Fisher Times-Post-Dispatch-Courier

The 3rd Part of Henry VI - also called Richard Duke of York - is certainly my favorite of the plays so far.  It is bloody, it is violent, and most of the characters die.  Richard Duke of York is slain at the end of the first part, and Henry VI is slaughtered at the end.  King Henry is a very weak monarch, who promises the throne to Richard and his issue upon Henry’s death.  Thus the Queen is the majority driver for the action, fighting to defend her son Edward’s succession rights.  War is fought, France’s help is sought, a princess is promised to King Edward, son of Richard Duke of York, who insults France by marrying an English woman in the interim.  Dukes switch sides, more war is fought, Henry returns to the throne, Dukes switch back, and Henry and his Queen are finally defeated and Henry killed.

Shakespeare returns to this line of plays later, telling the story of the hunchbacked, evil son of Richard Duke of York - Richard Duke of Glouchester - who has unfettered ambition to the throne.  In 3 Henry VI, Richard has a long soliloquy in which he accounts for all the people who stand between him in the line of succession, then vowing to cut a bloody swath in his pursuit of that end.  The later history plays recount his fulfillment of this vow.

Now up?  Shakespeare’s first tragedy, Titus Andronicus.  Many experts debate the validity of ascribing this play to Shakespeare, largely because Titus is so ridiculously violent and base.  There is cannibalism, rape, murder, mutilation, and other atrocities.  Mmmm.  Can’t wait. 

Ahoy!

So now that I’ve isolated myself from the world for the last week, I have returned to digital realm to report on my latest reading - The First Part of the Contention, or 2 Henry VI.

This play was really nothing spectacular, except for the occasional violence.  It details the start of the War of the Roses, between the houses of York and Lancaster.  Henry VI, of the Lancastrian line, holds the throne while Richard, Duke of York, plots to depose the king.  The Duke of Glouchester is the guardian of the realm, as Henry was a mere baby when he took the throne, and stands as York’s one major obstacle.  It is a world of shifting alliances, as Henry’s queen, the French Margaret, plots with Suffolk to remove Glouchester as well.  Eventually all the plotters succeed in sowing doubt in Glouchester’s loyalty to the king, who has Glouchester imprisoned, where he is murdered (on stage.)  Suffolk is banished for his part in the murder, and is beheaded at sea after he is captured.  The head is delivered to Margaret, who carries it around for much of the remainder of the play, talking to it.  After Glouchester’s murder, chaos ensues, as York is given an army to put down an Irish uprising.  In the middle of all this, a peasant uprising occurs, in which the commoners go about killing anyone who is educated and can read, but is put down when the king offers clemency to the peasants who renounce the uprising.  The instigator is caught and killed by a minor landholder who is knighted by the king for his deed.  York returns with his army demanding the imprisonment of Somerset, whom he claims to be a traitor.  Henry says that Somerset has already been imprisoned, but the Queen enters with Somerset.  York loses his patience, declares Henry an usurper and himself (York) the true king.

War breaks out, York kills Somerset and Clifford, and Clifford’s son declares revenge on York for murdering his father.  With Henry’s forces in retreat, Margaret and Henry flee to London.  Thus ends the play.

This one really stands as a set-up for the remarkable events of Richard Duke of York (or 3 Henry VI).  It’s sole remarkable, quotable line is spoken by a commoner rebel, Dick, in response to the rebellion’s instigator, Cade.  "The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers."  To which Cade replies, "Nay, that I mean to do."

Next up, which I am almost through having had plenty of time this week to read, is the 3rd Part of Henry VI, also titled the Second Part of the Contention, or The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York, and the Death of the Good King Henry the Sixth.  It’s a good one, so far, and should be finished shortly.  After that comes Titus Andronicus, which is one of the few that I’ve read before.

The last time I wrote about The Shrew, I said that it was a feminist’s least favorite Shakespeare play.

That was a monstrous understatement (which is quite rare for me…)

The mere mention of this play should be sufficient to start a riot (and put the speaker at great risk of significant bodily harm) in any gathering of radical feminists.  I’ve read some criticism trying to rehabilitate this play to make it acceptable to any self-respecting woman, but after reading the play, sorry Jack, it ain’t happening.

First thoughts:

The Shrew seems like an unfinished work.  It’s a so-called framework play that opens with one story that is used to tell another story.  Here, an English noble plays a trick on a local drunkard, convincing him that he’s not a peasant but a lord who’s been crazy.  The drunkard then decides to watch a play by some passing players - the real story of The Shrew.  Therein is my problem with the play - it’s a 3-sided picture frame.  It opens with the drunkard, tells the Shrew story, and ends.  Shakespeare introduces the Sly character - the drunkard - and he interupts the play once or twice toward the beginning, but it seems that about a third of the way in, Shakespeare forgets all about the Sly story.  He disappears from the play.  A Shrew is a more complete play, which includes more interruptions by Sly, and a closing segment with Sly returning to peasantry.  BUT, because we’re not sure Shakespeare had anything to do with A Shrew, it’s not a part of the canon.

Second, as mentioned earlier, any person with any respect for women whatsoever has to be at least partially put off by the subject matter of the play.  The shrew of the title is one of two daughters.  She is smart, witty, and independent, and thus completely undesireable .  Her younger sister is demure, quiet, subservient, and thus is pursued by practically all of Italy.  Their father refuses to let any man woo the younger daughter until the older daughter is married.  Fortuitously for the suitors, a guy who’s more of an asshole than the older daughter is "shrewish" shows up, and is willing to "woo" her regardless of her negative traits simply because her father is rich.  The father allows him to marry his daughter simply because he’s interested in the older daughter.  He then cows the daughter (Kate) by acting extremely dominating, denying her food and refusing to let her go home to see her family until she agrees to anything and everything that he says, such as calling the sun the moon, and obeying his every command.  (Thus the famous line, "Kiss me Kate.)

Meanwhile, the various suitors to the younger daughter trick the father into giving them access to her by disguising themselves as tutors.  A clever one tricks the other suitors into disavowing interest in her by making her look like a ‘loose’ woman by her talking with another man.  Then he fools her father into letting him marry her by getting a traveller to playact as his father.  The whole charade almost falls apart when his real father comes to town, but all is saved because he marries the daughter before revealing the trickery.  The daughters’ father is briefly angry at being tricked, but is soothed by assurances that he will receive a proper dowery for the younger daughter.

Then everyone has a marriage party at which Kate and her husband appear.  The asshole sends the women away, and bets the other husbands that the shrew is really quite docile now and more obedient than their wives, which they happily take up knowing Kate’s frowardness (great new word - shrewishness).  But Kate wins the bet by quickly obeying her husband’s command while the other wives make excuses why they can’t come.  Kate then retrieves the recalcitrant wives and scolds them in the play-ending monologue.

The comedy has several clever puns and whatnot, and is just as bawdy as "Two Gentlemen."  Shakespeare really seems, at this point, to enjoy punning "tale" and "tail" in their normal meanings with "tail" to mean butt.  The writing continues to be very readable, once the reader gets past Shakespeare’s immense vocabulary and many anachronistic usages.  Thus most passages require two or more readings for full enjoyment.

Final thoughts:

This play is important for understanding the writing development of Shakespeare as his style matures, but I would not recommend that it be on the agenda for any casual theatre fan to see in person.

NOW

Next in the chute is The Second Part of Henry VI, which is the first of Shakespeare’s historical plays about the English royal family.  It details the war between the houses laying claim to the English throne, one of which was symbolized by the white rose and the other by the red rose.  Hence "The War of the Roses."  It includes a peasant revolt, and multiple acts of violence and brutality by the nobles, the royals, and the peasants, including the on-stage murder of the Duke of Glouchester.

Until next time. 

Once upon a time, I spend a buttload of money on a textbook for a Shakespeare class.

Which I dropped.  The class, not the book.  Well, I suppose I’ve dropped the book a couple of times, too.

The book I kept.  Fast forward to the recent past, I’ve read all of my junk novels numerous times each and am wandering around my apartment looking for something to read.  So now I am working my way through Shakespeare’s complete works, including the introductory pages of commentary before the collection and each work.

 Yesterday I finished the first play, "Two Gentlemen of Verona."  The play is a comedy, and consistent with our conceptions of comedy (and contrary to what your English professor will tell you), there is quite a bit of laugh-out-loud humor.  That includes several penis jokes, at least one toilet joke, and a reference to putting someone’s tongue in another’s anus.  I knew Chaucer was raunchy, but who knew?

 Now I’m getting ready to start every feminist’s least favorite play ever.  That is, "The Taming of the Shrew."  Not to be confused with "The Taming of a Shrew."  A Shrew is basically the same play, with some significant differences.  Experts dispute whether A Shrew’s additions were written by Shakespeare or assisted by him.  The Shrew is a play-within-a-play, another of Shakespeare’s early comedies.  Full comments to follow when I finish.

 Until next time, unfortunate reader.