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The Unnaturalness of Civil War
It is a commonplace that civil wars are unnatural, giving rise to perverse situations where fathers fight against sons, brothers turn against each other, and families tear themselves apart. As England succumbs to the violence of all-out civil war in this play, Shakespeare clearly showcases the unnaturalness of the situation. The most obvious and extreme example comes in act 2, when Henry observes a pitched battle from the safety of a nearby hill. He watches in horror as a pair of soldiers who are searching corpses for loot realize whom they have killed. One soldier finds that he’s killed his own father, and another discovers that he’s killed his only son. Henry laments how civil war has caused his kingdom to descend to this unnatural low point. But the image of fathers and sons killing each other isn’t the only sign of perversity. Henry VI, Part 3 also emphasizes how, under conditions of civil war, oaths of loyalty no longer carry their conventional weight. In a society where social and political ties are guaranteed and enforced through the taking of oaths, the breakdown of loyalty begets the collapse of the entire order.
In addition to the society-wide issues that arise in the circumstances of civil war, Shakespeare also shines light on the ways individuals act unnaturally under such dire conditions. For instance, when Henry brokers a deal to remain king and entail the throne to York upon his death, he does so because he doesn’t feel that he has much bargaining power. Faced as he is with a man whose claim to the throne is likely stronger than his, he makes an imperfect compromise. However, to characters like Margaret and Clifford, Henry’s compromise constitutes a perversion of his paternity, since it effectively disinherits his son. Margaret tells Henry, “thou hast proved so unnatural a father” (1.1.219). Clifford will echo this assertion when, in act 2, scene 2, when he points out that even wild animals know enough to prioritize their kin, implicitly declaring Henry’s act unnatural. By contrast, though Margaret is motivated by her maternal desire to protect her son, York points out that her evident glee at the death of his son makes her an unnatural woman—a declaration that others also apply to her as she takes command of the king’s army. These and other examples of unnatural behavior flourish in times of civil war.
The Collapse of Familial and Social Ties
Closely linked to the theme of civil war’s unnaturalness is Shakespeare’s exploration of the collapse of familial and social ties. The ties that bind family and nation together are certainly placed under extra stress in times of civil strife, and at every turn in this play it seems that these vital links are poised to break down. Perhaps the most important example Shakespeare follows throughout the play relates to the three remaining sons of the late duke of York: Edward, George, and Richard. In the opening scene of act 2, as Richard and Edward sit talking while a new day dawns, they witness an unusual sight: three suns hovering on the horizon that gradually resolve into one. Edward is quick to interpret the phenomenon as a sign that the York sons (cf. “suns”) should forge a pact of unity. However, Richard’s response to the event is more ambiguous, emphasizing the way the suns are initially “separated” and “severed” from one another. That the suns are likely a symbol not of unity but of division becomes clear as strife grows between the brothers, leading George to abandon Edward and Richard to plot against both.
Similar examples of eroding ties may be seen virtually everywhere in this play. Henry effectively disinherits his own son, creating additional strife between him and Margaret and threatening to rip the royal family apart. Meanwhile, political loyalties are broken and remade with virtually no ceremony. Just as George is quick to break with Edward, Warwick wastes no time disavowing him once he learns that Edward has decided to marry an Englishwoman, thereby humiliating him before the king of France. Nor is the shifting of loyalties limited to the nobility; commoners seem equally capable of reallocating their allegiance at the proverbial drop of a hat. Henry discovers this fact when two gamekeepers arrest him as he attempts to flee to the Scottish countryside. When the two men inform him that they’ve sworn a new allegiance to Edward, Henry struggles to understand what the value of any oath might be. After all, hadn’t they previously sworn an oath of loyalty to him? The men just shrug and carry him off anyway. With every bond having become so fragile and every oath of allegiance so precarious, the kingdom falls to pieces.
The Ambiguous Efficacy of Words
In the play’s opening scene, when the duke of Exeter suggests killing the duke of York, Henry insists that he will manage the situation by talking it out: “frowns, words, and threats / Shall be the war that Henry means to use” (1.1.72–73). Audiences familiar with the first two Henry VI plays will be well aware that the king’s authority has always been weak, which means that his words have rarely held any sway. Not only does this moment serve to remind us of the king’s weakness, but it also alerts us to the play’s thematic concern with the more general efficacy of language—particularly in the context of conflict. Indeed, Shakespeare repeatedly shows how quickly and easily conflicts can descend into fruitless argumentation. Characters frequently hurl insults at each other for pages until someone eventually acknowledges the pointlessness of it all. In act 2, for instance, a long argument eventually leads Clifford to declare, “the wound that bred this meeting here / Cannot be cured by words—therefore be still” (2.2.121–22). Later, in act 4, Hastings will mark a similar limit when he calls for a shift from words to weapons: “Away with scrupulous wit! Now arms must rule” (4.8.61).
Yet the play also features other, subtler examples of the ambiguous efficacy of words. For instance, many of the twists in the action of Henry VI, Part 3 arise as characters break their vows to each other and shift alliances. As examples of broken oaths pile up, we in the audience grow suspicious of any pledges of allegiance. Thus, when Warwick and Edward each kneel and avow unity in seeking vengeance for York’s death, we already suspect that this heartfelt oath won’t turn out to be binding. Another key example of words’ ambiguous efficacy may be found in the numerous speeches Margaret gives to her troops leading up to the final battle with Edward’s forces. The heightened register of her rhetoric is powerful and inspiring—so much so that even Edward feels moved by her words. However, there is also a cruel irony at work, and particularly in the extraordinary speech that closes act 5, scene 4. The irony becomes apparent as the next scene opens with the final battle already over, with Margaret and her son now standing chastened in court before the victorious King Edward IV. Thus, for all the power of her words, they have accomplished nothing.
