shillings
for
it
and
to
indemnify
the
players
against
any
loss? Two
days
later
Essex
was
proclaimed
a
traitor
and
the
same
evening gave
himself
up.