SOURCE: “Oaths in Shakespeare's Henry VI Plays,” in Shakespeare Quarterly, Vol. 24, No. 4, Autumn, 1973, pp. 357-71.

[In the essay below, Kelly explores the structural, thematic, and unifying significance of oaths—kept and broken—in Henry VI, Parts 1, 2, and 3.]

When Pistol said to Bardolph, “A sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course” (Henry V), he was stating not only a common Elizabethan belief, but also a principle of Shakespearean dramatic construction. In drama as in life, an oath calls for action. In drama, whenever a character swears to do something or not to do something, plot takes form as a direct result of his regard for his word. If the swearer honors his oath, the action takes one course; if he breaks his oath, the action veers in a different direction. The oaths in Shakespeare's Henry VI plays, set against the background of Elizabethan belief, gain considerable dramatic relevance. In these histories, concerned as they are with rebellion, usurpation, conspiracy, and war, great significance rests on the contractual relationships between king and subject, man and man, and man and woman. The oath, if honored, provides a lawful means of sustaining such contracts and contributes to an ordered society ordained by God, ideally upheld by king and supported by subject. If all persons concerned honored their oaths of allegiance, order would prevail in society, and in drama there would be no conflict and consequently no drama. We are concerned here only with formal oaths such as the oath of allegiance, the legal swearing before a magistrate, and the equally serious calling on God to witness and stand as guarantor that the swearer intends to execute his oath. Swearing by some sacred object serves the same purpose. The vow which often accompanies and strengthens the oath is a special application in which a personal condition or imprecation is contingent upon fulfillment of the vow.¹

But whatever Shakespeare meant when he used an oath might differ from what we make of it unless we focus our attention on what the oath meant to Elizabethans. No doubt they were influenced by the Oath of Supremacy of 1558 required of archbishops, bishops, judges, clergymen as well as all persons taking orders or degrees from universities.² Failure to take the oath resulted in degrees of punishment varying from loss of promotion for first offenders to indictment for high treason for anyone so imprudent as to be guilty of a third offense. A look at some of the Elizabethan writings about oaths will give the modern reader a better understanding of the impact of the dramatic oath, particularly the broken oath, on the Elizabethan audience and lead to a deeper appreciation of the young Shakespeare's art of construction.

In Elizabethan society an oath was a serious matter, considered a “part of God's divine service and commanded by him.”³ Because Christ in the New Testament forbade swearing (Matt. 5:34-37), writers about oaths felt constrained to justify swearing by the Christian man. The dilemma was supposedly solved by the thirty-ninth article of the Church of England which declared an oath legal, “When the Magistrate requireth, in a cause of faith and charitie, so it be done accordyng to the prophetes teaching in justice, judgement, and trueth.”⁴ But justifications for swearing continued to appear in print. One of the most influential publications, and one which Shakespeare doubtless knew, was the “VII Official Homilie against Swearing and Perjury.” This sermon expounds the nature and importance of a lawful oath, the sin of irreverent abuse, and God's punishment for perjury. An oath was considered lawful when

Judges require othes of the people, for declaracion of the truth, or for execucion of justice; … [or] when men make faithefull promises with attestacion of the name of God, to observe covenauntes, honest promises, statutes, lawes, and good customes, … for due ordre to be had and continued emong men: when subjectes do sweare to bee true and faithefull to their kyng and sovereigne Lorde. … Therefore Christian people muste thynke lawful othes, both godly and necessarye. For by lawfull promises and covenauntes confirmed by othes, princes and their countreis are confirmed in common tranquillitie and peace.⁵

This statement, read regularly from the pulpits in Tudor England, leaves little doubt that oaths were considered a means of maintaining order and of ferreting out potential disorder.

And by lawful othes, malefactors are searched out, wrong doers are punished, and thei whiche sustein wrong, are restored to their right. … Every Christian mannes worde … should be so true, that it should be regarded as an oth.⁶

The sanctity of the oath acts as a binder which holds all men together for the good of the land. Made under the watchful eye of God, oaths should promote harmonious relationships among all people.

In society the oath serves another important function in that through an oath God's searching eye can determine the truth of any matter.

Because he oftentimes revealeth and bringeth foorth the verie trueth of a matter (untruely delivered by any man) either by inward inspiration of some other person, or else by bringing it to the open light … which afore was kept close and secret.⁷

The oath carries with it punishment for perjury, a grievous offense against God, for “whosoever wilfully forsweareth hymself … thei utterly forsake Gods mercy, goodnes, and truth.” By terrible punishments “doth God shewe playnly, how muche he abhoreth breakers of honest promises, confirmed by an othe made in his name.”⁸ For God “is a lover of trueth and a revenger of perjurie.”⁹ Even though the perjurer might conceal his guilt in this life, he could not expect to escape punishment, for his guilt will be revealed “at the last daye, when the secretes of all mennes hartes, shalbe manifest to al the worlde. And then the truth shal appere, and accuse them and their owne conscience. … And Christ the righteous judge, shal then justly condempne them to everlastyng shame and death.”¹⁰

Another possible influence on Shakespeare was the chronicler Edward Hall, who included the complete text of the oath required of all authorities, spiritual and temporal, in which they promised “upon their faith, dutie, and allegeaunce … truly to assist in kepyng of the kynges peace.”¹¹ All concontemporary statements about oaths stress the ethical significance of personal responsibility. Thus the value of a man's word was at the very foundation of reliability in human affairs.

Aware of the frame of meaning surrounding the oath, Shakespeare utilized this background as he employed the oath in his dramatic construction to throw light on the character who makes an oath, his relationship to the other characters, and to his God. When made, an oath adumbrates plot; when later recalled by the maker of the oath or the character against whom it is made, the oath becomes structural as it links and tightens the elements of the plot. The complete disregard for the sanctity of an oath by many of the characters in the Henry VI plays illuminates the dramatic situation of chaos revealed. Examined against the milieu of Elizabethan thought, the oaths provide an added dimension to some of the usually accepted interpretations of these plays.¹²

1 HENRY VI

In 1 Henry VI, Shakespeare employs the oath with little subtlety. In mechanical fashion he has Exeter remind the nobles of their oaths to Henry V, and immediately they scurry off stage to fight the French. Talbot utters a vow of vengeance as Salisbury is shot and, “with God as his fortress,” he and his English soldiers rout the French with brilliant stage effects as the French leap over the walls in disarray.

In the Temple Garden Scene, where Shakespeare symbolically sets up the factions which later result in civil war, the oaths by Somerset and York strengthen their determination to pursue their quarrel. The participants choose sides in ritualistic fashion as Somerset asks Warwick to choose between them. Plantagenet, later York, argues that

The truth appears so naked on my side
That any purblind eye may find it out.

(II.iv.20-21)¹³

Somerset counters with

And on my side it is so well appareled,
So clear, so shining, and so evident
That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye.

(II.iv.22-24)

Somerset's oath provokes an equally determined one from Plantagenet:

And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose,
As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate,
Will I forever and my faction wear
Until it wither with me to my grave
Or flourish to the height of my degree.

(II.iv.107-10)

The ritualistic portion of the scene ends on this determined note. Shakespeare has created a tension out of which most of the remaining action of the Henry VI trilogy flows. Here he has demonstrated the technique of flinging speech against speech noted some years ago by Price.¹⁴ What Price did not take into account is that a sworn statement carries much more power than ordinary speech, will generate more impact of character on character, and is more likely to elicit immediate response. In this instance the use of the oath becomes more subtle and looks forward to its still more intricate employment in Parts 2 and 3.

Shakespeare's most skillful use of the oath in Part 1 involves the oath of allegiance in all of its ramifications. In Act IV, scene one, Henry is not permitted to take the actual oath at his own coronation, which was ordinarily a stage ceremony of pomp and splendor. The entire ceremony is perfunctorily accomplished in two lines, because as soon as the bishop deposits the crown on Henry's head, York demands an oath of allegiance from the French, only to have the second ceremony interrupted. During the interruption, Shakespeare shifts to a close-up as he demonstrates for the audience the complete lack of allegiance among the English: first, among the high-level military as Talbot rushes on stage accusing Fastolfe of cowardice and makes good his vow to “Tear the garter from his craven leg”; next, among the nobles as Gloucester reads a letter from Burgundy who has switched his loyalty back to the French. Gloucester laments

Oh, monstrous treachery! Can this be so,
That in alliance, amity, and oaths
There should be found such false dissembling guile?

(IV.i.61-63)

He has struck the keynote that echoes down the play, “false dissembling.” Henry's vain attempt to reconcile the opposing English factions, so as to present a united front to the French, succeeds only in making things worse. The scene winds up with Exeter alone on stage to sum up the action and look forward to later events:

'Tis much when scepters are in children's hands,
But more when envy breeds unkind division;
There comes the ruin, there begins confusion.

(IV.i.192-94)

Shakespeare now makes visual the confusion which had up to this point been mostly verbal. Talbot drives off the French only to have Joan return and drive off the English, a feat that could not have happened had either York or Somerset shown the allegiance of Talbot and rescued him with their armies. York blames Somerset, but admits to Lucy, who pleads for Talbot's rescue, “He dies, we lose; I break my warlike word.” The ironic juxtaposition of York and Talbot delineates the character of York in complete contrast to the splendid Talbot. York does not keep his word; he admits it. To demonstrate to us the effect of York's broken word, Shakespeare throws the two Talbots into mortal combat and has Talbot remind the audience why he is in desperate circumstances:

The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word
And left us to the rage of France his sword.

(IV.vi.2-3)

The act ends with each side predicting victory, and Shakespeare turns his attention to setting the stage for the broken oath which causes the downfall of the English.

The scene (V.i.) begins in a low key as Henry agrees disinterestedly to his betrothal to the wealthy daughter of the Earl of Armagnac. This seemingly insignificant detail actually furnishes the key to Henry's character. He agrees to marry any woman who “Tends to God's glory and my country's weal.” A complexity of hints alerts us that this action has overtones of wide import. Henry binds the “contract” by sending the young lady a jewel in proof of the “contract” and “pledge” of his affection. The care with which Henry's language is formulated leaves no room for doubt that he considers the betrothal binding, and Shakespeare is signaling the audience to anticipate the outcome of his deed. At this point Shakespeare leaves the betrothal.

But not until Act V, scene four, does Shakespeare return to the interrupted oath of allegiance of Act IV, scene one. The situation is that after losing many nobles, including Talbot, the English have finally won a shaky peace with France; York demands that the French leaders swear an oath of allegiance to Henry. When Charles demands to know the terms of the peace, his nobles advise him not to cavil about the “contract.” Winchester tells him that he must “pay tribute and submit” to Henry. It is York who articulates the oath for Charles:

Then swear allegiance to His Majesty,
As thou art knight, never to disobey
Nor be rebellious to the Crown of England—
Thou, nor thy nobles, to the Crown of England.

(V.iv.169-72)

An intriguing irony emerges in the play because what we see and hear contradicts what we know about York. His word is false, yet he berates the French for the same fault. A still more subtle irony is that York can be reassured by Warwick that the French can be bound with such strict and severe “covenants” that they will gain little from the truce. Another layer of irony comes from the words of the oath, which specify allegiance to the crown of England and not the man, a point to be explored in some detail in later plays.

Having set up his warring factions among the English and concluded an “effeminate” peace with the French, Shakespeare moves to pick up the theme of Henry's marriage. Henry's previous oath of betrothal now becomes the pivotal point of the dramatic action. If Henry is to marry Margaret, Suffolk must see to it that he breaks his oath. The wily Suffolk speaks glowingly of Margaret's charms and influences Henry to seek Gloucester's consent even though it does mean breaking his oath. Gloucester establishes the seriousness of the situation:

How shall we then dispense with that contract,
And not deface your honour with reproach?

(V.v.28-29)

As plot develops, Henry's honor is repeatedly defaced because of this evil match, but at this moment Suffolk with elaborate casuistry offers a solution:

As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths,
Or one that, at a triumph having vowed
To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists
By reason of his adversary's odds.
A poor Earl's daughter is unequal odds,
And therefore may be broke without offense.

(V.v.30-35)

Almost too readily Henry agrees and sends Suffolk to France with these instructions:

Agree to any covenants, and procure
That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come
To cross the seas to England, and be crowned
King Henry's faithful and anointed Queen.

(V.v.88-90)

Suffolk's reasoning is completely contrary to the Elizabethan concept of the sanctity of an oath and leads us to see him as devious, disloyal, and treacherous. But what about Henry? He has unwittingly revealed to the audience that the sovereign, the highest, most revered person in the land, cannot be trusted and is really no better than his jarring nobles.

By demonstrating to us the gravity associated with an oath and the consequences of broken oaths, Shakespeare has created and explored an atmosphere charged with suspicion, falseness, duplicity, and evil. He is yet to magnify and intensify this impression in Parts 2 and 3.

2 HENRY VI

In 2 Henry VI, the sanctity of a man's word, the truth and reliability of what he says, forms the crux of the dramatic argument and provides a strong force for unity. Without overt reference to oaths or breaking of oaths, the theme of reliability of a man's word undergirds the action of the play and carries out the implications of betrayal begun in 1 Henry VI. Each instance that subjects the word of a character to the cold light of truth prepares a steppingstone to the final act in which the sworn oath of allegiance to the King dominates the action.

In the first scene Shakespeare creates an aura of falseness, suspicion, and distrust as Suffolk presents Henry with his Queen. The audience is informed that as a result of the “contracted peace” with France, Suffolk has signed away to the French the English claim to the duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine. Gloucester, the one truly honest and loyal person, later recalls the shameful marriage and prophesies the ruin of all England as a result. Each subsequent scene relates in some manner to the theme of duplicity and broken oaths and advances the complex intentions of the play.

Even the seemingly irrelevant Peter-Horner Scene (I.iii.) gains dramatic relevance as it introduces the theme of rightful succession to the crown and implicates York. The multiple crosscurrents of animosity between the Queen and the Duchess of Gloucester and the concerted efforts of York, Margaret, and Suffolk to discredit Gloucester all begin to converge. Act II, scene one, which has been called a mirror-scene, intensifies our sensitivity to the falsity which forms the core problem of the play.¹⁵ The trumped-up arrest of the Duchess, the false accusation of Gloucester, the bogus miracle—all reflect the duplicity and unreliability of people throughout the Court and society. The pervading deception prepares the climate for York's recital in the next scene of his claim to the throne and the seemingly unmotivated support of Warwick and Salisbury.

As the snare tightens around Gloucester, accused of treason and embezzlement and deprived of the Nevils' support, he can strengthen his claim of innocence only with a solemn oath calling God to witness the truth of his words before the King:

So help me God, as I have watched the night—
Ay, night by night, in studying good for England!—
That doit that e'er I wrested from the King,
Or any groat I hoarded to my use,
Be brought against me at my trial day!
.....I say no more than truth, so help me God!

(III. i. 110-14, 120)

To Gloucester and the characters hearing the oath no stronger emphasis could be placed on his words than the solemn appeal to God to support his statement, the implication always being that perjury automatically brings with it the wrath of God. Shakespeare drives home the impression of mendacity abroad as he has Gloucester, in his next speech, further attempt to prove his innocence. Recurrent phrases suggesting falseness abound: “foul subornation,” “false accuse,” “false witness,” “suborned to swear,” “false allegations,” “play me false.” The truth of Gloucester's innocence becomes a dramatic reality when his dead body is brought on stage and Warwick swears a “dreadful oath with solemn tongue” that Gloucester has suffered foul play:

As surely as my soul intends to live
With that dread King, that took our state upon him
To free us from his Father's wrathful curse,
I do believe that violent hands were laid
Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke.

(III. ii. 153-57)

This oath, sworn by the gift of Christ to mankind, lends a tone of solemnity and foreboding to the entire scene and dramatizes a typically human reaction to a horrible crime. The phrases suggesting treachery, inconstancy, and hollow friends thicken and mingle with images of birds of prey and reptiles symbolic of the evil and chaos abroad in the land.

As a result of Gloucester's murder, the commoners rise up and demand retribution against Suffolk. Henry, finally shocked into decisive action, banishes Suffolk. His manner of doing so further dramatically illuminates his own character. He swears,

For, sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy
Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means.
And therefore, by His majesty I swear,
Whose far unworthy deputy I am,
He shall not breathe infection in this air
But three days longer, on the pain of death.

(III. ii. 283-88)

In reply to Margaret's plea for Suffolk, Henry unwittingly reveals his innermost nature:

Had I but said, I would have kept my word,
But when I swear, it is irrevocable.

(III. ii. 293-94)

Though his words follow the conventional pattern, they are in the light of his actions ironical, for had he not broken his oath of betrothal he would not be in his present situation.

Shakespeare now sets about to demonstrate the chaos spawned by a broken oath of allegiance. Although Suffolk gets his just due, the rebel Cade and his gang, goaded by York, try to take power into their hands. Cade vows to crown himself king, to make learning a sin, to put to death all scholars, lawyers, courtiers, and gentlemen. In this portrayal of treachery and revolution all the accepted values are overturned. But this is on the level of parody; next we see real usurpation. The whole of Act V deals with the problem of allegiance to the King.

York, returning from Ireland accompanied by many troops, is interrogated by Buckingham as to whether his intentions are honorable and why he has raised troops without the King's permission, “Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn.” When York is informed that Somerset has been sent to the Tower, he dismisses his soldiers only to regret it when Somerset and Margaret appear. Henry issues orders that Margaret “hide him [Somerset] from the Duke.” Once again Henry's capability for deceit is consummately demonstrated. York, all submission and humility a few moments earlier, now has an excuse to upbraid Henry:

False King! Why hast thou broken faith with me,
Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse?
King did I call thee? No, thou art not King,
Not fit to govern and rule multitudes,
Which darest not, no, nor canst not rule a traitor.
That head of thine doth not become a crown.
.....                    By heaven, thou shalt rule no more
O'er him whom Heaven created for thy ruler.

(V. i. 91-96, 104-5)

Now York's intentions are in the open, and the prominence of the themes of allegiance and rightful possession of the throne firmly establish them as a frame of meaning to circumscribe the subsequent action of the play.

When the business of allegiance needed to be dramatized visually on stage, Shakespeare frequently used the ceremony of kneeling, a commonplace on the Elizabethan stage. But in the Henry VI plays this gesture of respect does more than reinforce the dramatic meaning of a scene. Kneeling assumes a wider symbolic meaning, which reverberates throughout the last two parts of the trilogy. The crosscurrents of loyalties and disloyalties are focused on the willingness of a character to kneel to Henry: Iden enters with Cade's head and as he kneels to Henry is made Knight; Clifford kneels to Henry, but refuses to honor York's claim; York refuses to bow to anyone. His refusal to kneel carries with it an implication wider than the deed itself. His act epitomizes the significance of the oath of allegiance. With the entrance of support for both factions, the stage is set for the showdown. When Henry sees that York has more support than he, he laments, “Where is faith? Where is loyalty?”

Central to the structure projected in this portion of the play is the growing doubt of Henry's rightful possession of the crown. Shakespeare symbolizes the idea as Salisbury refuses to kneel. Unable to control the situation, Henry falls back on the oath of allegiance to him in an attempt to prevent open revolt, to maintain order, and to keep his crown. He asks Salisbury, “Canst thou dispense with heaven for such an oath?” (V. i. 181). Salisbury replies with elaborate casuistry in words which are often a loose paraphrase of the statements of Tudor nondramatic writers about oaths:

It is great sin to swear unto a sin,
But greater sin to keep a sinful oath.
Who can be bound by any solemn vow
To do a murderous deed, to rob a man,
To force a spotless virgin's chastity,
To reave the orphan of his patrimony,
To wring the widow from her customed right,
And have no other reason for this wrong
But that he was bound by a solemn oath?

(V. i. 182-90)¹⁶

Here the Elizabethan concept of an oath is clearly stated: it is not merely a formal promise to a king, but a promise to which God stands witness for human truthfulness. It is a sin to swear to a sinful act, but also a sin to keep a sinful oath. The Queen replies, “A subtle traitor needs no sophister” (V. i. 191). Salisbury twists traditional thinking to suit his own purposes. His words support the philosophy of the day, but the point he refuses to establish is whether or not his oath of allegiance to Henry was, in fact, unlawful. He is engaging in the political tactic of equivocation. As a result, Henry flees and the frame of disorder becomes real, not because a vindictive God has punished evildoers but because men would not honor their word.

At this point Shakespeare leaves the problem of rightful succession, but the fact that he brings Henry's title into question prepares the groundwork for the alacrity with which Henry eventually yields to York's claim. Henry's realization that his claim is weak lends credence to his readiness to adopt York as heir, but in so doing he repudiates his rightful duty to his son, abrogates his oath as king, and paves the way for violence. For Henry as king, as deputy of God, had taken an oath to uphold the crown. He is subject only to God, but responsible to God to act as pastor to his subjects.

3 HENRY VI

Permeating the entire structure of 3 Henry VI are broken oaths, broken vows, and perjury. They serve as vehicles for dramatizing the themes of degree, allegiance, and lawful succession and the resulting chaos when any one of these is disregarded. Like a musician, Shakespeare states each theme, accompanies it with appropriate imagery, enlarges, embellishes, and enriches it as he interweaves all together. The first two scenes of Part 3 explore one theme after another and build up a complexity of general dissension and vacillating, disloyal characters. In scene one, the Parliament House in London, Warwick goads York into committing dramatically his act of usurpation by actually seating himself on the throne. Warwick gives York his support:

                    Victorious Prince of York,
Before I see thee seated in that throne
Which now the House of Lancaster usurps,
I vow by Heaven these eyes shall never close.
This is the palace of the fearful King,
And this the regal seat. Possess it, York,
For this is thine, and not King Henry's heirs'.

(I.i.21-27)

Reminiscent of Lucifer of the mystery drama, York, like the first rebel of English drama, goads his antagonist. Henry retorts: “My Lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits, / Even in the chair of state” (I. i. 50-51). Momentum builds as Henry, intent on defeating York, incites Northumberland and Clifford by reminding them of their fathers' deaths at the hands of York and of their vowed revenge “On him, his sons, his favorites, his friends.” Northumberland answers with a vow and a self-imprecation, “If I be not, Heavens be revenged on me!” Clifford adds his vow and the pattern of revenge emerges.

The ceremony of kneeling, notably extended and enriched throughout Part 3, now assumes the symbolic burden of all the broken oaths in the play. Henry now demands of York:

Thou factious Duke of York, descend my throne,
And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet.
I am thy sovereign.

(I.i.74-76)

York refuses, and they bicker back and forth as Shakespeare with tireless iteration has Warwick incite Northumberland and Clifford by reminding them once more that they had sworn revenge for the death of their fathers. Warwick's goad evokes another oath from Northumberland and the tempo increases. A note of irony enriches the texture of the play when Henry extracts from York a “solemn oath” that he cease civil war and allow Henry to reign in peace on the condition that the crown pass to York at Henry's death. York swears, “This oath I take and will perform.” York's attitude toward his oath dispels any hope of lasting reconciliation. The structure of meaning here is closely connected with recurring and interrelated broken oaths by and to Henry.

The entire architecture of Act I, scene two, turns on York's attitude toward his oath. Edward first broaches the subject of perjury as he suggests to his father, “Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now.” York counters with, “I took an oath that he should quietly reign.” Edward maintains that the end justifies the means and says,

But for a kingdom any oath may be broken,
I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year.

(I.ii.16-17)

Clever Richard mollifies York with, “No, God forbid your Grace should be forsworn,” and promises to prove that York can have the crown without perjuring himself. Richard argues:

An oath is of no moment, being not took
Before a true and lawful magistrate
That hath authority over him that swears.
Henry had none, but did usurp the place.
Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose,
Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous.
Therefore to arms!

(II.ii.22-28)

York readily agrees to a course of action he already desires, but the important point is that even he hesitates, if only momentarily, to break an oath. To understand the probable impact of this scene on an Elizabethan audience, one has only to recall the punishment for perjury. Once convinced that he might escape punishment for perjury, York becomes adamant, and with utmost irony says, “Richard, enough, I will be king or die.” York, who breaks his oath, expects all other people to do the same and says of Henry, “Trust not simple Henry nor his oaths.” The attitudes of Richard and Edward toward their oaths anticipate dramatically their own disloyalty and revolt. York's broken oath provides Clifford and Margaret with the excuse they need to seize him, crown him ingnominiously with a paper crown, and kill him. As Margaret crowns York, she taunts him:

But how is it that great Plantagenet
Is crowned so soon and broke his solemn oath?
.....O, 'tis a fault too too unpardonable!

(I.iv.99-100, 106)

Margaret's taunt elicits from York a vehement curse against her. He ends his curse with a cry of vengeance for Rutland's death. Not deterred by the curse, Clifford and Margaret stab him. Clifford gets revenge with, “here's for my oath, here's for my father's death.”

Shakespeare now shifts the scene back to his weak anti-hero who, led by the Queen, has broken his vow to York. True to his nature, Henry disclaims responsibility and appeals to God to withhold revenge: “Withhold revenge, dear God! 'Tis not my fault, / Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow” (II.ii.7-8). Even though Henry professes innocence, Shakespeare places the responsibility squarely on his shoulders. The passage from Hall dealing with this incident indicates that Shakespeare was following his source.¹⁷ Dramatically he is reminding the audience that before the sons of York can, as they suggest they will, “overshine the earth,” they must do something about Henry who still wears the crown, but has vowed to pass it to York or his heirs.

Warwick takes up the thread of broken oaths as he reports that Queen Margaret is marching toward London with the intent to dash the decree of Parliament “touching Henry's oath” and Edward's succession. Warwick recalls for the audience Henry's oath:

He swore consent to your succession,
His oath enrollèd in the Parliament;
And now to London all the crew are gone
To frustrate both his oath and what beside
May make against the House of Lancaster.

(II.i.172-76)

From the point of view of his enemies, Henry has broken another oath.

To stage the fluctuations and complexities of allegiance, reversed allegiance, and the sanctity of oaths, Shakespeare repeats with subtle variations the ceremony of kneeling which epitomizes the meaning of the last half of the play. In ordinary circumstances on the Elizabethan stage, one kneels to the duly constituted authority. But that is just the point Shakespeare has been working up to and is now exploring more fully. Who is the duly constituted authority? To underscore this point Shakespeare repeats with almost complete inversion an earlier scene. In Act I, scene two, he explores the oath of allegiance of York to Henry; now in Act II, scene two, he probes Henry's oath to York and his heirs. Edward enters with his brothers and attendants; he immediately demands that Henry kneel to him—that is, acknowledge him as the duly constituted King. He says to Henry:

Now perjur'd Henry! Wilt thou kneel for grace
And set thy diadem upon my head,
Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?

(II.ii.80-83)

To Margaret's vehement refusal, Edward insists,

I am his King, and he should bow his knee.
I was adopted heir by his consent;
Since when, his oath is broke, for, as I hear,
You, that are King, though he do wear the crown,
Have caused him, by new Act of Parliament,
To blot out me and put his own son in.

(II.ii.88-92)

Edward's cause gains additional support when Warwick learns of his brother's death and swears an oath of revenge:

Here on my knee I vow to God above,
I'll never pause again, never stand still,
Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine,
Or fortune given my measure of revenge.

(II.ii.29-32)

Edward drops to his knees beside Warwick and vows to chain his soul to that of the “setter up and plucker down” of kings. The reverse of this scene appears when Edward, as King, demands that Warwick

Speak gentle words, and humbly bend thy knee,
Call Edward king, and at his hands beg mercy?

(V.i.22-23)

Warwick refuses, reminds Edward who had made him king, and demands that Edward call him patron or he'll find himself Duke of York again. Yet another variation of this theme in a minor key and highly ironic tone occurs when Henry's son encounters the sons of York. The Prince demands that Edward resign his chair and kneel to him. Thus the oath of allegiance made visual by the ceremony of kneeling thrusts in many ways into the dramatic construction. The oath or vow usually has its course as the utterer endeavors to make it come to pass; the action of the play alters as the course of the oath does: many oaths carry the irony of the play.

In one of the subtlest scenes in early Shakespeare (III.i.), King Henry explores the sanctity of the oath of allegiance which has already been broken repeatedly on stage. Henry has of his own volition and in the face of great peril returned to England “even of pure love” for his homeland. As the keepers appear they tell the disguised Henry that they, the subjects of King Edward, are “sworn in all allegiance,” and will apprehend Henry, the enemy of the King. Henry asks them, “But did you never swear and break an oath?” The second keeper replies, “No never such an oath nor will not now.” Henry timidly suggests that he is the rightful King:

And you were sworn true subjects unto me.
And tell me, then, have you not broke your oaths?

(III.i.78-79)

The keeper replies negatively, “For we were subjects but while you were king.” Henry's answer probes the vacillating allegiance of the common man and recalls the same observation made by Cade in Part 2:

Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear!
Look, as I blow this feather from my face,
And as the air blows it to me again,
Obeying with my wind when I do blow
And yielding to another when it blows,
Commanded always by the greater gust,
Such is the lightness of you commen men.
But do not break your oaths, for of that sin
My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty.

(III.i.83-91)

Succinctly in this speech Shakespeare reveals the common people as a vacillating horde unable to think for themselves and interested only in self-preservation. Henry expresses poetically what Pistol describes more earthily in Henry V: the oaths of common people “are but wafer cakes” easily broken. Henry realizes that had his subjects valued their oaths to him, he would not now be on his way to prison and ultimately to death, but what Henry does not realize is that he is no better than those he criticizes: had he honored his own oath he would not be facing the extreme penalties of loss of freedom and loss of life.

Shakespeare relentlessly drives home the theme of broken oaths, deceit, and treachery. He has already established Edward as a perjurer once when he broke his oath to the Mayor of York (IV.vii.23-24). He makes him a second-time perjurer when he repeats with only slight variation the broken marriage vow as Edward marries Lady Grey after having sent Warwick to seek the hand of the sister of the French King, an alliance that might have brought peace and order. Ironically at the exact moment that Warwick is swearing to the French King that Edward's love for Lady Bona is “the eternal plant” whereof the root was “fixed in Virtue!” a messenger from Edward enters with the news that Edward has broken his word and has married Lady Grey. Again, with the iteration of a schoolmaster, Shakespeare demonstrates that war results from a king's broken oath: Margaret, supported by the King of France, and Warwick, irked by Edward's broken word, prepare for war. Clarence, too, switches to Warwick's side against his brother-king, an abrogation of two loyalties, only to revert later to Edward with the vow to be “no more unconstant.” Warwick tags him “traitor, perjured, and unjust,” a tag which sticks to him. When Warwick by a gesture recalls the oath of allegiance that Clarence had taken to King Henry, Clarence responds that

To keep that oath were more impiety
Than Jephthah's when he sacrific'd his daughter.

(V.i.89-91)

When Clarence's perjury is recalled by the three sons of York as they stab Prince Edward, the theme of perjury assumes structural significance.¹⁸ The layers of irony coalesce as Edward, committing his third perjury, labels the twice-perjured Clarence “perjured George,” and, as Clarence in his turn stabs the Prince, he does so with his words: “And there's for twitting me with perjury” (V.v.40). Only moments later Clarence's regards for his oath is subjected to ironical scrutiny. The distraught Margaret, forced to witness the murder of her son, begs Clarence to stab her. He swears by heaven that he will do her no such favor. At her insistence, he replies that he cannot because he has sworn. Margaret chides:

Aye, but thou usest to forswear thyself.
'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity.

(V.v.75-76)

The confirmation of Clarence as a perjurer supports the structural value of the theme, which carries over and becomes one of the dominant features of Richard III. Shakespeare has now held up for the audience to judge the word of every major and minor character and has only to complete the pattern of deceit and disloyalty with the murder of Henry, the ultimate act of treachery and disorder, and the development of Richard, the self-styled “Judas,” who will become in his own play the prime example of all the duplicity which has only begun in the Henry VI plays.

Notes

1. A. E. Crawley, “Oath,” Encyclopedia of Religion and Ethics, ed. James Hastings (Edinburgh, 1917), IX, 43.

2. Statutes of the Realm, (London, 1819), I Eliz. Chap. 1.

3. James Morice, A Briefe Treatise of Oathes (London, n.d.), sig. A2.

4. Articles Whereupon It Was Agreed by the Archbishoppes and Bishoppes (London, 1571), sig. D1.

5. Certayne Sermons, or Homilies (London, 1547), sig. L3, M1.

6. Ibid., sig. M1^v.

7. R. Cosin, An Apologie for Sundrie Proceedings by Jurisdiction Ecclesiasticall Treating of Oaths (London, 1593), Part 3, p. 9.

8. Certayne Sermons, sig. M3^v, M2^v.

9. Morice, sig. A2. John Bale, A Christen Exhortacion Unto Customable Swearers (London, 1547?), painted a vivid picture of what happens to perjurers: “He shal eyther lose a fyngar, an eare, or els his tonge. For perjury was the noble city of Troy lost” (fol. 26). In the Folger Shakespeare Library a unique poem of 1600, written to be sung to the tune of “Airne Not Too High,” describes the tortures of a Maid servant who forswore herself and, “lies rotting in Hospital unable to die, where many resort daily to see her.”

10. Certayne Sermons, sig. M4.

11. Edward Hall, The Union of the Two Noble and Illustrate Famelies of Lancastre & York (London, 1548), “King Henry the VI” fol. xxvii^v.

12. E. M. W. Tillyard, Shakespeare's History Plays (London, 1948), sees these plays as the demonstration of the vengeance of God on a sinful people; J. P. Brockbank, “Frame of Disorder,” Stratford-upon-Avon Studies 3, (London, 1961) concurs. A. S. Cairncross in the Arden edition mentions that the oath breach is vital and that in Part 3 broken oaths and perjury abound. A. C. Hamilton, The Early Shakespeare (San Marino, 1967) states that Edward's remark that “for a kingdom any oath may be broken,” guides all men's actions.

13. Quotations are taken from Shakespeare, The Complete Works, ed. G. B. Harrison (New York, 1948).

14. Hereward T. Price, Construction in Shakespeare (Ann Arbor, 1951), p. 21.

15. Hereward T. Price, “Mirror-Scenes in Shakespeare,” Adams Memorial Studies, ed. James G. McManaway (Washington, 1948), p. 102.

16. The delicate question of whether or not it was worse to perjure oneself or to keep a sinful oath posed a problem for writers about oaths. The homilist in the sermon on “Swearing and Perjury” cited examples from the scriptures of universal famine sent upon the whole country of the Israelites during the days of Saul because he broke his oath of friendship with the Gabonites and murdered many of them: “And God would not withdraw hys punishment, until the saied offence was revenged, by the death of seven sonnes, or next kinsmen, of King Saule. … But if a man at any tyme shall, either of ignorance, or of malice, promise and sweare, to do any thyng, whiche is either against the lawe of almightye God, or not in hys power to perfourme: let hym take it, for an unlawfull and ungodly othe” (Certayne Sermons, sigs. M2^v, M3^r). Thomas Becon, quoting from the holy Beda said, “If it shall chance at any time we sweare or promise anything unadvisedly, which being kept should turn unto an evil end, … we ought rather to forswear ourselves than, for the eschewing of perjury, we should fall into any other more grievous sin” (“The Invective against Swearing,” Early Works, ed. John Ayre for the Parker Society [Cambridge, 1843], p. 374).

17. Hall, “For as much as Kyng Henry, contrary to his othe, honor and agrement, had violated and infringed, the order taken and enacted in the last Parliament … he was therefore … deprived & dejected of all kyngly honor and regall sovereigntie” (fol. Clxxxv).

18. The sermon on “Swearing and Perjury” cites this unadvised oath of Jephthah's. Clarence is concerned only with achieving his own ends.