payment page
What Goes Up Must Come Down
Built into the structure of Henry VIII is a thematic concern with the rise and fall of political careers. Each of the play’s first three acts centers a figure in Henry’s court who has reached the height of their political ambition and must now suffer a fall. The first act focuses on the fall of the duke of Buckingham, who is charged with and convicted of treason against the Crown. The evidence we have for his conviction doesn’t seem entirely compelling, since most of it is arranged by the scheming Cardinal Wolsey, who wishes to eliminate Buckingham. And though Buckingham is deeply suspicious of Wolsey and defends himself admirably against the cardinal’s accusations, in the end he goes to his execution. Yet he faces death with calm reservation. The clearest sign of his acceptance comes when Sir Nicholas Vaux wants lavishly to deck out the barge that will transport the duke to the site of his execution. Such ornamentation would be a sign of respect for his high status as a duke. However, Buckingham refuses the offer, insisting that though he did achieve great social and political status, he’s now been reduced to his former self: no longer the duke of Buckingham, but “poor Edward Bohun” (2.1.123).
Buckingham’s example demonstrates that, in the world of politics, what goes up must come down. Anne Bullen also recognizes this truth when, in act 2, scene 3, she reflects on the divorce proceedings that will reduce Queen Katherine to her former status as princess dowager. Anne pities the queen, saying that she has long been accustomed to her high status and the various material comforts that come with it. The fact that she’s so used to luxury will make her downfall that much more humiliating and painful. This observation, in turn, leads Anne to express reluctance at the idea of becoming queen herself, which the playwright may have included in covert acknowledgment of the historical fact that Anne Bullen was executed three years after marrying Henry. As we’ll see, with Katherine’s fall, Anne will rise, but Anne’s own rise will in turn require a fall. The last person in the play to face the cyclical nature of power is Cardinal Wolsey, who is made to reflect on his career when Henry confronts him with his crimes in act 3. Likening himself to the sun having reached its “meridian” in the sky, Wolsey accepts that he must “haste now to [his] setting” (3.2.276–77).
The Consolation of Forgiveness
Henry VIII places a great deal of importance on the act of forgiveness. The consoling effect of forgiveness is a central idea in Christianity. The very notion of God’s grace is rooted in this concept of forgiveness—that is, the believer who is truly penitent for their sins will be graced with the forgiveness of their Lord. God’s forgiveness also provides a model that obliges believers to forgive their fellow humans. The link between divine and earthly acts of forgiveness is made explicit in the Lord’s Prayer: “And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us” (Matthew 6:12). Throughout the play, forgiveness is presented as an explicitly Christian act. Buckingham indicates as much during the moving speech he delivers to the people in the street on the way to his execution. Addressing the crowd, the fallen duke announces that, even though his accusers were wrong, he forgives them: “Those that sought [my downfall] I could wish more Christian. / Be what they will, I heartily forgive ‘em” (2.1.81–82). Buckingham’s use of understatement here subtly accuses his accusers—especially Cardinal Wolsey—of being unchristian, even as he engages in the supreme Christian act of forgiveness.
Buckingham’s underhanded expression of superiority may be questionable from the perspective of religion, but even so, it provides him with a sense of consolation as he faces his execution. A similar expression of consoling forgiveness comes in the closing scene of act 4, when Katherine learns of the recently disgraced Wolsey’s death. Throughout the first three acts of the play, Katherine makes no secret of her hatred for Cardinal Wolsey. Even now, when she is herself sick unto death, she is reluctant to forgive Wolsey. But when her attendant Griffith speaks eloquently about the late cardinal’s virtues, she finally softens. Forgiving Wolsey for his trespasses against her, she wishes him peace. This shift in attitude is deeply consoling for her, as suggested in the hopeful dream vision she has immediately afterward, a sign of God’s grace that leads her to believe that she will enjoy a triumphant afterlife in heaven. The final act of forgiveness in the play comes when Henry intervenes in the Privy Council’s plot to discredit and imprison Archbishop Cranmer. With this act, Henry finally takes an active role in quelling the dissension in his court, restoring goodwill and creating suitably peaceful conditions for celebrating the birth of his newborn daughter, the future Queen Elizabeth.
The Triumph of Women
When the final scene ends and the stage clears, a player comes forward to deliver the epilogue. The epilogue is a traditional part of early modern theater in which an actor bids the audience to applaud, typically by expressing humility and apologizing for any disappointment or offense. In the case of Henry VIII, the player specifically invites the audience to applaud the triumph of Katherine, whose “merciful construction” (5.Epilogue.10) is perhaps the play’s greatest achievement. For many viewers and critics, Katherine is indeed the star of the show. She is observant and wise, often seeing what the self-absorbed men around her cannot. She also demonstrates remarkable self-possession and assuredness throughout the play as she faces off with the powerful men who are orchestrating her downfall. Her honor and poise enable her to survive her humiliations, and though in the end she’s forced to suffer defeat, she faces her death with every confidence that she will enjoy a glorious afterlife. It is Katherine’s triumph that the player stresses in the Epilogue. He speculates that, at the very least, the women in the audience will clap for Katherine, and in doing so they’ll get the men to applaud as well.
Yet there is another female whose triumph in the play is arguably even more central than Katherine’s. This second figure is the newborn child of Henry and Anne, who will be the future queen of England. The first indication of Elizabeth’s arrival comes in act 2, scene 3, when the Lord Chamberlain visits Anne to inform her that Henry has bestowed a new title on her. In a prophetic flash he experiences as he prepares to leave, he sees that “from this lady may proceed a gem / To lighten all this isle” (2.3.95–96). His words clearly anticipate the birth of Elizabeth, which doesn’t occur until act 5. The symbolic importance of Elizabeth’s birth is curious, given that the main reason for Henry’s divorce from Katherine is that she hasn’t produced a surviving male heir. Anne is therefore under pressure to give birth to a boy. Yet when Anne delivers a girl instead, the matter of her sex never arises as an issue. That this is no oversight becomes clear in the final scene, when Archbishop Cranmer baptizes the child, christens her “Elizabeth,” and prophesies her future triumphant reign as the first great female sovereign of England.
