English 332
Happiness is one of the most sought, but yet one of the most elusive humankind’s wishes. The greatest thinkers in history have all touched the idea of the happiness, and possibly how to attain it. Many Buddhists will avoid any activity that causes pleasure, since they believe that positive physical sensations distract the brain from achieving meaningful moral clarity. In the Western world, the Utilitarian theory that happiness derives from the most amount of pleasure minus the least amount of pain, has really taken off in the last 50 years (with advertising suggesting that instant and temporary satisfaction are better than a drawn out pondering process). Along with those known for thinking, all the good writers have taken a shot at explaining this mysterious force known as happiness—and Shakespeare was a master. He wrote beautifully about so many subjects, including war, love, duty and desire. Happiness was not an exception. But in his early and lengthy work Richard III, William Shakespeare brought a very dark form of happiness into play, one that seems to be immersed in evil and lathered with loathing envy and immorality. Debate rages about Shakespeare’s meaning behind creating such a figure, so dark and having motives so seemingly meaningless aside from creating pain around him. After closer reading, it may be suggested that Shakespeare borrowed (and deformed) an idea from the political theorist Niccolo Machiavelli, who wrote extensively on the idea of power as a vehicle for happiness. Richard III, displaying no remorse for his dirty deeds, may aptly be characterized as an experiment of Machiavelli’s Prince; Shakespeare plays with the ideas of a ferocious lion and a sly fox to illuminate the potential dangers of a two-faced character so brutal and ruthless, yet so smart and cunning. This paper will argue that Shakespeare utilized the character of Richard III to reveal the importance and dangers of language in shaping how one is morally perceived, in a time when most people believed fate trumpet free will.
There lies an existential struggle in the mind of every sentient being. This struggle is hard to fight over one question—what is our purpose, and how may we achieve it? Many, like theologians, will claim that a human’s purpose is to please its creator, through worship and other liturgy. Others, like Socrates, will argue the purpose of life is to cultivate a moral clarity, and use this virtue to live well and be content. A third category, the one Mr. Shakespeare was tapping into, boldly suggests life’s purpose is to grab as much power and pleasure as it is possible. It implies that there is no objective truth, morality, or justice. Truth is defined by the language, and anyone who masters language and the art of discourse will have the authority to define these important ideas. Shakespeare knew this all well, and exploited the audience to this power of words from the start of the play. In the first scene of the first act, Shakespeare deals his audience a dose of Dick the Downer and actually forces the audience to sympathize Richard, as he claimed he had a very difficult time dealing with his deformity. He felt like he was “cheated of feature by dissembling nature,” and if only he could experience “love’s majesty” and be able to
“Strut before a wanton ambling nymph,” he would be satisfied (1.1.16-19). The audience found out later (after Richard displayed confidence in his speech and won the favor of Lady Anne, only to then have her killed) that he had no problem with either courting a woman or dealing with his deformity. What, then, was the drive of this sinister man?
Richard was a lion. He was ruthless and remorseless. He dealt with his victims swiftly and decisively, not afraid to get his hands dirty. In Shakespeare’s other works, the characters felt guilt when blood was spilled on their hands; but in Richard III, the main character was proud, gloating how he got away with such evil doings: “I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. The secret mischiefs that I set abroach I lay unto the grievous charge of others” (1.3.28). He appeared eager and ecstatic when his hired mercenaries arrived, with no thought or word that his morality was being seriously stretched. He instead asked, “How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates!Are you now going to dispatch this deed?” (1.3.40). His comfortable and collected demeanor displayed his confidence in a lack of any meaningful moral fiber. The only way one could be so menacing and still be content is if one knew the art of manipulation.
Richard was a fox. He was sly, cunning, deceitful, and manipulative. He deceived others to get what he wanted, practicing his crafty use of language. He would first swear his love for Lady Anne, convincing her to marry him even though she was fully aware he was responsible for her husband’s murder. He consoled her conscience by claiming “I was provoked by [Queen Margaret’s] slanderous tongue, which laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders” (1.2.89). He also smooths-talked her with his slithering style of speech, slowly surrounding his oblivious victim. For instance, Lady Anne said the only appropriate place for Richard to lay his head was hell, and he replied “one place else, if you will hear me name it,” then followed it up with “your bed-chamber,” very Bond-esqe banter (1.2.164). He then shared his delight in the challenge of wooing her: “Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me, And I nothing to back my suit at all, But the plain devil and dissembling looks, And yet to win her, all the world to nothing! Ha!” (1.2.213-15). He also seemed a bit surprised to see his shady tactics working, but was ready to “see [his] shadow as [he] pass[es],” a clear indication that he was deriving some wicked form of pleasure from his horrible actions (1.2.240). He also manipulated and deceived countless others characters throughout the play, using his sharp tongue to slice through his prey’s psyche, picking the brain’s lock and convincing it of terrible acts.
The power Richard wielded was extremely dangerous when utilized effectively. He knew exactly what he was doing, as he revealed in Act III, “Your grace attended to their sugar'd words,But look'd not on the poison of their hearts,” speaking of others, but referring to his own (3.1.32). Perhaps most disturbingly, Shakespeare made his villain fully aware of his dishonestly playing into the “world’s deceit,” noting “Nor more can you distinguish of a man Than of his outward show; which, God, he knows, Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart” (3.1.6-7). This depicted a man, incurring unimaginable harm upon innocent people by the power of free will, choosing to be deceptive in order to further his own end. Richard’s ability to choose the awful things he did make his character seem all the more emotionally dark, spiritually cold, and morally dead. His intelligence haunted the situation further, as his wits gave him incredible power, however short the duration. The joy Richard seemed to gain from his wicked ways is perturbing, especially when the pleasure comes in such a cool, calm fashion. Only it took more to be a fox than just trick the sheep.
Not only did he trick others, but Richard even convinced himself that the things he was doing were legitimate. He did this by distancing himself from his murders (so his bloody orders did not seem so gruesome) and thinking his acts part of a social norm as long as others are engaging in the same [“I can counterfeit the deep tragedian,” boasted Buckingham (3.5.6)]. He entrusted to himself that the power and pleasure attained from sitting on the highest throne in the land are better than any other form of happiness. The elusive nature of happiness made it especially troubling for Richard, who found himself digging his deceptive grave ever deeper with every bloody command.
Everyone wants to root for a hero, someone they can look up. Shakespeare gave the reader no such luxury in Richard III. Instead, Shakespeare created a character to be loved for the briefest of moments only to be disgusted with the next, a much more emotionally evoking task. The idea of fate suggests Richard was doomed to lie, cheat and steal as an unavoidable piece of the puzzle that comprises the cosmos. However, Shakespeare’s cold-hearted character says “I am determined to prove a villain” from the start, demonstrating his free choice to pursue a life of evil (1.1.33). This truth made it even more difficult for the audience to sympathize, and that was Shakespeare’s intention. He wanted to bait the audience, only to quickly reel it in once the readers bite. He beautifully illustrated the consequences of being taken in a fox willing to deceive and a lion willing to be ferocious and remorseless.
Shakespeare also used the play to demonstrate how easy it can be to get lured in by a sharp-witted tongue, promising happiness for all. This idea has never been more prevalent than it is today, and is a hot-button issue in the US and abroad. The notion that politicians can weasel their way out of shady deals, unexplainable follies, and outright illegal activities, has come out of the shadows and into the spotlight. People talk more and more about the corruption of the political elite, but the slimy aristocracy still slips through the hands of the frustrated commoners. The problem remains something that Shakespeare had a close eye on: conflicts of interest. A world truth remains that change is difficult to come by for those who hold all the power generally have little to gain from change. Richard wanted to be king and wield enormous amounts of power, but would have to stand in an immortally long line to do so. He decided to cheat to get there faster. But even though he utilized his crafty language and made it to the top, he still never found the happiness he desired.
Richard’s artistry took him to amazing heights, only for him to fall fast. He was too much of the lion without enough of the fox. It would have been useful for him to appear moral and have the support of his people, despite his complete absence of moral clarity. Instead, as Shakespeare noted in Act II, Scene III, the common people were very aware of his sly, treacherous nature. In the next act, Richard and Buckingham revealed their deep understanding of the new political system they had created. They needed to continue their lies, as Richard commanded his number two to tell his late brother’s boys, “Edward put to death a citizen, Only for saying he would make his son Heir to the crown” and slowly convincing the aristocracy that he was the right man to hold the throne (3.1.7). The deceit eventually caught up with Richard, and his treacherous ways forced his friends away and brought serious demons to his dreams. His quest for power and pleasure ended as quickly as it began, and with the same empty result.
Shakespeare used the play as a guide, suggesting that death is the fate for all who walk the Richard’s path, and reward the path of the noble, moral knight. Morality was, and is, possibly the most important value that can be taught because it forms the base for all decisions concerning right and wrong. Shakespeare allowed the audience a glimpse of what life looks life in the absence of a firm moral foundation, and the play’s conclusion makes it apparent that a morally sound life is the way to go. This guide also displays the importance of free will, the fact that one may choose his or her path willingly, but must heed caution. There are plenty of foxes and lions in the world, ready to lie, cheat and steal to get to the top. If one is careful in not letting the slick nature of the fox take hold, then one may harness and wield the sharp sword of language, striking down adversaries with simple logic and reason.
William Shakespeare’s play Richard III is so fascinating in that it captures the imagination of audiences in a disturbing and haunting way. The readers never know which Richard they will encounter from act to act, and they yearn to see him change for the better. Through Richard’s ability to dazzle a crowd with his wordplay, Shakespeare created a complex character full of dynamic structure, one minute pouring out heartfelt sentiment and the next laying out a diabolical scheme to take control at any cost. His capability to choose through free will provided the reader no reason to give Richard remorse; after all, he certainly never showed any, what with his ferocious persona of ruthlessness. Power, the vehicle for pleasure, consumed its driver, and Richard raced clean off the track and into the moral maze from which he could not recover. Shakespeare gave his audience fair warning then of a cunning, deceiving trickster in their midst; but does a modern day audience, unaware of the potential danger a skilled and scheming elite possesses, still hear his cry? Only time will tell
Work Cited
Shakespeare, William. "The Life and Death of Richard III." Mit.edu. Massachusetts Institute of Technology, n.d. Web.
