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A Kingdom for the Truth: The Historical Richard III
Alex Segal
In the late sixteenth century in England, evil had a face and his name was Richard. So, evil also had a hunchback. While this Yorkish King had actually ruled England only briefly from 1483 to 1485, more than a hundred years before this time, the memory of the supposed tyrant had been reinvigorated-and perhaps reinvented-by the talented Tudor writers in the time of Queen Elizabeth I, including one William Shakespeare.
Perhaps the most memorable era of English history is defined by one of England’s most memorable rulers, Elizabeth I. The last ruler in the Tudor line, Elizabeth set a national tone that ushered in the Renaissance that had been slowly creeping north from Italy. This period of artistic and scholarly rebirth can be equally defined by arguably the greatest writer of all time, William Shakespeare. In fact, when referring to England in the late 16th and early 17th centuries, the terms “Elizabethan” and “Shakespearean” are often used interchangeably-though sometimes not correctly so.
Elizabeth was an avid fan of Shakespeare. In fact, her admiration for the playwright’s ability may have provided the springboard for both his popular success and his literary relevance. During the last decade of Elizabeth’s rule, records show that the Queen was presented with 32 performances of Shakespeare’s work, as opposed to the 33 performances by all other theatre companies combined (Johanyak 95).
As the most powerful and prominent member of Shakespeare’s audience, Elizabeth’s influence is practically an omnipresent force in the bard’s play making. Sometimes this influence is expressed through tacit word choices and the occasional favorable mention of England. However, at other times, it appears much more explicitly. For example, Shakespeare’s play The Merry Wives of Windsor was created entirely for the monarch when she commissioned a love story featuring Falstaff from the Henry IV plays. The play even alludes to Elizabeth when Pistol, disguised as a fairy, says, “Our radiant Queen hates sluts and sluttery” (V.v.46)-Elizabeth was sometimes referred to as the “Faerie Queen” (Campbell 307).
Nowhere is Elizabeth’s influence as a Tudor queen more prominent than in Shakespeare’s so-called history plays. Shakespeare’s collection of histories consists of two tetralogies-documenting the reigns from Henry VI to Richard III and Richard II to Henry V-and one freestanding play about King John that nobody ever reads. Though designated as “history plays” due to the basis of historical figures and events, the historical accuracy exhibited leaves much to be desired. Elizabeth’s interests were clearly considered in the creation of these plays-as is also true in the writings of other Elizabethan authors and playwrights-and the Tudor perspective is so highly valued that elements of plot and character sometime reach high levels of perversion in terms of historical accuracy. It is often tacitly acknowledged that history, as we know it, is written by the winning team. This concept is undoubtedly true in the “English mythology” (Saccio 158) created by Shakespeare and his contemporaries.
As the most current monarch chronicled by William Shakespeare, Richard III is spattered with, perhaps, the most ill-conceived postmortem reputation of all of Shakespeare’s royal subjects. In truth, the play is less of a historical recount and more of a vehicle for propaganda and political affirmation of the House of Tudor. In fact, the hero of the play is Henry Richmond, who after defeating Richard became King Henry VII, the first Tudor King of England and Elizabeth’s grandfather. Clearly, Shakespeare and other writers of the time had to no choice but to glorify Richmond and condemn his enemies.
Historical inaccuracies and injustices are bountiful throughout Richard III. The first major injustice is done not to Richard, but to his brother Edward IV. Not only is Edward’s prosperous twenty-two years on the throne not given its own play, but in the play featuring Richard’s two years as king, Edward’s reign is condensed into five scenes in which he only appears in one-on his death bed (Saccio 160).
Throughout the play, Shakespeare takes many liberties with factual accuracy as objective as mere dates and events-aside from subjective accounts of character. Within the first several scenes of the play, Edward IV’s accession to the throne of England in May of 1471, Clarence’s imprisonment in the Tower in 1477, Clarence’s murder in 1478, and the death of Edward IV in April of 1483 are portrayed as happening within days. While no condensation of events later in the play is quite as dramatic, time continues to move much faster than in reality (Horrox 3). While this telescoping of time is necessary to structure and dramatize the play’s determined plot, it demonstrates Shakespeare’s lack of concern for accurate historical portrayal with commercial viability and political favorability prioritized in its stead-reasonably so, as playwrights are not expected to be historians.
Shakespeare’s mutation of objective aspects of history legitimizes the reality that Shakespeare has no scruples about manipulating historical intricacies for the sake of the play. Illegitimate sequences of events support the probability of character misrepresentation, especially in the three York brothers: Edward IV, George, and Richard III. Edward IV, despite the actual success of his reign, is portrayed as a weak, henpecked monarch infirmed by the overwhelming influence of his wife’s family. On the other hand, George, Duke of Clarence, who had been a traitor to his family and an overwhelming “royal nuisance” (Saccio 167), is portrayed in the play as a God-fearing, selfless victim of bloody politics and treacherous blood. As the titular character, Richard III is the play’s most developed character, and yet the least accurately represented. Richard’s physical malformation, background, psychosis, and mortal sins are neatly prescribed aspects of his character and are, more than often, driving factors of the plot itself. However, many of these factors are completely fabricated.
The monstrous, hunchbacked villain, “forever gnawing his nether lip or grasping for his dagger” (Saccio 158), is the popular portrait of King Richard III, but not an accurate representation of any contemporary description of his majesty. In fact, Richard’s prevalent profile did not even arise until early in the reign of Henry VIII, when Sir Thomas More contrived “a gem of ironic narration that established the popular image of the king”, The History of King Richard III, complete with “crooked shoulders, withered arm, and gnawed lip” (Saccio 158). More, who’s work influenced Shakespeare’s play, wrote about Richard, “He was little of stature, ill fetured of limmes, croke backed, his left shoulder much higher than his right, hard favoured of visage... he came into the worlde with the feete forwarde ... and also not untothed” (7). However, this description is entirely unlikely. First of all, contemporary and early portraits of Richard show no deformity. Not until the Tudor era did Richard’s supposed hunchback start to appear in paintings. X-ray has even revealed that the raised shoulder of the Windsor portrait of Richard was a later addition to the painting’s originally even shoulder line. Some very early Tudor writings speak of unevenness in Richard’s shoulders, however these writings do not entirely agree as to which one was higher. The most likely explanation of this unevenness has more to do with Richard’s weapon training in his youth and prominently developed right arm from his time on the battlefield (Hammond 1). Furthermore, the king’s willingness to be traditionally stripped to the waist at his coronation ceremony implies that “his torso could bear public inspection” (Saccio 159).
There is as much reason to doubt Shakespeare’s description of Richard’s evil doings as his dubious physicality. There is very little historical evidence for or against many of the claims made about Richard in the so-called Tudor mythology. Many of the accusations made against Richard during the Tudor era can be traced back to the source of John Morton, the Archbishop of Canterbury and Lord Chancellor during the reign of King Henry VII. These accusations include, but are not limited to: the murder of Henry VI; the “private execution” of his brother George, Duke of Clarence; the murder of his wife’s first husband, Edward of Westminster, Prince of Wales; forcing his wife, Anne Neville, to marry him against her will; killing his wife so he could marry his niece, Elizabeth of York; accusing Jane Shore and Elizabeth Woodville of witchcraft in withering his arm; and being illegitimate himself. These stories first appear in writings of Sir Thomas More and other Tudor writers who based their stories on Morton’s account, and versions of these rumored travesties made their way into Shakespeare’s play. Nonetheless, it is important to note that most historians discredit Morton’s reliability as a source due to his connection to Henry VII’s court, his own father’s strict Edwardian loyalty, and the fact that he fled to Flanders during Richard’s reign after being arrested by the king (“Richard III of England” 4).
However, while many of the Morton-based rumors about Richard may not be provable-and in fact, there is stronger proof, in many cases, that he could not have committed the crimes attributed to him-some aspects of the play and the myth have a more substantial historical basis, especially as pertaining to the Princes in the Tower: Edward V of England and Richard, Duke of York-the young sons of Edward IV.
Though loyal to Edward, Richard found himself in constant conflict with Edward’s wife, Elizabeth Woodville, and her family. The Woodvilles were “deeply responsive to the dictates of self-interest” (Saccio 164) and took full advantage of their royal connection by securing various titles and offices. A central issue of dispute was the family’s previous involvement with the Lancastrian side of the civil war, which invited ill-regard from the older Yorkist nobles who had suffered to reinstate their king. Richard personally held a grudge against the family for their influence over Clarence’s execution. The family may have legitimately been partially responsible, since Clarence’s semi-treasonous antics were a threat to Edward and were therefore a threat to them, but ultimately, Edward is responsible for Clarence’s death. The Tudor claim that Richard contrived Clarence’s arrest and execution, however, is certainly not true since “contemporary reports suggest that he was grief-stricken at the whole affair” (Saccio 168). Needless to say, at the time of Edward’s death, the Woodvilles were very unpopular but had established a good deal of power.
When Edward IV died on April 9, 1483, his young son, Edward V, formerly Prince of Wales, was proclaimed king. However, on July 6, Richard was crowned. The interim three-month period was filled with plotting and struggles between Richard and the Woodville’s. Essentially, Richard’s camp, with the support of most of the nobility, convinced the court that Edward’s children had been illegitimate due to a prior betrothal and they were, therefore, ineligible for succession to the throne. It is very likely that this was a very far-fetched assertion, but in contrast to the stories of More and Shakespeare wherein it is part of Richard’s lifelong scheme to achieve the throne, it is more probable that Richard’s own claim to the throne was made out of his fear of the Woodvilles and in defense of the Yorkist kingdom that his brother had established-a kingdom that could very possibly crumble under the mismanagement, self-service, and irresponsibility that characterized the Woodville family. The War of the Roses had been halted by the competence of Edward IV, but the accession of a child king would likely prove disastrous, as in the cases of Henry III, Richard II, and Henry VI, and therefore, Richard was probably the best overall candidate for king at the time.
Prior to ascending England’s throne, Richard sent his young nephews to the Tower of London (used as either a palace or prison) for their own safety and the security of his crown. It is believed that the children were killed there, however hard evidence is lacking. Nonetheless, theories of their disappearance have produced five major suspects: Richard, The Duke of Buckingham, Henry VII, John Howard, and Margaret Beaufort. The potential motivation for Richard to kill the princes lies in the threat their lives would pose to him in the case of a rebellion. However, killing the princes mysteriously would be a foolish option for the king to utilize. First of all, in the event of their death or disappearance, Richard would be the most obvious suspect. Additionally, if Richard were to kill the princes, he could have claimed they died of illness. Yet, in the light of widespread rumors of Richard murdering his nephews, Richard did nothing in the way of defending his reputation. Those who believe that Richard was not responsible for the death of the princes often point out the ease with which another motivated killer could use these circumstances to frame the king for the crime. Aside from Richard, the most likely suspect may be the Duke of Buckingham who would have been motivated by his falling-out with the king and his own claim for the throne-which some believe was even stronger than that of Henry Tudor. Henry VII, formerly Henry Tudor, may have been involved in the killing of the princes for the sake of securing his campaign for succession by executing rivals to the throne. However, Henry would not have had a reasonably opportunity to kill them until after his accession to the throne; in which case, they would have had been living during Richard’s reign and he could have, therefore, produced their living bodies in order to quench the rumors of their deaths. John Howard, who later became the first Duke of Norfolk, was given custody of the Tower of London under unusual circumstances during the time the princes were supposed to have disappeared. He certainly had the means to murder the children, but his motives, though existent, were not as strong as the other suspects. Lastly, Margaret Beaufort, Henry VII’s mother, visited the castle during the year of their disappearance. Though she may have been bribed to kill the children, it is highly unlikely since her character historically does not show any traits of that of a child-murderer. Overall, the deaths of the princes in the tower are still a mystery and while there is reasonable argument to suggest that Richard may have been responsible, there is certainly no proof (“Princes in the Tower” 1-8).
Aside from the facts, perhaps one of the most intriguing aspects of Richard III is the play’s genre. Richard III is grouped neatly with the other plays that chronicle English monarchs and is therefore classified as a history play. However, editors of the play’s text have consistently strayed from conformity by retaining the word “Tragedy” in the play’s title when publishing it. The Tragedy of Richard the Third is a chief demonstration of what happens when history meets tragedy. Additionally, it reveals an author writing without a clear distinction between these two genres. The play can be justified as either a history or a tragedy and, therefore, to fully understand the play, one must distinguish the elements of history from the elements of tragedy.
All of Shakespeare’s plays that are considered histories feature English monarchs. However, as demonstrated here, these plays do not necessarily represent history accurately. Furthermore, in plays such as King Lear, about a fictional Anglo-Saxon English King, and Macbeth, based on an actual Scottish clan, Shakespeare used many of the same chronicles as sources as he used for the plays about his post-Norman Conquest English kings; yet Lear and Macbeth are considered tragedies. Julius Caesar and Antony and Cleopatra depict actual historical people and events and are also classified as tragedies rather than histories.
The fact that Shakespearean tragedy, as well most Elizabethan tragedy, deals with high estates, nobles, and the public sector makes it difficult to distinguish from history. Furthermore, in both his histories and tragedies, Shakespeare sets his plot against the backdrop of a moral world wherein a just God punishes sinners. However, when Macbeth kills his king and usurps the throne, he is a murderer in a tragedy; when Henry Bolingbroke usurps the throne of his murdered king, he is considered a hero in a history. Neither the characters, the events, the context, the source material, nor the divine vengeance can show a reasonable differentiation between the two genres (Campell 306-7).
However, upon closer inspection, the difference between tragedy and history seems to be not in the facts themselves, but in the context of the resolution. In tragedies, resolution comes from the ethical world, while in histories, resolution is the responsibility of the political world. In a tragedy, God avenges private sins; in a history, the King of kings avenges public sins (Campbell 307).
With this genre differentiation in mind, Richard III must be judged by the overall impression of the titular character. The usurpation of the throne seems insignificant in comparison with the killing of the princes. The resolution of the play is intrinsically tied to Richard’s death, not Richmond’s victory. When Richmond describes Richard as “a bloody tyrant and a homicide” (V.iii.246), the images of bloodshed outweigh the tyranny and the divine vengeance of Richard’s death outweighs the right of the House of York to rule. The overall impression of the play emphasizes the ethical rather than the political realm and is, therefore, that of a tragedy, not a history (Campbell 307-8).
Nonetheless, The Tragedy of Richard the Third is considered a history play, thereby misleading readers and playgoers for centuries to take Richard’s depiction in the play as an accurate historical account, which it is not. However, in the time of Morton, More, and Shakespeare, history was essentially a branch of literature, serving as propaganda to further the agendas of one side or another. The historical Richard was a loyal supporter of his brother, Edward, with no schemes for the crown. As a king he had some minor administrative successes, including his Council of the North, which greatly improved conditions for commoners in Northern England. It is doubtful, however, that Richard’s legacy, though one of fabricated infamy, would achieve the magnitude it has today without the creative license taken by the Bard. For in Shakespeare’s play, Richard’s two-year reign as king of England has been immortalized for the enjoyment and scholarly pursuit of the English-speaking world as we know it for generations to come.
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