I. Introduction
For readers whose first introduction to Shakespeare was through the widely seen film Henry V by Laurence Olivier, it is not surprising that Shakespeare was regarded as a patriotic, nationalistic and militaristic, rather pro-war playwright.Footnote 1 Olivier's Henry V, as Ton Hoenselaars points out in his “Out-Ranting the Enemy Leader”: Henry V and/as World War II Propaganda, was entrenched in the British propaganda effort even before the thought of the film version of the war epic had occurred.Footnote 2 Indeed, the film resulted from an invitation to produce it for the Churchill government.Footnote 3 According to William Shaw, Olivier's film produced uplifting, patriotic propaganda for a war-weary England.Footnote 4 It was the first Shakespeare play produced in Technicolor.Footnote 5
“With several million soldiers fighting in Europe,” writes Bruce Eder, “it wasn't possible to depict Henry's darker, more cynical motivations,”Footnote 6 and as Sara Munson Deats observes, Olivier shapes the play into an emblematic fable of good against evil.Footnote 7 The production involved trimming the play by nearly a half of its length, some of the 1,500 lines removed for propaganda reasons.
For those who consider Henry V to be a pro-war play based on Olivier's rendition, much can be learned by considering the critical parts of the play that Olivier omitted from the film: most of the heinous atrocities stated in the ultimatum of Exeter in the Court of Charles VI, as well as the threatened cruelties in the request of Henry V at the walls of Harfleur for the city to surrender, the order to kill French prisoners at Agincourt, and the Pistol ransom episode, deprived of all chivalric aspects by the crudeness of couper la gorge language.Footnote 8 The catalogue of potential atrocities threatened by Henry at the Walls of Harfleur (such as the threats of the rape of virgins or the hacking of babies) was, according to Munson Deats, sanitized at Churchill's own request.Footnote 9 The need to delete or sanitize these passages to be able to show a clean, just war—a glorious war—speaks volumes.
Kenneth Branagh's filmic reimagining of Henry V in the 1989 post-Falklands war offers a striking contrast with Olivier's 1944 World War II.Footnote 10 As Shaw points out, Branagh portrays the war not as glorious, but as dirty, painful, and unfair.Footnote 11 It is beyond doubt cruel, and while Branagh, like Olivier, takes certain liberties with the text, most of the truly sensitive scenes are kept and shown somberly in the black and white Branagh film. Munson Deats, considers the film to be a realistic anti-war film, which reflects the less admirable qualities of Henry and shows Agincourt as a muddy stalemate, which concludes with a slow funeral march over a field strewn with corpses.Footnote 12 Notably, however, even Branagh, as Munson Deats, point out, omits the massacre of the French prisoners at the battle of Agincourt.Footnote 13 (As regards myself, I would not call Agincourt a stalemate, as it was a clear English victory.)
That two directors could produce two such different depictions of war working from the same source material is, in many ways, a testament to their creativity and to the context in which they made their films. But the contrast between these two films also suggests an intriguing question as to how Shakespeare's play should be understood—and, more broadly, how Shakespeare himself considered questions of war and peace.
As many of his depictions of themes of war and peace suggest, Shakespeare may well have been patriotic and nationalist. Indeed, could anyone who was neither have written such a moving description of England as the famous one given by John of Gaunt in Richard II?
Or could anyone feeling ambivalent about questions of loyalty to his country have written, in the military context, the St. Crispian speech delivered at the battle of Agincourt (discussed below)?
The question of whether Shakespeare was a pacifist, however, is in many ways a more complex one to answer.Footnote 15 In Shakespeare's times, being openly for or against war would have had a tremendous bearing on the relations among the playwright, the actors and their theatre, the public and, most importantly, the monarchy. In these circumstances, authors had to tread with caution. And given his brilliant ability to speak with a thousand voices, distilling Shakespeare's own sympathies from his plays is no simple task.
That said, given the prominence of war in Shakespeare, and the immensity of literary criticism discussing every aspect of the canon, it is surprising that only a handful of essays have been written on the topic of whether Shakespeare was a pacifist. Jorgensen, in Shakespeare's Military World, takes a hard line, claiming that pacifism is not espoused by a single “admirable” character in Shakespeare.Footnote 16 Despite the ambiguity of the term “admirable,” I question this far-reaching assertion.
Steven Marx, in Shakespeare's Pacifism, meanwhile, argues that Shakespeare “develop[ed] from a partisan of war to a partisan of peace,” with the shift taking place between 1599 and 1603, reflecting a shift in British foreign policy beginning during the late Elizabethan reign and culminating with the accession of James I.Footnote 17 Marx regards 1 Henry VI as clearly militarist and anti-pacifist, and Henry VIII as clearly pacifist, with the king committed to peace in international relations.Footnote 18
In Pacifism and English Literature: Minstrels of Peace, Robert White “question[s] Marx's … argument that ‘a central turning point’ occurred between 1599 and 1603 changing Shakespeare from ‘a partisan of war to a partisan of peace.’”Footnote 19 In White's view, Shakespeare is neither, but rather ambiguous, “a function of the dramatic medium itself.”Footnote 20 The tension between glorification of war and pacifist perspectives operated, in White's opinion, from the beginning of Shakespeare's dramaturgical career.Footnote 21 White points out that even in one of Shakespeare's first plays, Henry VI is represented as a Christian lover of peace and is the only character given the lines of Christ's credo “Blessed are the peacemakers” (discussed below).Footnote 22 The reason why the voices of peace are more muted is largely a result of wars being state sanctioned and supported by public rhetoric, while pacifism is typically voiced by individuals.Footnote 23
I realize that trying to pierce the veil of the canon and identify Shakespeare's attitudes toward war and peace can only be done at this writer's peril. Indeed, we can never discern Shakespeare's own views with total certainty, as his characters may merely be expressing the views and emotions that Shakespeare deemed suitable in the respective situations. This makes drawing conclusions as to what Shakespeare himself thought about war difficult. Nonetheless, in this essay, I will seek to do so, looking not simply at Shakespeare's raw depictions of war but also, and indeed primarily, at Shakespeare's complex and nuanced treatment of the law and ethics of war and of those who take part in waging it. As I shall demonstrate, while many of his earlier plays written before the accession of James I, such as Henry V, Richard II, and Richard III, may appear more patriotic and nationalist in tone than later works like Troilus and Cressida and Henry VIII, Shakespeare had pacifist sympathies throughout the length of his career, though he conveyed his repudiation of war in a variety of ways, drawing upon and reflecting the shifting political sentiments, intrigues, and incidents of England in his day.
This does not mean that his rejection of war was absolute and all-encompassing. While I regard Shakespeare's attitude to most wars as negative, there are certain wars he appears to endorse as just. For example, Shakespeare seems to approve of the war of Malcolm on Macbeth and that of Henry of Richmond against Richard III, both bloody tyrants, and both involved in internal rebellions, as just. However, he appears to condition his acceptance of the justness of war by requiring that the protagonists’ intentions be bona fide—that is, that the protagonists be sincere about the motivations that drive their going to war. Shakespeare thus did not necessarily reject all wars, though, on balance, his leanings were primarily pro-peace in nature, as he condemned unjust wars, sanctioned only a limited number of causes justifying resort to war, required that these causes be invoked in good faith, and favored humane rules of war.
In seeking to trace Shakespeare's pacifist tendencies, I shall primarily resort to the most original of sources: Shakespeare's own words. And I shall endeavor not only to set out what we can learn about Shakespeare himself but also to elucidate what he can teach us about issues that are at the very heart of modern international humanitarian law today.
Chronology
II. The Law of War
War was an endemic condition in the Middle Ages. It wreaked havoc on the common people, particularly the peasants, who were the all-too-frequent victims not simply of armed conflict itself but also of the chaos it would inevitably spawn: of ravaging mercenaries, robbers, and even some knights for whom the temptation to enrich themselves overwhelmed chivalric norms and made plunder of the countryside a way of life.Footnote 25
Indeed, for the warring class—the knights—war was, despite its hardships and horrors, an opportunity to gain glory on the battlefield and to acquire wealth through pillage (whether lawful or not) and ransom. Profit was likewise a motive for the mercenaries so often brought in to do battle. Princes had the additional lure of the prospects of recovering lost territories, acquiring additional ones, satisfying outstanding claims, and enhancing their political as well as economic standing. No less, resort to foreign wars frequently served as a useful tool to divert attention from internal troubles and to unify a nation behind a common cause.Footnote 26
It is no surprise that, given all of this, Shakespeare's Histories—which were set in the Middle Ages—focus to such a great extent on themes of war and conflict, themes that were central to the affairs of state of which he wrote and that gave him an avenue to explore motifs of courage, honor, morality, and patriotism. Nor is it any surprise that Shakespeare was able to offer such a nuanced and frequently quite accurate view of the personalities and court intrigues involved in war-making, drawing as he did on chroniclers such as Hall and Holinshed.Footnote 27
But Shakespeare's Histories represent more than simply an accounting of the most important victories and defeats of the Middle Ages. His Histories (as well as a number of his Tragedies) also reflect a profound understanding of both the principles governing, and the frequent hypocrisy involved in, the waging of war. They delve deep into the requirements of a just war, including the cause or justification of war (jus ad bellum) and the manner in which the war is conducted (jus in bello), and even the results of the war.Footnote 28 They present fascinating insights into the role played by self-interested advisers and raise sharp questions as to the wisdom of going to war and the impact of doing so on those who are neither prince nor knight. They depict humanitarian norms deployed on the battlefield and a code of civilized behavior that is, in some ways, more powerful than anything we may find in the technical language of modern international treaties.Footnote 29 And they offer a portrait of Shakespeare himself as a playwright who—while serving the interests of the Tudor Court by celebrating chivalric ideals and exalting patriotic fervor and loyalty to the Monarch—wrestled with the murky morality of war and showed himself, I would argue, to have pacifist sympathies, or, at the very least, to be a robust critic of violence.
A. Chivalry
For all the chaos and casualties to which war gave rise in the Middle Ages (as it does, far too regrettably, to this day), we must remember that war was not without rules, even then.
During the Middle Ages chivalry was, in many respects, the principal normative system, providing a code of behavior for Christian knights and nobility regardless of nationality, and radiating values to other members of society. The customary principles of chivalry included justice and mercy as well as obligations to serve the community, to abide by one's word, to avenge injustice, to protect the weak, and to refrain from killing the vanquished enemy.Footnote 30 Writers on chivalry compiled treatises and manuals explaining the rules of chivalry, such as the duty to grant quarter to those who surrendered on the battlefield, to treat prisoners humanely and to release them in exchange for ransom, and to protect women, children, other non-combatants, peaceful “civilians,” and so on.Footnote 31 Chivalric norms thus helped to humanize the conduct of war in some ways—even as they also contributed through the just war doctrine to the legitimization of war and thus self-serving justifications for conquest and promotion of war by strengthening the social mystique attached to arms-bearing.
Honor and justice were paramount in the chivalric tradition, and Shakespeare drew upon these and other chivalric themes time and again in his writing. Shakespeare's Suffolk, captured at sea by pirates, refuses to plead for his life, because a true knight prefers death to shame and dishonor (2 Henry VI, IV.i.131, 132), correctly illustrating that shame and dishonor and the sanctions applied for them were preeminent motivations for chivalric behavior. In Richard II, Thomas Mowbray declares that he comes “engagèd by my oath—which God defend a knight should violate” (Richard II, I.iii.17–18). While ceremonially knighting his son, Henry VI cautioned him to always act justly on the battlefield, proclaiming “Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight—and learn this lesson: draw thy sword in right” (3 Henry VI, II.ii.61–62). And when Margaret, the daughter of the king of Naples and the future wife of Henry VI, is taken prisoner by Suffolk in 1 Henry VI, her first reaction is to fear rape. She quickly realizes, however, that Suffolk is a knight and therefore considers herself secure: “he seems a knight / And will not any way dishonour me” (1 Henry VI, V.v.57–58).
The most heroic of Shakespeare's princely knights is, of course, Henry V. Although “a truant … to chivalry” (1 Henry IV, V.i.94) in his youth as Prince Hal, Henry V recognizes the “majesty and power of law and justice” (2 Henry IV, V.ii.77) on his accession to the throne as Henry V. He is ready to submit “his greatness … into the hands of justice” (2 Henry IV, V.ii.110–11). And when, after his victory in Shrewsbury, Henry IV decided to liberate his enemy Douglas “ransomless” in recognition of the latter's great bravery on the battlefield, admired even by his “adversaries,” John of Lancaster described Henry's gesture as “high courtesy” (1 Henry IV, V.v.29–33)—a truly chivalric virtue.
Generally, the rules of chivalry were customary, not statutory, although various royal ordinances of war issued by the kings of England, France, and other countries—including Henry V's famous ordinances promulgated in 1419 and earlier—codified some of the rules of chivalry, as with respect to the protection of women and churches, and the prohibition of rape and plunder.Footnote 32 The chronicler Holinshed explicitly mentions Henry V's proclamations of rules of war,Footnote 33 and they are reflected in the play when Shakespeare's Henry, anticipating the Geneva and the Hague Conventions, declares: “we here give express charge that in our marches through the country there be nothing compelled from the villages, nothing taken but paid for, none of the French upbraided or abused in disdainful language” (Henry V, III.vi.108–12).
Notably, when Captain Fluellen informs the king of the acts of Bardolph, a soldier who stole a pyx or sacred Church vessel, Henry endorses Bardolph's probable execution for this offense (Henry V, III.vi.90–115). Shakespeare reflects here the reality of enforcement of chivalric rules by military leaders.
Even enforcement of such a basic chivalric rule as giving quarter to the defeated French on the battlefield is not always presented in black and white, however. While the debate whether the massacre of the French, largely knights, in Agincourt was justified by military necessity or reprisals will no doubt continue, Shakespeare's own ambivalence is suggested by Gower's ironic comment: “Wherefore the King most worthily hath caused every soldier to cut his prisoner's throat. O ‘tis a gallant king” (Henry V, IV.vii.8–10). Though, of course, the question here, as in any Shakespearian text, is whether the irony is Shakespeare's own or his character's.
By the time of Shakespeare, chivalry was in decline and Shakespeare would have been well aware of this.Footnote 34 If his references to chivalric values appear idealized at times (as underscored by his treatment of possible breaches of these norms), I do not believe this was solely for literary or even nostalgic effect, however. Rather, he may have been trying to ensure the revival of these values and thereby to appeal for the application of humane rules of war. In the intolerant climate that prevailed in England at the time, writing about times past was the safest way to convey such notions. As someone who would be called a humanist today, Shakespeare would have favored respect for the humane rules of war. Of course, there is no contradiction between condemning war and encouraging humanity in war.
B. Just War
Chivalric norms were not the only principles guiding warfare in the Middle Ages. During that period, European jurists recognized the existence of what was known as the law of nations, or jus gentium.Footnote 35
The law of nations—as depicted in the works of contemporary jurists—was not codified in a treaty, as much of international law is today. Rather, the law of nations was understood to refer to the customary law common to all known legal systems.Footnote 36 It was an extension to human affairs of natural law, or jus naturale. By many accounts, the law of nations derived from both Roman legal theory and canon law.Footnote 37 And much of the law of nations (as it was depicted in the literature of the time) was devoted to the law relating to war, addressing not only matters such as the conduct of hostilities and the division of spoils of war but also subjects such as the just cause of war.Footnote 38
In essence, the doctrine of just war involves ensuring that might serves right—in other words, that war is only waged for a just cause, typically to restore a right that had been violated or to punish those who were responsible for the violation.Footnote 39 Among the accepted just causes to go to war were avenging wrongs, recovery of territories wrongly captured, defense of country and religion, and the reestablishment of peace and serenity (tranquillitas ordinis).Footnote 40 The underlying principle that might shall serve right is, for example, discernible in Macbeth and Richard III, which approve of the notion of rebellions aimed at overthrowing murderous tyrants as just. The Archbishop of York, a leader of the rebellion in 2 Henry IV, gives voice to the idea that war serves to eliminate ills in the society and thus can be seen as a medicine or a tool to necessary bloodletting. War purges “the obstructions” that block “our very veins of life,” cures social and moral disease—it establishes a true peace, as the Archbishop of York puts it well, even in the context of a civil war (2 Henry IV, IV.i.54–66).
Renaissance literature on the law of nations made clear that war may not be resorted to for a just but minor cause.Footnote 41 Other requirements found in the doctrine of just war include the need to exhaust peaceful remedies and to issue a declaration of war (letters of defiance) by the sovereign authority.Footnote 42 In the Renaissance period when Shakespeare wrote his Histories, the law of nations required that an ultimatum be issued before war is declared.Footnote 43 Ideally, the claim should be stated, its basis in the law of nations invoked, and the consequences of non-compliance—in other words, recourse to war—articulated.Footnote 44
Thus, when Shakespeare's King John rejects King Philip's claims on behalf of Arthur, the French Ambassador Châtillon warns that this refusal will trigger a “fierce and bloody war, / To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld” (King John, I.i.17–18). And Constance, despite her role as the driving force for war, insists on the cardinal principle of exhausting remedies: “stay for an answer to your embassy / Lest unadvised you stain your swords with blood” (King John, II.i.44, 45). Shakespeare's Henry V's declaration of war, delivered at the court of Charles VI through Exeter's embassy, follows both Hall's chronicle and the classical requirements of the law of nations. It also includes an ultimatum, threat of “Bloody Constraint” (Henry V, II.iv.97), and a catalogue of the horrors of war the French will encounter if they resist (Henry V, II.iv.76–110).
C. Divine Sanctions
The just war doctrine, by many accounts, found its origins in Christian teachings.Footnote 45 Notably, however, while there is evidence of a strong pacifist tradition in the early Christian Church, the just war doctrine—espoused in the fourth century by Saint Augustine—helped to erode this early anti-war bent by emphasizing the corrective or remedial virtues of just war from a spiritual perspective.Footnote 46 By the Middle Ages, the Church had moved to promising remission of penance to Christian crusaders.Footnote 47 Secular knighthood thus became a Christian vocation.Footnote 48
Shakespeare's Henry IV articulates quite clearly the image of the warring knight as a soldier of Christ going on a crusade for the liberation of the Holy Sepulchre:
In Henry V, Shakespeare goes a step further, suggesting that compliance with just war requirements protects the king from sin and eternal damnation that would otherwise result from recourse to an unjust war that causes the loss of innocent lives (Henry V, IV.iii). When Shakespeare's Henry appears in disguise on the eve of the battle of Agincourt, the soldier William powerfully questions the certainty of the justice of the King's cause and points to the King's spiritual responsibility for the death of soldiers in an unjust war:
But if the cause be not good, the King himself hath a heavy reckoning to make, when all those legs and arms and heads chopped off in battle shall join together at the latter day.
(Henry V, IV.i.133–36)
Just cause was thus important not simply for secular reasons (such as ensuring the validity of the title that Henry and his troops would acquire over the spoils of war; their enjoyment of combatant privileges; and their protection by the laws of war) but also for spiritual reasons (the immortality of the soul).
But Shakespeare also highlights how the justness of a war and notions of divine endorsement could become intermingled, a ready and self-serving support for every leader's argument to go to war (or send others hither). Thus, Henry IV proclaims, in dispatching his officers to take command of the troops, “God befriend us as our cause is just” (1 Henry IV, V.i.120). Richard II, invoking the divine support for his cause, likewise assumes that heaven supports the lawful cause, announcing:
Henry of Richmond's oration to his troops before the decisive battle of Bosworth against Richard III, who was seen as a murderous tyrant, is similarly explicit about the link between a just cause and support from God:
Richard III's “might is right” oration to his troops before the same battle offers a total contrast to Henry of Richmond's invocation of a just cause endorsed by God, as he proclaims:
D. Fallibility of the Just War Doctrine
For all that Shakespeare's plays are replete with depictions of a just war as noble and religiously ordained, however, his plays also point to a profound ambivalence about the just war doctrine and its application. As a consequence, despite the prima facie glorification of just war found in his earlier works and his limited acceptance of certain wars as just, Shakespeare's plays ultimately make plain his pacifist inclination.
As reflected above, in Henry V, Shakespeare's most nationalistic play, the justness of the English cause is presented as accepted wisdom, a seemingly simplistic, almost unquestioned orthodoxy. But even in this play, the patriotic poetry of Henry's Agincourt speech—“if we are marked to die, we are enough to do our country loss; and if to live, the fewer men the greater share of honour” (Henry V, IV.iii.20–22)—and Shakespeare's support for the war are balanced by the Chorus's allusion, in the Epilogue, to the loss of France during the infancy of Henry VI, and to the ultimate futility and the human cost of the campaign (Henry V, Epilogue, 10), as well as by the opportunistic and even collusive nature of the Archbishop's advice that led to war.
The idea that the just will invariably triumph may have been part of the myth of chivalry upon which Shakespeare drew, but his ambivalence about this notion is plain. The justness of the war is also called into question by the paternal advice to Henry V to use wars to distract people from internal difficulties (giddy minds, discussed below). The war of Henry V may have been patriotic, but was it just? Leaving aside for the moment Shakespeare's debunking of the legality of the archbishop's advice of the war's justness, we need only look at the several problematic or at least ambivalent jus in bello aspects, which were at the time part of the just war requirements: the threats of violations of jus in bello in Exeter's ultimatum to the court of Charles VI (the bloody constraint speech) (Henry V, II.iv.97–108);Footnote 49 Henry's threats at the walls of Harfleur (Henry V, III.iii.84–126);Footnote 50 and the denial of quarter and the massacre of the French in the battle of Agincourt (Henry V, IV.vi.35–39).Footnote 51 Nonetheless, and despite the Canterbury collusion, it is noteworthy that the Chorus tells us that Henry V is “free from vainness and self-glorious pride” (Henry V, V. Opening Chorus, 20), and in its final speech that he “most greatly lived / This star of England” (Henry V, Epilogue, 5–6). This suggests some mitigation of the criticism of the justness of Henry's war.
Moreover, while in theory, the justness of war depended on both a just cause and a declaration of war by a sovereign authority, over time, they metamorphosed into the same thing—a declaration of war, a public war, necessarily implied the justness of such a step.Footnote 52 Since both belligerents could claim, as they usually did, that their war was just, bellum nostrum justum, the whole moral foundation of the just war doctrine was losing its credibility.Footnote 53 Indeed, by emphasizing self-serving invocations of just cause and suggesting that both parties could be just or both unjust, Shakespeare's plays tend to question the theories justifying recourse to war.
Troilus frames the issue perfectly, albeit in a different context: “O virtuous fight, / When right with right wars who shall be most right” (Troilus and Cressida, III.ii.167–68). As another example of conflicting claims of just cause, this time in a civil war, Warwick's exchange with Prince Edward is notable. The former, a supporter of York, claims that “York in justice puts his armour on,” causing the latter, King Henry VI's son, to retort, sarcastically, “If that be right which Warwick says is right, / There is no wrong, but everything is right” (3 Henry VI, II.ii.131,132).
The anti-war message is at its strongest at the walls of Angers, a city owing and recognizing allegiance to the king of England. John of England and Philip of France and their troops confront each other at Angers. The rituals of claims alleging the justness of the war are followed, with both parties asserting that they are in the right, and even using some of the same language. The situation devolves, leaving Philip the Bastard, Lady Falconbridge's illegitimate son by King Richard I, who is subsequently knighted as Sir Richard Plantagenet, to bemoan the abandonment of principle in his famous soliloquy on the opportunism (“commodity”) that rules the world: “Since kings break faith upon commodity, / Gain, be my lord, for I will worship thee” (King John, II.i.598–99). Having started with grandiose claims of dynasty and just cause, the play concludes with depictions of the stupidity and futility of war, and of the hypocrisy and meaninglessness of claims of just war.
Shakespeare's ambivalence about the just war doctrine and how it is observed in practice is further illustrated by the episode in Troilus and Cressida concerning discussions in the Trojan council after the Achaian peace proposal premised on the return of Helen and waiver of war reparations. Hector the Trojan supports the proposal and takes an anti-war stand, perhaps encouraged by King Priam's apparent hesitations. Shakespeare offers a remarkable discussion of the requirement that even in antiquity a war must have a just cause. Hector asserts that the Trojans are fighting an unjust war, that Helen “is not worth what she doth cost the holding” (Troilus and Cressida, II.ii.50–51) and that she does not belong to the Trojans (Troilus and Cressida, II.ii.21). Therefore, the moral laws of nature and of nations require that Helen be returned (Troilus and Cressida, II.ii.172–87).
No one challenges Hector's view that the war is unjust. Nonetheless, other considerations prevail, and despite strong reservations, Hector responds to his comrades’ appeals to honor and solidarity and joins the advocates of war, an unjust war that leads to the destruction of Troy (Troilus and Cressida, II.ii). Shakespeare does not necessarily discredit here the doctrine of just war as such, but rather criticizes those who invoke it for self-serving reasons and questions how it is observed in practice.
E. Legal Advisors
Princes, it should be noted, did not reach their conclusions as to the justness of a war on their own. To the contrary, the determination of whether a cause was just or not was complex, so a prince would have great difficulty assessing the legal aspects of, for example, a complicated dynastic dispute. Princes were not thoroughly schooled in the law of nations and needed expert advice, and advisers played an important role in medieval courts.Footnote 54
For all of these reasons, resort to expert advice was necessary. However, most medieval courtiers were wary of offending or embarrassing a king, who, anointed by God, must not be contradicted or challenged. Questioning the king on any important matter would not only endanger the counselor's career, it risked his life as well.Footnote 55 Consider, for instance, Richard III, in which Buckingham's initial hesitation to become the instrument for killing King Edward's children leads to Richard's anger, creating an immediate threat to Buckingham's survival in the royal court (Richard III, IV.ii.10–27). As a result, consultations about the justification for recourse to war could easily lead away from a principled approach.
Let us now turn to the famous exchange between Henry V and the Archbishop of Canterbury, the senior English ecclesiastic, to whom Henry turns for assurance that the English war against France is just and, especially, for an answer to whether the Salic law disqualifying women and the female line from succession to the Crown of France bars his claim.
Aware of the inevitable loss of blood in a major war, Henry demands an honest opinion from Canterbury (Henry V, I.ii.9–20), whose role was much like that of a legal advisor to a government today. Canterbury's response is categorical, stating that Henry's cause is unquestionably just (Henry V, I.ii.33–95). Not satisfied, Henry insists, asking, “May I with right and conscience make this claim?” and Canterbury gives the most solemn even if perhaps ambivalent guarantee an ecclesiastic can give, invoking “the sin upon my head” (Henry V, I.ii.96–97). Canterbury concludes by alluding to the symbols of war, “blood and sword and fire” (Henry V, I.ii.131) that will serve to win Henry's right. Henry also consults with and receives enthusiastic support for the war from secular lords, Exeter and Westmorland, the latter referring also to the element of power: “[Y]our grace hath cause; and means and might” (Henry V, I.ii.125).
The debate is over, the procedures have been scrupulously followed with perfect results, and Henry V is satisfied. Yet at the same time, Shakespeare presents the Archbishop's arguments as self-serving, cynical, and opportunistic and opaque. He does so by having the Archbishop's arguments (wrongly attributed to Henry Chichele) reveal to the Bishop of Ely earlier and in private that he provided the King not only with a validation of a just cause but also with funds to support the war (Henry V, I.i.70–82). All the while, the Archbishop is using Henry to forestall expropriations of church property.
I do not mean to suggest that all fault lies with the Archbishop. We must remember too that Henry IV's lesson to his son was:
so that his father's usurpation of Richard II's crown would be forgotten.
In the above episode of Henry V, as well as in the episode of Troilus and Cressida which I discussed earlier, however, Shakespeare demonstrates the vulnerability of the normative principle of just war. He first sets out the principle, even offering justifications for adherence to it. But he then depicts the subordination of the principle to more practical—and more opportunistic—concerns, ultimately leaving recourse to war without an honestly articulated just cause (and evincing, I would suggest, his underlying pacifist sympathies). Questionable justifications for resorting to wars, whether dynastic or security based, have continued unabated. Consider the war against Iraq to destroy alleged weapons of mass destruction, for example.
Sara Munson Deats writes that Shakespeare chose to open Henry V with a scene of plotting between the prelates that shows the Church's support of the war to be a bribe intended to encourage Henry to ignore a bill stripping it from property, and thus tainted by self-interest and calling into question the justness of his cause.Footnote 56 William Shaw makes the very interesting point that the mention of the offstage pact between the Archbishop and the king (Henry V, I.i.70–89) is followed by onstage behavior before the Court where the king conceals from the nobility any information about prior discussions and permits the Archbishop to produce his “bogus” claim as a legitimate excuse for the invasion.Footnote 57 In Shakespeare's depiction, the quid pro quo is never mentioned, and the nobility is given no hint of the self-serving comportment by the king or the clergy. Thus, Shakespeare departs from Holinshed, who had the Archbishop at least state his intentions before the commons, rather than privately to the king, making them look worse.Footnote 58
F. Honor and War
The passage involving Hector the Trojan from Troilus and Cressida discussed above epitomizes how the principle of a just war can be deliberately misinterpreted, undermined, or subverted by other, often self-serving or face-saving goals. Indeed, this is just one of many instances where face-saving as an aspect of honor is a cause of war.
Of course, honor has also positive aspects as courage, loyalty, and sacrifice, as Henry V demonstrates in the striking poetry of his St. Crispian speech:
But honor also has negative aspects, especially as invoked for wars, violence, and bloodshed.
Indeed, Shakespeare demonstrates that wars are often, if not necessarily always, called for reasons that have nothing to do with their justness: for trivial reasons and for exaggerated notions of honor or to save face. Honor was all, and even petty or imagined slights led to endless private wars in which the real losers were peasants, abused by warriors whose code of honor was devoid of concern for the less fortunate. Pursuit of honor was central to the theory and practice of chivalry, which Shakespeare embraces, even if it involves the need to die for a worthy cause. Lord Talbot's words to his son in 1 Henry VI epitomize this:
Nonetheless, he is equally aware of the pernicious potential of exaggerated or vain honor, including outside the framework of war, such as in challenges of single combat undertaken for entirely trivial insults. When Vernon and Basset ask Henry VI to grant them combat to resolve the completely insignificant quarrel, Shakespeare's king angrily responds:
Face-saving and the sometimes exaggerated demands of honor were thus used as a justification of war and combat, as we have already seen in our discussion of just war in Troilus and Cressida. The humiliation involved in losing face was also a powerful factor weighing against compromise.
The famous pro-utilitarian statement of Sir John in 1 Henry IV disparages the excessive notion of honor:
Well, ‘tis no matter; honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? How then? Can honour set-to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word ‘honour’? What is that ‘honour’? Air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? He that died o’ Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. ‘Tis insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism.
(1 Henry IV, V.i.128–40)
Likewise, in the Pistol/French knight episode in Henry V, Shakespeare debunks the honorable aspects of ransom, having Pistol describe the alternative (couper la gorge) (Henry V, IV.vi.36–38). Again, just as with regard to Gower, we are left uncertain whether these are Shakespeare's own views on excessive resort to the notion of honor, or those of his characters.
III. The Faces of War
In celebrating chivalric virtues and rules of restraint and underscoring the hypocrisy and inherent dangers of the just war doctrine, Shakespeare made plain, I would suggest, his pacifist sympathies. But nowhere are his leanings more clear than in his depictions of the utter futility and devastation of war.
Indeed, the symbols of war for Shakespeare are “famine, sword, and fire” (Henry V, Prologue), and he shows no ambivalence in referring to “This churlish knot of all abhorred war” (1 Henry IV, V.i.16) and war as “cruel” (Timon of Athens, IV.iii.60) and the “son of hell” (2 Henry VI, V.iii.33). Shakespeare's canon is replete with negative references to war, attesting to an underlying anti-war sentiment. This sentiment is made even more compelling by the powerful anti-war and pro-peace speeches, amounting, I would suggest, to a critical mass of textual evidence.
Joan of Arc, who is not always presented positively in the first tetralogy, makes a pro-peace speech in 1 Henry VI:
We may look as well to the Duke of Burgundy, in his famous speech during the peace negotiations following the French defeat in Agincourt:
In the same play and context, King Charles of France asks Henry to marry his daughter in order that:
Shakespeare denounces the brutality and bloodiness of war even in a just and patriotic war, like that of Henry V against Charles VI, as shown in the ultimatum Exeter delivers to the French King's court:
Henry V similarly offers a disturbing catalogue of horrors, some questionable then, today undoubtedly war crimes, in his speech before the walls of Harfleur, threatening retribution if Harfleur refuses to surrender, by denying quarter, resorting to mass slaughter of both civilians and combatants, including women, infants, and the aged, and engaging in pillage and rape (Henry V, III.iii.84–126).
Notably, in this episode, Henry V's threats are only threats and, as Harfleur surrendered, are never carried out. Henry V could argue that an acceptance of his ultimatum would, in fact, save lives. And his declarations reflect the medieval legal rule that a city taken by assault was subject to sack and massacre and that in such situations the defeated could not count on being given quarter. But Shakespeare suggests that that imprimatur is tainted by collusion and self-interest.
Troilus and Cressida, a decidedly anti-war play, offers—through Cassandra and others—unparalleled images of slaughter. It notably coincided with the accession to the throne of James Stuart, a pacifist, as shown in his first speech to Parliament:
The first of those blessings which God hath jointly with my person sent unto us. … Peace abroad with all foreign neighbors. … I found the state embarked in a great and tedious war and only by my arrival here and by the Peace in my person is now amity kept where war was before … the towns flourish, the merchants become rich, the trade doth increase and the people of all sorts of the land enjoy free liberty. …Footnote 59
In Troilus, war was reduced from the epic to the satiric, and from the chivalric to the simply bloody and chaotic.Footnote 60 Here, war was no longer a corrective for an imperfect peace. Rather, it was a senseless slaughter leading to the annihilation of Troy.
Hamlet unquestionably offers the most powerful statement of the futility of war, in a speech against sacrificing thousands of lives for trivial causes. A captain explains to Hamlet the purpose of Fortinbras’ military expedition against Poland in this way:
Hamlet is then left alone to deliver his moving soliloquy on war. Notably, Hamlet juxtaposes his profound concerns about the impending death of thousands of people for reasons that appear unworthy to him, and the importance he attributes to honor:
Even the most patriotic of Histories, Henry V, ends with the chorus in the Epilogue movingly acknowledging the futility of war and of the conquests achieved by Henry V at the cost of so many lives by reflecting that his successor “lost France and made England bleed” (Henry V, Epilogue, 12).
The futility of violence goes of course beyond war. Think of the useless tragedy in Romeo and Juliet and Troilus and Cressida where lovers are kept apart by violent and senseless feuds.
Perhaps the most moving passages are those found in 3 Henry VI, describing a civil, fratricidal war in which members of the same family fight on different sides of the conflict. Shakespeare tells the story of a soldier who, while searching a corpse for gold coins discovers that he has unknowingly killed his father, and of a father who finds that he has unwittingly killed his only son (3 Henry VI, II.v.61–72, 82–93,103–06, 109–22). King Henry proclaims:
The senseless ravages of war, King Henry seems to suggest, know no justification.
Given Shakespeare's reservations with regard to war, what was his attitude to soldiers? Shakespeare's vision of soldiers is complex. On the one hand, he depicts common soldiers as braggarts, coarse and bombastic, even violent and bloodthirsty. In the midst of a military campaign (the siege of Harfleur), for instance, he pokes fun at the language of Fluellen and Mac Morris (Henry V, III.iii). In Shakespeare's famous Seven Ages of Man, Jacques has this description of a soldier:
In Henry V, the Duke of Burgundy speaks of soldiers as “savages” “That nothing do but meditate on blood” (Henry V, V.ii.60). And with regard to Coriolanus, Shakespeare suggests that it is dangerous to give power to those who have been groomed in violence. As a peacetime leader, Coriolanus remains a soldier, excessively bloodthirsty and aristocratically contemptuous of the people, unable to engage in diplomacy:
But the soldier's toughness has also a positive side. He is plainspoken, straightforward and sincere. He does not use the courtiers’ flourished language and speaks from his heart. Othello, for instance, is aware of his inaptitude when it comes to communicating with people: “Rude am I in my speech, And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace. … And little of the great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broils and battle” (Othello, I.iii.81–87).
And in courting Catherine, Henry emphasizes that he doesn't have the “gift to woo … like these fellows of infinite tongue that can rhyme themselves into ladies’ favours” and that he speaks with the sincerity of a soldier: “I speak to thee plain soldier … take a fellow of plain and uncoined constancy … take a soldier, take a king” (Henry V, V.ii.150–67).
But while gently deriding Henry's clumsiness as a soldier in talking to women (thus making him more human), Shakespeare greatly admires the eloquent oratory of Henry as a general addressing his troops on the eve of the Agincourt battle in the splendid rousing speech of St. Crispian's Day.
IV. Humanism and Mercy
Time and again, Shakespeare goes beyond war and violence to promote humane values more generally. He speaks out, for instance, against the abuse of force, praising, in Sonnet 94, “They that have power to hurt and will do none.”Footnote 61 In Measure for Measure, Isabella advocates a similar attitude of self-restraint by the powerful:
Beyond that, Shakespeare's emphasis on the value of mercy is extraordinary. Mercy was, of course, one of the fundamental principles of chivalry and is at the core of what we perceive as humanism today, but had a role far beyond it, and Shakespeare refers to it a myriad of times in many of his plays. Nothing demonstrates better his quality as pioneering humanist.Footnote 62
For example, the word mercy appears four times in the speech of Henry V at the Walls of Harfleur (Henry V, III.iii.84–137), where he commands Exeter, upon the surrender of Harfleur, to use mercy to them all. Shakespeare clearly intended to emphasize Henry's humanity, for the order to use mercy is mentioned in neither Hall nor Holinshed.
In emphasizing the signal importance of mercy, Shakespeare was close to the medieval convention that regarded justice and mercy as the twin attributes of kingship, as of course they were of God himself, as articulated by St. Thomas Aquinas in De regimene principum.Footnote 63
The importance attributed to mercy in Henry V was consistent with the esteem he expressed for mercy in his other plays. Mercy was the highest attribute, it was God's quality as it was that of kings, the brave and the noble. “But mercy is above this sceptred sway. It is enthroned in the heart of kings, it is an attribute of God himself” (Merchant of Venice, IV.i.190–92). “Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge” (Titus Andronicus, I.i.119); “Wert thou a man, Thou wouldst have mercy on me” (Antony and Cleopatra V.ii.170–71). And mercy mitigates the severity of the law. “And earthly power doth then show likest God's, When mercy seasons justice” (Merchant of Venice, IV.i.193–94).
V. Conclusion
As I hope I have illustrated, Shakespeare possessed an uncanny and deep understanding of the law of war applicable in his day. In his nuanced treatment of themes of war and peace, of legal justifications for the use of force, and of humanism and mercy, we see early hints of issues central to modern international humanitarian law and its application.
It is true that Shakespeare does not suggest that all wars claimed to be just are unjust, only some of those wars. And if pacifists are defined as persons who reject all wars on grounds of morality, whether just or unjust, then considering Shakespeare a pacifist would be inaccurate or, at the very least, based on inadequate evidence. Indeed, just as Shakespeare seems to accept the justness of the wars against Macbeth and Richard III, would he not likewise have accepted the wars against Nazi Germany or the Islamic State?
But it is also true that Shakespeare's writings demonstrate—through a combination of legal and literary means—a profound uneasiness with war and violence. His protagonists insist on the exhaustion of diplomatic and peaceful remedies, they decry unjust wars—and express skepticism if not outright cynicism about certain wars that are claimed to be justified.
Of course, even today, having rules and observing them are two different things. But Shakespeare's characters go a step further: they show that the justifications driving just war are often self-serving, hypocritical, and opportunistic. Shakespeare's characters deride the claim that war is necessary for the sake of honor or to save face. They bring into relief the unmitigated horrors of war and demonstrate the inescapable futility of war.
All of this paints a portrait of a man who was not only a playwright beyond compare—but also, across the whole of the canon, a powerful voice for restraint, for principle, for peace, against violence, and, simply, for what would today be termed humanism.
