I’ve now read through the Henry Tetralogy.
That’s Henry VI Parts One, Two, and Three, and have moved onto Richard III.
Those Henrys are a slog.
Finally arriving at Richard III is like a breath of fresh air.
I rank each book, marking my grade – both on a sliding alphabetical scale and out of ten – on the front page of each copy (I use the thick Arden editions) alongside my self-made index.
I’m very sorry to say that all three of those Henrys have got the lowest marks from me.
1 out of 10, and grade F.
No, I haven’t missed their point or their genius – there is little of either to miss.
And, no, it’s not due to any personal aversion to reading historical narratives.
Every great Shakespearean critic, from Samuel Johnson to Harold Bloom, is in vehement agreement with me.
Some prefer certain Henrys to others (Johnson thinks Part Two the greatest, whilst Bloom thinks it’s Part Three), but this is a preference akin to preferring one spike up the bottom as opposed to another because the point isn’t quite as sharp and the shaft quite as thick.
They’re all sharp sticks up the backside, though. And a pike up the bum is a pike up the bum.
And I’m very sorry that these works exist at all and bear the name of Shakespeare, whom I love so dearly.
These works are the reason why I cannot bring myself to recommending newcomers to the Bard undertake a chronological reading of the complete works.
Most readers would abandon these dreadful plays and give up on Shakespeare forever.
Yes, they are that bad.
But if you have already read most of Shakespeare’s output (myself having needed to read everything for my final year at Oxford), then go for a chronological reading and get the worst out of the way first.
Some might say it’s entirely unnecessary to subject oneself to these plays first on account of the fact that Shakespeare did not write the Henrys first.
Having looked at all the arguments, I have made up my mind that Shakespeare did write these first. And he wrote them in order.
Some critics argue that he wrote Parts Two and Three first, then wrote Part One as a prologue due to popular demand in the theatres. I believe not. I also cannot believe why they were so popular back in the day. I suppose that says something of the state of theatre at the time.
These plays have one thing in their favour in that Shakespeare was the first dramatist to seriously give attention to British history on the stage. Perhaps that is why they were so popular.
But the faults are too many to name.
The first offence is an unfair generational one – these feel more steeped in the tradition of morality plays than the piercing psychological studies of humans that Shakespeare would go on to pen in the form of Othello and Hamlet.
You’re simply watching one-dimensional character rant, giving blocks of text one another.
Part One’s saving grace is the character of Joan of Arc.
Without her, the entire play would be completely forgettable.
Although Shakespeare does not imbue her with the life and roundedness that he would later imbue into characters such as Cleopatra and Lady Macbeth.
Part Two’s saving grace is Jack Cade, whom one must wait four acts to arrive.
And Part Three has practically no saving grace, although it’s a little more accomplished in terms of mechanics than the first two.
The value in the first three plays is that Shakespeare used them as experimentation, a playground and laboratory that would lead to later insight in his greater works.
Another unfair fault is the fact that one can easily perceive the hands of writers other than Shakespeare in these works.
These plays were clearly acts of collaboration and do well to prove the old proverb ‘too many cocks spoil the brothel’.
Shakespeare would have wrangled with a committee of more established stage writers, and the parts he did actually write would have been too marred by Marlowe’s influence.
Having said that, Richard III is a happy reward for pushing through the three Henrys.
Richard III is one of the only Shakespeare plays that has never been off the stage.
From the moment of its first performance until the present day, producers have been enamoured with the gleefully evil Richard of Gloucester – and it isn’t hard to see why.
There are no psychologically complex roles for women in this play – or for any of the other characters – but Richard is a lot of fun.
He makes us, the audience, complicit in his evil doing, and, rather like a hammy old panto actor equipped with beautiful poetry, really delights and indulges in playing the villain.
Richard is also the only Shakespearean character to open a play with a soliloquy.
And what a soliloquy to behold!
I’ve watched the Laurence Olivier version several times through and get vast amounts of enjoyment out of it every time.
The next play after Richard III is The Two Gentlemen of Verona.