Shakespeare's Kings (41 page)

So
Oldcastl
e
became
Falstaff,
though
one
or
two
hints
of
his
former identity
can
still
be
found
in
Henry IV Part I.
As
early
in
the
play
as I.ii.41,
Prince
Hal
calls
him
'my
old
lad
of
the
castle
';
and
II.ii.103

, 'Away,
good
Ned,
Falstaff
sweats
to
death'
would
scan
a
good
deal better
with
the
substitution
of
the
old
name
for
the
new.
To
avoid
any similar
misunderstandings,
other
drinking
companions
of
the
Prince were
also
given
new
identities.
'Harvey',
the
name
of
the
third
husband of
the
mother
of
Lord
Southampton,
¹
became
'Bardolph',
and
'Russell', the
family
name
of
the
Earls
(later
Dukes)
of
Bedford,
was
changed
to 'Peto'.
Now
at
last
Shakespeare
could
promote
his
two
plays
without fear
of
opposition
and
even
-
almost
certainly
in
deference
to
a
wish expressed
by
the
Queen
herself
to
see
Falstaff
as
a
lover
—
add
a
third, written
in
two
or
three
weeks
and
first
performed
before
her
on
23 April
1597:
The Merry Wives of Windsor.

The
first
three
acts
of
King Henry
IV Part I are

essentially
antiphonal: serious
political
discussions
are
interspersed
with
comic
scenes
between Falstaff
and
Prince
Hal,
some
set
in
in
the
latter's
apartments
at
Rochester and
Gadshill,
others
at
the
Boar's
Head
Tavern,
Eastcheap.
Quite
apart from
The Famous Victories,
there
was
plenty
of
good
evidence
for
Hal's riotous
living:
according
to
one
contemporary
source,
the
Prince
'was in
his
youth
a
diligent
follower
of
idle
practices,
much
given
to
instrument
s

of
music,
and
fired
with
the
torches
of
Venus
herself,'
¹
and
many other
chroniclers
tell
the
same
story.
Shakespeare,
in
fact,
lets
him
off remarkably
lightly.
He
allows
only
a
single
oblique
reference
to
the popular
(if
almost
certainly
baseless)
story
of
the
Prince's
physical
assault on
the
Chief
Justice
Sir
William
Gascoigne
²
-
though
there
will
be more
of
this,
introduced
for
very
different
reasons,
in
Part II;
and
he makes
no
mention
at
all
of
young
Henry's
unaccountable
appearance before
his
father
in
what
Holinshed
describes
as
'a
gowne
of
blew
satten, full
of
small
oilet
holes,
at
euerie
hole
the
needle
hanging
by
a
silke thred
with
which
it
was
sewed'.
It
seems,
in
short,
that
he
is
anxious to
emphasize
throughout
that
Hal's
youthful
follies
were,
in
the
words of
the
great
nineteenth-century
historian
William
Stubbs,
'the
frolics of
a
high-spirited
young
man,
indulged
in
the
open
air
of
the
town
and camp;
not
the
deliberate
pursuit
of
vicious
excitement
in
the
fetid atmosphere
of
a
court'.
Such
habits
can
be
cast
aside
when
the
moment comes
and,
as
early
as
the
second
scene
in
the
play,
the
Prince's
final soliloquy
leaves
us
in
no
doubt
that
they
will
be.
Later,
in
III
ii,
he gives
a
similar
reassurance
to
his
father:

For
the
time
will
come

That
I
shall
make
this
northern
youth
exchange

His
glorious
deeds
for
my
indignities.

What
Shakespeare
does
not
tell
us
-
and
the
King
himself
seems
to forget
-
is
that
the
Prince's
life
was
by
no
means
entirely
dissolute.
As early
as
September
1400
he
had
accompanied
his
father
into
Wales
on his
first
expedition
against
Glendower
and
had
remained
all
the
winter at
Chester,
where
the
rebels
were
summoned
to
present
themselves before
him
on
30
November.
In
April
1401
he
had
advanced
into
Wales with
Hotspur,
recovering
Conway
Castle
in
May
and
securing
the submission
of
Merioneth
and
Carnarvon
shortly
afterwards.
In
August -
Hotspur
having
departed
-
he
had
led
another
attack,
and
was
still on
campaign
when
the
King
joined
him
in
October.
The
following year
was
admittedly
quiet
enough,
and
would
have
left
him
plenty
of

1.
Titus Livius Forojuliensis, an Italian in the service of Humphrey of Gloucester,
writing
c.
1437.

2.
Thy place in Council thou has rudely lost',
III.ii
.32

.

time
for
the
Boar's
Head,
though
even
in
those
days
he
might
have been
thought
a
little
young:
on
9
August
he
celebrated
his
fifteenth birthday.
On
7
March
1403,
however,
he
was
appointed
by
the
Council to
represent
his
father
in
Wales,
and
in
May
he
invaded
the
country yet
again,
destroying
two
of
Glendower's
principal
castles
.
He
was
still there
in
July,
when
he
received
word
to
meet
Henry
at
Shrewsbury: the
Percys
had
risen
in
rebellion.

Precisely
why
they
did
so
remains
a
mystery.
The
King
himself
was taken
by
surprise
-
when
he
heard
the
news
at
Lichfield
on
16
July
he had
actually
been
on
his
way
north
to
assist
them.
There
were
probably several
reasons.
Doubtl
ess
the
affair
of
the
Homildon
prisoners
played its
part,
as
did
Henry's
continuing
refusal
to
ransom
Mortimer;
but the
greatest
grievance
of
all
was
the
non-payment
of
the
considerable expenses,
amounting
to
some
£20,000,
that
the
Percys
had
incurred doing
his
work
for
him
along
the
border.
As
rece
ntly
as
26
June Northumberland
himself
had
written
to
the
King,
setting
out
the situation
and
requesting
urgent
payment
so
that
the
realm
would
not be
disgraced
at
the
next
encounter
with
the
Scots.
Though
strongly worded
it
contained
no
hint
of
disrespect,
far
less
of
disloyalty,
and some
historians
have
concluded
that
the
Earl
still
had
no
thought
of rebellion
in
his
mind,
and
had
allowed
himself
to
be
persuaded
only
at the
last
moment
by
his
ever-impetuous
son.

One
can
only
say
that
it
seems
unlikely.
Four
years
before,
Northumberland
had
not
hesitated
to
swear
an
oath
to
King
Richard
that
he would
be
permitted
to
retain
his
crown;
¹
and
even
if
he
were
not himself
a
prime
mover,
he
cannot
have
been
unaware
of
the
conspiracy that
his
son
had
devised
with
the
help
of
the
Archbishop
of
York Richard
Scrope,
Owen
Glendower
and
his
son-in-law
Mortimer,
who had
married
Owen's
daughter
a
few
months
before.
Its
object
was
to depose
Henry
in
favour
of
Mortimer's
son
and
Hotspur's
nephew
the young
Earl
of
March
—
now
twelve
years
old
-
leaving
Wales
independent
under
Owen;
and
it
was
in
pursuit
of
this
aim
that
Hotspur had
arrived
on
9
July
in
Chester
with
his
uncle
the
Earl
of
Worcester, his
erstwhile
captive
Douglas,
a
number
of
other
Scottish
prisoners whom
he
had
set
free
and
160
horse.
His
claim
that
King
Richard
was also
with
them
had
immediate
effect
in
the
old
loyalist
stronghold,
and

1.
See p.
120.

he
was
acclaimed
with
enthusiasm;
a
day
or
two
later,
however,
on
his march
south
to
join
Glendower,
this
last
pretence
was
dropped.
Edmund of
March
was
declared
the
rightful
King,
while
'Henry
of
Lancaster' was
accused
of
breaking
the
oath
he
had
sworn
at
Doncaster
¹
and starving
Richard
to
death.

Henry,
meanwhile,
had
acted
fast.
The
important
thing
was
to
prevent the
rebels
joining
up
with
Glendower.
After
a
few
days
spent
collecting troops,
on
20
July
he
had
led
his
army
on
a
forced
march
to
Shrewsbury. The
Percys,
arriving
the
next
morning
and
finding
the
gates
closed
to them,
withdrew
some
three
miles
to
the
north
along
the
Whitchurch road,
taking
up
a
strong
position
on
the
slope
of
the
Hayteley
field
in the
parish
of
Albright
Hussey.
Henry
followed,
drawing
up
his
own forces
at
the
foot
of
the
slope.
At
this
point,
the
chroniclers
tell
us, Hotspur
called
for
his
favourite
sword,
only
to
be
told
that
it
had
been left
behind
in
the
village
of
Berwick,
where
he
had
spent
the
previous night
without
being
told
exa
ctly
where
he
was.
When
he
heard
the name
he
immediately
remembered
the
words
of
a
fortune-teller
that he
would
die
in
Berwick,
which
till
then
he
had
always
assumed
was Berwick-on-Tweed.
'Then,'
he
murmured,
'has
my
plough
reached
its last
furrow!'
Peace
talks,
mediated
by
the
Abbot
of
Shrewsbury,
came
to nothing;
and
around
noon
the
King
gave
the
order
to
attack.
The
Prince of
Wales,
though
wounded
in
the
face
by
an
arrow
from
one
of
the Cheshire
archers,
led
his
men
up
the
slope
and
engaged
the
rebels
hand-to-hand.
Hotspur
and
Douglas
meanwhile,
with
a
band
of
thirty
chosen followers,
cut
their
way
through
to
the
royal
standard
and
dashed
it
to the
ground;
but
they
failed
to
kill
the
King,
who
had
by
now
dispatched thirty
of
the
rebels
on
his
own
account,
despite
being
forced
three
times to
his
knees.
Shortly
afterwards
Hotspur,
pressing
on
as
always
ahead of
his
men,
was
struck
down.
The
word
spread
quickly
among
his followers.
With
Worcester
and
Douglas
captured,
they
had
no
more stomach
for
the
fight;
and
by
nightfall
the
battle
was
over.