Rich Erlich, Shakespeare Courses

[StGd Richard III 2003]

Study Guide for Richard III (=R3)

(1) Useful Books and Essays on Richard III:

Two basic books on the histories are E.M.W. Tillyard's work of the 1940s,
Shakespeare's History Plays (rpt. NY: Collier, 1962) and Robert Ornstein's more recent
A Kingdom for a Stage (Cambridge, MA: Harvard, 1972). Let me suggest that you
consult the sections relevant for each play: Tillyard's Ch. 2 of Part II ("The First
Tetralogy"), specifically the parts called "Introductory" and "Richard III" (2.2.1, 5) and
Ornstein's chs. 1, 3, and 10.

Other useful early works: A.P. Rossiter, "Angel with Horns: The Unity of Richard
III," rpt. in Eugene Waith, ed., Shakespeare: The Histories (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-
Hall, 1965—in the fine Twentieth Century Views Series); D.A. Traversi, An Approach to
Shakespeare, 3rd edn., ch. I, section on Richard III; H.M. Richmond, Shakespeare's
Political Plays, Part I, ch. 4; Bernard Spivack, Shakespeare & the Allegory of Evil (NY:
Columbia U., 1958): 386-407; on Richard as a cold-blooded villain, see Hardin Craig,
"Shakespeare's Depiction of the Passions," Philological Quarterly, 4: 289, 301; for
Richard as a tyrant see W.A. Armstrong, "The Elizabethan Conception of the Tyrant,"
Review of English Studies 22 (July 1946): 161, 181; for more recent works, see the
PMLA annual bibliography.

(2) If you haven't already done so, and you have it, consult now my "Handout for
the History Plays." You should also consult a genealogy to keep track of who's what in
the play. For a complete background on Richard III, unfortunately, you'd have to get a
quick over-view of English history from the time of Edward III until the 1590s. This
probably isn't necessary, though: Shakespeare gives you most of the information you
need. It also isn't necessary to keep very close track of the "cast of tens" in the play.
Richard is undoubtedly the star, and the other characters group themselves in
relationship to him. Henry Tudor, the Earl of Richmond, is Richard's ultimate
antagonist. Henry is helped by his stepfather, Lord Stanley (the Earl of Derby). The
others in the play are Richard's ineffective enemies, dupes, victims, and accomplices
(the categories are not mutually exclusive).
Richard's major accomplice for most of the play is the crafty Duke of
Buckingham. (Buckingham isn't crafty enough, though: he is so foolish as to think that
he's Richard's equal in villainy and becomes one of Richard's victims.) These two major
villains are assisted by Catesby and an assorted crew of aides and murderers.
Richard's (willing?) dupes are such weak-willed survivors as the Lord Mayor
and the Cardinal who gets the young Duke of York out of sanctuary. (We have to
suspect some willingness on the parts of all of Richard's "dupes"; Richard is a fairly open
villain.) Richard's ineffective enemies are the Queen's party: the brother and sons (by
an earlier marriage) of Queen Elizabeth (i.e., Rivers, Dorset, Grey). Hastings
becomes Richard's enemy when he opposes Richard's bid for the crown—an act
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Hastings correctly sees as a usurpation of the right of Edward IV's sons Edward,
Prince of Wales. Richard's victims make a substantial list.
Richard's victims make a substantial list. They include Richard's older brother
George, Duke of Clarence; Richard's nephews Edward, Prince of Wales (Edward V by
some king counts), and the young Duke of York (sorry about this, but he's another
Richard [undoubtedly named for his grandfather); Richard's wife, the Lady Anne;
Hastings; and most of the Queen's party—and, ultimately, the Duke of Buckingham.
Commentary on Richard is offered by various characters but most spectacularly by the
three queens and Richard's own mother, the old Duchess of York. (The three queens in
the play are Margaret, the widow of Henry VI, the last Lancastrian king; Elizabeth, the
widow of Richard's oldest brother, Edward IV; and Anne, widow of Henry VI's son and
then wife to Richard.) Margaret is sort of the Ghost of Victims Past: she returns from
exile in France to remind all the Yorkists that they have usurped (from her point of view)
the rights of the House of Lancaster. She also reminds them of their numerous other
sins and foretells their destruction at the hands of Richard. She is quite important for
reminding us that Richard destroys a generation of vipers: as far as I can tell, only the
young Princes are totally innocent victims of Richard; the rest may well deserve what
they get. Note that most of the people in the play want to get the Wars of the Roses
behind them and get down to enjoying their bloodily-got winnings. Neither Margaret nor
Richard will allow them to do that in comfort.
(Laurence Olivier's film version of Richard III was based on Colley Cibber's abbreviated
script of the play and eliminated Margaret. Without her reminding the audience of the sins of
Richard's victims, they still tend to cheer on Richard until the murder of the Princes.
Consider why an audience might do that. What makes Richard so engaging a villain? Why
might an audience delight in murders?)

Summarized Cast-List:

House of York (White Rose)

Edward IV: Eldest of the three surviving sons of Richard Plantagenet, Duke of
York. King who replaced the Lancastrian Henry VI.
George, Duke of Clarence: The middle brother. (He married the younger
daughter of the powerful Earl of Warwick and briefly fought for the Lancastrians, before
returning to his family.)
Richard Plantagenet (Duke of Gloucester), younger brother to Edward and
George. His personal symbol: the boar. Star of Richard III.

Edward, Prince of Wales: Eldest son of Edward IV and Queen Elizabeth,

Edward IV's wife. Very briefly uncrowned King Edward V; in the Tudor version of history,
he was murdered on orders of his uncle, Richard of Gloucester.
Richard, Duke of York: Younger brother of Prince Edward; in the Tudor version
of history, he was murdered on orders of his uncle, Richard of Gloucester. He and his
brother are "the princes in the Tower" of legend.
Princess Elizabeth: Daughter to King Edward IV and Queen Elizabeth; after the
deaths of her brothers, heir to the Yorkist claim to the throne.
Duchess of York: Widow of Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York; mother to
Edward, George of Clarence, and Richard of Gloucester. (Another son—very young in
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Shakespeare' version—was murdered by a Lancastrian [John, Lord Clifford, to avenge

the death of Clifford's father (there's a major revenge motif in these plays!].)

Edward Plantagenet, Earl of Warwick: Young son to George, Duke of

Clarence. (He inherited Warwick from his mother.)

Lord Hastings: Not a member of the family but a strong supporter of King
Edward IV and the claim to the throne of his sons by Queen Elizabeth. In the 1990s film
version, he's the Prime Minister of England, and that's a fair idea of his power when
Edward is in charge. Enemy of the Woodvilles.

Aides/Allies to Richard
Lord Lovell
Sir Richard Ratcliffe
Sir William Catesby

("The Cat, the Rat, and Lovell the dog rule / All of England under Richard the hog.")

Duke of Norfolk
Sir James Tyrrel: Suborned by Richard into arranging the murder of The Princes
in the Tower.

Wood(e)ville Family (not Plantagenets, not in themselves royal)

Queen Elizabeth Woodville: Queen to Edward IV. Widow to Sir John Grey, who
was killed at the great Battle of St. Albans fighting for the House of Lancaster.
Lord Rivers: Anthony Woodville, 2nd Earl Rivers, brother to Queen
Elizabeth.
Marquess Dorset: Son to Queen Elizabeth by John Grey.
Lord Grey: Son to Queen Elizabeth by John Grey.

House of Lancaster (Red Rose)

(Queen) Margaret: Margaret of Anjou (in France), widow of King Henry VI, the
third and last Lancastrian King; a powerful player in the politics and battles of The Wars
of the Roses.
Lady Anne: Widow of Edward, Lancastrian Prince of Wales, the son of Henry VI
and Margaret. Later, she is wife to Richard III; in Shakespeare's play, she is murdered
on King Richard's orders. (Eldest aughter to Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick,
nicknamed "the Kingmaker"—which was true for Edward IV, before Warwick switched
sides and became a Lancastrian.)
Henry VI: son to the glorious Henry V, conqueror of France, and the French
Princess Katherine, an heir to the French throne; Holy king who lost France and his
English crown to Edward IV. In Shakespeare, murdered in the Tower by Richard of
Gloucester, appearing in R3 only as a corpse.
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Tudors (The Tudor Rose is red and white.)

The Earl of Richmond: Henry Tudor, claimant to the English throne through the
Lancastrian line (although this gets complicated); wins the Battle of Bosworth Field,
marries the Princess Elizabeth, and becomes King Henry VII, founder of the Tudor
dynasty that culminated (and ended) with Queen Elizabeth, ruler of England at the time
of the production of Richard III.

Lord Stanley / Earl of Derby: Stepfather to Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond.

Churchmen/Civic Leader
Cardinal Bourchier, Archbishop of Canterbury (primate of Church in England).
Archbishop of York: Second only to Canterbury in the English Church.
Bishop of Ely

Lord Mayor of London: Like the churchmen, he "doesn't need a weatherman to

know which way the wind blows"; all go along with Richard's usurpation.

Scrivener: Minor character, representing the citizens of London, who see what's
going on but are wise enough to see nothing that will endanger them.

(3) Very Brief Plot Summary of Richard III

The Wars of the Roses are done, won by the House of York at the Battle of
Tewkesbury. This series of relatively small battles involved the on-stage killing of a
father by his son and a son by his father; the killing of old Clifford, revenged with the
murder of Rutland, in Shakespeare the school-age son of Richard of York and his
Duchess (then Margaret dipped a handkerchief in Rutland's blood and taunted with that
handkerchief the captured Richard of York, before they killed him). The slaughter
culminates with the murder in the Tower of King Henry VI by Richard of Gloucester.
But happy times are here, and Edward IV and the court wish to enjoy their
gains. (A theme that appears later in Shakespeare's Hamlet.) The only outsider to the
festivity: Richard, Duke of Gloucester, who is bored, and ambitious.
Edward IV dies of natural causes (and dissipation, according to Richard), but
not before Richard gets him to have their brother George, Duke of Clarence, murdered
in the Tower. Then Richard works through the rest of his family—except Edward and
Queen Elizabeth's young sons—to become King. Then Richard suborns the murder of
those sons, Richard's nephews, the two "Princes in the Tower."
Then Henry Tudor invades, wins the Battle of Bosworth Field, kills Richard
(or is there when he's killed), and exits toward a marriage with the Princess Elizabeth,
uniting his Red Rose with her White, making the Tudor Red/White Rose, ending the
Wars of the Roses and bringing in a period of peace, prosperity, and true festivity.
So: Shakespeare takes the very complex material of history and, following
the cutting edge of Tudor political theory, if E.M.W. Tillyard is correct, gives us a kind of
political divine comedy of England's fall and redemption (what modern historians call
"The Tudor Myth"). This is what Shakespeare does, in both the First Tetralogy (1, 2, 3
Henry VI, Richard III) and the Second Tetralogy (Richard II, 1, 2 Henry IV, Henry V). In
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the tradition Erlich comes from, however, Shakespeare is seen as one who habitually
sets up ceremonies and interrupts them, sets up patterns and then undermines them.
There is at the end of Richard III a comic ending; and that ending is investigated,
interrogated, undermined, deconstructed—questioned, even as it's insisted upon.

(4) From A.P. Rossiter, "Angel with Horns: The Unity of Richard III."

What we are offered [in Richard III] is a formally patterned

sequence presenting two things: on the one hand, a rigid Tudor
schema of retributive justice (a sort of analogy to Newton's Third
Law in the field of moral dynamics [….]); and, on the other, a huge
triumphant stage-personality, an early old masterpiece of the art
of rhetorical stage-writing, a monstrous being incredible in any
sober, historical scheme of things—Richard himself. (67 in Waith)
. . .

[As an example of this pattern of retributive justice—or

"God's vengeance," APR offers the following from Holinshed: The
Lancastrian Prince has been handed over to Edward IV on a promise
of safety. Edward IV asks the young man what he's up to, and the
Prince replies that he's there] "To recover my father's kingdom and
heritage." […] "At which words king Edward said nothing, but with
his hand thrust him from him, or (as some saie) stroke him with his
gantlet; whom incontinentlie, George duke of Clarence, Richard duke
of Glocester, Thomas Greie marquesse Dorset, and William lord
Hastings, that stood by, suddenlie murthered; for the which cruell
act, the more part of the dooers in their latter daies dranke of
the like cup, by the righteous iustice and due punishment of God."
[…] [T]hat is what Richard III is about: what it is composed of.
A heavy-handed justice commends the ingredients of a poisoned cup.
This notional pattern of historic events rigidly determined by a
mechanical necessity is partly paralleled by, partly modified by,
the formal patterns of the episodes (or scenes) and the language.
[68]***

Far more important […] [than the historical details spelled

out in Henry VI, Part 3] is the simple overriding principle derived
from the Tudor historians: that England rests under a chronic
curse—the curse of faction, civil dissension, and fundamental
anarchy, resulting from the deposition and murder of the Lord's
Anointed (Richard II) and the usurpation of the House of Lancaster.
The savageries of the Wars of the Roses follow logically (almost
theologically) from that. […] It is a world of absolute and
hereditary moral ill [in Richard III], in which everyone (till the
appearance of Richmond-Tudor in Act V) is tainted with the
treacheries, the blood and the barbarities of civil strife, and
internally blasted with the curse of a moral anarchy which leaves
but three human genera: the strong in evil, the feebly wicked and
the helplessly guilt-tainted (such as the Princes, Anne—all those
despairing, lamenting women, whose choric wailings are a
penitential psalm of guilt and sorrow: England's guilt, the
individual's sorrow). […] The play-making framework is Senecan
revenge, the characterization largely Marlovian; but the
orchestration is not only original, but unique.
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[Lucius Annacus Seneca: 4 B.C.-A.D. 65, Stoic philosopher and author of revenge
tragedies that combined philosophy and sensationalism. Christopher Marlowe:
Elizabethan playwright, famous for impressive (and morally ambiguous)
characters. Seneca & Marlowe influenced Shakespeare.]***

Richard Plantagenet [as Richard III] is alone with Macbeth as

the Shakespearean version of the thoroughly bad man in the role of
monarch and hero; he is unique in combining with that role that of
the diabolic humorist. It is this quality which makes it an
inadequate account to say that the play is "moral history," or that
the protagonists are the personality of Richard and the curse of
Margaret (or what it stood for in Orthodox Tudor thinking about
retributive justice [= "an eye for an eye"] in history)—for all
that these opposed "forces" are central throughout. […] It is a
conflict between a spirit and a ghost: between Richard, the spirit
of ruthless will, of daemonic pride, energy, and self-sufficiency,
of devilish gusto and Schadenfreude (he enjoys wickedness even when
it is of no practical advantage to his ambitions or to securing
himself by murder: it may be only wickedness in words, but the
spirit revealed is no less evilly exultant for that) and the ghost,
as I called her—for what else is Margaret […] but the living ghost
of Lancaster, the walking dead, memorializing the long, cruel,
treacherous, bloody conflict of the years of civil strife and
pitiless butchery? [76-77]
[Schadenfreude = "joy in harms" = "malice."]***

But Richard himself is not simply the last and most important
(and worst) of the victims—if those justly destroyed can be called
"victims." That is just where the label "moral history" [for
Richard III] is inadequate. For Richard has grown a new dimension
since his abrupt and remarkable development in Henry VI, Part 3: he
has become a wit, a mocking comedian, a "vice of kings"—but with a
clear inheritance from the old Vice of the Moralities: part symbol
of evil, part comic devil, and chiefly, on the stage, the generator
of roars of laughter at wickedness (whether of deed or word) which
the audience would immediately condemn in real life. […] [T]he
Christian pattern imposed on history gives the simple plot of a
cast accursed, where all are evil beings, all deserve punishment.
Look, then, with a believing Tudor eye, and ought you not to
approve Richard's doings? Per se, they are the judgment of God on
the wicked; and he [is a part of that (demonic) Power which always
wills evil and yet always brings about good]. […] Richard's sense
of humour, his function as clown, his comic irreverences and
sarcastic or sardonic appropriations of things to (at any rate) his
occasions: all those act as underminers of our assumed naive and
proper Tudor principles; and we are on his side much rather because
he makes us […] "take the Devil in [our] mind," than for any
"historical-philosophical-Christian-retributional" sort of motive.
[77-78] ***

[On Richard's promise in Henry VI, Part 3 to "set the

murderous Machiavel to school":] M.R. Ridley notes here that
"Machiavelli […] seems to have been to the Elizabethans a type of
one who advocated murder as a method of cold-blooded policy." It
is true that that marks off one point of difference between
"Senecan" tyrant-villainy (which is primarily for revenge) and the
"Machiavellian" (which is for power, or self-aggrandizement […]):
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though I do not think that the distinction can be maintained, if

you read Seneca [try The Thyestes for a sample—Erlich]. But surely
Ridley's note misses the point, in its context? What the
"Machiavel" allusion represents is, I believe, Shakespeare's
recognition that the programme set before the Prince in
[Machiavelli's The Prince] […] is one that demands exactly those
histrionic qualities I have just described [as being possessed by
Richard]: a lifelong, unremitting vigilance in relentless
simulation and impenetrable deception. There, precisely, lies the
super-humanity of the Superman. The will-to-power is shorn of its
effective power without it. He is an artist in evil. [79-80] ***

[…] Richard is a hypocrite and (like other stage villains)

tells us so […] he acknowledges his theatrical-historical legacy
from the old Moralities: "Thus, like the formal Vice, Iniquity, / I
moralize two meanings in one word" (3.1.82-3). [81] ***

On the face of it, he [Richard] is the demon-Prince, the

cacodemon born of hell, the misshapen toad, (etc.) all things ugly
and ill. But through his prowess as actor and his embodiment of
the comic Vice and impish-to-fiendish humour, he offers the false
as more attractive than the true (the actor's function), and the
ugly and evil as admirable and amusing (the clown's game of value-
reversals). […] But he is not only this demon incarnate, he is in
effect God's agent in a predetermined plan of divine retribution:
the "scourge of God." Now by Tudor-Christian historical
principles, this plan is right.* * *
The paradox is sharpened by what I have mainly passed by: the
repulsiveness, humanely speaking, of the "justice." God's will it
may be, but it sickens us: it is a pitiless as the Devil's (who is
called in to execute it). *** This overall system of paradox is
the play's unity. It is revealed as a constant displaying of
inversions, or reversals of meaning: whether we consider the verbal
patterns (the peripeteias or reversals of act and intention or
expectation); the antithesis of false and true in the histrionic
character; or the constant inversions of irony […].

But, start where you will, you come back to history; or to the
pattern made out of the conflict of two "historical myths." The
orthodox Tudor myth made history God-controlled, divinely
prescribed and dispensed to move things towards a God-ordained
perfection: Tudor England. Such was the frame that Shakespeare
took. But the total effect of Shakespeare's "plot" [… is very
different from that of the historian Edward Halle and the "Tudor
Myth"].

The other myth is that of Richard the Devil-King: […] whom

Shakespeare found as a ready-made Senecan tyrant and converted into
a quite different inverter of moral order: a ruthless, demonic
comedian with a most un-Senecan sense of humour and the seductive
appeal of an irresistible gusto, besides his volcanic Renaissance
energies. They are themselves demoralizing: […] ["To be bold is
good"] is the antithesis of a Christian sentiment.

The outcome of this conflict of myths was Shakespeare's

display of constant inversions of meaning: in all of which, two
systems of meaning impinge and go over to their opposites […].
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The "Christian" system of retribution is undermined,

counterbalanced, by historic irony. (Do I need to insist that the
coupling of "Christian" and "retribution" itself is a paradox?
That the God of vengeance is not a Christian God; that his opposite
is a God of mercy who has no representation in this play. If I do,
I had better add that the so-called "Christian" frame is
indistinguishable from a pagan one of Nemesis in which the "High
all-seer" is a Fate with a cruel sense of humour.)

But do not suppose I am saying that the play is a "debunking

of Tudor myth" or that Shakespeare is disproving it. He is not
"proving" anything.
[…] This historic myth offered absolutes, certainties.
Shakespeare in the Histories always leaves us with relatives,
ambiguities, irony, a process thoroughly dialectical. Had he
entirely accepted the Tudor myth, the frame and pattern of order,
his way would have led, I suppose, towards writing moral history
(which is what Dr. Tillyard & Dr. Dover Wilson & Prof. Duthie have
made out of him). Instead, his way led him towards writing comic
history. The former would never have taken him to tragedy: the
latter (paradoxically) did. Look the right way through the cruel-
comic side of Richard and you glimpse Iago (of Othello). Look back
at him through his energy presented as evil and you see Macbeth.

(5) Vice Business: The development of the Elizabethan Vice-figure is complex,but

for our purposes it will suffice if I give you the following over-simplified and much too
neat summary. (It is much too simple to be historically correct.)

In the beginning (say, in the early 15th century), there were huge municipal
productions of full-scale Morality plays like The Castle of Perseverance. These plays
gave the life-story of Humankind and featured a battle for the human soul (a
psychomachia) by the various virtues and vices. Even in these early plays, the vices
tended to be comic. This was not only good theatre but good theology: from a God-like
view human vice is a kind of folly and ultimately comic. In time, this municipal theater
declined (and/or was suppressed), and English drama became, primarily, the province of
traveling professional companies: very small bands of, say, "Four Men and a Boy." In
such production circumstances one could hardly expect a full psychomachia. Instead,
the virtues coalesced into one or a couple of good characters. The vices coalesced into
the Vice: a comic tempter. In these small companies, the "star" would play the tempted
youth ("Humankind," Humanus Genus [Humanity]). The "second banana" would play
the Vice—and the other members of the company would double (and triple and
quadruple) all the other parts. By the late Tudor period, the stage had become more
secular, and the story of the Salvation of Mankind (or his Damnation in more Calvinist
plays) gave way to more secular themes: e.g., the education of a young man—with the
virtue figures trying to get him to study and the Vice-figure trying to get him to mess
around.

Throughout his history the Vice-figure was very popular. He had the following
characteristics: (1) An innate disposition to do evil and attack good. (Incarnate vice
needs no special cause to oppose good: attacking good is part of vice's nature.) (2) A
marked tendency to tempt people into doing evil. (3) A humorous hypocrisy. (4) A
tendency to pretend to cry over the misfortunes of others—misfortunes usually caused
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by the Vice. (5) An artist's delighted in an elegant job of messing over a victim. (6) A
tendency to address the audience in monologs.

Note well that the Vice-figure was also an incarnation of a standard character in
folklore: the Trickster. Originally, his main "trick" was tempting humans to Damnation.
As the drama became more secular, the Vice lost his specialization and became
indistinguishable from other Trickster figures. This process was speeded up when
English drama became less allegorical and more realistic—when it would seem
hopelessly oldfashioned to stage a "formal Vice" named "Iniquity." So instead of
blatantly allegorical Vices like "Iniquity" we get moderately realistic Tricksters, with "a
local habitation and a name"—and with some hint of human motivation. Still, though, a
Vice-figure (even in more realistic drama) is basically a comedian of evil: a funny enemy
of everything good and decent (like Barabas in Marlowe's The Jew of Malta).

Finally, we get quite realistic characters like Shakespeare's Richard of Gloucester:

a character who can tell us important things about human evil (and not Evil in the
abstract), but a character who occasionally betrays his decent from the old Vice of the
Morality Plays. (For a full discussion of the Vice, see Spivack's book, cited above in #1:
for Richard of Gloucester/Richard III as Vice, see Spivack and/or my study guide for the
History Plays.)

(6) QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS ON SOME IMPORTANT SCENES AND

SPEECHES:

1.1
.1-40: Richard is bored during peacetime and is looking for some outlet for
his energies. Since he cannot "prove a lover" he wills to become a villain. Is Richard
right about not being good at sexual seduction? See 1.2.
Also refer back to the quotes in the Study Guide for the History Plays—from Henry VI, Part 3 on
Richard & love.

.115: Note Richard's playing with words; this is a typical Vice trick.

.126 f.: Hastings wants vengeance, a very Unchristian failing in him. Richard
can use such failings for his own purposes. (Also, Hastings is the first we see of the
"generation of vipers" left over from the civil wars ("The Wars of the Roses"); he's not
very wicked—but neither is he very good.)

.145-end: Richard talks to us, the audience, here. Note his energy, humor,
and chutzpah. Note that Richard is willing to speak of God, but this God is in his
heaven, which is fine with Richard so long as he and Edward IV "leave the world for me
to bustle in!" (my emphasis).

1.2: Wooing of the Lady Anne

.14 f.: Anne curses Richard here. This is the first of a number of curses.
Note them all well; figure out which ones come true.

.43-114: Anne calls Richard "devil," "minister of hell," "lump of foul deformity," etc. Such
epithets pick up two themes from Henry VI, Part II & 3 and from Richard's opening
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soliloquy: Richard is deformed, unnatural, brutal, and demonic—or so most people

(including Richard) say.

.115-182: This whole scene is highly rhetorical. The first part is what we
might call "a one-sided flyting": i.e., an insult contest in which only Anne participates.
This next part is more of a "debate," with Richard arguing that he is fit for Anne's
bedchamber and Anne trying to retain her contention that Richard is fit only for a
dungeon or hell. Note throughout the theatrical device of stichomithia: a "cut-and-thrust"
sort of dialog where characters alternate very short speeches (sometimes only a line or
a word). Note very well Richard's "weeping" and his presentation of himself as the Plain,
Blunt Englishman whose "tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word." The Plain
Man role is one of Richard's favorites; the I'm-no-rhetorician business is one of the
oldest tricks of rhetoric. Last point: try to picture the stage business here—it's quite
impressive. Anne spits at Richard; Richard "lays his breast open"; Anne wants to stab
him, but can't and "falls [=drops] the sword."

.185-226: Anne knows that Richard is a dissembler and a murderer of

Lancastrians (her husband and father-in-law to name two). Why does she succumb to
Richard's seduction? Is she just the Weak Woman?

.227-end: Note the arrogance and the rhetorical brilliance of this monolog.
Richard reminds us of just how great his achievement was in the seduction of Anne.
Here Richard is the archetypal performer: as George Carlin tells us, the performer's
whole game is "Hey, look at me!". Consider, though, how the seduction of Anne
undermines Richard's view of himself as cut off from love. If he is cut off from love, it's
because he wills to be; he could certainly get all the sex he wanted.

1.3
.36-41: Two things: Edward IV wants to make peace in his court, and Queen
Elizabeth sees her family's "happiness […] at the height"—and, pat, "like the catastrophe
of the old comedy," in walks Richard to destroy any chance for peace and happiness of
his enemies (= the world). Note Shakespeare's lack of subtlety here: such directness is
typical of him. Note also the idea of "tragedy" as a fall from the heights of power and
happiness. (This is called De Casibus tragedy [from the title of Boccaccio's famous book
De Casibus Virorum Illustrium: "Concerning the Falls of Illustrious Men"]. "Tragedy" in
medieval usage just meant the story of the fall of a great person. In Elizabethan usage a
"tragedy" was usually just a play in which the hero ends up dead.)

.42-107: Here Richard combines the Plain, Blunt Englishman with another
role he likes: Injured Innocence. We also get Richard's ironically true comment on how
bad the word has grown—plus a fair amount of simple exposition, telling the audience
about Queen Elizabeth and her family and how they got to where they are.

.108-156: Note the exposition on the Wars of the Roses. Richard & Queen
Margaret remind the Yorkists of a past they want to forget. Note Richard's beautifully
ironic "I am too childish-foolish for this world." If Tillyard is right about there being a
providential scheme in Richard III then there is a sense in which Richard is a fool: when
he's finished with it/him, God throws his scourge into the fire. (More generally, in a
Christian world wickedness is folly: you'll get punished for it.) Whatever the metaphysics
of Richard III, though, this line is funny in context and makes us sympathize with Richard
2003 Erlich, StGd R3 11

in his playing with the less clever people around him. Note also Rivers' lines on
following the de facto king—whoever he is. Such an action might be good, orthodox
Tudor behavior—or it might be mere cowardice or opportunism.

.155-323: There's a lot more exposition here on the sins of the Wars of the
Roses. Don't worry if you get a little confused about the details: all you really have to
know is that there were a lot of atrocities on both sides (esp. the murder of children).
Note very well that the murders of "pretty Rutland," "lovely Edward," et al. are used
mostly for rhetorical purposes: none of these people shows much pity. Note Margaret's
curses. Most—or all—of them come true. Consider why they come true. Does God
hear these curses and answer them? Does Margaret just have good insights about her
enemies? Does Shakespeare just know that curses-that-come-true make an effective
theatrical device? Note Margaret's descriptions of—and epithets for—Richard.
Consider why Margaret refrains from cursing Buckingham. What's her
system for judging the good or evil of political actions? Note very well that Richard
carefully refrains from cursing himself; others aren't so careful to avoid curses that might
come back upon them.

.323-end: Again, Richard recapitulates the action of the scene (and his
actions so far in the play—and before). Note how he brags of his evil actions, and of
how he fools the simple gulls (notably including Buckingham) who make up his world.
We know from this scene that Richard's intended victims are not nice people. Still, we
may sympathize with Richard primarily because he is smarter than they are, and
because he lets us in on his schemes. This may say something about our morality: the
scene ends with Richard's conversation with two murderers and his letting of a "contract"
on the life of his own brother. It's possible that we morally approve of "Simple plain
Clarence"—but identify with clever, energetic Richard.

1.4: Murder of George, Duke of Clarence

.1-75: Clarence makes clear his membership in what I've called the
"generation of vipers" (quoting Jesus). Still, his repentance is real and he seems very
sympathetic here. Note that this is the only death we see—until Richard gets his at the
end of the play (in battle).

.76-97: Note Brakenbury on the "outward fame" of princes: it's a standard

theme and one which Shakespeare will use again, most notably in Henry V. Note that
Brakenbury doesn't ask questions and doesn't interfere: he would be "guiltless from the
meaning" of the murderers' commission. The First Murderer finds this "a point of
wisdom." How should we view it? Brakenbury seems like a good man. Is his goodness
too passive to prevent evil in a world like that of Richard III? Are we supposed to
approve of his "Tudor orthodoxy" in following orders without question?

.100-end: Note the murderers on "judgment," "conscience," and "remorse" (a

word close to "pity"). Are the common people in Richard III totally corrupt? Are these
two malicious (enjoying evil almost for its own sake), or do they do evil for something
that they see as a good (as in money)?
Is the Second Murderer very evil? Is he good enough to try to prevent evil? Does he succeed?
Consider carefully the debate between Clarence and the Murderers. Should we obey the king if
his commands go against those of "the great King of Kings" (i.e., God)? Does God act outside of
the law? Should the king go against due process? Is it "cowardly and womanish" to show pity—
or is murder "beastly, savage, devilish"?
2003 Erlich, StGd R3 12

2.1: Reconciliation Scene (An Interrupted Ceremony)

Note the oaths here; they become curses. Does Richard indulge in such
self-deceiving hypocrisy? Do we like Richard because he's the only honest hypocrite
around? Also: How is it that Richard fools these people? He's a pretty open villain—
why don't people call his bluff? (Ornstein has some excellent comments on this
question.) Note that this scene gives mostly just the appearance of reconciliation. Still,
it's just possible that these people might have made peace, if it weren't for Richard.
Alternatively, Richard may attack even the appearance of peace, order, and
reconciliation. (If Richard is a Vice-figure, he's got a problem: there's precious little good
around for him to attack. Maybe he has to make do with what there is: just some
appearances of good.)

2.2: Mourning / Scheming

.1-34: Has Richard fooled his mother, the old Duchess of York?

.125-end: Note how Richard allows Buckingham to think that Richard is

willing to follow Buckingham's lead. Note also how soon Richard and Buckingham move
to break whatever peace Edward IV might've made before he died.

2.3: This is a sort of "choric" scene and one of the few chances we get to see the
common people. Note that they trust neither Richard nor the Queen's family. They think
the land will remain "sickly" so long as Richard and "the queen's sons and brothers" try
to rule and are not content to "be ruled." Consider the implications of Third Citizen's "All
may be well; but if God sort it so, / 'Tis more than we deserve or I expect." What have
they done wrong to deserve ill?

2.4: Note that the young Duke of York is a cute kid; we're going to miss him when
he's gone—and think poorly of Richard for killing him. Note also the Duchess of York's
lines on the vanity (= emptiness) of striving for a crown in a world that seems to be under
the control of Fortune and her wheel. (The goddess Fortune has a wheel like a Ferris
wheel. You get on at the bottom, rise to the top—and it is back down from there,
probably to your destruction. This pagan idea had long been incorporated in
Christianity. Fortune was within God's Providence—and a good Christian stayed off her
wheel.)

3.1: Enter to London the Heir Apparent

.1-15: Richard hypocritically brings up the theme of appearances vs. reality.
He "projects" his own sins upon the Prince's other—hardly sinless!—uncles.

.37-58: The Cardinal is being weak here (and Hastings?). A man of God is
supposed to follow the Law of God and oppose "the grossness of this age." Note
Buckingham as Richard's agent.
2003 Erlich, StGd R3 13

.75-94: Prince Edward is also a good kid—and, potentially, a good king

(smart, courageous, etc.)—we're going to miss him too …. Note Richard's saying that
he is like "the formal Vice, Iniquity": he's not an old Vice, like Iniquity, but he is close.

.191-end: Note Richard's suddenness and the promise of a substantial

reward for Buckingham. Buckingham, like the Murderers, is in Richard's schemes for
profit. Richard, on the other hand, wants power but also delights in evil almost for its
own sake. ("Evil, be thou my good" is the Devil's line; no human being can be quite that
malicious. Still, Richard is pretty demonic and at least gets a kick out of the artistry with
which he messes people over; and he enjoys the sense of power and superiority that he
gets through messing people over: Pride.) We might say that Buckingham is a
straightforward Machiavel: a politician who'll use any means to get his ends. Richard is
a Vice/Trickster figure: as concerned with means as much as with the ends themselves.
Moreover, Richard is a man in a state of malice: a human condition in which one suffers
from hatred for others (all others, or nearly) and doesn't have to be deceived by the false
appearance of good or a mistaken value system to do evil.
Most sin is the result of some sort of mistake. Usually, one gets overcome by some
passion and can't think straight; so you choose some lesser good (like sex or money or
power) over a greater good (Salvation!). More advanced sinners don't need to be
deceived like that. They've gotten into the habit of sin, and they habitually choose the
lesser good—without being overcome by passion or having someone deceive them. In
the most advanced forms of sin, passion is almost totally eliminated—as in Richard's
cold-blooded murders—and the sinner sins from habit, hatred [a "cold" passion], and
almost a joy in sin for its own sake. When Richard proclaims in Henry VI, Part 3 that
he'll make his "heaven to dream upon the crown" of England, he's just making the
Machiavel's standard mistake: valuing an earthly crown over the Heavenly Crown of
Salvation. When Richard brags of his crimes and joyously plans more, he's into
malice.

3.2: Note Hastings's confidence and the irony of "the boar will use us kindly."
"Kindly" could mean both "with kindness" and "according to his kind." Richard, the boar
(a very dangerous animal), will, indeed, "use" Hastings that way: he'll kill him.

Also: Note Hastings's satisfaction at the murders at Pomfret castle and how this
lulls him into overconfidence. The ironies in this scene are stark (event heavy-handed).
The only one you might miss is Hastings's failure to see that once a politician gets away
with summarily executing one set of enemies, he might use the technique on new
enemies (and for most politicians, "Those who are not with me are against me").

3.3: Execution/Murders at Pomfret Castle

If you like Tillyard and the Tudor-Myth approach to Richard III, here's your
prooftexts: the reference to Richard II's murder at Pomfret. (Still, one brief reference
isn't much of a proof.)

3.4: Note Hastings's comments on his De Casibus "tragedy": his ride on the
Wheel of Fortune has been a brief one.

3.5: Why does the mayor conclude that Hastings "deserved his death"? Consider
the proverb used by Bob Dylan, "You don't need a weatherman to know which way the
wind blows." Consider also the arguments that Richard and Buckingham use to make
the Mayor's decision easier for him.
2003 Erlich, StGd R3 14

3.6: Scrivener Scene

An important little "choric" scene. It throws a lot of light into the murky
corners of people's motivations in the play—most particularly that of the Lord Mayor and
of the people in the preceding and following scenes. Note well that this scene
immediately follows Richard's decision to "draw the brats of Clarence out of sight."
Political cowardice may be complicity in crime.

3.7: The Wooing of Richard to be King

This scene is very funny in performance. Still, it's a comic rendition of
serious sort of political Fall. In case we've forgotten, the Princes are in the Tower—and
we all know what that means.

4.1: Royal Women Try to Visit Princes in Tower

The main function of this scene is to make sure we don't forget about the
Princes. Shakespeare, though, is up to other things here as well. We first hear of
Richmond in this scene: a touch of hope in a darkening world. We also learn of what's
become of Anne, and we get the odd news that Richard doesn't sleep well.
(Shakespeare probably erred in that. The Richard-to-come, the tyrant-king, won't sleep
well; that's a traditional aspect of stage tyrants. The Richard we've seen in the play so
far looks quite well-rested.) Note Anne on the outcome of her curse.

4.2: Enter Richard, in Pomp, Newly Crowned

.1-31: Richard is at his height here. Note, though, that he's "wriggling" on the
throne—still not satisfied. This is necessary for the historical story (the Tudor historians
had Richard killing the Princes); it is also appropriate for a De Casibus tragedy, in which
the hero rises to a shaky height only to fall (and "wriggling" is going to make you lose
your balance).
Still, E.G. Fogel used to suggest that "wriggling" is a constant with Richard: as in the
image of one "lost in a thorny wood" in Henry VI, Part 3. Also, it's possible that an earthly
crown isn't what Richard really wanted, in which case it'd be appropriate that that crown
doesn't satisfy him. And, of course, Richard is no damn good; if there's more villainy to be
done, he'll want to do it. Also, Isaiah 57.20-21:
But the wicked are like the tossing sea
that cannot keep still;
its waters toss up mire and mud.
There is no peace, says my God, for the wicked.

.32-81: Note that Richard gets a boy to suggest someone "whom corrupting
gold / Will tempt"—and the kid comes up with a possibility immediately. Corruption
seems to be everywhere. Yet Richard's evil is beyond the mere corruption of his world:
Buckingham has hesitated on the murder of the Princes; Catesby is slow in figuring out
what Richard is up to with Anne. These mere politicians seem unable to grasp Richard's
idea that work remains to be done. That's a good evidence that there really is no
political work remaining: Richard's actions from now on are gratuitous evil—the sort of
sheer villainy that a Machiavellian (as opposed to a stage Machiavel) ought to avoid.

.82-end: Buckingham, the truer Machiavellian, wants his reward. Richard

denies it. This is a major political mistake. It is unmotivated by anything except
Richard's anger at Buckingham and his desire to put Buckingham in his place. It is an
exercise in power for Richard (Pride)—and Buckingham won't stand for it.
2003 Erlich, StGd R3 15

4.3: Tyrrel Brings New of Murder of Princes

Note "tyrannous" in Tyrrel's opening line. Richard changes in through here
from a good, conscious actor to a man living the role of Tyrant. The Princes probably do
disturb Richard's sleep (or did). Richard can, without irony, compare himself with Jove
and talk of "traitors."

4.4: Royal Women Lament / Attempted Seduction of Q. Elizabeth

.1-135: We might call this "The Score-Card Section" of this scene. It is choric
commentary on the action of the play, featuring the pitiless Margaret and her careful
count of who's been knocked off (all according to the plan, she thinks, of an "upright,
just, and true-disposing God"—at least so far as the deaths of Yorkists go). Note well
how impressive Shakespeare at least intended this business to be: Three (Count 'em, 3!)
royal lamenters: ex-Queen Margaret, ex-Queen Elizabeth, and the old Duchess of York.
Note the rhetorical balance, matching the balanced deaths. Question: Should we agree
with Margaret on the justice of all this carnage? (Maybe so. For all the rabbinic and
Churchly modifications and softenings, the biblical text is "an eye for an eye.")

.136-96: Richard orders noise so that the heavens won't hear "these telltale
women / Rail on the Lord's anointed." This is ironic, but the irony doesn't seem to be
Richard's. He's living the part—a very bad idea for a politician-actor. Note also the
Duchess' summary of Richard's moral development, ending in "Thy age confirmed
proud, subtle, sly, and bloody / More mild but yet more harmful—kind in hatred."
Richard seems to have moved "up" the scale of the deadly sins, moving from wrath to
fraud and then pride (the deadliest sin) and ending "kind in hatred," which I see as a
punning combination of hypocrisy (his "kindness" masks his hatred) and the state of
malice: hatred becomes Richard's kind, the essence of his being.

.197-end: This attempt to seduce Queen Elizabeth parallels the earlier

seduction of Anne. Several points here: (1) Elizabeth seems to be much more on top of
the situation than Anne ever was. (2) Richard is reduced to the sort of self-curses he so
scrupulously avoided earlier. (3) Richard's argument is notably unconvincing. (4)
Richard displays here no recognition whatever of the human implications of what he's
done. His arguments seem to get down to "Look, everyone makes mistakes," "What's
done is done," and "I'm really sorry about killing your sons, and I'd like to make it up to
you: How about giving me your daughter?". The only real question in this section is
whether Richard really convinces Elizabeth or whether she's fooling him. Actually, it'll
work either way. Richard's final line on Elizabeth is "Relenting fool, and shallow,
changing woman." If Richard has convinced Elizabeth and is correct in his assessment
of her, then he errs here seriously: this "shallow, changing woman" might change again,
and he ought not to just let her go her way, where someone else can get to her. I
suspect the scene is better played with Elizabeth's fooling Richard: that fits in better with
Richard's obvious confusion in his dealings (immediately following) with Ratcliffe and
Catesby.

4.5: This brief scene makes clear that either Elizabeth fooled Richard or that
someone has worked on her head: she has "heartily consented" that Richmond (= Henry
Tudor) "should espouse […] her daughter."

5.1: Death of Buckingham

2003 Erlich, StGd R3 16

This is the last of the De Casibus type "tragedies" of Richard's adult victims.
Shakespeare makes sure, though, that we see that more is at work in this world than an
amoral Wheel of Fortune. Buckingham, at least, is convinced that a sort of divine justice
has worked in his case and comes to the general conclusion that God will "force the
swords of wicked men / To turn their own points in their masters' bosoms […]."

5.2: Enter the Hero!: Richmond may be less exciting than Richard, but, as
Tillyard correctly points out, he says all the right things. Richmond opposes tyranny,
usurpation, and slaughter, and supports love, friendship, hope, God, and peace.

5.3: Ghost Scene (Good Dreams for Richmond)

.1-46: Note the stage directions. Technically, we don't have "simultaneously
action" in this scene—but it's the closest thing to it in the Elizabethan plays I know.
Throughout the Ghost Scene, Richmond's tent is on the stage, and Richmond is as
visible to the audience (I assume) as Richard is. If we see something of a "double
action" in this play—the rise of Henry Tudor as well as the fall of Richard—then this is
nicely indicated by the staging of this scene. We also see here the two forces working
on Richard: the external one of Richmond et al. and the internal, psychological forces—
both manifest in this scene. (Cf. and contrast structurally similar scene in Macbeth:
Death of Lady Macbeth and Macbeth's "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.")

.46-79 and .80-118: Richard talks with the nasty Ratcliffe and Catesby (and
some others), renews his threat to kill someone's child, and needs some wine before
bed to cheer him up. Richmond talks with the noble Derby (who will betray the tyrant
Richard for the good of England), receives his mother's blessings, and prays before he
goes to sleep. (As I said earlier, subtle Shakespeare ain't.)

.176-207: The ghost of Buckingham sets Richard up for a De Casibus

"tragedy," balanced by the comic resolution for Richmond and England: "God and good
angels fight on Richmond's side, / And Richard falls in height of all his pride!" Note very
well Richard's soliloquy (to himself, not to the audience) after the ghost's speeches.
Note how he calls on Christ for mercy and complains of a "coward conscience" afflicting
him. In Henry VI, Part 3 Richard claimed to have "neither pity, love, nor fear" and willed
that "this word 'love,' which greybeards call divine, / Be resident in men like one another,
/ And not in me. I am myself alone" (5.1.68, 81-83). Now Richard fears and laments
that nobody loves him; indeed, he can no longer love himself. He will get no pity in his
fall; he can't even pity himself. Richard will soon be his wicked old self again, but for this
moment he implicitly admits his humanity and admits his need for such human things as
pity and love—and his being subject to fear. Power and cleverness are not enough even
for Richard; Shakespeare thereby implies that they're not enough—period.

5.4: Again, note Richmond's saying all the right things. Also note Richard's
famous call for a horse. He worked so hard for his kingdom—and it turned out to be all
vanity and chasing after wind: now he'd trade his kingdom for a decent horse.