Richard III: Exposing Normative and Queer Conflict

Evan Kennedy

Prof. Matthew Sergi

ENG331H1S

16 February 2014

Richard III: Exposing Normative and Queer Conflict

Robert Mercer, author of “Fuck the Disabled: A Prelude”, suggests William Shakespeare’s Richard III requires a simple adjustment of perspective in order to transform the murderous king into a queer liberator.  Mercer’s argument considers the experiences of the physically disabled and advocates for Richard’s queer status by virtue of his inability to participate in the heteronormative practices of able-bodied society (296).  The theory is an insightful first step into a queer perspective of the text, but Mercer relies heavily on Richard‘s conscious self-juxtaposition against other characters in order to expose them as normative and worthy of indignation (297).  I would argue that, while this process of comparison is apparent, Richard is not the sole vehicle utilized to draw attention to aberrant groups within the text.  Instead, able-bodied characters actively seek to define their own heterosexuality and consequently alienate those who lack such membership.  Specifically, I consider a closer reading of Act 2, Scene 2, which presents a distinct conflict between the text’s normative and deviant communities.  Through the acknowledgement of normative identity rooted in blood lineage, implicit and explicit criticism of that identity, and the eventual designation of Richard as separate from his own kin, this scene functions to strengthen Richard’s queer presence in the text, beyond the active comparisons Mercer cites to ground his argument.

Contextually, 2.2 is an opportunity for the Duchess of York, Queen Elizabeth and the Duke of Clarence’s two children to passionately lament the deaths of King Edward and the Duke of Clarence.  By mourning the loss of their patriarchal figures, the characters, through grief, establish family lineage as a major source of their personal definition and power.  The women and children claim these men as part of themselves, marking them in repetitive stanzas,

ELIZABETH. Ah for my husband, for my dear lord Edward.

CHILDREN. Ah for our father, for our dear lord Clarence.

DUCHESS. Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence. (2.2.71-73). 

Conscious labeling of these men by their roles within blood lineages (husband, father and child) highlights an identity that is dependent on their participation in a heterosexual relationship.  Beyond such definition, the Duchess, the Queen and Clarence’s children acknowledge the personal power they have lost, since these men have passed. They grievously ask,
            ELIZABETH. What stay had I but Edward? And he’s gone. 

CHILDREN. What stay had we but Clarence? and he’s gone. 
DUCHESS. What stays had I but they? and they are gone. (2.2.74-76)

This reference to ‘stays’, strong ropes that hold up the mast of a ship (“stay” def.1), suggests that the characters draw strength, stability and power from their relationships to these men.  With this, 2.2 continues to conjure a sense of all-consuming identity that is drawn solely from heteronormative practices.

Still, reanalysis of the same moment suggests that declared commitment to heteronormative identity may not be the only impression established by the scene.  The scene in performance has the potential to create an atmosphere of melodrama and camp, which would undermine the legitimacy of the characters’ loss, rather than reinforcing it. Camp, a strategy often employed by the queer community, is defined by Susan Sontag in her essay “Notes on ‘Camp’” as “art that proposes itself seriously, but cannot be taken altogether seriously because it is ‘too much’” (Sontag, 113).  Re-encountering the character’s lamentations within a camped framework quickly exposes overt and repetitive behaviour that might not read genuine, and may instead undermine its own purpose.  The women and children slowly crescendo into a repetitious competition of grievance and place their anguish above any other:
            ELIZABETH. Was never a widow had so dear a loss.

CHILDREN. Were never orphans had so dear a loss.

DUCHESS. Was never mother had so dear a loss. (2.2.77-79)

By finding fault in the magnitude of their sorrow, the verse’s potential for camp or perhaps comedy, boldly complicates the scene’s capacity to define the grieving characters by their heterosexuality.  Self-definition as a normative community may still be accomplished, but a queered context of camp casts doubt on the success of this as an outcome.

Beyond possible implicit criticism of the character’s grievances, the Marquess of Dorset, Queen Elizabeth’s son, explicitly critiques their grand display of mourning.  As they reach a peak in their lamentation, he scolds them: “Comfort, dear mother. God is much displeased / that you take with unthankfulness his doing” (2.2.89-90). Dorset’s commentary is useful in that it plainly appraises their behaviour as overt, reemphasizing the possibility of a camp atmosphere in the scene.  His commentary is also intriguing because Dorset asserts God’s responsibility for the death of these men.  This is unique, as murders throughout the play are more often attributed to the work of Lucifer and the Devil (1.2.50, 3.4.60).  If Richard is the queer liberator that Robert Mercer proposes him to be, then within this context, Dorset suggests that God Himself sanctions Richard’s retaliation against heterosexual communities.  In the very least, Dorset’s allusion to a godly purpose devalues the characters’ investment in their grief and further undermines their normative self-definition.

            Of course, little value can be gained from the definition of a normative group without the existence of one that opposes it.  Richard’s presence in the latter part of the scene aids in solidifying boundaries between these groups without any active intention of his own.  Upon entering, Richard turns to his mother, expresses formal condolences, and asks for her blessing.  The Duchess of York in response deliberately neglects to completely bless Richard and he remarks in an aside, “and make me die a good old man. / That is the butt end of a mother’s blessing; / I marvel that her grace did leave it out” (2.2.119-111). This action is too distinct to be of chance. The Duchess of York, who a moment ago was obsessed with grieving the death of her two sons and defining herself by nature of her lineage, now neglects to properly bless the long life of her only remaining offspring.  By deliberately choosing to disregard Richard’s request for a son’s blessing, I believe the Duchess has intentionally acted to distinguish him from the normative community established earlier in the scene.  Richard, through no effort of his own, has been ‘othered’ by his only remaining connection to the York lineage, and once again can be seen as queer.

              With this, I believe that a queered reading of Richard III extends deeper into the text than originally suggested by Robert Mercer.  While Richard’s personal objections toward able-bodied characters provide evidence for the existence of both normative and aberrant groups in the play, it is also obvious that normative groups act autonomously to distinguish themselves.  Through empowerment of the family lineage in a performance of grief, potential criticism of that performance and eventual designation of Richard as deviant, normative and queer ideas come to confrontation.  A queer readership can then invest in this queered Richard as a symbol of power, as he works to gain ultimate control and dissemble a largely heteronormative society.

Work Cited

Mercer, Robert. “Fuck the Disabled: A Prelude”. Shakesqueer. Ed. Madhavi Menon. London: Duke University Press, 2011. Print.

Shakespeare, William. Richard III. Ed. Peter Holland. New York: Penguin Books, 2000.

Sontag, Susan. “Notes on ‘Camp’”. A Susan Sontag Reader. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1983. Print.

"Stay." Def. 1. Oxford English Dictionary. 2nd ed. 2002. OED Online. Oxford
UP. Web. 15 Feb. 2014.