‘A little touch
of Harry in the night’
(Henry V, Act 4, Prologue)
Prince Harry, whose assets have been
stripped bare by The Sun and others
this week, continues a long and even distinguished tradition of royal males
behaving badly. It's a lineage stretching
back at least to Henry V and his friendship with Falstaff, Mistress Quickly et al.
It’s notable that Shakespeare called him
Hal when he was being laddish, but ‘Prince’ at other times, making it quite
clear meanwhile that Henry knew what he was up to when spending time in the
stews of Eastcheap (“I know you all, and will awhile / Uphold the unyok’d
humour of your idleness”). By contrast, I’m not sure Captain Harry Wales is quite
sure where he stands. When he was introduced at the Closing Ceremony of the
Olympics as ‘Le Prince Henri de Wales’, he looked baffled for a moment: ‘Is that me they’re talking about?’ Bafflement, indeed, seems to be poor Harry’s
fixed expression in the aftermath of his game of strip billiards in Las Vegas.
“The Prince is stunned,” announced the Daily
Mail, though it wasn’t clear from the sentence whether the reporter was
referring to Prince Harry, or his brother or his dad – all three, probably.
Prince Harry is third in line to the
throne, which is one reason The Sun
assures us that it’s in the public interest to publish photographs of him
cannoning off the cushion (the idiosyncratic vocabulary of billiards
unexpectedly coming back into fashion). Billiards, indeed, was what his great
great great uncle, Prince Albert Edward, Duke of Clarence, used to play. Queen
Victoria’s grandson, he was second in line to the throne and would indeed have
succeeded had he not died in 1892, leaving his brother to become, in due time,
George V.
Poor Clarence was not, by all accounts,
bright. Described by his tutor as having a mind ‘abnormally dormant’, he apparently
got into all sorts of scrapes which had to be hushed up. It was thought he’d
been embroiled in the Cleveland Street scandal of 1889, and in 1890 he suffered
a prolonged period of ‘fever’ or ‘gout’ which gossip maintained must have been
something nastier because none of the matrimonial engagements proposed for him at
that time came to anything. Even after his death, a man called Clarence Haddon
claimed to be Albert Edward’s illegitimate son, and actually published a book
called My Uncle George V. No one took
Haddon very seriously, but it was typical of Clarence that the gossip about his
life and lifestyle never quite died down.
At least he had a devoted mother to
treasure his memory. The Princess of Wales wanted a permanent memorial to him
and, once she had become Queen Alexandra, commissioned a memorial stained glass
window for the Ministers’ Staircase of Buckingham Palace. This life-size
memorial, designed by John Lisle (chief designer at the Studios of Charles
Eamer Kempe) depicts Albert Edward, Duke of Clarence, as St. George in full
armour. You can see the window today, not in the Palace but in the Stained
Glass Museum at Ely Cathedral. It was damaged during the Blitz, and not replaced afterwards.
Clarence’s father, Edward VII (1901-1910),
had himself enjoyed a colourful past before becoming king. Like his son, he had
no particular academic leanings, though he is reported to have said, after his
first encounter with Lily Langtree, “Vidi,
vici, veni”. But by the time he ascended the throne he had become almost an
elder statesman, and when he died he was warmly admired for having kept war in
Europe at bay. A window in St. Mary’s Priory Church Monmouth ( from the later firm, C.E.Kempe & Co.) depicts him in full regalia, and carries the inscription Rex Pacificator. A statue in
Montpellier, Cheltenham, shows him clad in Norfolk jacket and plus-fours
protecting a waif-like child, and again describes him as ‘the Peacemaker’. Yet,
as Shakespeare’s Archbishop of Canterbury says, ‘The courses of his youth
promised it not.'
Henry
V may offer our hapless Prince Harry promise of
better times to come. Those courses of Hal’s youth to which the Archbishop
refers sound strangely familiar:
… his addiction
was to courses vain,
His companies
unletter’d, rude, and shallow,
His hours fill’d
up with riots, banquets, sports;
And never noted
in him any study ….
But when finally he stepped out of his
father’s shadow, everything turned out well:
… at that very moment,
Consideration
like an angel came,
And whipp’d
th’offending Adam out of him;
Leaving his body
as a Paradise,
T’envelope and
contain celestial spirits. (Act 1 Sc.2)
The moral for Harry is clear: he should brush
up his Shakespeare, take his cue from his famous forebear, forsake Sin City, abandon
billiards, and from now on avoid enveloping anyone who is not an absolute angel
– especially in the presence of ‘friends’ with smartphones.
Adrian Barlow
Illustrations: (i) The Duke of Clarence depicted as St. George; designed by John
Lisle, and made by the Kempe Studios, 1905 (Ely Stained Glass Museum)
(ii) Edward VII (‘Rex Pacificator’);
stained glass window by C.E. Kempe and Co in St. Mary’s Priory Church, Monmouth (Adrian Barlow)
Read reviews of my new book, Extramural:
Literature and Lifelong Learning here.
I’ve always enjoyed Henry IV Part One ever since I studied it for the Agrégation some years back. I remember the question for the first paper, the dissertation, for which we had seven hours to prepare an answer: ‘Foul play in Henry IV Part One’. As it turned out there was some foul play in the organisation of the concours as dictionaries were wrongly distributed in one examination centre and we had to do that particular exam again. I wasn’t successful that year, either, not as a result of foul play but because I hadn’t sufficiently prepared for it. In fact it took me five years altogether before actually becoming agrégé. This led me to my present teaching post, as an English literature teacher for the British OIB – option internationale au baccalauréat – and the opportunity of teaching Shakespeare’s history play to sixteen to eighteen year-olds. One of the things that Shakespeare seemed very careful to do in that play was to give the young prince an alter ego, not in the shape of the overweight and dishonest, cowardly Falstaff, but in that of the fiery knight in shining armour, Harry Hotspur, the young Percy (although historically not Hal’s contemporary) and arch-enemy from the North of England. In fact the play seems to present a North and South struggle which is based on the notion of legitimacy, legitimacy in the right to rule and perhaps even in other respects too. In any case, the point I’m trying to make is that le Prince Henry de Wales (and I deliberately leave out Owen Glendower here, as that rather complicates matters!) could perhaps do with an alter ego to spur him on (groan…) to greater and nobler things. Is there anyone out there?
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