Prince Hal or Henry?: Moral Growth in Shakespeare

When one considers the vast corpus of Shakespeare’s works, the histories are very easy to overlook. After all, when presented with hilarious comedies or sensational tragedies, who (other than a history fanatic such as myself) would choose a history, a genre associated neither with hilarity nor with emotional sensation? Yet part of the genius of Shakespeare is his ability to extrude some of his most moving and meaningful human drama from a genre that might seem predestined for propaganda or boring recounting of fact.

This is perhaps best exemplified by Henry IV, Parts One and Two. Despite their title, these plays do not actually focus primarily on King Henry IV, formerly Henry Bolingbroke and recent usurper of the throne of England. Instead, they document the adventures of his son, Prince Hal, who (spoiler alert) matures from a bawdy, prurient copulator prone to bacchanalian debauchery, to an honorable and authoritative successor to the throne (he becomes King Henry V upon his father’s demise).

Hal’s development throughout the duology is inevitably overshadowed by the presence of one of the most memorable characters in all of Shakespeare’s canon: Sir John Falstaff, a rotund, ebullient, carefree carouser who participates in (and generally encourages) Hal’s revelries. Falstaff was such a popular figure at the time of the plays’ release, particularly among the peasantry, that Shakespeare penned another play about him, The Merry Wives of Windsor (one could see this as foreshadowing the modern spin-off/sequel epidemic in popular culture).

Due to his immense popularity and jovial, likable character, the purpose of Falstaff’s inclusion in the plays is oft overlooked. He is not the hero, nor is he the villain: rather, he is the well-intentioned but ultimately detrimental influence Prince Hal must cast aside, somewhat cruelly, in order to fulfill his princely and later kingly duties. Thus, he is to be seen as a sort of foil for Prince Hal: while Hal matures, and abandons his boisterous ways, Falstaff remains stagnant, expecting favoritism from the new king which does not come.

But how does Hal mature? It seems doubtful at times that he will do so, but he is eventually forced into it by a battle against an attempted usurpation, in which he fights on his father’s behalf, and then by his father’s passing, which forces him to assume the throne himself. These events trigger in him a startling, chameleonic transformation, leading him to become the valiant and noble leader who would give the famous “Saint Crispin’s Day” speech in the next play in Shakespeare’s so-called Henriad.

The eventual message of the two plays, Henry IV, Parts One and Two, then, deals with the responsibilities faced by every individual at some point, when he or she must abandon the wayward ways of youth and accept the hard, tiring trials of adulthood. Whilst this might seem to be applicable only to monarchs and others of such great importance, there are numerous parallels between Hal’s kingly duties and those faced by nearly every adult. Such onuses can come through marriage and parenthood, the priesthood and religious life, employment, and much more. Even in family, one finds oneself accountable for the care of one’s kin, and this duty to care for family is a microcosm of the broader charge to love one’s neighbor as oneself.

Thus, rather than being a pair of plays relevant only to particular figures of power in Shakespearean England, Henry IV Parts One and Two is actually a continuous depiction of moral growth. Many people find themselves caught in a quagmire of revelry, succumbing repeatedly to the control of social pressures and their own appetitive vices. They can look up to Prince Hal as a role model, seeing how he steels himself to face the harsh realities of responsibility when faced with a daunting conflict; thereby, they can do what he eventually did, with both sorrowful reluctance and profound confidence in the correctness of his action: cast aside the Falstaffs in their lives, those well-meaning negative influences holding them back from achieving the virtues of their respective positions, and in so doing live out their vocations, serving the Lord rather than remaining in the clutches of Mammon.