Henry IV, Part One

It’s still winter and I’m still reading the Shakespearean plays I named on 12/07/007 for Inksplasher's  “Winter Reading Challenge.” The first play I chose, Hamlet, I read in a few days and reread with such relish I stayed up all night to do it. Henry IV proved an entirely different experience.

In fact, if I hadn’t committed to the historical plays for Karlene's challenge, I might have dropped Henry IV, Part One about half-way through to pick up Cloudsplitter by Russell Banks. (Cloudsplitter is a 750-page novel about Owen Brown, the abolitionist John Brown. I read it years ago, too quickly, and am eager to give the book its due.)

Likewise, I read Henry IV, Part One, long ago, too, when I was in college. So I remembered Falstaff and Hal and the story of a Prince renouncing his youthful folly and mentor in mischief, Falstaff, to claim his royal legacy. Other than that all I recalled Shakespeare’s magnificent language washing over me.

This time I discovered I lack much interest in ancient battles for land and dynastic succession. Further, I tired of Prince Hal and his disreputable pals taunting Falstaff with a torrent of bad names and indulging in bad-boy pranks.

Sir John Falstaff, one of literature’s greatest wits, wore me out with his puns and paradoxes that invited joshing abuse from the Prince. Halfway through the play, I was moaning, enough with the jack and sack and fat guts.

But having posted my reading list, I felt determined to stick with it. No novels allowed until I finished Henry IV. I slipped only to read New Yorker articles and the The New York Times. Still, it took me six weeks to finish this play. 

Typical of the bantering and one-upmanship,

             Falstaff:  “…I’ll fear thee as I fear thy father? Nay, an I do, I pray God my girdle breaks.”                     
             Prince: O, if it should, how would thy guts fall to thy knees…” [III, iii.]

Because I disliked the play, I read it carefully to find out why. Now I know. Prince Hal, who’s followed and loved Falstaff isn’t merely taunting him. He’s disowning him. Where previously he loved Falstaff, the Prince now hates him. Behind the continual fat jokes burns real fury.

      Prince: “Henceceforth, ne’er look on me. Thou art violently carried away from  grace, there is a   devil haunts thee in likeness likeness of an old fat man, a tun of man…”

      Falstaff:  “I would your Grace take me with you…”

      Prince:  “That villainous abominable misleader of youth, Falstaff,  the old white-bearded Satan.”

      Falstaff:  “My lord, the man I know.”

      Prince:  “I knowst thou dost.” [II,iv.]

In the play’s second to last scene, Falstaff’s soliloquy finally and fully captured my imagination.

So rich in word-play, logic, and beauty, it convinced me that Falstaff exists just as the critic Harold Blooms argues: Sir John is a vital personality transcending time, place, and scene.

Near the end, Prince Hal kills his rival Hotspur, aka Henry Percy. Douglas from the same army attacks Falstaff, who falls down and plays dead. Seeing Falstaff lying close to the Hotspur, Prince Hal says:

     “Embowelled’ will I see thee by and by;
                                                               Till then in blood by noble Percy lie.”

After the Prince exits, Falstaff stands:

            “Embowelled! If thou embowel me today,
              I’ll give you leave to powder and eat me too to-morrow.
             ’Sblood, ‘twas time to counterfeit….
              Conterfeit? I lie, I am no counterfeit: to die, is to be a counterfeit;               
              for he is but the counterfeit of a man who hath not the life of a man:
              but to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liveth, is
              life indeed. The better part of valour is discretion; in the
              which I have saved my life. …” [V, iv.]

After finishing the play, I reread exclusively for Falstaff, finding a brilliance I had missed. Thus, I now start Henry IV, Part Two, after which I’ve decided to interrupt Shakespeare for now.

Comments

[Bosco]

I never knew that's where "the better part of valour is discretion" came from. Puts it in a whole different context.

[Kathleen]

Among the innumerable pleasures of reading Shakespeare's plays, the quotes taken in context certainly stand-out. Amazing how often and easily they're misapplied, and how traditionally we've used them to justify the opposite of their intent.
But this brief immersion has hit me hard with the fact I've rarely, if ever, seen these plays performed. Last week I read that NYC is presenting "Hamlet" this summer for its "Shakespeare in the Park" series. This could end up being the first time I sleep on the sidewalk the night before the show just to clinch a decent seat.

[Bosco]

I'll join you!

[Kathleen]

Really? Two sleeping bags, though.

[creechman]

I would like your opinion someone about Rosalind in "As You Like It."

[creechman]

"some day" good greef. Typos rule the world.

[Kathleen]

creechman, I'm taking a short break from Shakespeare, but I'll read "As You Like It" soon. (What's up with 'some day', byw? Typos may rule but they're also my bane.) As I wrong or do you love the fair Rosalind? No, don't tell me. It could affect my impression of her, which as with so many Shakespearean characters barely compares to a shadow, although I read "As You Like It," albeit when I was in 8th grade.