haunting a nobleman
Loseth men’s hearts and leaves behind a stain
Upon the beauty of all parts besides,
Beguiling them of commendation.
(III, i, 181–187)
As charismatic as Hotspur is, and as much as we enjoy his presence, Worcester understands that something about him is faintly ridiculous: “The very qualities make him attractive are political liabilities and destroy him . . . ” (Moseley 88). As we mentioned earlier, part of what audiences of the Henriad do is weigh the essential attributes of a leader, and the structure of this play guarantees that when considering the matter, we set Hal and Hotspur against each other. We like Hotspur, but recognize that he lacks the maturity and self-discipline to rule. After all, someone who cannot control himself cannot control others. On the other hand, we may never cherish Hal, but the more we see of him, the more we realize that his capacity for restraint is essential for anyone who seeks to command effectively.
Act III, scene ii is clearly the product of Shakespeare’s imagination, for although Holinshed mentions a reconciliation between King Henry and the Prince after the upcoming battle of Shrewsbury, no one could have been present during a private meeting between the men. Part of what gives the encounter such power is that the characters meet on two levels: King to Prince, and father to son, for as the scene unfolds, we grasp that Henry IV has no one else with whom he may speak openly. His position provides seemingly limitless authority, but that same power isolates him. He can trust no one, nor can he confide in anyone. Instead he must withhold his private thoughts, and we sense that certain pressures of his office remain unexpressed, eating at him like a cancer. Indeed, Henry will eventually suffer as much physically as he does spiritually, and one implication of these plays is that the toll of kingship takes many forms, not all of them visible.
The one person able to break through this solitude is his son, the man who will succeed him, and as such the one who may be able to feel even remotely what the King does, as Henry IV overflows with fear and doubt:
I know not whether God will have it so
For some displeasing service I have done.
That in his secret doom out of my blood
He’ll breed revengement and a scourge for me . . .
(III, ii, 4–7)
Here Henry is disingenuous, for he knows exactly how he has acted against God: by removing God’s representative, Richard, from the throne. His use of “blood,” however, is curious. Throughout these plays, the word usually refers to lives that have been shed in battle, but here Henry reminds us that “blood” also refers to family, as well as the internal conflict for power rampaging through England.
Henry next speaks of Hal himself as punishment inflicted because of Henry’s own sins:
Tell me else,
Could such inordinate and low desires,
Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts,
Such barren pleasures, rude society,
As thou art match’d withal and grafted to,
Accompany the greatness of thy blood,
And hold their level with the princely heart?
(III, ii, 11–17)
Henry takes Hal’s dereliction personally. The young man is not merely scorning kingship, but also, as “grafted” and “blood” suggest, humiliating his father. The throne, then, is not just a sacred political entity. Even if Henry’s right to it is questionable, as a family legacy it must not be tarnished.
Hal’s response is appropriate, but hardly effusive:
Yet such extenuation let me beg
As in reproof of many tales devis’d,
Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear
By smiling pick-thanks and base mewsmongers,
I may for some things true, wherein my youth
Hath faulty wand’red and irregular,
Find pardon on my true submission.
(III, ii, 22–28)
He cautions that his father should not be deceived by reports which, though accurate, fail to communicate the whole story. This answer is conciliatory, but also politic, and throughout the scene Hal retains that manner. He neither loses dignity nor capitulates. In fact, of the two men, Henry appears far more wracked.
We see his anguish in the next speech, in which Henry warns Hal of how important the judgment of others can be: “The hope and expectation of thy time/ Is ruin’d, and the soul of every man/ Prophetically do forethink thy fall” (III, ii, 36–38) For evidence, the King points to Richard, who was held in such low regard that he virtually invited insurrection. At least that is what Henry implies. He then attempts to justify the usurpation by claiming to have risked his own life for the public good and with public support:
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
And dress’d myself in such humility
That I did pluck allegiance from men’s hearts
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
Even in the presence of the crowned King.
(III, ii, 50–54)
The words “stole,” “dress’d,” and “pluck” all suggest some manner of fraud (Garber 320), and in the tirade that follows, Henry expresses the distress he felt over both Richard’s disastrous actions and Henry’s own desire to rid England of such a pernicious influence:
In recalling his own ascent to power, Henry IV takes pride in his political skills, his ability to read and master a situation, controlling others by calculated dissimulation. Following Machiavelli’s advice, he creates the appearances most favorable to his advancement, making the most of any opportunity offered. (Chernaik 122)
Eventually, though, the speech reverts to Hal’s behavior:
And in that very line, Harry, standest thou,
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege
With vile participation. Not an eye
But is a-weary of thy common sight,
Save mine, which hath desir’d to see thee more,
Which now doth that I would not have it do,
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.
(III, ii, 86–91)
The advice is fundamentally political, warning Hal that, to borrow from current lexicon, image is almost everything. The lesson is one Hal already knows, as he demonstrated in his soliloquy at the end of I, ii, but he still accepts the instruction: “I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord,/ Be more myself” (III, ii, 92–93). His
