Henry VIII Act Four – “Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues we write in water."

Henry VIII Act Four – “Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues we write in water.”

Although many of the speeches in ‘Henry VIII’ are very characteristic of Shakespeare’s writing, as is the use of gentlemen or citizens talking in the street to reveal at once major events and the attitudes to these events, the long and detailed stage directions (particularly evident in Act Four of ‘Henry VIII’) are not a convention used by Shakespeare to this degree. This suggests the heavy hand of Fletcher on much of the action of Act Four of this play. However, much of the dramatic impact comes from Shakespeare’s carefully crafted dialogue, dramatic speeches and memorable individual lines. In Act Four of 'Henry VIII' we Shakespeare is a master building dramatic action through perspective, dramatic intention, tonal changes and emotional shifts.

Act Four of ‘Henry VIII’ starts at Anne Bullen’s coronation but we are given these events from the perspective of two gentlemen in the street. The two gentlemen, who have not met since Buckingham's trial, talk about the happy events of the coronation. They mention that Katharine is now to be called "Princess Dowager". The procession of the coronation passes the gentlemen as they comment on Anne Bullen’s virtues and the various offices people have been appointed to. Then the Third Gentleman enters and, having actually seen the coronation, he tells of it all and of the beauty of Anne. Cranmer, the new Archbishop of Canterbury, oversaw the ceremony. It is noted that Gardiner was at the ceremony even though he is a rival to Cranmer and does not get on with him. It is pointed out that Cranmer at least has a friend in Cromwell who has King Henry VIII favour and has just been appointed to Master of Coin.

The scene then switches to Katharine's chambers where Katherine foreshadows her own death and asks the noble Griffith to describe Wolsey’s path to death. Griffith tells of Wolsey’s life and death ultimately seeking to emphasise Wolsey’s virtues:

“Well, the voice goes, madam:

For after the stout Earl Northumberland

Arrested him at York, and brought him forward,

As a man sorely tainted, to his answer,

He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill

He could not sit his mule…

At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester,

Lodged in the abbey; where the reverend abbot,

With all his covent, honourably received him;

To whom he gave these words, 'O, father abbot,

An old man, broken with the storms of state,

Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;

Give him a little earth for charity!'

So went to bed; where eagerly his sickness

Pursued him still: and, three nights after this,

About the hour of eight, which he himself

Foretold should be his last, full of repentance,

Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,

He gave his honours to the world again,

His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace…

Noble madam,

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues

We write in water…

This cardinal,

Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly

Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle.

He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;

Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading:

Lofty and sour to them that loved him not;

But to those men that sought him sweet as summer.

And though he were unsatisfied in getting,

Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam,

He was most princely: ever witness for him

Those twins Of learning that he raised in you,

Ipswich and Oxford! one of which fell with him,

Unwilling to outlive the good that did it;

The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,

So excellent in art, and still so rising,

That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.

His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;

For then, and not till then, he felt himself,

And found the blessedness of being little:

And, to add greater honours to his age

Than man could give him, he died fearing God.”

After listening to Griffith’s words Katharine says that wants to Griffith to be her herald and speak her honour. Katharine then goes to sleep surrounded by Griffith and her attendants. Then, as explained in a long stage direction probably attributable to Fletcher, Katherine sees a vision of six people in white robes with crowns of garlands. Katharine awakens and asks her attendants and Griffith if they saw the vision but Griffith claims they have seen nothing. Katherine claims that this vision promises her heaven and eternal happiness. Katherine’s attendants privately think that these visions are an omen indicating that Katherine has not too long to live.

Then a messenger enters, to herald the arrival of a visitor who turns out to be Capucius, Katherine’s royal nephew and an ambassador from Katharine's father, Charles V of Spain. Capucius reveals that he is sent on behalf of King Henry VIII to enquire about Katherine’s health. Katherine answers:

“O my good lord, that comfort comes too late;

'Tis like a pardon after execution:

That gentle physic, given in time, had cured me;

But now I am past an comforts here, but prayers.”

Katherine then gives Capucius a letter from her and addressed to the king. Katherine then utters her final words in the play as she outlines that the letter asks for King Henry to care for their daughter Mary (who was 19 years old at this time in 1535), provide for her ladies and care for and pay her male servant:

“… I have commended to his goodness

The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter;

The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!

Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding--

She is young, and of a noble modest nature,

I hope she will deserve well,--and a little

To love her for her mother's sake, that loved him,

Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition

Is, that his noble grace would have some pity

Upon my wretched women, that so long

Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully:

Of which there is not one, I dare avow,

And now I should not lie, but will deserve

For virtue and true beauty of the soul,

For honesty and decent carriage,

A right good husband, let him be a noble

And, sure, those men are happy that shall have 'em.

The last is, for my men; they are the poorest,

But poverty could never draw 'em from me;

That they may have their wages duly paid 'em,

And something over to remember me by:

If heaven had pleased to have given me longer life

And able means, we had not parted thus.

These are the whole contents: and, good my lord,

By that you love the dearest in this world,

As you wish Christian peace to souls departed,

Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king

To do me this last right.

… Remember me

In all humility unto his highness:

Say his long trouble now is passing

Out of this world; tell him, in death I bless'd him,

For so I will. Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell,

My lord. Griffith, farewell. Nay, Patience,

You must not leave me yet: I must to bed;

Call in more women. When I am dead, good wench,

Let me be used with honour: strew me over

With maiden flowers, that all the world may know

I was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me,

Then lay me forth: although unqueen'd, yet like

A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.

I can no more.”