William Shakespeare’s RICHARD II
“I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, My figured goblets for a dish of wood, My scepter for a palmer's walking staff, My subjects for a pair of carved saints and my large kingdom for a little grave.”
King Richard in William Shakespeare’s Richard II Act III, Scene 3
Wood carvings of saints from my own collection
Today is All Saints Day, sometimes called All Hallows' Day — a time to honor and recall saints celebrated on the liturgical calendar, and those people in our lives who have blessed and influenced us. For me, one of those individuals is William Shakespeare, and in Richard II, the king talks about giving up his “subjects for a pair of carved saints.”
From his ascension to the throne as a 10-year old in 1377 until he was deposed in 1399, Richard II reigned as King of England. After challenges from the Peasant’s Revolt and his over-reliance on quarreling courtiers, he governed in moderate peace until he began taking revenge on former opponents. Some historians call his last two years of monarchy “Richard's tyranny.” In June of 1399, his exiled cousin, Henry of Bolingbroke invaded England and usurped the crown. Under mysterious circumstances, Richard died in prison in early 1400.
In the quoted monologue, William Shakespeare portrays a simple, even humble human pondering his future though the man was also an ambitious king who believed he was appointed to his royal office by God. Richard says, “O God, O God,” believing maybe his banishment of Bolingbroke was the wrong choice. Foreseeing what his probable future is, he envisions his tradeoffs: exquisite jewels for lowly beads, rich garments for poor people's clothing, engraved cups for “a dish of wood,” his ornamental sovereign’s staff for a pilgrim’s palm branch, his “subjects for a pair of carved saints,” and lastly, his “large kingdom for a little grave.”
I wonder who his two dearest holy ones were. Were those favored saints carved as the little sculptures he traded for the citizens of his realm? Maybe one was Thomas Becket since Chaucer, who wrote during this period of Richard’s reign, featured the beloved martyr’s pilgrimage site in his Canterbury Tales. In all my years of costuming, I have not yet created clothing for Richard II, but the era is spectacular, filled with the cotehardie, a rich gown with lacing; the houppelande, a robe with long, wide dagged or leaf-like sleeves; and the chaperon, a cap and cape combined. How fun these costumes are to create!
But back to the man who was king. In October of 1399, Richard II was locked up in Pontefract Castle in West Yorkshire, and perished there four months later. Some historians believe he died from a stroke or by self-starvation, some conjecture he was murdered. I feel sad thinking of what he so vividly imagined about his future life — at least according to Shakespeare. Yes, he did surmise he would give up his “large kingdom for a little grave,” but so soon? Was he allowed some simple unadorned beads to grace his neck? Did the castle become a hermitage to him? Was he permitted to take even an hour’s pilgrimage in lowly peasant garb, carrying a palm branch, and his two tiny carved saints in his pocket? When we consider the treachery of the times, probably not. And more than likely, with no “figured goblets,” he declined food in a dish of wood. Maybe he did starve to death.
And back to All Saints Day. In the Episcopal Church to which I belong, the Communion of Saints is reckoned to be a fellowship between the living and the dead, a spiritual union, heaven and earth bound together in one Communion — even those who gather with us during communion. The concept captures the idea that we have a connection with our ancestors — of blood or compatible kinship — in a shared oneness.
When I daily pray for my family, I include my true extended family, my church family, my theatre family, my work family, my former students and former colleagues family, my camp family — some living, some close, some faraway, some beyond the grave. Today, as I light some incense to travel heavenward, I pray for William Shakespeare and King Richard II. I wonder if either ever thought that one day, in 2022, on All Saints day, some future someone would still be remembering them in a meditation.