Falstaff!
Yes, I was familiar with his name. However, until this year, my acquaintance with Falstaff was mostly indirect, through books that mentioned him. I had not delved into any of Shakespeare's histories (excluding Julius Caesar, etc., which I don't consider a history), so I was pleasantly surprised by how much I took a liking to this character. There are plays where the character and the play are evenly balanced (like Othello and Hamlet), but there are also those where the character seems to transcend the play. Henry IV, Part I appears to be one of those. The play was excellent. I thoroughly enjoyed it. But every time Falstaff made an entrance, it seemed to elevate the play to a whole new level. Certainly, it was not a play where Falstaff played the central role. Obviously, Henry, Prince of Wales holds that position (and he is fascinating in his own right), but Falstaff whirls around the play, enhancing everything. Injecting color and vitality into every scene he is a part of. And he doesn't achieve this through otherworldliness. He does it through his humanity, his base motives, and his complex affections. There is no doubt that Henry loves Falstaff and vice versa, but it is also evident that they are both using each other and are aware that the other is using them. It is truly perfect.
And the lines! Some of Shakespeare's most remarkable lines and profound musings spill forth energetically from Falstaff's lips:
How arduous it must be to engage in combat with an adversary one admires. How difficult it must be to come to the realization that one's enemy is a stronger, and perhaps more worthy, individual than one's own son. And how profound it must be to understand that one is such a hypocritical fool, and that one's son is more than one could ever have imagined. But first, one must lament one's heir to one's advisors, clearly a significant move:
Yea, there thou mak’st me sad and mak’st me sin
In envy that my Lord Northumberland
Should be the father to so blest a son—
A son who is the theme of honour’s tongue,
Amongst a grove the very straightest plant,
Who is sweet Fortune’s minion and her pride—
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him
See riot and dishonor stain the brow
Of my young Harry. O, that it could be proved
That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged
In cradle clothes our children where they lay,
And called mine Percy, his Plantagenet!
Henry Bolingbroke is a man burdened with daemons. He ascended to the throne through a rebellion, and now, many years later, he is suppressing a rebellion himself. There is a certain irony in this. Shakespeare indeed loves to expose a good hypocrite. In the rebellious Hotspur, King Henry clearly discerns a part of himself, and in his own son, he perceives a foe he vanquished many years ago. The ineffective Richard II haunts him; he does not wish to witness England fall under such negligent rule ever again. So he is a man deeply divided. The choice he makes is the only one he could make. He places his faith in his son, and as a result, the young Henry meets the challenge with vigor and character that, I would argue, he didn't even know he possessed.
The young Henry, known as Hal to his friends, does not take life overly seriously. He spends his days drinking, playing pranks, and bantering with an old knight named Sir John Falstaff, and this gives rise to some of the most memorable moments in the play. In a metatheatrical moment, a mini-play within a play, the two act out a scene of King and Prince. Falstaff, rather hilariously, while pretending to be Henry IV, offers young Hal some advice about his drunken friend:
No, my good lord, banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins, but for sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant being, as he is, old Jack Falstaff,
Banish not him thy Harry’s company,
Banish not him thy Harry’s company.
Banish plump Jack, and banish all the world.
Thus, history becomes part comedy, and Shakespeare, as always, showcases his versatility as a dramatist. Language serves as a clear demarcation between the high-born characters and the low. This is not like Richard II, where commoners are reciting verse. Here, there is a distinct difference between those who are educated and those who are not. The commoners speak in prose, while the lords speak in verse. Young Hal has the ability to do a bit of both. He can bond with both the lowborn and the highborn because of this, which is a slight foreshadowing of the loyalty he will command one day. A good king knows how to communicate with his subjects, not just the other rulers of the land, a touch of subtlety from the bard.
Honor also becomes a subject of much contention. What is honor? Is it personal integrity or loyalty to one's king, and perhaps to those one loves? Indeed, honor becomes a subjective principle, meaning different things to each individual. For the king, it is his need to protect his realm; for Hotspur, it is personal integrity; and for Hal, it is duty. Falstaff's honor, which is open to debate, is his love for his prince. His dialogue may suggest otherwise, but his actions, though a bit foolish at times, feel rather devoted, even if they are also self-serving.
As with all of Shakespeare's plays, watching a good production truly enhances the experience. I like to read the play once, watch an adaptation, and then read the play again. It adds another layer of depth. I did enjoy this play, but I much preferred Richard II. The language in that play was pure poetry, and I have a greater affinity for tragedy than for comedy.