Henry the Fourth of England was a monarch with a lot of problems, and William Shakespeare faced problems and challenges of his own in writing Henry IV, Part 2 - a sequel to a popular original, and a play that was no doubt written in response to audience demand. And yet what makes Henry IV, Part 2 a worthy follow-up to its illustrious predecessor is Shakespeare’s portrayal of Henry IV himself. The title character, an aging king who is plagued by a guilty conscience, and is doubtful regarding the future of his realm, is the key factor that ensures that this second part of the story expands upon the first in a meaningful and moving way - a continuation, not a retread.
In the cinematic era, we are all accustomed to sequels, some of which repeat plot elements from the original in a way that is slapdash and frankly rather silly. If Home Alone (1990) is a hit, then there must be a Home Alone 2 (1992). If Taken (2009) reaps box office gold, then someone has to film Taken 2 (2012). The same child must be left alone by his family again, and must be targeted by the same bungling burglars again. The same CIA agent must have a beloved family member kidnapped by a new group of sleazy conspirators again, so he can track said conspirators down and carry out a bunch of action-packed revenge killings again. It’s enough to give sequels the bad name they often so richly deserve.
And yet there are movie follow-ups that take elements of an original story and reach out in authentically new directions - The Bride of Frankenstein (1935), The Empire Strikes Back (1980), Aliens (1986), Blade Runner 2049 (2017) – and I am pleased to be able to report that Henry IV, Part 2 is, similarly, the kind of sequel that offers something new.
Some context may help here – first with regard to the actual King Henry IV, and then with regard to the first part of the two-part play that bears his name. The historical Henry Bolingbroke, a nobleman from Lancashire, seems to have been as ambitious and power-hungry as was usual for nobles in that game-of-thrones era. He successfully led a coup d’état, removed King Richard II from power, and ruled for fourteen years (1399-1413) as King Henry IV.
But his reign was never a tranquil one. He faced repeated rebellions by nobles who wanted to take power from him as he had taken power from Richard; his health was gradually ruined by a mysterious and slow-wasting disease; and (if Shakespeare’s sources for this play are reliable) he may have had grave doubts regarding the suitability as a future ruler of his son and heir – Prince Hal, the future King Henry V.
It is understandable that such a dramatic story would have appealed to Shakespeare; just as U.S. audiences continue to be fascinated by the history-based stories of prominent Americans like John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr., so the playgoers of Shakespeare’s time had a seemingly inexhaustible appetite for plays that dramatized the often turbulent history of the English throne. Indeed, at the dawn of Elizabethan England’s “Golden Age,” with the defeat of the Spanish Armada just a decade in the past, it is understandable that English audiences wanted to see how their country had progressed to the pre-eminence it then enjoyed.
Henry IV, Part 1, which was first staged around 1597, was an immediate success. Its main plot, which dealt with the 1403 Battle of Shrewsbury in which Henry’s royal army defeated an insurgent rebel army in Shropshire, would certainly have been of interest to Shakespeare’s audience.
But the particular success of Henry IV, Part 1 may have had more to do with two crucial factors. One is the comic relief provided by Hal’s friend Sir John Falstaff, a knight whose impressive girth bespeaks his status as a pleasure-loving man who wants nothing more than to enjoy the pleasures of the table, the tavern, and the flesh. The other is the way it shows Prince Hal, the future King Henry V, maturing from a callow, pleasure-loving youth into a prince willing to embrace adult responsibilities and do his royal duty. It is a narrative arc that will be familiar to anyone who has ever seen a Tom Cruise movie.
As Henry IV, Part 1 ended at a high point of drama, with Prince Hal defeating the arch-rebel Hotspur in single combat at the Battle of Shrewsbury, Henry IV, Part 2 takes up the drama at that point, with other rebel conspirators unhappily learning of their side’s defeat, and in response hatching new plans for rebellion. This is not one of the stronger features of the play; these conspirators simply don't have the compelling personal dynamism of Hotspur, the main antagonist from Henry IV, Part 1. It may be a function of the history with which Shakespeare was working - something like the reasons why many Americans would rather read about the American Civil War than about the Reconstruction period that followed it.
As with the prior play, these great and weighty matters of loyalty vs. treason are counterpointed with the base behaviour of Sir John Falstaff. And, of course, part of the reason for Falstaff’s appeal lies in his absolute unwillingness to do anything to reform his behaviour; when the issue of his financial improvidence comes up (he has unsuccessfully tried to borrow £1000 for an upcoming military expedition against the rebels, and has just been reminded that he has only seven groats and twopence in his purse), he remarks philosophically that “I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse. Borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable.” He speaks as if the problem is that his purse has an illness like tuberculosis, when the real issue is that he tends to spend all his money on wine, women, and song.
Emblematic of Falstaff’s roguish charm is the fact that the Mistress Quickly, the hostess of a tavern where Falstaff has run up vast and unpaid bills, complains that “He hath eaten me out of house and home” and sets the law on Falstaff – but before long is offering to loan Falstaff money for his expedition. Falstaff, by the time of Henry IV, Part 2, is not as young as he used to be, but he can look back on the revels of old, boasting of himself and his minions that “We have heard the chimes at midnight”.
Meanwhile, King Henry IV is haunted by the deeds of his former life; he knows that he deposed a God-anointed king, and he wonders if the rebellions perpetually troubling his realm are part of his punishment for removing Richard II from power. Moreover, he knows that his time is short.
He made his Caesar-like declaration of Alea iacta est ("The die is cast"); he led a rebellion; he seized the throne. And yet now, with his life ebbing, what does it all mean? What was it all worth? It is moving to hear this sick and aging king engage in some very Ecclesiastes-style philosophical reflections on the vanity of human wishes, including those wishes that helped make him king.
Unable to sleep, like the title character in Shakespeare’s Macbeth, King Henry asks, “O sleep, O gentle sleep,/Nature’s soft nurse, how have I frighted thee./That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down/And steep my senses in forgetfulness?” And, in what may be the best-known line from the play, the unhappy king reflects that “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”
And what of the future King Henry V? Sadly, Prince Hal has had a bit of a relapse; it is hard for him fully to forswear the once-beloved company of Falstaff and the other miscreants. Part of what makes King Henry IV’s life so bitter is the belief that Prince Hal is a fundamentally selfish, hopelessly feckless individual, who wants to be king but is not equal to the job - just as, centuries later, King George III is said to have considered his son, the future King George IV, a prince unworthy to be a king. When Prince Hal, who had earlier seen his father immobilized and thought him dead, says to his revived father, “I never thought to hear you speak again,” the King bitterly replies, “Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought.”
Indeed, a highlight of Henry IV, Part 2 comes in Act IV, scene v, when the unhappy king upbraids his unruly son. King Henry accuses Prince Hal of wanting his father dead: “What! Canst thou not forbear me half an hour?/Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself”. King Henry admits that the crown he wears is a crown he stole, and that wearing the crown and bearing its authority has brought him nothing but misery:
God knows, my son,
By what bypaths and indirect crooked ways
I met this crown, and I myself know well
How troublesome it sat upon my head….
How I came by the crown, O God forgive,
And grant it may with thee in true peace live!
In response, Prince Hal reaffirms his loyalty to his father. He is not impatient for the crown; he loves his father, and wants his father to live on: “God witness with me, when I here came in,/And found no course of breath within your Majesty,/How cold it struck my heart.” It is a moving scene of reconciliation – like the moment when Hamlet says to his estranged mother Gertrude, “When you are desirous to be blessed, I’ll blessing beg of you.”
By play’s end, when the conspirators have all been defeated, King Henry IV has died, and Prince Hal assumes the throne as King Henry V, Shakespeare indicates that the onetime petty-crime accomplice of Sir John Falstaff has learned what he needs to know so that he may become the warrior king whose outnumbered English soldiers will defeat the French at Agincourt and occupy all France. Henry V says that he intends not only to wear the robes of a king, but also to fulfill in all ways the duties of a king: “I will deeply put the fashion on/And wear it in my heart.”
Falstaff, for his part, anticipates that Prince Hal’s accession to the throne will secure him preferment. But Falstaff’s accomplice Pistol accurately anticipates “an ill wind which blows no man to good”; and when Falstaff attempts a hail-fellow-well-met greeting of Prince Hal, he is firmly rejected by King Henry V:
I know thee not, old man. Fall to thy prayers.
How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!...
Reply not to me with a fool-born jest.
Presume not that I am the thing I was,
For God doth know, so shall the world perceive,
That I have turned away my former self.
So will I those that kept me company.
It may seem cold, but Shakespeare seems to be indicating that a political leader often needs to make decisions that may seem harsh, in order to maintain both his or her own rulership and the stability of the state. Or, as members of the ruling political class in Washington, D.C., supposedly like to say, “If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog.”
Henry IV, Part 2 is not often staged – though Orson Welles skillfully brought together the Falstaff scenes from both parts of Henry IV for his film Chimes at Midnight (1965). Like its predecessor, this play works both as a character study and as a reflection on the challenges of political leadership. Indeed, the best way to experience these two history plays is to read them together, as one epic drama of history and kingship.