This play is cursed. And so cursed, that even in the reporting this week, I have hit some snags. So I'm not going to fight it.
It's one of the few plays that can be dated exactly because there is a very detailed and humorous account of one of the first showings on June 29, 1613 at the Globe. Being chock full of royal glitz and glamour, Henry VIII has an abundance of stage directions (very unlike our buddy Shakespeare) and and at one point it requires the firing of cannon ("chambers discharged" Act I, Sc. IV). This display of pyrotechnics led to the roof catching fire, and as hordes of groundlings and other theatre-goers fled the burning building, a Sir Henry Wotton deemed it appropriate to set it down on paper that one man's "breeches set on fire, that would perhaps have broiled him, if he had not by the benefit of a provident wit put it out with bottle ale." All is true, yo.
This friggen story, which is bursting with courtly gossip and reads like the transcript of a reality show, is said to be only partially written by our old Bard, with assistance from John Fletcher. There's still a lot of debate about this, which I find bemusing since literary researchers have this thing called technology that has assisted them in analyzing the writing style of all of Shakespeare's plays, and this is definitely one of the very few that appears to be written by two different hands. It's kind of obvious as you read it, though. It's not nearly as unique and full of Shakespeare's usual flourishes. It's a solid story and actually, Queen Katherine and Cardinal Wolsey are very well written, with distinct voices, but their heartfelt speeches don't quite catch in the throat the way Lear's or Hamlet's or even Paulina's do.
That is half the reason why I didn't bother to include lengthy quotes in my summary. The other half is just that the website where I usually copy/paste quotes from totally crapped out on me and since I cannot be bothered to type out each and every line I found vaguely noteworthy, I just gave up altogether. It's the curse! If you're really jonesing to see what passages I found worthy of quoting, you can break into my house and flip through the highlighted pages in my second more casual copy of The Complete Works. It's covered in a neon pink stretchy textbook sleeve; you can't miss it.
Essentially, if you've watched The Tudors on HBO (which I totally did way back when it first aired because my mom has a thing for Henry's six wives and it was just a super sexy series), you know the first season's plot. Except our old Billy softens it, making it far less scandalous, by downplaying Henry's obvious blazing lust for Anne and emphasizing the naughtiness of Wolsey and his ilk in the Catholic Church. It's like an apology for Henry's otherwise despicable behavior toward Katherine of Aragon, and it glorifies the birth of old Queen Bess because Hello she was our favorite playwright's patroness before King James I took over the land. It was performed in conjunction with the marriage of Princess Elizabeth Stuart of Bohemia, King James' second child and eldest daughter. Because who doesn't love a play during a wedding, amiright?
ACT I
The Prologue warns everyone that this is a play of all seriousness and contains no clowns in yellow nor any touch of light entertainment, but it is still dramatic and showcases how "mightiness meets misery." FUN TIMES AHEAD. I'm just going to imagine in my mind's eye Johnathan Rhys Myers, Natalie Dormer, and Sam Neill as the main characters so I don't get totally bored. And Henry Cavill as Suffolk, obviously. That's just icing.
The Duke of Norfolk delivers all the juicy deets about the meeting between King Henry and the French King on the Field of the Cloth of Gold, which was the title of a lost Sting album about Tudor history (j/k). The Kings basically tried to out-do each other in gilded finery and these "suns" enjoyed a stunning entertainment provided by Cardinal Wolsey. The Duke of Buckingham, no fan of the low-born upstart Cardinal, erupts with insults, accusing him of slowly taking over the court and power over the King. Speak of the devil, Cardinal Wolsey enters for a moment and takes one of Buckingham's servants aside to interrogate him. Buckingham tells his Duke buddies that he believes Wolsey is totally trying to take him down for some reason or another and Buckingham says he will tell the King that Wolsey is treasonous. But then Wolsey comes in again and accuses Buckingham of treason and arrests him and his buddy Aburgavenny as well, and sends them to the Tower. Buckingham is sure his life is over.
Next, we see King Henry leaning on Wolsey's shoulder, thanking him profusely for helping him weed out Buckingham and discovering his conspiracy. Queen Katherine of Aragon enters and reports that the King's poor subjects are rebelling over too many taxes demanded by Wolsey. Wolsey denies that his taxes are harsh, but Katherine insists that Wolsey's being a class-A dick and people are starving because they have to give over one-sixth of their worth to the King. Henry gets on Wolsey's ass for such a horrible tax, and he orders him to send out word that the people are pardoned from paying. Wolsey turns to his secretary and whispers to him to tell the commonwealth that Wolsey interceded on their behalf and it was he who convinced the King to revoke the tax. Two dick moves in one scene already.
The King and Queen lament that Buckingham, who seemed such a rare and upstanding dude, has gone remiss in his loyalties. Henry says that sometimes great men turn to the Dark Side and it can be tragic as hell. They call in the man who worked for Buckingham, a Surveyor, to relate his knowledge. The Surveyor says that he heard Buckingham say that if Henry dies without an heir, that Buckingham will place himself on the throne. Katherine points out that the Surveyor pissed off his tenants and the Duke discharged him, so he had better not be lying to them in order to exact revenge on the Duke for firing him. The Surveyor holds his ground. Wolsey says this is plenty of evidence and the King calls Buckingham a "giant traitor" and decides to bring him to trial.
The Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sands complain that the visit to France has made all the courtiers adopt "unmanly" customs, essentially calling them a bunch of fairies. Sir Thomas Lovell enters with news that all there has been an edict banning all the French influences, which makes the homophobes happy. The three men say they are all invited to Cardinal Wolsey's PARTAY and they gossip about how awesome it is going to be.
In Westminster, Wolsey's shindig is in full swing. Anne Bullen (Boleyn) arrives with her ladies and Sir Henry Guilford greets them. The Chamberlain, Sands, and Lovell enter as well, saying how delightful this clambake appears to be, busting with hot babes. Sands wastes no time in trying to get in Anne's bodice. Wolsey enters and tells everyone to be "freely merry." There's a commotion and Wolsey thinks some Frenchmen have come to crash the party, so a servant is sent out to greet them. But it's KING HENRY who enters masked with his entourage. Henry dances with Anne and is instantly smitten with her. Wolsey suspects it's Henry and when the King unmasks, he sits with Wolsey at the head of the table. Henry asks Lord Chamberlain who is that fine lady with whom he danced. He explains she's Sir Bullen's daughter. The King raises a glass and toasts to everyone and the dancing and singing continues.
ACT II
Two Gentlemen come out and prattle on about what went down at the trial: all these awful witnesses spoke against Buckingham despite his not guilty pleas, and though he argued eloquently for his innocence, he was still found guilty of treason. The Gentlemen think this a shameful result, and feel bad for Buckingham. They suspect Cardinal Wolsey, because they've noticed that anyone the King favors, Wolsey will send far away. Buckingham is led out, along with Lovell and some other flunkies. Buckingham gives a speech, saying he totally forgives his accusers of their mistake and he's ready to shuffle off this mortal coil. He mentions his father who fought against Richard III, and then thanks Henry VII for giving him his titles back. He says farewell in a most gentlemanly manner as he exits to be beheaded or what have you. The Gentleman stay behind and shake their heads at this tragedy. Then they discuss a rumor that the King is going to separate from Katherine, but someone says that when the King heard this rumor, he ordered anyone who spread it to STFU. They suspect the Cardinal has something to do with it, since he wishes to shame Katherine to seek revenge on the Emperor (Katherine's nephew) for not giving him the archbishopric of Toledo.
Elsewhere in the palace, Lord Chamberlain reads a letter touching on some horses he was supposed to have delivered but the Cardinal accosted them. Norfolk and Suffolk enter and ask how the King is doing. The Chamberlain says that suddenly his marriage to his dead brother's wife is weighing heavily on his conscience (because it may be construed as "incest) but Suffolk asides that actually his "conscience" is just on another woman (that sexy piece of ass Anne of course). Norfolk blames the Cardinal for making the King feel this way, and is counseling the King toward divorce. Everyone is gossiping about this mess and they all weep for poor perfect Katherine. The Chamberlain leaves on some urgent business, leaving the other men to contemplate the sad King. Henry orders them to fuck right off, but them Wolsey enters and Henry is relieved to have him in his presence. Everyone leaves except Henry, Wolsey, and Campeius, an ambassador from the Emperor, who will assist with this divorce business. Wolsey calls in Gardiner, who will serve as a good scholar to argue for Katherine's status. The King agrees that Gardiner is perfect for that job and takes him aside to speak to him. Campeius takes the opportunity to ask Wolsey if the rumor is true that Wolsey sent away Doctor Pace and replaced him with Gardiner because Wolsey envied him. Wolsey denies this of course. Henry comes back in and says they will deal with this heavy event at Black-Friars. He hangs his head as he admits that Katherine was a good bedfellow, but he must leave her all the same. UGH men are the WORST.
Anne Bullen and her Lady chat about the King and Anne expresses her hopes that Henry will reconsider, since Katherine is such a wonderful woman. Anne feels it would be better to be low-born and happy than rich and miserable. In fact, she doesn't care to have any noble title whatsoever (LMAO irony). The Lord Chamberlain enters to say that the King thinks so highly of Anne that he is conferring upon her the title of Marchioness of Pembroke, which includes an allowance of a thousand pounds a year (HOLY SHIT). Anne says thank you very much. He leaves to tell the King she accepts and Anne's Old Lady maid titters with excitement. Anne just hopes the Queen doesn't hear about it.
A litany of stage directions ensues, taking up almost half a column of text. Pomp, pomp, all is vain pomp. Must've been a sight to see, though. The fanciest goddamn divorce proceeding proceeds. Queen Katherine kneels at Henry's feet and gives a heartfelt and respectable speech asking for justice in this matter, for she was a most honorable wife this entire time and she gave him no good reason whatsoever for this shame. She is not wrong. She asks that she be allowed councillors from her home in Spain before a judgement be made. Wolsey says that the councillors Henry gave her are adequate and the session will continue. Katherine tells Wolsey that she believes him to be her enemy who has "blown this coal betwixt my lord and me." Wolsey says she is out of character, and he is innocent. She says he is cunning and arrogant and she is but a "simple woman" who is too weak to oppose him but she soundly demeans him all the same. She refuses to remain for this crap and exits. Henry lets her go and says she is, in fact, a noble woman and very fine indeed. Wolsey asks the King to condemn her condemnation. The King tells Wolsey to chill the fuck out. Henry goes on to explain why he honestly feels his marriage was an honest mistake: he was so overwhelmed with grief over his brother's death and he thinks that the reason he never got any male children off of her was a punishment from God for this "incest." He claims that it's not personal and that he has no ounce of dislike for the Queen, but this marriage must be annulled in the end. They decide to adjourn until further notice.
ACT III
At the Queen's apartments, Kathrine asks one of her ladies to sing a song for her because she is blue. A Gentleman announces the arrival of two Cardinals--Wolsey and Campeius of course. They ask to speak with her in private and she says out with it, I have nothing to hide from my waiting people. They "counsel" her to do whatever the King decides and she bristles at their suggestion. She says she doesn't wish upon them half the sorrows she has, because she is a charitable person. She swears only death with divorce her from her duties as wife and Queen. Wolsey argues he has no reason to wrong her and Campeius states that the King loves her and wants to do right by her, so long as she does his will in this situation. She says fuck it whatever.
Norfolk, Suffolk, Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain walk into a bar... no, sorry, they're just chatting in the palace. Turns out some letters Wolsey sent to the Pope got intercepted and they unfolded his true intentions and the King is losing faith in the Cardinal. The letters said some shit about Anne Bullen and how the King has his eye on her and that the Pope should stay his judgment in the divorce. The Chamberlain says it's too late--Henry already married Anne and coronation rights are being planned. Suffolk swears some "blessing" will fall out of her unto the land (someone has ESP!). Suffolk adds that Campeius has skipped town as well, which makes this even stickier. Cranmer of Canterbury has given his opinion to Henry and the Queen is now the Princess Dowager and they suspect Cranmer will be Archbishop before long. Wolsey enters with Cromwell and complains that there's no way Anne Bullen can be Queen, for he prefers the French King's sister, Duchess of Alanson for Henry's bride.
The King comes in, reading a schedule of the cash flow in Wolsey's direction. Norfolk tattles that he's seen Wolsey fretting just now. Henry suspects Wolsey of being less than heavenly, and that his thinkings are "below the moon." Wolsey presents himself and Henry says he's trusted Wolsey all this time because his father trusted him and he has treated Wolsey well in return for his services. Wolsey agrees and kisses Henry's ass. Henry says "words are no deeds" and he hands him the schedule he found. Wolsey reads it and admits that it has undone him because it is the account of all the wealth he has accumulated in his dealings in Rome for his own ends. He wails that he has met his end. Norfolk comes in and when he says the King wants him to hole up in the Asher-House until further notice, Wolsey goes off on Norfolk and his buddies, but they say they're just doing what the King says. Surrey accuses Wolsey of basically murdering Buckingham and being an all-around asshole. They list all his sleazy dealings one by one and then they all leave him behind to tell the King how Wolsey reacted.
Wolsey soliloquizes about how tragic his life is now that all his bullshit has been discovered. He's way out of his depth and he thinks he knows how Lucifer feels now, as a fallen angel (yeah OK buddy). Cromwell comes in and is speechless. Wolsey says he's doing fine now that the King has released him from his heavy burden of secrets and lies. Cromwell says that Sir Thomas More is set to take Wolsey's place and Cranmer installed as Archbishop of Canterbury. Wolsey wishes them well. Also, Lady Anne is openly known as the Queen now. Cromwell despairs that Wolsey has been brought down and despite continuing in the King's service, he still feels loyalty to Wolsey. Wolsey comforts him and gives him advice about sin and ambition and honesty.
ACT IV
Two Gentleman stand by as the coronation parade is beginning. One reads from a list of other courtly folk who will take their new noble names along with the Queen that day: Suffolk is to become High Steward, Norfolk to become Earl Marshall, along with some miscellaneous dudes. One Gentleman asks about Katherine and the other says she's been sent away and is officially divorced by the Archbishop of Canterbury, but now she is sick.
*Panoply of stage directions detailing each and every person entering the stage in their Sunday best*
When the Queen passes by, the Gentleman comment on her astonishing beauty. A third Gentleman finds them and gossips about the moment of the coronation itself, in a manner that almost parodies how Cleopatra was described by Enobarbus. They say that Cranmer was there, and is no lover of Archbishop Canterbury. They say that Thomas Cromwell has been made Master of the Jewel House.
Faraway from all this pomp, Katherine lies ill in Kimbolton. She hears that Wolsey is dead and asks her usher, Griffith, how that came about. He says Wolsey just got sick so suddenly after his arrest that he croaked. Katherine, being the classy lady she is, wishes blessings upon the man in his final repose. Griffith asks if it's OK to list Wolsey's good aspects and she allows it. He says that though he came from "humble stock" he was wise and scholarly from the cradle and at least he founded Ipswich and Oxford schools (Oxford became Christ Church and still survives). Katherine praises Griffith for being "an honest chronicler." She asks for emo music as she goes to meditate on this news.
Then a Vision appears: six figures clad in white robes, each crowning each other with garlands. She calls out, wondering if they are spirits of peace, and Griffith says it's nice that she's had such pleasant dreams. She sends away the musicians and her woman, Patience, notes how pale Katherine looks. They are sure she is about to die. Just then, a Messenger arrives with news from the King: Lord Capuchius has come to say the King grieves her sickness and wishes her comfort. She says that's too little too late, buddy. Capuchius says the King is well. Katherine gives him a letter for Henry, requesting that he do right by their daughter and pay her poor women after she dies so they have something nice to remember her by. She sends Henry her good wishes even as she dies of a sick heart.
ACT V
Back in London, Gardiner (the Bishop of Winchester), meets with Sir Thomas Lovell. Gardiner comes from the King and asks why Lovell seems to be in haste. Lovell says that Queen Anne is in labor and it's pretty rough. Gardiner says that many would believe the world would be better off if Cranmer, Cromwell, and the Queen herself were dead. Lovell is shocked at this, as those men are two of the most powerful in the land. Gardiner says they are rotten. The King is anxious about Anne as he enters and finds Cranmer, as requested. The King says he's heard bad shit about Cranmer and that he's to be tried for heresy. Cranmer is steadfast and honest and does not fear what men say. The King is convinced he's cool and says he'll defend him. Anne's Old Lady comes in and announces that Anne has birthed a girl. The King, disappointed, tells Lovell to give the Old Lady a hundred marks, then stalks off to see his wife.
Cranmer arrives before the council-chamber and spots Doctor Butts entering, then gets nervous, thinking Butts is the one accusing him of heresy. Butts speaks with the King and it doesn't sound good for Cranmer. Cromwell, Lord Chamberlain, Suffolk, Norfolk, Gardiner, and Surrey all enter at a table to try Cranmer. Cranmer swears his greatest allegiance to the King. Gardiner gets cross with Cromwell, who comes to Cranmer's defense, and they exchange barbs. The council agrees Cranmer should go to the Tower until further notice. Cranmer presents the ring the King gave him and demands the King be his judge. The King enters frowningly. Gardiner respectfully requests the King be judge in this matter, but the King sees through his obsequies and shames his council for treating Cranmer so badly. He tells them they did a shitty job and now Cranmer must return to his duties, baptizing his daughter being of the utmost importance.
Out in the palace yard, a Porter and his Man are trying to clear the ground of the crowds who have come to see the christening. The Porter is offended at how unruly the mob is. The Man comments on some wild goings-on of the commoners nearby. The Lord Chamberlain enters, surprised at the crowds, and blames the Porter and the rest of the servants for the craziness.
There's a trumpeting and the usual suspects and stage directions round up for the ceremony. Princess Elizabeth is announced as she's brought in, and Cranmer kneels before the King. Henry kisses his daughter and gives her blessings and thanks everyone for their prayers. Cranmer then recites a long blessing for the child, predicting the virtues and great deeds she will achieve as she ages and remains a virgin princess for all her days. The King is grateful for such a lovely blessing.
The Epilogue admits that not everyone has been pleased by this presentation, and may have even fallen asleep for a few acts, but oh well, to each his own.
The BBC's 1979 production was exactly as expected, with Timothy West doing a fine job of playing that unctuous fucking Wolsey. The most noteworthy thing was that for all of eleven lines, Lord Capuchius, the ambassador of Queen Katherine's nephew (the Holy Roman Emperor) is played by none other than that always youthful Welshman JOHN RHYS-DAVIES. He is the best, as usual. Why the hell he hasn't done more Shakespeare with his melodious voice I don't know. Why the fuck he wasn't playing Henry I'll never understand.
Next week, Shakespeare's ACTUAL final play that has even less contribution than this one did, but we're doing it anyway, folks! Billy was getting tired in his old age and apt to stay home in Stratford already. And then after that, we're tacking on the bonus play Edward III, which was published anonymously around the same time as Titus, if only because it's included in Riverside.
To tell the truth, I'm really quite despondent that we're nearing the terminus of this journey. I'm going to miss hanging with my boyfriend every fucking day, through good scenes and boring ones. I don't want it to be over, really, even though I already have a plan for next year's resolution project. I just know that watching Sir Ken's All Is True this week is going to make me cry damnit.
Comments