This chapter turns to female characters whose roles in the plays are more marginal. It uncovers a pattern of interactions that recur in minor female roles across almost all of Shakespeare’s history plays. These efforts take the form of resistance to marriages and efforts to forestall political events, often wars, frequently pointing to flaws in the male leaders’ plans. It highlights such inconclusive interventions as moments that demand engagement and interpretation by the audience, inviting spectators to unbalance the supposed didactic and moral purpose of the plays by attaching their sympathies to the characters out of power, rather than the kings who command them. Such imaginative potential is seen particularly clearly in the marginalised figures of lower-class female characters, as well as the women whose scenes are dismissed as ‘domestic’ or ‘private’ – in truth, scenes whose interactions depict the types of events unrecorded by traditional history but which are essential to the history play as a theatrical genre. The presence of these curtailed or unrecorded incidents, and their thematic importance to the plays in which they appear, suggests that the relationship of the plays to their chronicle sources is less one of direct adaptation than of querying and contestation.

The third chapter explores how female characters narrate history within the plays themselves, particularly when they appear to transgress the boundaries of historical possibility through curses, prophecy, or describing events they have not seen – extra-historical powers enabled by their marginalisation from political power. It proposes the concept at the heart of Shakespeare’s historical dramaturgy: that marginalisation from political power gives way to other types of insight enabled by the medium of the theatre, a specifically feminine relationship to historical narrative that I call Shakespeare’s feminine historiography. Beginning with an analysis of the connection between mourning and cursing, the chapter explores the ‘genealogies of loss’ that permit female characters to articulate their own versions of dynastic history. I then turn to other ways that female characters are marginalised from the centres of historical power, and the clarity of historical vision that their outsider position grants them, rendering them simultaneously suppressed and empowered by their exclusion. Finally, this chapter considers how genre itself operates as a force for this exclusion, exploring scenes which seem to defy the tonal and generic boundaries of their plays, suggesting Shakespeare’s awareness of the limitations of the history play genre for containing certain types of female stories.

The concluding chapter takes a brief case study of performers’ experiences in various roles in the history play cycle performed at Shakespeare’s Globe in 2019. These performers’ voices both enrich and complicate the arguments made in the previous chapters and offer perspective on how the view of Shakespeare’s history plays put forward by this monograph might have practical use for artists but also point to areas of future study.

The introduction explores how a popular sense of ‘Shakespearean’ history continues to influence historical drama today, looking to the Broadway play and subsequent HBO drama All the Way as an example. I then introduce the key concepts I will use to interrogate standing assumptions about ‘Shakespearean’ history, including the framework for feminist Shakespearean analysis first proposed by Lisa Jardine (1989), who argued for drawing upon archival materials to combat misleading assumptions about the role of women in both the plays and the early modern period itself; Henry S. Turner’s ‘New Theatricality’ (2012), though I instead suggest the term ‘dramaturgy’, borrowed from the theatre to reflect the inextricability of literary analysis and staging practise; and Pascale Aebischer’s concept of ‘negotiated reading’, which ‘deliberately seek[s] out opaque signs, empty spaces, silences, marginalised sign-clusters and characters’ and proposes the utility of reading early modern texts alongside contemporary performance. Finally, I introduce my own key concept: historical dramaturgy, the process of adapting historical sources into dramatic form. Female characters, I argue, can provide the key for understanding how Shakespeare’s historical dramaturgy works, and thus how he as a dramatist understood the form and purpose of history.

This chapter provides a survey of the most common scholarly assumptions about the nature of a history play – that it is tragic, historically accurate, relates to a broader nationalistic agenda and that exclusion of the female is fundamental to the genre – and looks at how reading plays by Shakespeare and his contemporaries through the lens of their most prominent female characters troubles these preconceptions. It first explores how the sub-genre of romantic histories challenges the assumption that a history play is concerned with historical accuracy. Reading Shakespeare’s co-authored Edward III as an example of this genre demonstrates its influence on the rest of his canon. It then re-evaluates the stereotype that foreign characters – especially foreign female characters – are always a threat against which the English national identity can be defined by contrast. It takes Margaret of Anjou as a case study in reading female characters not as women but as dramatic devices. The final section looks again to the tone of the plays to unpick how scenes of overwhelming female emotion can be seen as essential features of the history play genre and part of what contributed to the genre’s popularity in the eras when it was most frequently performed.

Shakespeare’s Henry V shapes popular consciousness of England/Britain at war, yet resists accusations of jingoism. Its national imagining involves conscientious doubts about the justice of war itself. Chapter 5 shows that this appealingly inward, conscientious dimension of English national identity on stage is predicated on Scotland’s occlusion. Scotland was a major player in the Hundred Years’ War. Henry IV kidnapped the child heir to the Scots throne, James I. Henry V then forced James to fight his subjects, the Scots, in France. Yet Shakespeare carefully avoids acknowledging Scotland as a kingdom. He develops, from earlier history plays, a metaphorical plot that produces the idea of England’s island integrity as an effect of its king’s chaste reformation. In this plot, England is threatened by the wild incontinence of its royal heir until his reformation effectively secures England’s insularity, enabling English advancement ‘beyond sea’ to France. The analogy between royal self-chastening and English insular sea-power is traced through Greene’s Bacon and Bungay, Marlowe’s Edward II, the anonymous Edward III to Henry IV 1 & 2 and Henry V.

Chapter 2 argues that the early modern theater’s techniques for the production of narrative suspense emerged from its cultivation of spectators’ phenomenological uncertainty. Attending to moments of temporal suspension in history plays, including Christopher Marlowe’s Edward II, William Shakespeare’s Richard II, and John Ford’s Perkin Warbeck, the chapter shows that theater practitioners regularly aimed to resist the unrelenting forward momentum of live performance by grinding dramatic time to a halt. Narrative suspense was especially hard to come by in the history play, which emerged as a new genre in the 1590s by dramatizing well-known chronicles of English kings. But the playgoers who flocked to theaters to see these stories of succession were living through a succession crisis of their own, for Elizabeth I’s lack of an heir rendered England’s dynastic future crucially opaque. The theatrical invitation to unknow England’s past trained spectators in speculative thinking oriented toward their own politically uncertain future. History plays transformed the anxious wait for Elizabeth’s successor, that is, into the pleasure of theatrical possibility.

The chapter discusses The Hollow Crown, a two-season television series, produced by Sam Mendes and broadcast on BBC2 in 2012 and 2016, placed in the context of earlier adaptations of the history plays. It argues that the series exemplifies a number of the central controversies surrounding contemporary Shakespeare adaptation, including political agendas, screen and stage traditions of acting and textual interpretation, together with the changing awareness of the viewing public of Shakespeare as a (high or pop) cultural phenomenon. The series also illustrates diverse responses to a number of critical debates, from the representation of female, non-English or non-British voices and accents, colour-blind or colour-conscious casting, set against the demands of historical realism expected from the contemporary screen. In this way, it offers a perfect case study for the Shakespearean history play on British television in the twenty-first century.

Richard III, which has been described as Shakespeare’s most Senecanesque play, inhabits a middle ground between tragedy and history play. Because it focuses on the rise and fall of its title character, it is sometimes thought of as a precursor for later tragedies like Macbeth. Such readings emphasize the flamboyant, villainous agency of the play’s central antihero. When Richard III is read as a chronicle history play, however, it can be seen as being about how its central character’s monstrosity is overtaken by providential history. This chapter argues that the resulting ambiguity of perspective is built into the play’s Senecan inheritance. The first section examines paradoxes concerning human agency and temporal cause and effect in Senecan tragedy, and it looks at plays – like Octavia, Ecerinis, and The Spanish Tragedy – that are imitative of that tradition. Then the chapter reads Richard III as a sophisticated, Senecan examination of the dialectic between self-assertion and external predetermination. This Senecan dialectic underpins aspects of Richard’s character that have been read brilliantly in recent criticism via highly theorized postmodern ideas about character and psychology: here Seneca is a silent partner in the creation of one of Shakespeare’s most presciently modern-seeming characters.

Macklin’s Henry the VII (1746) has received little critical attention. This chapter reads the play as part of a tradition of Irish history plays that were influenced by Joseph Addison’s Cato (1713). Addison’s themes of personal self-sacrifice, love of country and resistance to tyranny proved inspirational for Irish dramatists in the wake of the Declaratory Act (1720) as can be seen in William Philips’s Hibernia Freed (1722) and Henry Brooke’s Gustavus Vasa (1739). History plays then might offer an alternative genealogy of eighteenth-century Irish theatre which is often focused on comedies.

Macklin’s Henry the VII (1746) has received little critical attention. This chapter reads the play as part of a tradition of Irish history plays that were influenced by Joseph Addison’s Cato (1713). Addison’s themes of personal self-sacrifice, love of country and resistance to tyranny proved inspirational for Irish dramatists in the wake of the Declaratory Act (1720) as can be seen in William Philips’s Hibernia Freed (1722) and Henry Brooke’s Gustavus Vasa (1739). History plays then might offer an alternative genealogy of eighteenth-century Irish theatre which is often focused on comedies.