Shakespeare Exhaustion

Tonight is one of those nights that I’m ashamed of myself as an English major but proud of myself as a generally smart person.

According to the schedule (and I’m all about schedules), we should be done with our current play, Henry IV, Part 2, on Monday – a little over a day from now. I began the play last Thursday but got through only one act. All day today, I’ve been trying to push myself to read, as I didn’t particularly have anything else to get done, but, well, it didn’t work. What I’m trying to say is I don’t want to read Shakespeare tonight.

Let me be clear: I like Shakespeare. I like poetry in general. Sometimes I wish I had a pretentious circle of friends so that we could sit around drinking wine and reciting poetry. Sadly, I do not like wine, and most of my friends hate poetry. So it goes. But there are times where trying to decipher several pages of poetry that tell a perhaps complex story, full of obscure words and phrases (many of which I can actually understand on my own, but my edition thinks that I won’t so it has a little symbol next to the word, and I just have to see what the editors have to say, thus interrupting the flow of my reading for no reason), just sounds exhausting. My mind wanders.

I knew this about myself, and that’s why I made sure to have some friends with me on this. On my own, I definitely would have quit – or rather, postponed indefinitely – by now. To be honest, halfway through the second play probably would have been my breaking point. With the book club (which couldn’t be more official, since we have a blog), however, I will read a bit now, after midnight, even though I’m teaching Sunday school in the morning, and spend my afternoon tomorrow reading more.

A friend should bear his friend’s infirmities.

Julius Caesar, IV.ii.140

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Two Kingdoms, One Prince

While the history plays do not leave as much room for interpretation as the mystical Tempest or Midsummer, our little group found some fascinating discussion points.

Which side do we root for?

We were struck by the fact that Hotspur and his family has a right to be angry with King Henry IV.  They supported Henry when he wanted to take back his title of Duke of Lancaster, were thrown when Henry additionally went after the crown and became king, were mistreated when Henry rudely demanded Hotspur’s prisoners, and were hurt when Henry would not ransom Hotspur’s brother-in-law.  Okay.  So Henry maybe hasn’t made the best moves.  I mean, he murdered his predecessor!  So, doesn’t team Hotspur have a point? But then again, Hotspur & Co. are rebelling against the crown and allying with England’s enemies.  So who is in the right?

Shakespeare, most likely for political reasons, actually kept the play pretty neutral.  Readers and playgoers see both sides of the action and the justification for both.  Henry IV is shown in a very good light when he twice offers clemency to the rebels.  So who are the good guys?  We decided that neither side was meant to be good or bad.  Shakespeare kept the two sides pretty equal in their justification, but he glorified Hal and his journey as a character.  It seems to us the play was not meant to be a statement of who was right, nor a story with a clear good and bad side.  Rather, the play is about Henry and Hal, father and son, and the journey they both take in learning to trust each other and reforge their relationship.  And the saga of Henry IV, Part I and Henry IV, Part 2 is the coming of age story wherein Hal becomes the man remembered as King Henry V.

In Shakespeare’s time, Henry V was a glorified, heroic, historical figure, equivalent to who Abe Lincoln is to us modern Americans.  All of Prince Hal’s transgressions—hanging with thieves, frequenting taverns, stealing, etc.—was part of the folklore surrounding King Henry V in Shakespeare’s time.  And the moral of his story was redemption and heart!  Shakespeare emphasizes that though Hal isn’t the most upright citizen, he has a good heart.  He is kind (when it counts) to his friends even though he believes them to be below them, he keeps his friends from getting into too much trouble, and we find in the end that he cares greatly about his father and his father’s trust.

IMDB: Hal

Hal is an actor worthy of an Academy Award (or perhaps a Tony since his performances are live theatre and movies weren’t invented in the 1400s).  Hal can play his princely role as the heir to the throne of England and Prince of Wales when he is in court, but he also plays the role of a partier and keeps company with criminals.  So we asked ourselves, “If he is a performer, which is the character and which is the actor?”

An argument can be made both ways, but ultimately I believe that Prince Henry is first and foremost a prince and the character is his alternate personality, Hal.  The prince so much as says so in his first monologue:

Yet herein will I imitate the sun,

Who doth permit the base contagious clouds

To smother up his beauty from the world,

That, when he please again to be himself,

Being wanted, he may be more wondered at

By breaking through the foul and ugly mists

Of vapors that did seem to strangle him.

This passage seems to be evidence that Hal is purposefully playing the role of a thief and drunkard, allowing his reputation as a dishonored prince to build so that, when he does come to his rightful place in court, he will be viewed more gloriously than if he had filled his princely role his whole life.  He seems aware that he truly is the Prince of Wales, and that Hal is a character.

Though he knows his true self is the Prince of Wales, he clearly enjoys playing Hal, Prince of the Tavern.  My reading companions and I noted that the tavern is indeed Hal’s kingdom.  The royal court and tavern are parallel kingdoms, and Hal is a prince in both but feels comfortable and respected only in one.  In the court he is looked down upon despite his princely status, but in the tavern he is highly respected and highly regarded because he is a prince amongst thieves, and he subtly rules his friends as subjects.  They come to him for justice when Falstaff falsely accuses Mistress Quickly of pickpocketing, and he keeps Falstaff from being arrested by paying off money that was stolen (Act III, Scene III).  In the tavern, Hal learns to be a leader.  He is practicing and waiting to assume his true role.

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A Quick Summary of Henry IV, Part 1

Our book club woke up early (kind of) Saturday morning to discuss our latest read, Henry IV, Part 1.  Before I share a bit of our conversation, here’s a very simplified summary of the play to help you follow along:

This play is about the relationship between one father, King Henry IV, and his son, Henry (who goes by Hal and at some times Harry – because, you know, one name just isn’t enough).  At the start of the play the king is wanting to begin a crusade to the Holy Land but is realizing he can’t afford to with multiple battles taking place on England’s borders.  One of these battles has been gloriously won by Harry Percy, known as Hotspur, against the Scots.  But after this battle, Hotspur makes the mistake of refusing to send his Scottish prisoners to the king.  Simultaneously, Hotspur’s brother-in-law, Edmund Mortimer, has been captured by the Welsh, and Hotspur wants Mortimer’s ransom in exchange for the Scottish prisoners.

Needless to say, the king doesn’t like being told what to do.  He refuses to ransom Mortimer and demands the prisoners.  But at the same time, the king is greatly saddened and jealous.  Hotspur is a war hero and a natural-born leader wreathed in glory, while King Henry’s son, Hal, is, well, a partier.  Hal is hanging out with thieves and criminals, most notably an old, fat, infamous knight named John Falstaff.  Hal and his pals spend most of their time in a tavern, picking on each other and playing tricks on Falstaff. (We see him and his buddy Poins rob Falstaff right after the old knight has robbed a bunch of travelers, though Falstaff makes up stories and excuses in an attempt to save face.)  Hal is finally called to court to answer to his father for his dishonorable behavior, but not before he and Falstaff have a little fun playing out the father/son encounter in a “play extempore”!

While the mock father/son scene is mostly fun and games, the real encounter is harsh.  The king makes no pains to hide how immensely disappointed he is with Hal and how much more glorious and princely Hotspur (who is now leading an army of Scots, Englishmen, and Welshmen against the king) is than the true prince.  The king’s disappointment in Hal is so great that Hal is moved to make a passionate vow to vanquish Hotspur, to overcome the great Harry Percy in a glorious battle, and thus redeem himself of his corrupt past.

Hal enlists many of his tavern buddies for service in the king’s army, including Sir John Falstaff, and heads to battle with his father.  Before the fighting starts, the king offers Hotspur and his followers a chance to express their grievances and discuss a peaceful solution.  While Hotspur expresses their issues with the king and puts off the battle one night, it is Hotspur’s uncle, the Earl of Worcester, who meets the king to discuss the clemency the next morning. Instead of returning king’s offer of mercy, Worcester tells Hotspur the king has not granted clemency and is ready to fight.

In the battle, Hal and Hotspur come face-to-face and fight for glory.  Hal is victorious! Yet, even after Hotspur is dead, Hal remains respectful of the princely warrior and acknowledges that Hotspur is the better man.  Shortly after defeating Hotspur, Hal finds Falstaff seemingly dead and grieves (briefly) over the loss of his companion.  But Falstaff is merely up to his tricks and avoiding the battle.  He rises and decides to take credit for Hotspur’s death by claiming that the warrior woke up and Falstaff had to fight him and kill him again.  Though Hal knows this story is false, he indulges Falstaff’s tale so that Falstaff may profit.  Hal has regardless earned the respect and trust of his father, and all seems well.

But there’s still Part 2…

Okay, so that wasn’t a very brief summary, but come on, it’s Shakespeare!

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Tempest Thoughts

Last night was a momentous occasion for our book club: we held our first video conference!  Our goal is to do a video conference to discuss each play at its end.

Our conference included lots of witty banter, some catching up, much laughter, a movie trailer, and a good deal of discussion. Overall, it lasted 3 hours! So since we can’t recap three hours of chatting without making this blog very boring, I’m going to focus on a couple of the major points we discussed. If you have any questions or want to know anything more, comment and maybe we’ll write a blog post to cover it (that is, if we actually have anyone reading this besides Katy’s mom [Hi, Mrs. Portell!]). Here we go!

Nods to Other Plays

The Tempest is the last play Shakespeare wrote on his own. Therefore, with all the years of work behind him, it seems reasonable to assume that he meant to reference earlier works every once in a while. For example, the Epilogue asking for applause felt a lot like Puck’s epilogue in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The near murder of the king resembled Macbeth. The love at first sight between Ferdinand and Miranda felt a bit like Romeo and Juliet. The workings of Ariel were very similar to Puck’s.

Even if Shakespeare didn’t mean to reference his earlier plays, strains of them are there in the text. We enjoyed comparing notes and finding that most of the similarities everyone noticed.

Sleep

Everyone’s always sleeping. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration. But if you’ve read Tempest, you know that sleep comes up quite a lot in this play.

• Prospero keeps telling Miranda not to sleep while he’s telling his story.
• Miranda falls asleep at Prospero’s command.
• Ariel leave the mariners of the ship asleep.
• Alonso and Gonzalo sleep in the middle of their search for Ferdinand (and almost get killed as a result).

Kind of feels like Midsummer, with their sudden sleeping in the middle of the woods. Katy and Liz, the actors in our group, both agree that it’s really hard for an actor to justify sleep; so why did Shakespeare do this? One theory is that it’s a cue to the actors: the characters are supposed to be highly overwhelmed by emotion, so the actors should pick up on this by the fact that they’re about to drop dead asleep. In Prospero’s pestering of Miranda, he’s reminding the actor to pay attention during his monologues. However, this doesn’t feel completely satisfactory.

Perhaps sleep is an agent. It feels as though every time the characters slept, they awoke to something new and different. They awoke to changed realities, new wonders, a “brave new world.” It sets a dreamlike tone for the play, reminding the audience that things are not what they seem. The beauty of this island is what sleep and dreaming does to you, as Caliban so beautifully said:

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices,
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open, and show riches
Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again. (III.ii.130-138)

The Epilogue

At the end of this play, Prospero speaks directly to the audience, calling them to give him applause and thereby free him to leave the island. Why? Why does the audience need to “free” this character?

Katy pointed out that some versions of this play have the actor stripping off his costume as he speaks, thereby ending his role. This sounds like a great directorial decision, in my opinion. The character continues to live on the island in the audience’s minds until they choose to free him. The spell of the stage must be broken.

Another idea goes back to the fact that this is Shakespeare’s last play. Perhaps Shakespeare wrote this as his last address to the audience. He was weary, ready to retire to Stratford with his wife. He wanted, he needed the audience to free him to go.

Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please: now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayer,
Which pierces so, that it assaults
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon’d be,
Let your indulgence set me free. (11-20)

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Quick Overview of The Tempest

This is for any readers who may not be familiar with the text. Also, it’s for us if we forget details by play #30.

Prospero was Duke of Milan until his brother Antonio bribed King Alonso to help him usurp the throne. (Or is it just a fancy chair? What do dukes have anyway?) Instead of killing Prospero, they send him on a boat with his daughter Miranda and his books of magic. Prospero and Miranda settled on an island, where they found and kept as a servant Caliban, an ugly monster born of an exiled witch and the devil. Caliban was taught to read and write and treated well until he tried to rape Miranda, at which point Prospero started treating him more as a slave than a son. Prospero also keeps spirits on the island under his authority, most notably the spirit Ariel, who will play a big part later on.

We meet everyone 12 years after Prospero was originally exiled. King Alonso, his brother Sebastian, his son Ferdinand, Antonio, and others get shipwrecked onto Prospero’s island (we’re pretty sure Prospero was responsible, though he doesn’t blatantly admit it). Ariel dutifully separates everyone into groups. Ferdinand is on his own and finds Miranda, and they immediately fall in love. Prospero tests the guy by treating him as a slave until he sees Ferdinand truly does love her, at which time he blesses their marriage.

Caliban is out fetching wood when he finds a drunk butler, Stephano, and a jester, Trinculo. Stephano shares some liquor with the sheltered monster, and Caliban immediately swears fealty to Stephano and promises to make him king of the island if he kills Prospero. Let’s just say it doesn’t work out. Prospero finds out about it from Ariel and then harasses them with pinching and other painful magic until the end, when Caliban admits he was a fool and promises to obey again.

Meanwhile, King Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, and old counselor Gonzalo are all searching for Prince Ferdinand. While the older two sleep, Sebastian and Antonio plot to kill them and usurp the throne. However, Ariel stops them and leads them away. There they see strange spirits lay a feast before them. Just before they dig in, however, Ariel comes in the form of a harpy and reminds them of their sins toward Prospero, driving them mad in the process. He eventually leads them to Prospero himself, who decides to forgive them and take back his dukedom rather than kill them and gain vengeance.

In the end, Prospero gets his dukedom back, Miranda and Ferdinand are promised to be wed, Alonso keeps his head and his crown, and Antonio and Sebastian make it by without getting punished (though it seems like they know they’ve been beaten and should stay quiet). Ariel is released from servitude, and Caliban learns not to disobey his master. And, in true comedic form, they all live happily ever after. If you think so.

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