Richard the Third, in real life, may not have been quite so bad a fellow as William Shakespeare makes him out to be. The Yorkist Plantagenet king who ruled over England from 1483 to 1485 seems to have been a hard-working monarch and a capable administrator; indeed, some historians of his time praised him as a compassionate monarch with a concern for the problems of ordinary people throughout his realm. But Shakespeare had his own reasons for maligning Richard’s character; and in the process of doing so, Shakespeare wrote the very first of his truly great plays.
The Tragedy of Richard the Third (the play’s official title) draws its power from the sheer gusto with which Shakespeare sets forth this study in villainy for its own sake. As the man who deposed and killed Richard III was the future King Henry VII – founder of the Tudor dynasty, and grandfather of Queen Elizabeth I, the English monarch of Shakespeare’s time – Shakespeare knew that a play that presented Richard as a villain and his Tudor nemesis as a hero would be warmly received, both in England’s royal court and among the ordinary people of the realm.
“Yea, verily, our Will doth surely know
The side on which his bread is butteréd.”
Part of what makes Richard the Third a great play is that Richard’s villainy is at once so over-the-top and so believable. His motivation is clear – he wants absolute power, to rule as King of England – and therefore he will do whatever he finds necessary to achieve that goal. How many people like that are currently walking the proverbial corridors of power, in London and Washington and every other capital?
Richard makes the audience complicit in his wicked plans, regularly revealing his intentions through asides shared with the playgoer or reader. As the play begins, for example, he considers the accession to power of his brother, the newly crowned King Edward IV, and ironically reflects that “Now is the winter of our discontent/Made glorious summer by this sun of York”, adding that he intends to set King Edward and their other brother Clarence “In deadly hate the one against the other”.
Richard, in Shakespeare’s portrayal, has physical deformities that reinforce his twisted moral nature (though portraits of Richard painted during his lifetime de-emphasize said disabilities). Consequently, in a manner that looks forward to the way Milton’s Satan says “Evil, be thou my good,” Richard declares that “since I cannot prove a lover…I am determined to prove a villain”.
Ironic that Richard says that he “cannot prove a lover”, as he is amazingly successful in courtship on one memorable occasion. In Act I, scene ii, he confronts Lady Anne Woodville, who is accompanying the corpse of her father King Henry VI; Richard has killed not only King Henry but also Lady Anne’s husband, Prince Edward. Yet Richard manages to convince Lady Anne that he killed her husband and father for love of her; and Lady Anne, initially disposed to spit upon Richard, is eventually moved to consent to marry him. Richard exults in his improbable amatory success – “Was ever woman in this humour wooed?/Was ever woman in this humour won?” – and mockingly speaks of himself as if he has become a gallant ladies’ man: “I’ll be at charges for a looking glass/And entertain a score or two of tailors”.
Richard the Third does indeed “prove a villain” in many ways – most memorably, for many playgoers and readers, in the way he does away with “the little princes” – the young Edward, Prince of Wales (the new King Edward V by royal succession, though not yet officially crowned), and his brother Richard, Duke of York. Richard Gloucester, in his role as Lord Protector, states that the little princes, for their own protection, need to go into the Tower of London, where their relatives will “meet you at the Tower and welcome you.” The boys are unhappy at this prospect, but feel that they must follow the Lord Protector’s orders; and the young King Edward speaks prophetically of his own impending demise when he says, “I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower.”
Another of the compelling qualities of Richard the Third is the way in which it shows how those courtiers who played for power in Richard’s Game of Thrones world, but did not play the game as well as Richard, come to learn, albeit too late, how they betrayed themselves through their untrammeled ambition. George, the Duke of Clarence – Richard’s own brother – is soon to be killed by being drowned in a cask of malmsey wine; but just before that, he speaks of a dream he had of dying, going to the world of the dead, and being confronted by the people he killed in his quest for power: “Then came wandering by/A shadow like an angel, with bright hair/Dabbled in blood, and he shrieked out aloud,/‘Clarence is come, false, fleeting, perjured Clarence…’”
Similarly, William Lord Hastings, betrayed by Richard and consigned to execution, laments his choosing to focus on power in this world rather than universal standards of justice and right behaviour: “O momentary grace of mortal men,/Which we more hunt for than the grace of God!/Who builds his hope in air of your good looks/Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast,/Ready with every nod to tumble down/Into the fatal bowels of the deep.”
So what is the catalogue of Richard’s crimes, in Shakespeare’s reckoning? Let’s review:
• He murders Henry VI, the anointed King of England, an act that makes him a regicide;
• He kills Edward of Westminster – Henry VI’s son, the Prince of Wales, and heir to the throne;
• He has his brother George, the Duke of Clarence, killed – an act that re-enacts Cain’s killing of Abel and makes Richard a fratricide;
• He helps induce the premature death of the ailing King Edward IV by causing him to be tormented with guilt over Clarence’s death;
• He has Lord Hastings, Lord Rivers, Lord Grey, and Sir Thomas Vaughan imprisoned and executed;
• He has the young Edward V and his even younger brother the Duke of York imprisoned in the Tower of London and later murdered;
• He kills his wife Lady Anne Woodville by poisoning; and
• He has his erstwhile accomplice, the Duke of Buckingham, executed for betraying him.
No wonder Richard says, at one point, “I am in/So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin.”
Eventually, of course, King Richard III does face the consequences of his crimes. Henry, the Earl of Richmond, mobilizes an army and returns from his French exile to challenge Richard at the Battle of Bosworth Field. Haunted by the ghosts of his many victims, knowing that those who fight for his side do so out of fear and not love, Richard nonetheless displays a grim and single-minded kind of battlefield courage; even as the battle goes against him, he cries out, “A horse! A horse! my kingdom for a horse!”, showing his willingness to fight on to the end. Facing Richmond for a final duel, Richard echoes Julius Caesar’s Alea iacta est (“the die is cast”), stating that “I have set my life upon a cast,/And I will stand the hazard of the die.” He dies in the same bloody and violent way in which he lived, and leaves an unforgettably formidable impression.
King Richard III – both as the historical figure, and as the Shakespearean character – keeps making his way back into the popular imagination. In 1996, a mock trial was held at Indiana University in Bloomington; Richard Gloucester was symbolically brought before the bar on charges of having murdered the little princes. Citing “ambiguity as to when the murders took place”, along with the questionable reliability of “contemporary accounts” that “are not worth much in a trial of this sort…because they are not made with first-hand knowledge; they are a kind of rumor on rumor”, a three-judge panel led by U.S. Supreme Court Chief Justice William Rehnquist found Richard not guilty, stating that the prosecution had not proven its case beyond a reasonable doubt. If Richard did murder the little princes, he evidently maintained a sufficient level of what, nowadays, would be referred to as “plausible deniability.”
And Richard the Third made his way back into the news once again when his skeletal remains, long thought lost, were found beneath a car park in Leicester, on the site of what had once been the Greyfriars Friary Church, in 2012. The skeleton bore traces of scoliosis, a sidewise curvature of the spine – the disability that causes Shakespeare’s Richard to refer to himself as “Deformed, unfinished…scarce half made up”. Scientists from the University of Leicester eventually confirmed through DNA testing that the skeleton was indeed that of Richard III; and once that DNA confirmation had occurred, the king received a ceremonial reburial in Leicester Cathedral.
So how would the real Richard III feel about receiving all that attention – about being remembered as one of the greatest villains in Shakespeare’s oeuvre? My own hunch is that he might be balefully amused by it. Looking at the monarchs who ruled before and after him, I reflect that his predecessor Edward IV, compared with Richard, is little more than the answer to a trivia question; his successor Henry VII, founder of the Tudor line, is largely overshadowed by his more famous successors Henry VIII and Elizabeth I. By contrast, Richard III has what every monarch no doubt wants – he is remembered. Say his name, “Richard the Third,” and you’ll find that it’s a name that everyone knows. “Thus high…is King Richard seated” – among the most infamous and fascinating villains in all of literature, thanks to the genius of William Shakespeare. Perhaps the real King Richard III would approve.