The night before the Battle of Bosworth Field, Richard has a dream in
which he is tormented by all the people he had killed to achieve and
secure his throne. Upon awaking he exclaims: "O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!"(5.3.191). In the rest of the speech Richard argues with himself over his guilt in the murders -- and whether he should be pitied. Consider as well the speech of the Second Murderer about conscience in Act 1, Scene 4. When the Second Murderer feels a spasm of conscience and hesitates to carry out the murder of Clarence he complains about it;
I'll not meddle with it. It makes a man a
coward: a man cannot steal but it accuseth
him; a man cannot swear but it checks him; a man
cannot lie with his neighbor's wife but it detects
him (1. 4. 139-42).
In fact that Murderer does not participate in the murder or even the rewards of the deed. Given the many acts of treachery, deceit and murder in this play, what is the play saying about conscience and morality? Is it an impediment to success? A necessary bulwark against immorality? Important but ineffective? Effective but problematic? Are these two speeches in agreement -- or this a debate across the acts of the play and social classes of the characters? What the point of "coward conscience"?
I feel that given the many acts of treachery, deceit, and murder in this play, Shakespeare does believe in morality and keeping a clean conscience. Richard has been depicted as a horrible man who clearly has no conscience or feelings. However, the whole point of the dream before the Battle of Bosworth Field was to show that Richard does have a conscience, however, it may not play a big role in his life. He states
ReplyDelete“My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,
And every tale condemns me for a villain.
Perjury, perjury, in the highest degree;
Murder, stern murder, in the direst degree…
There is no creature loves me
And if I die no soul will pity me” (5.3.205-209 212-13)
This quotation shows that these ghosts affected Richard and that it has frightened him – but only to an extent. He states that he has done many things that are wrong in life, and that each aids to his characterization of a villain. These sinful acts will never bring him to heaven, and no one will pity his death. One would think this statement would mean he wants to become more conscience of his sins. However, when he wakes, he states to his army that they must fight, for the benefit of England and for him. So, while it has impeded his vision of victory, he still feels he has the right to murder, steal, and be deceitful. Unfortunately for Richard, Richmond defeats him, striking him down and then ascending to the throne himself, with hopes to return England to a better place. This ending shows that Shakespeare wanted to prove that no immoral man would ever succeed in the end and that morality will always be the victor. Greed can easily sway ones conscience to the dark side, however, in order to live a clean and faithful life (which is what the Second Murder is afraid of losing if he murders Clarence) one must be moral.
Also, I would point out that although many characters do indeed brush aside conscience, those on the side of good do eventually win. Take Richard: he, out of all the characters, brushes off conscience most blatantly. In his opening monologue, he claims to be "determined to prove a villain" as well as "subtle, false, and treacherous" (1.1.30, 37). In Act 5, before his battle with Richmond, Richard states most clearly his vision of conscience:
DeleteConscience is but a word that cowards use
Devised at first to keep the strong in awe.
Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law. (5.3.327-329)
According to Richard, conscience is a hindrance that keeps the strong, like him, in check. His view is much in line with that of the murderers he hired early in the play, who, as stated in the prompt above, say:
… It makes a
man a coward: a man cannot steal but it accuseth
him,; a man cannot swear but it checks him; a man
cannot lie with his neighbors wife but it detects
him. 'Tis a blushing, shamefaced spirit that mutinies
in a man's bosom. It fills a man full of
obstacles… (1.4.139-145)
One would think that, faced with these obstacles presented by conscience, those who ignore it would come out on top. Nonetheless, at the end of the play, the good guys end up on the winning side. Take, in contrast to Richard and the murderers, Richmond’s speech to his men before the final battle:
… Yet remember this:
God, and our good cause, fight upon our side.
The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls,
Like high-reared bulwarks, stand before our faces. (5.3.253-256)
Richmond is very much supposed to be the "good guy" of the play, fighting on the side of God, country, and Saint George. Consequently, he is also the winner: in the last act, he handily defeats Richard's conscience-less hordes. Through Richard III, Shakespeare is repeating a classic theme: that although evil may triumph initially, good and conscience will win in the end.
Another key point Shakespeare makes about conscience in the play is that everyone –commoner or noble, hero or villain – has one and feels its pangs, but what ultimately defines us as good or bad is how we respond to it; moral, respected individuals respond in accordance to their conscience’s urgings, while those considered wicked toss it aside. The murder of Clarence is a scene that dramatically draws attention to this message early in the play, showing two men who, while leaps and bounds apart in terms of rank, have similar bursts of conscience at inopportune moments. First to have his revelation is George, Duke of Clarence, imprisoned younger brother to the king. During the war that won his brother the throne, Clarence initially swore loyalty to the Earl of Warwick but eventually betrayed him and then killed the heir to the throne, Prince Edward. As he lies in the tower, his death steadily approaching, he has a vivid, horrifying dream of drowning. He reflects, “Methoughts I saw a thousand fearful wracks,/A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon… All scattered in the bottom of sea” (I.4.25-6, 29). Among these corpses, the bodies of those killed in the War of the Roses, he himself goes to Hell. There, Clarence first encounters Warwick, then Prince Edward, who declares, “Clarence is come – false, fleeting, perjured/Clarence… Sieze on him, furies. Take him unto torment” (56-7, 59). This message deeply shakes the Duke, who proclaims that it is a sign of G-d’s wrath against him. After all of the violence and betrayal he has committed, now Clarence feels a pang of conscience, and he at least outwardly appears to be inclined to follow it.
ReplyDeleteClarence’s continued response to the dream is prevented, however, by his murder, but this event presents the second attack of conscience in the scene. The two murderers are common ruffians, men who are generally considered far inferior to Clarence. Like Clarence, though, the second murderer is hit with a massive case of a guilty conscience as he prepares to commit his crime. When asked by his comrade if he is afraid, he replies “Not to kill him, having a warrant,/but to be damned for killing him, from the which/no warrant can defend me” (114-6). In this dramatic moment, the murderer’s conscience is speaking to him, and he is contemplating listening. When his partner reminds him of the reward promised by Richard, he quickly regains his will to kill, noting that conscience is, “a blushing, shamefaced spirit that muti-/nies in a man’s bosom. It fills a man full of/obstacles” (143-5). This comment is only part of a long, intriguing speech, in which the murderer describes all of the problems caused by conscience. This reversal in mood is soon abandoned once more when Clarence awakens. Inspired by his own attack of conscience, Clarence valiantly reasons with the men sent to kill him, urging them to stop with a number of tactics. Indeed, the second murderer seems to take these messages to heart, and, had he been alone, might very well have let the man live. However, the first murderer is not moved, and he commits the bloody deed. As his partner exits to hide the body, the aghast second murder laments, “How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands/ of this most grievous murder” (284-5). He was too slow to fully follow his conscience, but now he will let it guide him.
See reply for final paragraph!
So who comes out of this scene appearing a good person to the audience? Likely Clarence, who, despite his previous treacheries, seems to have repented and emerges almost martyr-like from the proceedings. Second murderer does as well, ultimately refusing to take part in the assassination. While he also does nothing to prevent it, what seems to matter more is his acceptance of conscience and unwillingness to betray it. These two figures, while very different in many ways, share a response when remorse attacks. The villain in the scene? Clearly first murderer, who, perhaps embodying Richard, kills Clarence will little hesitation. While Richard is himself torn apart by conscience much later in the show (in a profound speech which, if this were a full paper, certainly would be referenced thoroughly), he, like first murderer, commits his sins and never looks back. At least in Shakespeare’s mind, the trait that defines a true villain is the spurning of one’s conscience. If, like second murderer, a person follows that urgent little voice, they will be regarded as blameless in the end. If they do not, then their day of reckoning will be approaching soon, and it will not end pleasantly.
DeleteConscience is problematic for many of the characters in Richard III. It infects the characters, consumes them. Although, it only does so after an evil deed or action has already been committed. Consciousness stops characters from acting. For in Shakespeare’s Hamlet, the famous Denmark prince nearly suffocates in his inaction as his conscience racks away at his brain. Even the notorious Scottish king, Macbeth, sees a dagger floating above him after he has killed the king. Shakespeare, throughout his career, develops characters that delve deeply into the human psyche and explore this idea of conscience. Richard III is no different.
ReplyDeleteConsciousness in Richard III only enters into the mind of a character when he (for never does it manifest in the mind of a “she”) has reached a pivotal point in their story. It is either when they are contemplating their own death or the death of another. In Richard III, conscience is linked with this idea of life and death. This link of consciousness to life/death is a connection found in all three characters that display a conscience in the play: Richard, 2nd Murder, and Clarence. This link exists, in part, because a conscience is also linked to this idea of afterlife. If we repent for our sins when we feel this worm of a conscience, perhaps we can still go to heaven. We all have consciences to guide us on the right or moral path. Without it, we would all be damned. Although, as I mentioned in passing earlier, conscience only comes into play when something has already been committed, some sin already done. Thus, the story of Richard III, begs the question: can we ever repent for our sins?
The first manifestation of a conscience we see in this history is in Clarence, the unfortunate first victim of Richard’s cruelty. Clarence is sent away to the Tower of London when Richard plants the idea in the current king’s head that Clarence to do him or his royal family harm because his name is George and therefore begins with a “G”. While in the fearful Tower, Clarence dreams an awful foreboding dream. He dreams of journeying to hell and seeing the ghost of Prince Edward, son to Henry VI and the man Clarence had killed in battle. He tells the prison keeper of the tower how,
“then came wand’ring by/
a shadow like an angel, with bright hair/
dabbled in blood, and he shrieked out aloud/
“Clarence is come- false, fleeting, perjured
Clarence,
That stabbed me in the field by Tewkesbury.
Seize on him, furies. Take him unto torment” (1.iv.53-59).
Clarence fears and repents this wrong he has committed in the field of battle. It is here, in the Tower of London where he could so soon be sentenced to hang, that his conscience comes into his mind. Clarence even invokes God here, but not to save himself, to save his family. He calls out, “O God, if my prayers cannot appease thee,/ but thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds,/ yet execute thy wrath in me alone!” (1.iv.71-73). This is the nobler of the two paths. He does not care about himself as much as he cares for those who are closest to him. He wants to protect those he loves, which will differs from Richard who loves only Richard.
The second character to feel this pang of conscience is the lowly 2nd murderer. Not even deserving of an actual name, this character displays a conscience that many of the so-called “royal” characters cannot. Though in the beginning, it is the 1st murderer who displays some signs of conscience when he says to the 2nd, “Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are yet within me” (1.iv.125-26). Only when the deed is done does the 2nd murderer display his conscience in saying, “I would he knew that I had saved his brother. Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say, for I repent me that the duke is slain” (1.iv.290-292). For the 2nd murderer may or may have not even helped the 1st murderer in the killing of Clarence when he says his ambiguous, “look behind you, my lord” (1.iv.279). Therefore is this 2nd murderer only feels the pull of his conscience after the deed has been done. Like Clarence, he only thinks of his conscience once this murder has already been completed, but also like Clarence he does the right thing afterwards by refusing to take any part of his reward. This is a way to repent for his wrongdoings.
DeleteIn Richard III, the notorious namesake of the play kills his way to the throne. He hacks down any enemy or adversary and eventually even his friends. It is only when he is in the very thick of a battle, i.e. a life or death situation, that he thinks on his wrongdoing. Like Clarence, Richard dreams are infested with the dead souls that he has sent to the world hereafter; he dreams of Clarence and Buckingham, of friend and foe. Eventually he wakes, and cries out, “o coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me” (V.iii.191). He even contemplates running away from this villain he has become but, since it is himself, he cannot. He laments, “there is no creature loves me,/ and if I die no soul will pity me” (V.iii.212-13). Clarence had people to protect from his treachery, but Richard does not. Richard is alone with only his misdeeds as friends. It is here, after all the souls of those he has killed visit him, as he faces nearly certain death, that conscience finally forces its way into Richard.
For all of these characters, conscience only creeps in after the foul deed has already been preformed. It creeps in when life or death situation is at hand or has happened, and always is it unwelcome.
I think that the concept of conscience is purposefully filtered in and out of this story. I totally agree with Kate in that I also think Shakespeare believes in morality and have a clear conscience because it is seen in many of his plays like Othello, Romeo and Juliet, and also Richard III. Most of the time the characters give into their guilty consciences when they are faced with death. The second murderer is smart in that he knows if he goes along with the plan to kill Clarence he will be a coward and then have a guilty conscience. I think this fact alone makes him one of the most interesting characters of this play despite his minor role; he is able to not give into Richard’s request because he knew he would have a guilty conscience. On the other hand, Richard has a guilty conscience but it is not revealed until he has the dream when all his victims come back to haunt him. Richard has done a great job of not being tempted by his conscience but when he is haunted by the result of his actions he began to question himself. Whether or not Richard knew he would see the day his conscience would make him feel cowardly, in that moment upon waking, he is indeed a coward of his conscience; he is afraid of how his past actions will affect him later more than likely in battle. Both Richard and the second murder affiliate conscience with coward; the murderer sees giving into a dirty deed as making him a coward, and Richard sees his own conscience as cowardly because it makes him afraid. The murderer feels doing the act would make him a coward while Richard now feels like he would be a coward because of what he has already done since he has been haunted.
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