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You few that loved me
And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,
His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave
Is only bitter to him, only dying,
Go with me like good angels to my end,
And as the long divorce of steel falls on me,
Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice,
And lift my soul to heaven.—Lead on, a’ God’s name. (2.1.88–95)
Each of the first three acts of Henry VIII is structured around the fall of one member of the king’s court. The first to fall is the duke of Buckingham. In the play’s opening scene, Buckingham complains voluminously about Cardinal Wolsey, whom the duke knows as a self-serving schemer with grand political ambitions. But before Buckingham can accuse the cardinal of encroaching on the king’s power, Wolsey issues a warrant for the duke’s arrest. The charge: treason. Wolsey then orchestrates a trial where the chief evidence against Buckingham is the testimony of a man who very likely holds a grudge against the duke. Regardless, Wolsey’s influence over Henry is great enough to convince the king that Buckingham sought the Crown, an act that must be punished with death. Thus condemned, Buckingham makes the journey from prison to the execution grounds. But before a barge transports him to his final destination, Buckingham stops to address a crowd that has gathered in the street. It is during this address that he speaks the lines quoted above.
Buckingham’s lengthy speech begins with him expressing forgiveness for his accusers—a pious act of benevolence that also subtly affirms his superiority over his enemies who, as he puts is, could have been “more Christian” (2.1.81). But any hint of cattiness we might detect in this statement is quickly shunted aside as the fallen duke shifts his focus to his audience of supporters. Whereas a less forgiving man might have called for his supporters to avenge his name, Buckingham asks for his listeners to assist him with their pity and their love. This assistance will steady him as he submits to the executioner, and the unified force of their prayer will convey his soul to heaven even as the sword separates his head from his body. It’s notable that Buckingham refers to the cutting sword with the poetic phrase, “the long divorce of steel.” This phrase is curious for the way it anticipates a central plot point related to the divorce between Henry and Katherine. Thus, at the very moment that Buckingham faces his fate, he unwittingly gestures to the next person in the king’s court who will fall: the queen.
ANNE By my troth and maidenhead,
I would not be a queen.
OLD LADY Beshrew me, I would,
And venture maidenhead for ’t; and so would you,
For all this spice of your hypocrisy.
You, that have so fair parts of woman on you,
Have too a woman’s heart, which ever yet
Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty;
Which, to say sooth, are blessings; and which gifts,
Saving your mincing, the capacity
Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive
If you might please to stretch it. (2.3.29–40)
Anne Bullen’s only significant appearance in the play as a thinking and feeling character comes in act 2, scene 3. There, she speaks with an Old Lady who serves as her attendant. Anne is upset by the news that Henry is seeking to divorce Katherine, whom she serves as a lady-in-waiting. She feels great pity for Katherine, and she imagines that because the queen is so used to a life of luxury and respect, her fall from grace will be that much more difficult to bear. In recognizing that what goes up must come down, Anne insists that it’s better to be born into poverty. The Old Lady agrees that contentment is, as she puts it, “our best having” (2.3.28). However, when Anne follows up by declaring that she would not submit to being queen, the Old Lady responds with the lines quoted here, in which she offers a dissenting view.
The Old Lady gently presses against Anne’s “hypocrisy” and insists that the very fact that she is a woman means that she would give up everything—including her “maidenhead” —to be queen. The Old Lady reasons that because Anne is a woman, she also has “a woman’s heart.” According to her, every woman’s heart has “ever yet / Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty.” In other words, all women have ambitions for their own advancement. Anne goes on to protest the Old Lady’s logic, insisting that she wouldn’t be queen “for all the riches under heaven” (2.3.43). Curiously, though, the Old Woman’s charge of hypocrisy seems to prove true later in the scene, when the Lord Chamberlain arrives to announce Anne’s new title of “marchioness.” Anne’s acceptance of this title—and the handsome allowance that comes with it—marks her first step in the process of becoming queen. That fact that she will go on to become queen suggests that this scene may be read as a quiet indictment of Anne. Despite her dissimulation, she secretly wants to become queen.
The late queen’s gentlewoman, a knight’s daughter,
To be her mistress’ mistress? The Queen’s queen?
This candle burns not clear. ’Tis I must snuff it;
Then out it goes. What though I know her virtuous
And well-deserving? Yet I know her for
A spleeny Lutheran, and not wholesome to
Our cause that she should lie i’ th’ bosom of
Our hard-ruled king. (3.2.125–32)
Cardinal Wolsey is widely known at court as a schemer. Buckingham was the first in the play to accuse him of playing the political field to his own advantage. Not only does he enrich himself at the expense of England’s nobility, but he also makes backroom deals with foreign dignitaries to clear a path for his own advancement. Wolsey’s most recent intervention has been to plant the idea in Henry’s mind that his marriage to Katherine is illegitimate. He’s done this to raise the possibility of a divorce, which will then allow him to facilitate a new marriage with the French king’s sister, the duchess of Alençon. This marriage would be politically advantageous for the kingdom, since it would secure new bonds of peace. Significantly, this arrangement will also bring rewards for Wolsey. The cardinal therefore has two major reasons for despising Anne Bullen, who has infatuated the king and now threatens Wolsey’s plot. In the lines quoted here, spoken while he’s alone onstage, the cardinal vents about his hatred for Anne.
His first complaint is that Anne is lowborn, which makes it absurd for her to rise above Katherine, becoming “her mistress’ mistress” and thus “the Queen’s queen.” The point about Anne’s birth echoes words from earlier in the scene, where Wolsey repeatedly stressed her surname, “Bullen.” Historically, Anne preferred to spell her name in the French fashion, “Boleyn.” However, Wolsey emphasizes the Englishness of her name, implicitly condemning her fancy airs. Additionally, Wolsey believes that Anne is “a spleeny Lutheran.” Her Protestantism is a problem for the cardinal, whose power is contingent on the continued influence of the Catholic Church. Yet even as we get our first glimpse into the mind of Wolsey, Shakespeare is setting the cardinal up for his fall, which will come when the king shortly confronts him with evidence of his crimes. The key evidence is a letter Wolsey wrote to the pope asking him to refuse Henry’s divorce request until he’s set Anne aside. Wolsey’s downfall therefore comes because of his attempt to eliminate Anne. In a further irony, the audience will remember that it was Wolsey who inadvertently introduced the king to Anne, both of whom were guests at his party back in act 1, scene 4.
KING Now by thy looks
I guess thy message. Is the Queen delivered?
Say “Ay, and of a boy.”
OLD LADY Ay, ay, my liege,
And of a lovely boy. The God of heaven
Both now and ever bless her! ’Tis a girl
Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen
Desires your visitation, and to be
Acquainted with this stranger. ’Tis as like you
As cherry is to cherry. (5.1.198–207)
The legal debate surrounding Henry and Katherine’s divorce focuses on a technicality related to the initial terms of their marriage. More than twenty years ago, Henry decided to marry his brother Arthur’s widow: Katherine. Though at the time it was determined that the marriage was permissible, Henry, spurred on by Cardinal Wolsey, now worries that it was illegitimate. His logic is that because Katherine was once his sister-in-law, there is a specter of incest that has prevented their union from producing a male heir. It is this concern about the insecurity of his family line that most directly motivates Henry to proceed with the divorce and marry the youthful Anne. He needs a suitable heir, and he believes Anne will produce him. As it happens, however, Anne doesn’t give birth to a boy, and both the king and the audience learn this fact during this exchange between Henry and an Old Lady.
The exchange is notable for several reasons. First, it reminds us of Henry’s eagerness for a solution to his succession problem. He needs a son, and he channels his wishful thinking into a command: “Is the Queen delivered? / Say ‘Ay, and of a boy.’” The second notable thing is the humor of the Old Lady’s response. She obeys the king’s command to say Anne delivered a boy, but then she immediately goes on to qualify that statement by comically switching pronouns: “The God of heaven / Both now and ever bless her!” The humor of this moment quietly undermines the seriousness of the matter of the child’s sex. Indeed, we should imagine that Henry would be distressed to hear the news that Anne delivered a daughter. But he says nothing about it here and instead rushes off to be with the queen. And, curiously, the matter of the child’s sex is never mentioned again. In fact, the play will end with Henry proudly declaring that Elizabeth is the best thing he’s ever produced: “Never before / This happy child did I get anything” (5.4.74–75). The undiscussed “problem” of Elizabeth’s sex is one of several aspects of the historical record that this history play conveniently overlooks.
This royal infant—heaven still move about her!—
Though in her cradle, yet now promises
Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings,
Which time shall bring to ripeness.
. . . Truth shall nurse her;
Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her.
She shall be loved and feared. Her own shall bless her;
Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn
And hang their heads with sorrow. Good grows with her.
In her days every man shall eat in safety
Under his own vine what he plants and sing
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbors.
God shall be truly known, and those about her
From her shall read the perfect ways of honor
And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. (5.4.24–27, 35–46)
Upon reaching the end of the play, the audience realizes that all the action they’ve followed up to this point has been oriented toward the birth of Henry and Anne’s child. In retrospect, the first clear indication of this orientation comes in act 2, when the Lord Chamberlain meets Anne and foresees that “from this lady may proceed a gem / To lighten all this isle” (2.3.95–96). The “gem” mentioned here clearly references Elizabeth, whom Anne will deliver in act 5, and who will become a queen whose greatness will inaugurate a luminous period of English history. Other evidence that the play is oriented toward Elizabeth’s arrival includes the fact that the three key figures who are brought low in acts 1–3 somehow stand in the way of her coming. Buckingham is charged with wanting the throne for himself, which would prevent Elizabeth from inheriting the Crown. Meanwhile, as long as Katherine is queen, Anne can’t take her place or give birth to Elizabeth. Finally, Cardinal Wolsey actively works against the marriage between Henry and Anne, thereby threatening Elizabeth’s arrival. But once all three fall, the path is cleared and Elizabeth is born, securing England’s future triumph.
An elaborate vision of Elizabeth’s future comes in the play’s final scene, where Archbishop Cranmer baptizes the child then delivers this prophesy about her extraordinary reign. Adopting an allegorical register, Cranmer imagines that Elizabeth will be nursed by “truth” and counseled by “holy and heavenly thoughts.” She will grow up shrouded in goodness, and when, like fruit on a vine, she ripens to maturity, her unimpeachable honor will bestow “a thousand thousand blessings” on England. But Cranmer doesn’t stop there. He goes on to prophesy that Elizabeth will become a “maiden phoenix” (5.4.48) whose glory will be reborn in her successor. Of course, this successor is none other than King James I, England’s sovereign at the time of the play’s original composition and performance. Thus, the play ends not just with pomp and circumstance to celebrate the future reign of the great Virgin Queen. It also concludes with a commemoration of the current king. From this perspective, the historical events depicted in the play are framed in a way that suggests the glorious inevitability of both Elizabeth and James.
