Tag Archives: Duke Humphrey of Gloucester

Henry VI Part II, Act 3: Death and Departures

The hopes of many in King Henry’s court are dashed in Act 3, beginning with Richard the Duke of York and Somerset’s news that all of France is lost.

“Cold news for me: for I had hope of France As firmly as I hope for fertile England. Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud And caterpillars eat my leaves away.” Richard, Duke of York in Henry VI Part II, Act 3 Scene 1

York confronts the Duke of Somerset over his inaction and ineptitude in France a little later in Act 3 Scene 1:

“I rather would have lost my life betimes Than bring a burden of dishonour home By staying there so long till all were lost. Show me one scar charactered on thy skin: Men’s flesh preserved so whole do seldom win.”

The shame and disgrace of Somerset’s failed expedition to France led Cardinal Beaufort, the uncle who had supported him, to gradually retire from politics in real life and focus on his religious responsibilities five years before the arrest of his rival Duke Humphrey of Gloucester (see the English Monarchs site here for more information). This is not shown in Shakespeare’s Henry VI Part II, where instead he plots to kill Gloucester with Suffolk, York, and Margaret, but it does remind me of Eleanor’s final words that closed Act 2:

“My shame will not be shifted with my sheet (the outfit she was forced to walk the streets in, prior to her banishment): No, it will hang upon my richest robes And show itself, attire me how I can.” Henry VI Part II, Act 2 Scene 4

Gloucester is arrested in Act 3 Scene 1 to the distress of Henry. In some of the last words we hear him speak, Gloucester warns his nephew:

“Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous: Virtue is choked with foul ambition And charity chased hence by rancour’s hand: Foul subornation is predominant And equity exiled your highness’ land.”

This speech is why the Henry VI trilogy continues to have the power to resonate with audiences to this day. In his introduction to his adaptation of the plays with John Barton published in 1970, Peter Hall said, “I realised that the mechanism of power had not changed in centuries. We also were in the middle of a blood-soaked century. I was convinced that a presentation of one of the bloodiest and most hypocritical periods in history would teach many lessons to the present.”

Gloucester is arrested and, in the play, assassinated. (Historians today believe he had a stroke, but at the time, Suffolk was suspected of his death. No one knows for certain. You can see where he is buried in Saint Albans Cathedral here.)

Henry is inconsolable at the news of his uncle’s death. He mourns as so many do when forced to face the rest of their lives without a loved one:

“That is to see how deep my grave is made, For with his soul fled all my worldly solace: For seeing him, I see my life in death.” Henry in King Henry VI Part II, Act 3 Scene 2

In Act 3 of Henry VI Part II Suffolk is banished, York is sent to put down unrest in Ireland, and Cardinal Beaufort dies, as they happened in real life, though over a longer span of time.

York’s soliloquy that ends Act 3 Scene 1 contradicts historical facts (especially in respect to York’s involvement with John Cade), but it’s a powerful speech given by an important character before his departure that could help many:

“Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts, And change misdoubt to resolution: Be that thou hop’st to be…”

In Shakespeare as in real life, bad guys get some of the best lines. This is true in Suffolk’s goodbyes to Margaret in Act 3 Scene 2 that would make many women swoon:

“‘Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence: A wilderness is populous enough, So Suffolk had thy heavenly company: For where thou art, there is the world itself, With every several pleasure in the world: And where thou art not, desolation. I can no more: live thou to joy thy life: Myself no joy in naught but that thou liv’st.”

In the final scene of Act 3, Cardinal Beaufort wrestles with death and his conscience, offering England’s treasure for the prolonging of his life. “Ah, what a sign it is of evil life,” King Henry laments, “Where death’s approach is seen so terrible.”

There will be a great deal of dying in Henry VI from now on.


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Henry VI Part II, Act 2: The Art of Falconry

Henry VI Part II Act 2, Scene 1 opens with King Henry, Queen Margaret, Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, Cardinal Beaufort, the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick, and the Dukes of York, Somerset, Suffolk, and Buckingham in the midst of a hunting party that, true to its day, used falconry as a social event steeped in status, posturing, and positioning.

Occurring in or near St. Albans, a Christian pilgrimage site roughly 19 miles north of London and the location of two major battles during the Wars of the Roses (the wars which Henry VI Parts II and III chronicle), St. Albans is also noteworthy for the record of falconry practices written by Prioress Dame Juliana Barnes in The Boke of St. Albans. Apparently what birds you could use to catch wild game were highly dependent upon your social standing to the point where you could lose your hands for keeping birds above your rank (see Shawn E. Carroll’s excellent article “Ancient and Medieval Falconry” here for more information).

This setting is particularly appropriate for the subtle and not so subtle references to the aspirations and power struggles among the members of King Henry’s court.

“But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, And what a pitch she flew above the rest: To see how God in all his creatures works! Yea, man and birds are fain (inclined to or fond of) of climbing high.” King Henry to the Duke of Suffolk in Henry VI Part II, Act 2 Scene 1

This innocent exclamation of Henry’s is particularly chilling if you recall the final lines of Henry VI Part I where Suffolk states:

“Thus Suffolk hath prevailed, and thus he goes As did the youthful Paris once to Greece, With hope to find the like event in love, But prosper better than the Trojan did: Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the king: But I will rule both her, the king, and realm.”

In an interview contained in the recent RSC edition of the Henry VI Trilogy edited by Jonathan Bate and Eric Rasmussen, director Michael Boyd concludes that: “Henry’s journey is both a paradox and a pilgrimage. He begins as an ignored and powerless child, overwhelmed by a factious court and the memory of his father, Henry V. Supported by the loyal and pragmatic counsel of Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, he grows in stature, speaks better than anyone of the dangers of internal dissent on the field of France, and makes the best possible effort to balance and neutralize the opposing dynastic factions within the court. His moment of greatest human folly (and the undoing of the English court) is the moment where he most insists upon his will being done: his marriage to Margaret and crowning her Queen of England.” (page 401)

After Henry’s praise of nature and Suffolk’s falcon, Suffolk quickly turns the conversation into an attack on the Lord Protector, Duke Humphrey of Gloucester:

“No marvel, an it like your majesty, My Lord Protector’s hawks do tower so well: They know their master loves to be aloft. And bears his thoughts above his falcon’s pitch.”

to which Gloucester quickly replies:

“My lord, ’tis but a base ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.”

The party quickly degenerates into mass bickering and the challenging of Cardinal Beaufort and Gloucester to a duel. Act 2 ends with Gloucester losing his position at court and solemn words exchanged with his wife, who is being forced to perform public penance prior to her banishment. She warns her husband that he is not safe at court, using the metaphor of catching birds through a process of smearing a sticky substance called birdlime on a tree or a bush.

“For Suffolk, he that can do all in all With her that hateth thee and hates us all, and York and impious Beaufort, that false priest, Have all limed bushes to betray thy wings, And fly thou how thou canst, they’ll tangle thee. “

This warning has a certain irony to it, in that Eleanor’s actions and ambitions- for which she is in that very moment being humiliated- were part of the liming of the bushes to entrap her husband and bring him down.

Gloucester does not see the danger he is in. He tells her with confidence:

“I must offend before I be attainted: And had I twenty times so many foes, And each of them had twenty times their power, All these could not procure me any scathe, So long as I am loyal, true and crimeless.”

If only that is how the world and the governments upon it worked, but as Shakespeare’s Henry VI shows us, it is not.

“The world may laugh again,” Gloucester tells Sir John Stanley, the man appointed to fulfill Eleanor’s banishment, before he entrusts her to his care and protection, “And I may live to do you kindness if You do it her.”

If only that were so. The falcons of the court are circling, and they aren’t satiated yet.

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Henry VI Part II, Act 1: Dowry and Downfall

One fun aspect of reading Henry VI for me is learning about the history of a period of time I know very little about. In history and in the plays, the wives of Henry VI and his Uncle the Duke of Gloucester had serious consequences for themselves, for England, and for France.

Act 1 of Henry VI Part II opens with the first meeting of King Henry and his wife Margaret. Upon seeing her for the first time, he says:

“O Lord, that lends me life, Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness: For thou hast given me in this beauteous face A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.”

Unfortunately for King Henry, his choice of spouse was divisive both in his court and in his kingdom, and that sympathy of love and thought he hoped for was lacking in his marriage to Margaret.

Isaac Asimov describes Henry and Margaret’s marriage thus in Asimov’s Guide to Shakespeare:

“Margaret of Anjou, had she only been a man, would have made a strong King, while Henry, converted to a woman, would have made a perfect Queen. Unfortunately, that could not be.

Margaret, despising her husband… threw herself into party politics on her own. Naturally, as a Frenchwoman, she would be for peace with France, and she therefore espoused with all the energy of her nature the side of Suffolk and the Cardinal. She bitterly opposed the hawkish Gloucester and the equally hawkish (and dangerously competitive) York.

In this way, she lost her chance to keep the English crown above faction, dragged Henry with her into the mire of partisan politics and civil war, increased the hatred of herself on the part of all who opposed Suffolk, and sought a scapegoat for the debacle in France.

It was her passion and venom, in fact, that went far to starting the civil war soon to come, and her energy and indomitability that kept it going so long and made it so disastrous.” (pages 585-586)

It wasn’t just Margaret’s personality that was a problem, it was her lack of dowry. Asimov addresses this also:

“It was customary for a bride to bring a dowry with her. In arranging a marriage, the bride’s dowry was constantly in mind, and in the case of a royal marriage, the dowry might well be some cities or a province brought under the control of the husband.

For the English (who still considered themselves a conquering people with the French as their inferiors) to be forced to take a French princess for their King without any dowry at all, and with the King even paying transportation costs and giving up two provinces in addition in a kind of reverse dowry, was too great a humiliation. From the very moment of the marriage, Margaret was unpopular in England.” (pages 576-577)

Shakespeare portrays this discontent in Act 1 and uses it to bring York to the forefront of Henry VI Part II where he laments his losses alone onstage and vows to “force perforce” (through violence) make Henry “yield the crown”.

In real life, Henry VI’s uncle, Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, didn’t fare much better in the marriage department than his nephew did. Fighting for his first wife’s (Jacqueline of Hainault) inheritance, Gloucester broke the Anglo-Burgundian alliance while alienating her subjects and driving them to join the Duke of Burgundy. (You can read more about that at History… The Interesting Bits! here.) This contributed to England losing control of France. Jacqueline’s story is not included in Shakespeare’s Henry VI, but the downfall of Gloucester’s second wife, Eleanor, which led to his own demise, is.

Eleanor Cobham was a lady-in-waiting to Gloucester’s first wife. The antagonism between herself and Queen Margaret in Henry VI Part II is entirely fabricated, though could have happened personality-wise had Eleanor’s arrest and imprisonment occurred after, rather than before, Henry’s marriage to Margaret. Eleanor’s involvement with witchcraft and her ambition as depicted in Act 1 have a strong historical basis, and did lead to her arrest and imprisonment.

How Margaret and Eleanor affect the lives of their husbands and those of the court and country at large will be seen as Henry VI Part II continues. My feeling is that an apt subtitle for Henry VI Part II could easily be “who you choose to marry matters”. Is that a spoiler? Check it out for yourself and see what you think.

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Henry VI Part I, Act 1

Henry VI Part I opens on Henry V’s funeral, with those who knew and worked with him in various degrees of mourning. A series of messengers gives them ever more reasons to mourn as news comes of loss after loss of English control over various cities throughout France. In real life, these losses occurred over much longer periods of time and later than is depicted here. If you are looking for authoritative history of these events, look elsewhere. If you are looking for a situation frustratingly common within armies, cabinet war rooms, and among allies in every war I’ve ever studied, don’t shoot the first messenger in Henry VI, listen to him:

Exeter: How were they lost? What treachery was used?

First Messenger: No treachery, but want of men and money.

Amongst the soldiers this is mutter-ed:

That here you maintain several factions,

And whilst a field should be dispatched and fought,

You are disputing of your generals.

One would have lingering wars with little cost:

Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings:

A third thinks, without expense at all,

By guileful fair words peace may be obtained.

Awake, awake, English nobility!

                                             Henry VI Part I, Act 1 Scene 1

Those in authority are warned and apprised within the first 100 lines of the play of what the majority of the men in their command have already surmised: factions within the government are leading to greater death and suffering among the common people. It would be different if those in authority were basing their arguments on what they believe is best and right, but it is clear from the beginning that vengeance and pride are driving the better part of their actions and decisions.

Not every man in the government is a villain, but the audience is quickly acquainted with a dangerously ambitious one as Act 1 Scene 1 ends. The Bishop of Winchester, uncle of the late king, is left onstage as all the men around him exit to attend to their various responsibilities. “But long I will not be Jack-out-of-office (an unscrupulous man dismissed from his position),” he informs us. “The king (Winchester’s great-nephew, young Henry VI) from Eltham (a palace) I intend to steal And sit at chiefest stern of public weal (take control of the government).”

Winchester’s actions nearly lead to bloodshed among Englishmen from the beginning of Scene III. Deaths are averted only by the direct intervention of the mayor of the Tower of London who calls two of Henry VI’s uncles out for their behavior and tells them to knock it off. Winchester leaves the scene with a warning and a threat to his half-nephew, the Duke of Gloucester: “Abominable Gloucester, guard thy head, For I intend to have it ere long.” The dude’s not kidding, and he doesn’t mean it in the rough-house headlock sense, but in the screaming Queen of Hearts “Off with your head!” one. (Shakespearically and historically, it’s pretty dangerous to be a royal.)

In other Act I news, you meet Joan of Arc and Lord Talbot in their Shakespearean form: both of them arrogant and both, by the end of Act I, with a reputation for evincing fear from the hearts of the people on the opposing side of them, making them cower and run.

This is one of the more violent of Shakespeare’s plays and he has no intention of sparing you from the horrors of warfare- it’s literally written into the lines that Talbot speaks as he strives to comfort his dying friend, the Earl of Salisbury. I am not especially fond of Lord Talbot, but several of his lines can be quite moving in their anguish. In the end of Scene 5 we see him in the depths of his misery. By now he has lost a dear friend, he has fought below his personal expectations while in combat with Joan of Arc, and he has seen his men flee and retreat. He feels what many of us would feel in his place, if not expressing those feelings exactly as we might:

“My thoughts are whirl-ed like a potter’s wheel: I know not where I am, nor what I do… retire into your trenches: You all consented unto Salisbury’s death, For none would strike a stroke in his revenge. Pucelle (Joan of Arc) is entered into Orleans, In spite of us or aught that we could do. O would I were to die with Salisbury!”

As Act I comes to a close, the French rejoice and the Dauphin Charles makes effusive promises to Joan for her service that he will not keep. (Personally I don’t consider that a spoiler, but if you are unfamiliar with the story of Joan of Arc- oops.) One thing the Dauphin says will be true- Joan does become France’s saint- with a better reputation than is afforded her in Henry VI Part I.

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