Reviewed in the United States on May 21, 2016
Agincourt (October 25, 1415) was one of the great military victories of history. Vastly outnumbered and fighting on foreign soil, the beleaguered English ended up routing the French -- seven to ten thousand French dead versus only five hundred English casualties, most of them wounded. The English were led by King Henry V, who in conventional history became England's greatest soldier and its most heroic warrior-king. So in writing his history play of HENRY V, Shakespeare was dealing with a legend. Did he do so satisfactorily?
On first impression, not really. One problem is that Henry had already appeared as Prince Hal in the two Henry IV plays. In those two plays, Prince Hal for the most part was a dissolute, irreverent wastrel. It is difficult to reconcile that Prince Hal with the noble and resolute warrior-king of HENRY V. But even if the play is considered in isolation, Henry V seems to be too steadfast, too unreflective, too sure of himself. He ends up being a rather stock and predictable character, and not very likeable for all of his heroic and saintly stature.
To be sure, Henry does get off one of the most stirring, patriotic speeches in literature. When, on the cusp of the battle, one of his nobles bemoans the huge disparity in manpower and wishes the English had with them more of their countrymen, Henry responds that the gross imbalance simply provides an opportunity for even greater glory:
This day is called the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall see this day, and live t'old age
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours
And say, 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars
And say, 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. * * *
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by
From this day to the ending of the world
But we in it shall be rememberèd,
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.
Still, it is impossible to avoid the conclusion that Henry is recklessly risking his life, and the lives of his "band of brothers", on an extraordinary long shot -- not in defense of their homeland and their families, but rather for glory. (Earlier, and more callously, Henry had exhorted his soldiers thus: "Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more, / Or close the wall up with our English dead.")
Moreover, Shakespeare's Henry V can be ruthlessly cruel -- or at least threaten ruthless cruelty. When the English first invaded France and besieged Harfleur, at a time when they had the advantage in numbers, Henry told the town's leaders that they had better surrender peaceably:
If not--why, in a moment look to see
The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand
Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters;
Your fathers taken by the silver beards,
And their most reverend heads dashed to the walls;
Your naked infants spitted upon pikes,
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused
Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry
At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen.
What say you? Will you yield, and this avoid?
Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroyed?
Then, there is the incident towards the end of the Battle of Agincourt, after the English had captured hundreds if not thousands of French soldiers, when Henry suddenly orders that all prisoners be killed. It comes across as extremely rash and cold-blooded. There are yet other, subtler inconsistencies, or hypocrisies, in Henry's character. Is, then, Henry V the heroic, saintly warrior-king of English legend? In the end, it seems to me possible that Shakespeare is equivocating, but given the almost mythical stature of Henry V he feels that he must do so rather obliquely.
The play is also notable for reporting the death of Falstaff, once boon companion to Prince Hal but not fit for a lordly King Henry to acknowledge as even an acquaintance. With Falstaff gone, his gang -- Nym, Bardolph, and Pistol -- have lost their charm, and instead are simply crass, common riffraff. On the other hand, I did like Fluellen, the Welch captain for whom the English tongue, especially the consonant "p", is an insuperable challenge.