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the well-educated young man
described in Holinshed’s Chronicles;
he is a conflation of the historical
Jack Cade who led a rebellion in
1450, and an earlier rebel, Wat Tyler,
who led the Peasant’s Revolt of 1381.
In the play, Cade instructs the
rebels to hang a clerk because he
can write, and Dick the Butcher
calls, “let’s kill all the lawyers”
(4.2.78). But it was Tyler’s rebellion,
according to Holinshed, that
condemned literacy and lawyers
for being socially divisive, not
Cade’s. Shakespeare mixes the two,
emphasizing the chaos that ensues
when proper social and political
relationships are cast aside: “like
an angry hive of bees / That want
their leader” (3.2.125–126). However,
Cade is no egalitarian—change will
happen when Cade is king himself,
“as king I will be” (4.2.71–72), an
echo of York’s claims to kingship.
However, it would be wrong to
assume that Shakespeare is out
of sympathy with the plight of
the poor, whose suffering in such
unhinged times is made very clear.
The empty center
At the heart of this breakdown
in relationships is King Henry
himself. He wants to be a
peacemaker. But York and Queen
Margaret condemn his “church-like
humours” (1.1.247) as unfit for the
crown, and describe his obsession
with prayer as unmanly. Ultimately,
his piety becomes simply vacillation,
and his indecision makes him
increasingly irrelevant. “What
are you made of?” Margaret cries
desperately when they are caught in
the Battle of St. Albans at the end,
“You’ll nor fight nor fly” (5.4.3).
The emptiness at the center
creates a power vacuum that
sucks in and destroys all but the
strongest—from Eleanor, the “good”
Duke of Gloucester’s wife, who is
caught conspiring with witches,
to the queen’s unfortunate lover,
Suffolk, who is beheaded at sea.
Suffolk’s departure is one of the
most touching scenes in the play.
He is a brutal schemer, responsible
for entrapping Eleanor and arranging
the murder of Gloucester. Yet their
parting is poignant: “To France,
sweet Suffolk. Let me hear from
thee. / For wheresoe’er thou art in
this world’s Globe, / I’ll have an Iris
that shall find thee out” (3.2.409–
412). When Margaret cradles
Suffolk’s decapitated head in her lap,
it is a moment of true anguish.
Henry’s weakness has unleashed
the demons, and at the end of the
play, the ruthless ambition of York and
his sons chillingly takes control. ■THE FREELANCE WRITER
Can we outrun the heavens?
King Henry
Act 5, Scene 4Performance history
Despite the weakness of the
character of King Henry, who
vacillates and hesitates, the
powerful parts of Richard of
York and Queen Margaret
provide challenging roles that
dominate and drive the play.
Many directors have
presented the Henry VI trilogy
along with Richard III, creating
a tetralogy on the Wars of the
Roses. Often the same actor
plays the same character
across the plays, as Chuck
Iwuji (pictured) did in 2008,
playing Henry VI for the RSC.
Well-regarded theatrical
performances include the 1963
John Barton and Peter Hall
adaptation at the RSC titled
The Wars of the Roses with
Peggy Ashcroft as Margaret
and Donald Sinden as York.
These productions highlighted
the political and social unrest
prevalent in the plays, which
reflected the civil upheaval
of the 1960s—a period of
momentous events such as
the erection of the Berlin
Wall and the assassination
of John F Kennedy.
Acclaimed television
productions include a 1981
BBC version of all four plays
directed by Jane Howell, which
stayed very close to the play.It is great sin to swear
unto a sin,
But greater sin to keep
a sinful oath.
Salisbury
Act 5, Scene 1