"Keep our course, though the rough wind say no..." (On "Henry VI, Part 3")

Much as in Part 2, I found myself somewhat at a loss to find an entry point to discuss my thoughts on "Henry VI, Part 3." Not for lack of thoughts, mind you - those were legion - but for lack of time and clarity, I struggled to hone in on one particular theme that I could wrap around a single coherent blog entry.

And then last night's State of the Union address occurred.

And I thought...WORDS.

What weight do words hold? 

"Henry VI, Part 3" is, at its core, a play about a king who is all words, and the opposing side, who are all action. 

The scene opens with the son of aspiring king, Richard (who would later become King Richard III, of crooked back and "winter of our discontent" fame,) bringing a severed head onstage and instructing it to "[s]peak thou for me and tell them what I did."

Of course, a severed head can speak to no one, but its very existence attests to the existence of action - in this case bloody, brutal action. 

The ensuing scene is one in which the Duke of York (the aspiring king) challenges King Henry for his throne, and involves the negotiations therein. Eventually, Henry agrees to give up his throne to York at the end of his natural life, essentially disinheriting his own son in favor of York, enraging Queen Margaret on behalf of their son. 

But throughout the negotiations, the question of the value of words repeats. Henry appeals to York's sense of duty to the previous king, the nearly-sacred Henry V, by bringing up his victories in France. Warwick, the "Kingmaker," in support of York, caustically bites, "Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all." The contrast between speech and action is clear; Henry speaks of victory in France, but the reality is that his own inaction and choices have lost all of the lands that his father gained.

The following are just a few snippets of Act I.i:

KING HENRY VI: Peace, thou! and give King Henry leave to speak. 

WARWICK: [York] shall speak first: hear him, lords;
And be you silent and attentive too,
For he that interrupts him shall not live. 

Here, Warwick admits the power of words to sway, as he importunes the nobles to ignore Henry's words in favor of York's.

KING HENRY VI: [Aside] I know not what to say; my title's weak.--

Here we see a connection between how, as Henry's words falter, so does his claim to the throne.

KING HENRY VI: O Clifford, how thy words revive my heart! 

YORK: Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown.
What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords?

King Henry is revived by words; they bring him hope, and can therefore inspire. However, York is annoyed by words, as his frustration over the muttering and conspiring of the nobles shows. 

YORK: This oath I willingly take and will perform.

Here we see the marriage of words and deeds: York agrees, via an oath, to wed his future actions (to avoid conflict with Henry VI until the king's death) to his word. 

WESTMORELAND: I cannot stay to hear these articles. 

NORTHUMBERLAND: Nor I.

Here again, we have words, we have actions tied to words. The king's words of abdication to York are so loathsome to some of his supporters that they leave the scene and the play entirely, never to be seen again onstage.

QUEEN MARGARET: Enforced thee! art thou king, and wilt be forced?
I shame to hear thee speak.

KING HENRY VI: Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak. 

QUEEN MARGARET: Thou hast spoke too much already: get thee gone.

And Queen Margaret enters the fray! Despite one later scene (the brutal and humiliating murder of York,) Margaret comes across as rather a rare gal in this play, particularly in comparison to Part 2. Her speeches to Henry are full of fire and dismay as she fights for her son's inheritance. Towards the end of the play, it is clear that the opposing side considers her the real usurper of Henry's power, while Margaret blames Henry for his lack of backbone.

QUEEN MARGARET: (To her son) Ah, that thy father had been so resolved! 

[RICHARD]: That you might still have worn the petticoat,
And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster. (Act V.v) 

But Margaret, unlike Henry, weds action with words. She rages in speeches, and then gathers her troops and attacks. York (and after his death, his son Edward,) with one exception (at his son Rutland's murder,) avoids stirring speeches about his rights or intentions. Henry, by contrast, is ALL speech, and when he briefly re-attains the crown in Act IV, he immediately abdicates all responsibility for it, and places two protectors (Warwick and Clarence, both of whom had only recently been his enemies,) in charge of the kingdom's affairs. His speeches are often beautiful, and you can really get behind his wish to leave the squabbling of nobles and brutality of war behind. (It's not even clear whether he really believes in his own right to the crown.) But his speeches are just words - there is no threat or action behind them.

There are dozens of other quotes I could pull, in which Richard speaks aside to the audience of his own intentions to smile now while plotting the deaths of his brothers and nephew in his own reach for the crown, in the York brothers' convincing of their father that an oath not given before a magistrate is ineffectual, in the constant flip-flopping of allegiances between Clarence and Warwick and others, or of King Edward's marriage to Lady Grey after first betrothing himself to the sister of the King of France. The examples fill the pages.

The play ends as it began - first with a brutal, violent act by Richard. He murders the captive King Henry in the Tower of London, interrupting him in mid-speech:

[RICHARD]: I'll hear no more: die, prophet in thy speech:

The following scene is one that should be a celebration of Edward's coronation and the birth of the prince. But it feels ominous, with the spectre of Richard's coming betrayal hanging in the sidelines. And there is no one the audience can truly feel good about supporting in the last scene. The king has betrayed oaths and looked aside at the murder of innocents to achieve his throne. Clarence has switched sides twice, and will again. Richard lurks, waiting for his chance to steal the crown. Even Queen Elizabeth has been shown to be scheming for the benefit of her brothers and sons rather than for the good of her country. King Henry may have been weak and ineffectual, but with his death, it feels as if the last light of true morality in England has died. 

Which brings me to the State of the Union address. Anyone who's been paying attention for five seconds knows that most of its contents were not only false, but dangerous in the way that they chose to spin the president as some sort of moral leader who has the ability to raise up followers and cast down opponents. Seeing a man like Rush Limbaugh given the Medal of Honor while simultaneously degrading immigrants and Muslims sends a message about who Trump believes belongs in this country and who doesn't. 

But then we saw the power move of the night: Nancy Pelosi shredded her copy of the address. It was a striking statement that expressed without words her opinion of HIS words: that they were nothing. 

Not all of the morality in America has died, though I'm betting after today's impeachment vote, it will probably feel like it for a bit. We might do well to remember Queen Margaret's speech from Act I.i in thinking about the shameful deeds of the Republican party:

I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch!
Thou hast undone thyself, thy son and me;
And given unto the house of York such head
As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance.
To entail him and his heirs unto the crown,
What is it, but to make thy sepulchre
And creep into it far before thy time?