“Edward II” as a Tragic Hero

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Marlowe has transformed the historical figure of King Edward II into a tragic hero of no
mean stature. Although a historian like Stubbs in his Constitutional History (ii.314.) says that
‘his reign is a tragedy, but one that lacks in its true form the element of pity ; for there is nothing
in Edward, miserable as his fate is, that invites or deserves sympathy’, Lamb speaks differently
of the king of Marlowe. ‘The death scene’, says Lamb, ‘of Marlowe’s king moves pity and terror
beyond any scene, ancient or modern, with which I am acquainted.’ Similar accolades are in
plenty about the play as a great tragedy, and Lamb points to the core element of a tragic hero
according to the Aristotelian doctrine. Tragedy, according to Aristotle, is the spectacle of the fall
of a great man that arouses the emotions of pity and fear. Although the fall is caused primarily by
hamartia or a fatal flaw, the ultimate impression overshadows the weakness of the fallen hero
reflected in his error of judgment and wrests our sympathy as well as admiration. The emotion of
terror is roused in us as we feel that although by virtue of his position the man is unlike us, his
actions and nature are akin to ours, and as we view the play we feel that some such tragic
eventuality may overtake us, making ingress through a human error committed by us in a
moment of natural indiscretion or weakness. This sense arouses fear or terror in us.

Apparently, King Edward II is a man of high stature only because of his being a
successor king of England. Except that he does not seem to have any admirable virtues. To be
frank, King Edward has many unwholesome (insalubrious) flaws that antagonize us against him.
As Gavestonsays:
Music and poetry is his delight:
Therefore I’ll have Italian masques by night,
Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows;

It is no fault on the part of a king to be fond of music and poetry, Italian masques,
‘comedies’ and pleasing shows. Rather they speak of his taste for arts. But that the king would
spend his time in mere fun and frolic with a sycophant by his side all the while is not only
detestable but objectionable too. And it is a danger signal that Gaveston, the king’s minion
would exploit this weakness of the king to further his own cause. Edward II is a king who loves
flattery and is recklessly extravagant. He is timid, and squirms before the opposition, does not
care for the welfare of his subjects and is indifferent to his duty as a ruler. The barons who are
patriotic and wish him well advise him to reject Gaveston because of the latter’s demeaning
influence, but the advice falls on his deaf ears. Even he does not listen to the words of his
brother, Edmund, the Earl of Kent. This weak-willed king abruptly flashes like a flame only
once. This is when he avenges the death of Gaveston by defeating the barons in a battle and
putting some of them to death. But while this act can undoubtedly pass for an act of heroism, it
smacks of uncouth cruelty. The king takes revenge upon the barons because they seek the good
of the country and in no less measure the good of the king himself by estranging him from the
base influence of his minion.

Owing to lack of political wisdom, the king earns more enemies than friends in course of
time. Even knowing full well that the barons are a powerful aggregate, he antagonizes them and
fails to keep them in good humour. Headstrong as he is, he even expels his own brother, Earl of
Kent and his own wife, Isabella, who, out of dismay and frustration, join the league of the
opponents. In a way, the king himself paves the way for his downfall.

The theme of Edward II is Friendship. In Dr. Faustus, Marlowe deals with the theme of
omnipotent knowledge; in Tamburlaine, it is the political domination; in The Jew of Malta it is a
sort of unrestrained avarice. Edward and Gaveston are so attached to each other that they are
indifferent to all else. ‘The obverse of the coin is Mortimer’s self-seeking attachment to Isabella.’
The Gaveston-Edward friendship is a way of escape for the king from the worries of real life; it
is marred by a certain petulant self-indulgence in circumstances where the fruit of true friendship
would be patient self-sacrifice. It is fundamentally a way of escape, while the relationship of
Isabella and Mortimer is fundamentally a way of getting power and security; Mortimer’s
ambition is realized when he can say: “The Prince I rule, the Queen do I command.” But the
King’s obsessive attachment to his French associate makes him indifferent to his duties as a king.
He pays little heed when Younger Mortimer points out that he has many more matters to think
upon than Gaveston. When the King is told that the King of France has landed in Normandy, he
calls the issue a ‘trifle’ and dismisses the case summarily, saying that he will expel him when he
pleases. (II.ii.8-9). There is no fault in having a friend, but to exhaust the royal treasury for his
pleasure and to allow him the power to dominate the nobles and barons whom the fellow treats
contemptuously dissociates the king from our sympathy. The king incites Gaveston to belittle the
lords, and Gaveston throws gibes at them calling them ‘base, leaden Earls’ (II.ii.67). The queen
is engaged in an allegedly illicit love-affair with Mortimer, but it is the king’s neglect of the
queen for the sake of a gay relationship with Gaveston that drives her, if at all, into the arms of
Mortimer. If Queen Isabella defiles the nuptial bed, the first person who is responsible is Edward
himself.

Initially Edward distances himself from our sympathy. When Elder Mortimer appeals to
him to hate Gaveston if he loves them, or when Younger Mortimer urges upon him not to dote
on Gaveston, Edward declares: I will have Gaveston; and you shall know / What danger ’tis to
stand against your king.” (I.ii.96-7). The Bishop of Coventry too wants Gaveston to be ‘back to
France.’ But Edward hurls ugly words at him and orders his men: “Throw off his golden mitre,
rend his stole, / And in the channel christen him anew.” (I.i.187-8). He strips the Bishop of his
rights, makes Gaveston Lord Bishop and sends the disfranchised bishop to the Tower to please
Gaveston. Edward’s haughtiness surpasses all limits when he tells the barons that even if
Gaveston were a peasant, he would ‘make the proudest of the lords to stoop to him.’ While the
king drops tears at the time of parting with Gaveston whom he would like to have leave to look
his fill (I.iv.139), he turns furious at the sight of Queen Isabella and says: “Fawn not on me,
French strumpet! Get thee gone! (I.iv.146). Gaveston, being pampered by the king, too subjects
her to undue infamy saying that she should ‘fawn not on her husband but on Mortimer’. So
insolent he becomes owing to the indulgence of the king that he even dares to call her an
‘ungentle queen’ in the presence of the king. The king does not take any offence at the insolence
of his minion but moves away with him cursing Isabella ‘to droop and pine’ (I.iv.162). Isabella’s
loyalty to her husband is still potent and unflinching. When Younger Mortimer advises her not to
love the king as he has confessed that he does not love her, she reacts violently and says: “No,
rather will I die a thousand deaths”. But she knows that the king is so deeply obsessed with
Gaveston that all her efforts to win back his love would go in vain, and “he will never love” her.
However, she convinces the barons through Younger Mortimer to recall Gaveston as the last
effort to wean her husband away from Gaveston’s influence. When at last the lords give their
consent upon strong pleading by Mortimer, the queen gives vent to her heart’s longing for her
husband’s love:
I love him more
Than he canGaveston; would he love me
But half so much, then were I be treble-blessed !

Isabella does her best to convince the king that the lords and barons genuinely wish him
well, and it is because they love the king, they want expulsion of Gaveston, the king turns
furious.

Isabella: Sweet husband, be content, they all love you.

The state of affairs in the kingdom under Edward is best described by Younger Mortimer:

The idle triumphs, masks, lascivious shows,

Kent, his brother advises Edward: “My lord, I see your love to Gaveston / Will be the
ruin of the realm and you, /For now the wrathful nobles threaten wars, / And therefore, brother,
banish him for ever.” (II.ii.205-10) But the arrogant king replies: “Traitor, be gone! Whine thou
with Mortimer.” He further says: “Do what they can, we’ll live in Tynmouthhere, What care I
though the earlsbegirt us round?” – and at the sight of Isabella he fumes: “Here cometh she that’s
the cause of all these jars.” Gaveston advises him to ‘dissemble with her and speak to her fair’ so
that she does not join hands with the rebellious barons, and so deep is the influence of Gaveston
upon the king that he immediately begs her pardon. Gaveston advises him to commit Mortimer
to the Tower, but showing for the first time rare political wisdom he declares that he dares not as
the people love him. Again, when being in a trap (II.iv.) the king advises Gaveston to fly and
bids him ‘sweet farewell’, he taunts Isabella who feels sad at being neglected:

Isabella: No farewell to poor Isabel thy queen?

Isabella is still faithful to Edward and she swears: “Heaven can witness I love none but you:” but
the king ignores her protestation and leaves. Gaveston is detested by the barons because in the
words of Younger Mortimer he is the proud disturber of the country’s peace, corrupter of the
king, cause of the broils between the king and his peers and a base flatterer. But Edward does not
yield.

After Gaveston’s murder, though for a cause just for the kingdom if not for the king , the
King (III.ii.128-135) begins to demonstrate his wrathful royal character. He swears to have heads
for having slain ‘his ‘Gaveston, and moves to the battlefield as a warrior. (III.iii) and he orders
theexecution of Warwick and Lancaster (60-62) and sends Younger Mortimer to the Tower. This
is not an act of heroism but the expression of wrath that makes him desperate. The king thus
infuriates Younger Mortimer and his associates most indiscreetly; and Mortimer seeing the
revengeful motive of the king concludes that “this Edward is the ruin of the realm.” (II.v.55)

From this moment onwards, fortune’s wheel begins to turn fiercely against the king, and
the way he seeks solace in the philosophies of Plato and Aristotle points on the one hand to his
hopelessness, to the futility of his efforts to retain his command over the kingdom and on the
other to his increasing mood of resignation to God. “This life contemplative is heaven.” (II.vi.
20) As the king is ordered to be taken to the Killingworth Castle, he feels his doom approaching
fast.
But while the fortune’s wheel turns against the king, our sympathy begins to veer towards
him, and out sympathy for the rebels slowly begins to wither. Younger Mortimer has enough
reason to plot against the king, for he was not only called a traitor time and again for his concern
about the country’s cause, but was also sent to the Tower for his attempt to relieve the kingdom
of Gaveston, the ‘cause of ruins of the country’ and ‘the corrupter of the king’. Although he has
so long been the subject of our antipathy, the way he is compelled to part with the crown soaks
our soul with pity. The king’s attachment to the crown is not an indication of his avarice, but a
reflection of the blue /royal blood that runs through his veins. The king’s relationship with the
crown is like that of blood with the body. The king’s unwillingness to be dispossessed of the
crown is due, first, to his clear vision that the crown would be virtually worn by Younger
Mortimer, his sworn enemy, who would usurp Edward III’ s power. Secondly, he feels that his
abdication would not secure the future of England. The scene is important for another reason. It
demonstrates Edward’s concern for his son who, he fears, would be encompassed by the wolves.
This genuine parental affection for the young boy brings out the caring father in the otherwise
unworthy king and redeems his character to a great extent. Not least important is the king’s
ability to use rhetoric. More often than not, throughout the play, he makes speeches in high
poetry. This quality of the king too evokes our admiration for him.

The method of the murder of the king planned by Younger Mortimer points out his
degeneration into an abject villain. As he openly wields the power of Edward III, ruling the
prince and commanding the queen, sealing and canceling what he wills, his character as a power-
hungry man comes to the fore. The murder scene exhausts all our sympathy for the Mortimer-
Isabella duo. However, Isabella is not altogether deprived of our sympathy because although in
fear of her life she has given consent to the annihilation (extermination) of the king, she reserves
considerable softness in her soul for her husband. And finally, when Edward is killed in the most
undignified manner, ‘our heart aches and a drowsy numbness pains’ (Keats: Ode to a
Nightingale) our human sensibility. Here the King acquires the status of a tragic hero, though by
default. The king draws our admiration for his patient suffering and rouses in us the emotion of
terror. It may be verging on horror, but terror it is. Thus when Prince Edward who suddenly
matures into an assertive king like the boy in Gunter Grass’s Tindrum orders the execution of
Younger Mortimer, the catharsis takes place. His end is no less tragic, rather more tragic than
that of Edward II, but that accomplishes the poetic justice. Perhaps for the least little love that
she reserves for her husband, Isabella is not beheaded but sent to the Tower for a future trial.
Edward II departs from the world an unworthy king, fallen owing to his own fault, but leaves
behind, as we feel for the time being, a worthy king to rule England. His blessings upon his son
that he might rule better than he readily come true.

Though horror is not entirely absent from the play, Edward II is not a Senecan tragedy.
Thus Edward II also produces a sense of waste in no small measure. We feel at his fall how a
good character is corrupted by anunsavoury fascination for a male fiancé and how both the ruler
and the realm suffer for this relationship which must be defined as something else than
friendship. Had Edward been a little discreet and a little cool-headed, had he restrained his
friendship from soaring higher than the desirable point, had he not unduly neglected the queen
under the influence of the sycophant corrupter, had he paid heed to Edmund, his brother and the
barons including Younger Mortimer who were basically patriotic and who wished the king well,
Edward would not have had to meet the end that he did. And our heart would not also be
burdened with the ‘sense of waste.’ A skilful juggling with historical material has made the play
into a shapely and moving tragedy. “the drama of Marlowe,” writes A. C. Ward, “which seems
to me to be entitled to the highest and least qualified tribute of praise is his historical tragedy of
Edward II.”