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BY THE RIGHT HON. THOMAS PEREGRINE COURTENAY. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL.T: LONDON: HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. — 1840. HENRY VI.—Parr III. Tuts play opens with the Yorkists* breaking into the parliament-house, and each chief boasting (how inaccurately I have already shown in the case of York’s children) of his prowess in the battle of St. Alban’s. At the suggestion of Warwick the duke takes possession of the regal throne. Henry enters with his followers,+- to whose vows of revenge he appeals, but presently retires into “ frowns, words, and threats.” He then alternately boasts of the superiority of his title, and acknowledges its weakness : * Duke of York, his sons Edward and Richard, Norfolk, Montagu, Warwick, and others. Among these the only new character is Montagu, This was John Neville, third son of Richard Neville, Earl of Salisbury, and younger brother of Warwick. But he had not, at this time, received his first title of peerage, and was not created marquis until 1470, fifteen years later. Nicolas, ii. 434. + John, Lord Clifford, and Henry, Earl of Northumber- land, whose fathers were killed at St. Alban’s; Ralph, second Earl of Westmoreland; Henry Holland, Duke of Exeter. VOL II. B 2 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. “Think’st thou that I will leave my kingly throne, Wherein my grandsire and my father sat ? No: first shall war unpeople this my realm, Ay, and their colours often borne in France, And now in England to our heart’s great sorrow, Shall be my winding-sheet.—Why faint you, lords = My title’s good, and better far than his.” Yet, in a moment— ‘“‘T know not what.to say; my title’s weak.” And when he endeavours to satisfy his conscience, that Henry IV. was lawful king, as the adopted heir of Richard II., Exeter turns against him, and gives an opinion in favour of York. Warwick then summons the soldiers who were without. York bargains with the king. ‘«‘ Confirm the crown to me, and to mine heirs, And thou shalt reign in quiet whilst thou liv’st. K. Hen. 1am content. Richard Plantagenet, Enjoy the kingdom after my decease.” Here we have an anticipation of five years. This compromise was made in 1460, after an interval full of important events, which I must briefly relate; though I am aware that not even a play in three parts could, with any regard either to thea- trical propriety, or human patience, dramatize them. HENRY VI. PART III. 3 After the battle of St. Alban’s the parliament met,* in which that occurrence was treated as an affray occasioned by the treason of Somerset, who had kept back the letters which the complainants had addressed to the king. York and his friends were solemnly acquitted of disloyalty.+ Before the next session} the king suffered a relapse, and York was appointed to open the par- liament as his lieutenant. He was afterwards ap- pointed protector, when he gave to Salisbury the great seal, and to Warwick the government of Ca- lais. On the recovery of Henry, York relinquished the protectorate,§ and Salisbury the great seal. » About two years after the battle, parliament began to exhibit a feeling of discontent at the am- bitious practices of York, who, be it nevertheless observed, had not even now put forward his claim to the crown: complaints against him came princi- pally from the lords whose fathers were killed at St. Alban’s; and Buckingham, on the part of the peers, besought the king that such conduct as that of the duke might not go unpunished. || * Westm., May 26, 1455. Parl. Hist., i. 396. Rolls, v. 278. Lingard, v.150. Hol., 242. + Rolls, 280, 282; Wheth., 369. t Parl. Hist., 398; Rolls, 284. § Feb. 25, 1556, Rolls, 421; Hol., 243. || Lingard, 342; but this is all from the Lancastrian recital. See p. 307. Leland, ii. 496. BQ 4. COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. York once more swore fealty, and engaged, with the rest, that all differences should be arbitrated by the sovereign ; a tacit condemnation of his taking redress into his own hands at St. Alban’s. In June 1458, the two parties met in and near London, and Henry pronounced an award,* the principal article of which appears to have been, that “a chantry should be erected at the expense of York, Salisbury, and Warwick, for the souls of the three lords (So- merset, Clifford, and Northumberland) who were slain at St. Alban’s. + This award, however, as might have been ex- pected, was not effectual in contenting either party, and preparations appear to have been made through- out 1459 for a contest, the causes and objects of which were still, however, not very definite.t{ The court, we are told, distributed ‘‘white swans,§ the badge of Prince Edward” (for we hear nothing of the red and white roses). Salisbury and York were preparing to unite their forces on the borders of Wales, when the former was met at Bloreheath|| by Lord Audley, at the head of a royalist force, which was defeated or successfully repulsed,** and Salisbury pursued his march. * Wheth., 418. + Ibid. t Ibid., 454; Cont. Croyl., 529. § Lingard, 155; but whence? || Sept. 30, 1459. 77 James Touchet, fifth lord. ** Leland, 496 ; Wheth., 456. HENRY VI. PART III. 5 But a large royal army, under the king in person, was assembled at Worcester, which approached the camp of the Yorkists; offers of conciliation were made to the duke, and rejected. York was now de- serted by some of his followers, and retired into Ireland ; his friends and sons being elsewhere dis- persed. A parliament met at Coventry,* in which York and his adherents were attainted by that act of par- liament which we have already cited. The Duke of Exeter was now appointed to supersede Warwick in the command of the fleet, and Somerset to replace him in the government of Calais; but Warwick successfully resisted his entrance into the port. After this act of rebellion, Warwick jomed York in Dublin,+ and concerted further measures. The result was the landing of Warwick in Kent. His army increased as he marched, being joined even by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Articles were circulated, complaining of the mis- management of the king’s household, the oppres- sion of the people by taxes, the murderous designs entertained against York, Salisbury, and Warwick, and especially the extreme enmity of Shrewsbury, Wiltshire, and Beaumont.{ The insurgents marched * Nov. 20, 1459. Parl. Hist., 401; Rolls, 345. t W. Wyrc., 478. ¢ James Lingard, 158, from Stow, 407; but where did 6 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. through London, and met the royal army at North- ampton,* where an action of no long duration, in which Buckingham, Shrewsbury, and many other considerable persons were killed, put Warwick in possession of the king’s person. A parliament was called at Westminster,{ which repealed all the acts passed at Coventry against the Yorkists. To this parliament York repaired, with a retinue of five hundred horsemen, and then oc- curred the incident from which, as I apprehend, Shakspeare took that of the occupation of the chair of state, in the first scene of this play.|| For the duke entered the parliament-house, and stood for some time, with his hand upon the throne. Nobody, however, invited him to ascend ; but, when he withdrew, he oceupied the royal apartments in the palace of Westminster. He then delivered to the chancellor a written claim to the crown, as the lineal descendant of Lionel, son of Edward III. The story is thus told by Holinshed ; *‘He came to the city of London, which he entered the Friday before the feast of Edward the Confessor, with a sword borne naked before him, with trumpets Stow find them? Wiltshire was James Butler, so created. Beaumont, John, first viscount. * July 20, 1460. Wheth., 479; Hol., 260. + John, eldest son of the famous Talbot. ft Rolls, v, 373. || Wheth., 484; W. Wyrc., 483. HENRY VI. PART III. 7 also sounding and accompanied with a great train of men at arms, and other of his friends and servants. At his coming to Westminster, he entered the palace; and, passing forth directly through the great hall, staid not till he came to the chamber where the king and lords used to sit in the parliament-time, commonly called the upper house, or chamber of the peers; and being there entered, stept up unto the throne royal, and there laying his hand upon the cloth of state, seemed as if he meant to take possession of that which was his right, (for he held his hand so upon that cloth a good pretty while,) and, after withdrawing his hand, turned his face towards the people, beholding their pressing together, and marking what countenance they made. Whilst he then stood and beheld the people, supposing they rejoiced to see his presence, the Archbishop of Canterbury (Thomas Bourchier) came to him, and, after due salutations, asked him if he would come and see the king, with which demand he, seeming to take disdain, answered briefly and in few words, thus: ‘I remember not that I know any within this realm, but that it beseemeth him rather to come and see my person, than I go and see his. ... . The duke went to the most principal lodging that the king had within all his palace, breaking up the locks and doors, and so lodged himself therein, more like a king than a duke.’ * After many objections, and an assertion from Henry of his right, unaccompanied by the manful « Hol., 261. 8 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. defiance which Shakspeare puts into his mouth ; the compromise was proposed and accepted as in the play. I know not upon what authority Exeter is selected as foremost in acknowledging the right of the Duke of York; for he is named by Holin- shed, among the lords who, with Queen Margaret at their head, refused to acknowledge the new set- tlement of the crown, and assembled their forces in order to defeat it.* And a more ancient authority tells us, that he absented himself, with Somerset, Northumberland, and Devon, from the meeting in which the Yorkists obtained this advantage;+ and we shall see presently that he fought under the queen. + The play, after correctly representing the hostile protest of the chiefs of the Lancastrian party, brings forward Edward and Richard, the two sons of York, lamenting their father’s concession of his rights during Henry’s life, and calling upon him to disregard his oath of allegiance to Henry. Edward urges him boldly to break his oath for the sake of the crown; Richard argues sophistically for the unlawfulness of the oath; and York has * Hol., 268. + W. Wyre., 483. t It is said (Banks, iii, 290), that he married Anne, the daughter of York; but as he was divorced from her, (I~ know not when or why), there was probably no close attachment to her family. HENRY VI. PART III, 9 just been persuaded, when he is advertised of the queen’s advance with twenty thousand men, to besiege him in his castle. This is the first of a series of imputations, the justice of which I shall have hereafter to examine, upon the morality of Richard, afterwards Duke of Gloucester. It is clear that the present imputation cannot be sus- tained, as Richard was at this time only eight years old. Edward, Earl of March, his eldest brother, was eighteen, and may therefore possibly have urged his father to hostilities. But there is no reason to believe that either Edward or his father contemplated hostilities, before the queen put herself in warlike array. In the battle of Wakefield which ensued, York was defeated, as in the play, and put to death, though there is some doubt whether he was slain in the battle or beheaded afterwards.* For the paper crown there is the authority of old writers+- as well as of Holinshed :— «‘Some write (for he had mentioned that York was * Dec. 30, 1460. Lingard, 164; Hol., 269; W. Wyr- cester (485) says that he was slain in battle; and so the Chronicle in Leland, 498; but Wethamstede (489) says, that he was taken alive. The Croyland Cont., 530, may be construed either way. + W. Wyre., Wheth., and Croyl. Cont. as above; but according to the first, it was the dead York that was crowned. BS 10 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. slain in battle, and his head presented to the queen upon a pole), that the duke was taken alive, and, m derision, caused to stand upon a mole-hill, on whose head they put a garland instead of a crown, which they had fashioned or made of sedges or bulrushes; and haying so crowned him with that garland, they kneeled down before him as the Jews did unto Christ, in scorn, saying to him, ‘ Hail king without rule, hail king without herit- age, hail duke and prince without people or possessions.’ And at length, having thus scorned him with these and divers other the like despiteful words, they struck off his head, which (as you have heard) they presented to the queen.” And this latter is the story in Wethamstede. But I must say, that in amplifying the reproaches which the Lancastrians heaped upon their captive, the poet has not improved upon his original in lan- guage, while his interpolations are as contrary to chronology as to good taste. «What! was it you that would be England’s king? Was’t you that revell’d in our parliament, And made a preachment of your high descent ? _ Where are your mess of sons to back you now? The wanton Edward and the lusty George,* And where’s that violent crook-back prodigy, Dicky, your boy, that with his grumbling voice, Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies? . Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland?’ * George was not twelve years old. + Act i., Se, 2: HENRY VI. PART III. ll I do not find in Holinshed, or elsewhere, the foundation of the lines that follow: “Look, York; I stained this napkin with the blood, That valiant Clifford with his rapier’s point, Made issue from the bosom of the boy : And if thine eyes can water with his death, I give thee this to dry thy cheek withal.” There is much more in the same strain, and York’s reply does not fall short of the provocation; but enough of this, which I hope is not Shak- speare’s. I know not in what sense Mrs. Jameson speaks of “the celebrated speech” * of York. She says truly, that the story of the napkin is not historical; but she goes too far in saying, that the decapita- tion of York after the battle (which she assumes as the true version) was “not done by the order of Margaret.” Surely, the queen was the responsible commander. “The Lord Clifford perceiving where the Earl of Rutland was conveyed out of the field by one of his father’s chaplains, and (schoolmaster to the same earl), and overtaking him, stabbed him to the heart with a dagger as he kneeled afore him. This earl was but a child at that time, of twelve years of age, when neither his tender years nor dolorous countenance, while hold- * Charact., ii. 254. 12 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. ing up both his hands for mercy (for his speech was gone for fear), could move the cruel heart of the Lord. Clifford to take pity upon him; so that he was noted of great infamy for that his unmerciful murder of that young gentleman.”’* In the play, the eyes are closed from fear, but much use is made of the speech in vain supplica- tions to Clifford, who always answers, according to the fiction of the play,— “Thy father slew my father, therefore die.” This address of Clifford to Rutland is in Hall,+ but not in Holinshed ; a circumstance overlooked by Malone, to whose theory it is unfavourable, if we .suppose Shakspeare to have written the old play, from what it is taken. Rutland, who is here described as a mere child, was above seventeen years old, only one year younger than his brother Edward, and _ several years older than George and Richard. He had been associated with his elder brother in the acts for attainting the Yorkists,t while the younger brothers were unnoticed. Not only Clifford’s re- ference to his father’s death by the hand of York, but all that is pitiful im the story, all that is * Hol., 269. Wethamstede says particularly, that Rutland was slain by Clifford. a ek sae 9 t Rolls, v. 349, = HENRY VI. PART III. 13 ® beyond the simple fact that Rutland was slain by Clifford, appears to me to rest on the insufficient authority of Hall alone.* The second act places Edward and Richard Plantagenet, on “‘a plain near Mortimer’s Cross in Herefordshire.” I can make nothing of this first scene. It is true enough, that Edward (not Richard) was in Gloucestershire, at the time of the battle of Wakefield, and soon afterwards+- ob- tained a victory at Mortimer’s Cross over the Earl of Pembroke.t But here he is made to talk as if he had been present in the battle of Wakefield, and to have come away without knowing the fate of his father! Of this, however, he is soon apprized by a messenger. And the play describes not any victory or battle.§ Johnson has remarked,]|| that Shakspeare has judiciously discriminated between “the generous tenderness of Edward, and the savage fortitude of Richard, in their different reception of their father’s death ;”— “ Edw. Oh! speak no more for I have heard too much. Rich. Say how he died, for I will bear it all.” * Not only the old writers to whom I have referred, but Fabyan and P. Vergil are silent. ¢ Feb. 2, 1461. ¢ Jasper Tudor, half-brother to Henry VI. § Mortimer’s Cross, as the heading of the scene, is notin the old play. It was probably added by some half-informed commentator. || Bosw., 405. 14 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, And, ‘« Hdw. Never, oh! never shall I see more joy. Rich. I cannot weep for all my body’s moisture Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart. Richard, I bear thy name, I'll ’venge thy death, Or die renowned by attempting it.” The critic is led by the common prejudice to be very unfair towards Richard. He displays more energy of character, but there is nothing savage in his resolution to avenge the death of his father. However, as the whole is imaginary, I leave it. The appearance in the heavens of “Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun,” is not a creation of Shakspeare’s imagination, as it is to be found in Holinshed, who, as well as the poet, transfers the suns to Edward’s shield. Warwick and Montagu with their troops, now join the brothers ; and announce their ill success in the second battle of St. Alban’s.* Warwick and Edward did at that time meet and unite their forces, at Chipping Norton, but the battle was fought after the meeting at York ; not before it, as in the play. The introduction of ‘ Lord George your bro- ther,” is gratuitous. That prince was seven years * Feb. 15, 1461. Hol., 272; Wyre., 486-488. The Duke of Exeter is mentioned as now with the queen. HENRY YI. PART III. 15 younger than Edward, and thus only twelve years old at the present time. Edward, too, is made to ask, «‘ Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick, And when came George from Burgundy to England?” To which the earl answers, «Some six miles off the duke is with the soldiers, And for your brother,—he was lately sent From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy, With aid of soldiers to this needful war.” The Duchess of Burgundy was not Edward’s aunt, nor did she send over Clarence, who, as a boy, had been sent to Flanders with his brother Richard, to be out of the way.* Warwick adds, that the king and his friends are going to London, to put an end to the settlement to which he had sworn. He advised that Henry’s movement should be anticipated : and so it was. _ But Shakspeare now brings the king and queen with Clifford, Northumberland, and the Prince of Wales, “before York.”+- Here they are met by Edward and the Yorkists, and a long colloquy ensues. “The new Duke of York reproaches Henry with perjury. ‘ “‘T was adopted heir by his consent, Since when his oath is broke; for, as J hear, * Ritson in Bosw., 410. t Se. 2. 16 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. You, that are king, though he do wear the crown, Have caused him by new act of parliament, To blot out me, and put his own son in.” No parliament had sat, but Henry had by pro- clamation declared that the agreement for York’s succession to the crown was void.* And though there might be no specific article to the effect, + such a departure from the agreement clearly put the Yorkists in the right. In the play, the battle of Towton follows; but previously to this, the army which had been victo- rious at St. Alban’s refused to march to London. Henry announced by proclamation that his assent to the late compromise had been extorted by vio- lence; and he gave orders for arresting the young Duke of York; but Edward, as I have said, marched with all his friends to that important place. And now, with the apparent consent of the people, as well as of the ‘ great council of lords spiritual and temporal,” Henry was declared to have forfeited the crown, by breaking the award, and Edward was placed upon the throne. This important event occurred early in March, 1461, between the battles of St. Alban’s (the second) and Towton; but although it is related by Holinshed,+ it is unnoticed by our poet. * Lingard, 166; Rolls, 465. + See Bosw., 417. PP J272. HENRY VI. PART III, Wy; It is true, that the king and queen assembled ( their forces at York; but this was after the battle of Wakefield, and before that of St. Albans; it was after he had been acknowledged as king that Edward marched against them, and gained the decisive victory of Towton.* It is hardly necessary to say that the long parley between the two par- ties, on the eve of the battle, is altogether imaginary ; but some of the allusions are founded upon the Chronicles. Prince Edward, who was now about nine years old, was not knighted at this time, but after the second battle of St. Albans.+ In the play, the fortune of the day is, at first, against the Yorkists; and it is said to War- wick, ‘«« Thy brother’s blood the thirsty earth has drank.’’} Here is only a slight deviation ; there was an action at Ferrybridge, where Lord Fitzwalter was sur- prised by Clifford. In this a natural brother of Warwick was slain by the Yorkists, as well as Northumberland and Clifford himself. This fierce Lancastrian, however, was killed, not by Richard, but by the Lord Fauconberg.§ * March 29, 1461. Hol., 477; W. Wyre. 489; Croyl. Cont., 533. + Bosw., 415. Anstis, ii. 165. { Bosw., 426. § Another Neville; William, brother of Salisbury. 18 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. And it is on Holinshed’s* authority that War- wick is made to say, ‘“‘ Tl kill my horse, because I will not fly.” I am sorry that we have not room for the inser- tion of a part of the soliloquy which Henry is made to utter in the midst of the battle— “* Methinks it were a happy life To be no better than a homely swain.” The speech is characteristic, and may be read as an illustrative specimen of Shakspeare’s mode of amplifying the old plays. Of the dead Clifford, Warwick says, —— ‘ Off with the traitor’s head, And rear it in the place your father’s stands.” This substitution of heads is from Holinshed, who, however, does not mention Clifford by name, but ‘the Earl of Devonshire and three others.” Warwick proceeds ;— | ‘“* And now to London with triumphant march, There to be crowned England’s royal king.” King Edward was crowned on the 29th of June, 1461,++ and then, not on the field of battle, as in the play, he created his brothers George and Richard, Dukes of Clarence and Gloucester. Ri- * Monstrelet, iv. 474. t+ Hol., 279; W. Wyrc., 490. HENRY VI. PART III. 19 chard’s objection to his title, as unlucky, is sug- gested by a remark of Holinshed.* The third act commences with the taking of Henry prisoner. We are thus carried over three years, to 1464. After his defeat at Towton, Henry, who may be considered as having, for the time, abdicated the throne, had retired into Scotland with the queen and prince. According to Scottish historians, James II. had, two years before, pro- mised assistance to Henry, in return for the pro- mised cession of Northumberland and Durham. The Scottish and Yorkist armies made sundry demonstrations, but never came to action. Of the stipulated cessions, only the town of Berwick! was now given up to James ITT. From Scotland Margaret went into France,§ to beg succours from Louis XI., who gave her some naval and military succours, with which she returned to Scotland, and thence, with some asistance from the Scots, she invaded the north of England, and obtained some slight advantages; but Warwick soon got the success on his side, and the queen, * Hol., 211, enumerates Hugh Spencer, who was Ear! of Gloucester ; Thomas of Woodstock ; Duke Humphrey ; and lastly, this Richard himself. t In 1458. Bishop Lesley, p. 29. Tytler, iv. 158; Henry, ix. 362. t Rolls, v. 478. § Lesley, 35. Tytler, 194. 20 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. after suffering many personal hardships,* repaired to the court of the Duke of Burgundy, and thence to Bar, in Lorraine, where she remained for some time. Meanwhile Henry made an incursion into England, was defeated at Hexham, by Warwick’s brother, Montagu ; he took refuge in Lancashire and West- moreland, but was betrayed, taken, delivered to Warwick, and imprisoned in the Tower.{ In the play, he is seized in a park by two keepers ; there has been some doubt as to the names of his takers, but it is certain that Sir James Harrington, and several ‘Talbots, were rewarded by King Edward for the caption. § In the midst of these events, Edward had been in possession of the government, and had held three parliaments, the first of which|| had declared the Lancastrian dynasty an usurpation, and amply retaliated the attainders enacted by the adverse party. We have now{l the petition of Lady Grey, for the restitution of her husband’s lands. * Including the story of the Robber, which rests on the authority of Monstrelet, iv. 108; there is much doubt as to time and place, if the event happened at all. See Henry, ix. 186; Turner, iii. 259. t+ May 15, 1463. t June, 1465. § Lingard, 181; Rymer, xi. 548. |i Westminster, Nov. 4,1461. Parl. Hist., 419; Rolls, 463, 476. q Actiii. Sc. 2. — HENRY VI. PART III. 21 _‘* This lady’s husband, Sir John Grey, was slain ; "His lands then seiz’d on by the conqueror ; Her suit is now, to repossess those lands, That we in justice cannot well deny ; Because in quarrel of the house of York, The worthy gentleman did lose his life.” Malone says that these lines are full of error. Grey was slain at the second battle of St. Albans, fighting for Lancaster, and the lands were seized by Edward himself.* In the play, Edward’s intention to marry Eliza- beth is at once announced to his brothers, who greatly disapprove of it. Holinshed says, that it was opposed by the old Duchess of York.+- It cer- tainly is not likely that Richard, who was still a mere boy, should have made any active opposition. The marriage, according to Holinshed, was pri- vate. “She was a woman of a more formal countenance than excellent beauty, and yet both of such beauty and favour, that with her sober demeanour, sweet looks, and comely smiling (neither too wanton nor too bashful), besides her pleasant tongue and trim wit, she so allured and made subject unto her the heart of that great prince, . that after she had denied him to be his paramour, with so good manner, and words so well set as better could * See Malone’s note in Bosw., 454. + See Laing (in Henry, xii. 403), from Sir Thomas More. 22 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. not be devised, he resolved with himself to marry her, not asking counsel of any man ; till they might perceive it was no booty to advise him of the contrary of this his concluded purpose. . . But yet the Duchess of York letted this match as much as in her lay, and when all would not serve, she caused a precontract to be alleged, made by him with Lady Elizabeth Lucy, that all doubts resolved, all things made clear, and all cavillations ended, privily in a monastery he married the kind Lady Elizabeth Grey, at Grafton, aforesaid, where he had first fancied her.’’* In the play :— ‘“‘ K. Hdw. Her looks do argue her replete with modesty, Her words do shew her wit incomparable, All her perfections challenge sovereignty. One way or other, she is for a king ; And she shall be my love or else my queen. “« Lady Grey. I know I am too mean to be your queen, And yet too good to be your concubine.” Other parts of this wooing, are equally supported by the Chroniclers.+- Contemporary historians} give us no circum- * Hol., 283. t See Bosw. 459. t Croyl. Cont., 539; Hearne’s MS., 292; Fabyan’s tradi- tions are a little more particular, but not important, p. 654. HENRY VI. PART III. 23 stances, simply stating that the marriage was clan- destine, and without communication with the great men of the land, to whom, when known, it was very unacceptable, by reason of the inferior birth of the lady. Nevertheless, we are told, Elizabeth Grey was, at Michaelmas. 1461, presented to the nobles as queen, by Clarence and Warwick.* Shakspeare closes this scene with the first of the speeches in which Gloucester laments the deformity of his body, and disclaiming all the gentler feelings of humanity, announces the evil tendencies of his mind ;— “for I should not deal in her soft laws, Shet did corrupt frail nature with some bribe, To shrink mine arm up like a wither’d shrub; To make an envious mountain on my back, Where sits deformity to mock my body ; To shape my legs of an unequal size ; To disproportion me in every part.” This description is carried further than in the original play, and Shakspeare has also enlarged upon the powers of mischief of which Richard boasts. But **T can smile, and murder whilst I smile.” And ** Can I do this, and cannot get the crown?” are in both plays. * W. Wyrc., 500. + Love. 24 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. The scene* now introduces us to the French court, where Louis XI. receives the supplications of Margaret for succour against the Yorkists: ‘* Now, therefore, be it known to noble Louis, That Henry, sole possessor of my love, Is of a king become a banish’d man, And fore’d to live in Scotland a forlorn : — Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help.”’ Louis promises aid, but Warwick arrives, to de- mand the Lady Bona (described as the sister of Louis, but really sister of his queen, Charlotte of Savoy), in marriage for Edward. ‘This had been announced before by Warwick himself : ‘‘ From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France, And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen, So shalt thou sinew both these lands together ; And having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread The scatter’d foe that hopes to rise again.” T This story of the Lady Bona, and of Warwick’s taking offence, is in Holinshed;{ but the meeting . between Margaret and Warwick até this time at Paris, and its consequences, are Shakspeare’s own. The embassy of that earl to obtain for his master * Act iii. Sc.3. + Continued from p. 18. { P. 280. HENRY VI. PART III. 25 the hand of the Lady Bona is assigned to the year 1464, after the battle of Hexham, and he found Louis not at Paris, but at Tours,* Margaret was not then in France. With one exception, however, of doubtful autho- rity, there is no ground in contemporary historians, French or English, for Edward’s suit to this Lady Bona.- It was probably taken from Polydore Ver- gilt It is remarkable that Hearne’s fragment repeats and refutes a story which sends Warwick not to France but to Spain; to seek in marriage, not Bona of Savoy, but Isabel of Castile. But all such suits, it is added, were fruitless, because the princes of Europe had not confidence in the stabi- lity of Edward’s throne. | On the arrival of the news of Edward’s marriage, Shakspeare reconciles Margaret and Warwick, who now becomes a zealous Lancastrian ; and when Louis, who now promises succour to Margaret, not unnaturally asks for some pledge of the loyalty of the convert, Warwick answers, * Hol., 283, + See Ritson’s note in Bosw. 467 ; and Lingard, 189, who shows that Warwick was not in France at the time of Ed- ward’s marriage. ‘The authority which he overlooks is the »~ Chronicle in Leland, ii. 500. : t P.513, edit. 1£46, He was probably not even born a the time. VOL. II. Cc 26 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. «‘ This shall assure my constant loyalty, That if our queen and this young prince agree, I’ll join my eldest daughter and my joy To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands.” Margaret’s visit, as we have seen, was earlier, and the promised aid was actually given. As the poet has placed this visit too late, so has he placed another, at which some of the circumstances of the play did occur, much too soon. It was in 1470 that Margaret and Warwick did unite against Edward, and cement their union, under the mediation of Louis, by the marriage of their children. Prince Edward was betrothed to Anne (not eldest, but), second daughter of War- wick. It does not appear that the French king sent any succours to the Lancastrians at any period after the declaration of Edward’s marriage. In the fourth act there is a glimmering of the truth, but by no means a clear development. We have the outbreak of the dislike of the nobles to Edward’s marriage.* Clarence openly tells his brother that he has made an enemy of the King of France, and dishonoured Warwick, and Montagu regrets the loss of the alliance of France. Some notable lines follow :— * The persons present, besides the king, queen, and tho two princes, are Somerset, Montagu, Pembroke, Stafford, and Hastings. HENRY VI. PART III. 27 “* Hast. Why, knows not Montagu, that of itself England is safe if true within itself ?* Mon. Yes, but the safer when ’tis back’d with France. Hast. Tis better using France than trusting France : Let us be back’d with God and with the seas, Which he hath given for peace impregnable. And with their helps only defend ourselves : In them, and in ourselves, our safety lies. Cla. For this one speech, Lord Hastings well deserves To have the heiress of the Lord Hungerford. K. Edw. Ay, what of that ? it was my will and grant, And for this once, my will shall stand the law. Glou. And yet, methinks, your grace has not done well, To give the heir and daughter of Lord Scales, Unto the brother of your loving bride, She better would have fitted me, or Clarence, But in your bride you bury brotherhood. Cla. Or else you would not have bestow’d the heir Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife’s son, And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere. K. Edw. Alas, poor Clarence! is it for a wife That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee. Cla. In choosing for yourself, you showed your judg- ment, Which, being shallow, you shall give me leave, To play the brother in mine own behalf, And to that end, I shortly mind to leave you.” The passages in which the power of England * See King John in Bosw., xy. 374. cz 28 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, to maintain herself without foreign alliances, are enlarged and strengthened in this play, form those which are found in “the Contention.” They are conformable to Shakspeare’s general views, so far as we can collect them, and to the policy of the English court at the time of his writing. The discontent expressed at the favours bestowed upon the queen's relatives, is warranted by history. The estrangement of Warwick could not have — arisen at once, or directly, out of the marriage with Lady Grey, to whose eldest daughter (afterwards the wife of Henry VIT.) he stood sponsor.* I do not know whence Shakspeare took his enu- meration of alliances. It is true that the son of Lord Hastings was married to the heiress of Hun- gerford,+ that the queen’s brother, Anthony Wid- ville, married the heiress of the last Lord Scales,} and that her son, Thomas Grey, Marquis of Dor- set, had the heiress of Bonville.§ The queen herself speaks conformably with her character :— *« My lords, before it pleased his Majesty, To raise my state to title of a queen, Do me but right, and you must all confess, * W. Wyre., 505. + William, first Lord Hastings, of Ashby; married War- wick’s sister. Banks, iii. 397. t Ib., p..631. § Ib., ii. 52, HENRY VI. PART III. 29 That I am not ignoble of descent, And meaner than myself has had like fortune. But as this title honours me and mine, So your dislikes, to when I would be pleasing, Do cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow.” These few lines, which, though there is not much in them, strike me as decidedly Shakspearian, are not in the old play. Elizabeth assuredly was not “ Holinshed copied verbatim Polydore Vergil. t Walpole observes, that Habington tells us, that ‘the king’s discontents were secretly fomented by the Duke of Gloucester ;” and he adds, that ‘* when jealousies are secretly fomented in a court, they seldom come to the knowledge of an_ historian.” § But the truth is that Habington || wrote after Shakspeare. ‘The only cotemporary, the Conti- nuator of Croyland,{ is silent as to the intrigues of Gloucester. This Chronicle, after mentioning Cla- rence's interference on behalf of Burdet,** his sum- mons before the king, in the presence of the mayor * I do not know when Isabel Neville died. + Hol., 346. The event is not within More’s period, but he alludes to it, without mentioning Richard, p. 362. 1 Py 537. § Hist. doubts, in Works, ii. 118. || Biog. Dict., xvii. 5. q Pon ** A gentleman in Clarence’s family, accused of sorcery, See Lingard, 227. RICHARD III. 73 and aldermen of London, and his imprisonment, mentions his being accused in parliament. * “No one argued against the duke but the king; no one replied to the king but the duke. But some persons were introduced, of whom it was doubted whether they were accusers or witnesses; for the two functions, in the same cause, are not compatible. The duke met all the charges by a denial of the fact ; offering, if he could be heard, to defend his cause in personal combat. The members of parliament, thinking that the information they had heard was sufficient, came to a sentence of condemnation, which was pronounced by the Duke of Buckingham, lord high steward of England pro tempore. The execution of the sentence was for a long time delayed, until the speaker of the house of commons, going into the upper house with his companions, made a fresh request for the accomplishment of the affair; and consequently, within a few days, the punishment, of whatever kind it was, was secretly carried into effect in the Tower of London, in the year 1478.” The Rolls of Parliament* show that Clarence was convicted and attainted of high treason ; upon a long recital of offences, including that which Lingard thinks was the most essential, the being preferred to Edward in the Lancastrian settlement of the crown. But of the petition from the Com- * vi. 193. VOL. II. E 74 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. mons for the execution of the sentence, I find nothing in the Rolls. The affair is unconquerably mysterious. No reason is assigned why a parliamentary sentence should be secretly put into execution. The second act introduces Edward in his last illness, having effected an apparent reconciliation between Rivers and Hastings,* Dorset and Buck- ingham. Holinshed+ and Sir Thomas More,} both men- tion the king’s dying injunctions to his courtiers to live in amity together; but here is a striking illustration of the nature of historical speeches. The same volume contains two versions of the deathbed oration of King Edward, and there is scarcely a similarity between the two in a single sentence. Either of them would have furnished Shakspeare with the ground of an excellent speech. Gloucester enters, and adds his asseverations of good-will towards the queen’s friends; but men- tions the death of Clarence, whom Edward pro-_ fesses to have reprieved :-— ‘“* But he, poor man, by your first order died, And that a winged Mercury did bear : * William Hastings, first Lord Hastings, of Ashby-de-la- Zouche. The Marquis of Hastings is his representative, through a female. + P. 355. t In Hol., 363. RICHARD III. 75 Some tardy cripple bore the countermand, That came too lag to see him buried.” I know of no authority for these contradictory orders. For what follows, there is the authority of Sir 'Thomas More, who adds to the account of Clarence’s execution— «Sure it is, that though King Edward were consent- ing to his death, yet he both did much lament his unfortunate chance, and repent his sudden execution, insomuch, that when any person sued to him for the pardon of malefactors condemned to death, he would accustomably say, and chiefly speak, O, unfortunate brother, for whose life not one would make suit /. openly and apparently meaning that by some of the means of some of the nobility he was deceived, and brought to his confusion.”’ When the Stanley of the play solicits pardon for one of his dependants, who had committed homicide :— « K, Edw. Have I a tongue to doom a brother’s death, And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave? My brother kill’d no man, his fault was thought, And yet his punishment was bitter death. Who sued to me for him? Who, in my wrath, Kneel’d at my feet and bad me be advis’d? Who told me, how the poor soul did forsake The mighty Warwick and did fight for me? E2 i OO... ma retin 76 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury,* When Oxford had me down, he rescued me, And said, ‘ Dear brother, live and be a king?’ Who told me, when we both lay in the field, Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me, Even in his garments, and did give himself, All thin and naked to the numb-cold night ? All this from my remembrance brutish wrath Sinfully pluck’d, and not a man of you Had so much grace to put it in my mind. But when your carters, or your waiting vassals, Have done a drunken slaughter, and defac’d The precious image of our dear Redeemer ; You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon; And I, unjustly too, must grant it you. But for my brother not a man would speak, Nor I, ungracious, spake unto myself, For him poor soul. The proudest of you all, Have been beholden to him in his life; Yet none of you would once plead for his life. O God! I fear thy justice will take hold Of me, and mine, and you, and yours, for this. Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. Poor Clarence!” Edward dies, and much time is now taken up in the lamentations of his widow, his mother, and the two children of Clarence. The old Duchess of York, who did in fact live for some years after the * I do not know where Shakspeare found this incident. + April 9, 1483. RICHARD III. 77 accession of Henry VII., joins with the rest in im- puting faults of all sorts to her son Richard ; and he appears in these scenes as a hypocrite and a scoffer. They call for no further observations. It is now proposed by Buckingham, that the young prince, Edward, should be brought from Ludlow, where he held his court as Prince of Wales, in order to be crowned ; and that he should come “ with some little train” only. “ Rivers, Why with some little train, my lord of Buck- ingham ? Buck. Marry, my lord, lest by a multitude The new-heal’d wound of malice should break out, Which would be so much the more dangerous, By how much the estate is yet ungovern’d. Where every horse bears his commanding rein, And may direct his course as please himself, As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent, In my opinion, ought to be prevented. Glou. I hope the king made peace with all of us, And the compact is firm and true in me. Rivers. And so in me; and so I think im all. Yet since it is but green, it should be put, To no apparent likelihood of breach, Which haply by much company might be urg’d : Therefore I say, with noble Buckingham, That it is meet so few should fetch the prince.” Gloucester and Buckingham, who is at this time ” 78 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. his devoted humble servant, agree privately toge- ther that they will be of the party to Ludlow, in furtherance of their design ‘To part the queen’s proud kindred from the prince.” There is no very material variation here from Holinshed and Sir Thomas More. Gloucester and Rivers did not meet immediately on Edward’s death; Gloucester was in the north, having been engaged in a campaign against the Scots. Rivers had the care of the prince at Ludlow. It was at first intended that young Edward should be brought up to London accompanied by an imposing force ; but Gloucester, or his friends, of whom the chief were Buckingham and Hastings, persuaded the queen that it would be much better for the peace of the country, and for avoiding suspicions, that the frain should be small. And this account of Sir Thomas More is, ge- nerally, supported by contemporary authority. But the small train appears to have been the subject of much debate in the council.* We have now a scene in which the occurrences of the journey from Ludlow are related to the queen and the Duchess of York, who have with them the Archbishop of York,t+ and the young * Croyl. Cont., 565; see Lingard, 238. + Neville still held the see, . RICHARD III. 79 prince Richard, Duke of York. But Shakspeare first takes an opportunity of presenting this young prince as a forward youth, and fit to be the medium of a pun. “York. Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast, That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old; ’T was full two years ere I could get a tooth. Grandam, this would have been a biting jest.”’ It is announced that Rivers, Vaughan,* and Grey, have been sent by Gloucester and Bucking- ham, as prisoners to Pomfret ; and another scene produces them on their way to execution. All this is from More. Edward had reached Stony Stratford in his way to London; the dukes arrived at Northampton, where they found Rivers. Their measures soon betrayed the intention of some violent proceeding. Rivers ‘‘ determined, upon the surety of his own conscience, to go boldly to them, and ask what this matter might mean. Whom as soon as they saw they began to quarrel with him, and say that he intended to set dis- tance between the king and them, and to bring them to confusion, but it should not lie in his power. And when he began (as he was a very well spoken man) in goodly wise to excuse himself, they tarried not the end of his answer, but shortly took him, and put him in _* Sir Thomas Vaughan, an elderly knight, of the house- hold of the young king, 80 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. ward, and that done went to horseback, and took the way to Stony Stratford, where they found the king and his company ready to leap on horseback, and depart forward to leave that lodging for them, because it was too straight for both companies. And as soon as they came in his presence, they light adown with all their company about them. To whom the Duke of Buck- ingham said, Go afore, gentlemen, and yeomen keep your rooms. And thus in a goodly array they came to the king, and on their knees in very humble wise saluted his grace, which received them in very joyous and amiable manner, nothing earthly knowing or mis- trusting as yet. But even by and by, in his presence, they picked a quarrel with the Lord Richard Grey, the king’s other brother by his mother, saying that he with the lord marquis his brother, and the Lord Rivers his uncle, had compassed to rule the king and the realm, and to set variance among the states, and to subdue and destroy the noble blood of the realm. Towards the accomplishing whereof, they said, that the lord marquis had entered into the Tower of London, and thence taken out the king’s treasure, and sent men to the sea. All which things, the said dukes write, were done for good _ purposes and necessary, by the whole council at London, saving that somewhat they must say. Unto which words the king answered, ‘What my brother marquis hath done I cannot say, but in good-will I dare well answer for mine uncle Rivers and my brother Richard, that they be innocent of any such matter. Yea, my liege, (quoth the Duke of Buckingham) they have kept their RICHARD III. 8] dealing in these matters far from the knowledge of your grace.’ And forthwith they arrested the Lord Richard and Sir Thomas Vaughan, knight, in the king’s pre- sence, and brought the king and all back unto North- ampton, where they took again further counsel. And then they went away from the king when it pleased them, and set new servants about him, such as hiked better than him. At which dealings he wept, and was nothing content, but it booted not. And at dinner the Duke of Gloucester sent a dish from his own table unto the Lord Rivers, praying him to be of good cheer, all should be well enough. And he thanked the duke, and prayed the messenger to bear it to his nephew the Lord Richard, with the same message for his comfort, who he thought had more need of comfort, as one to whom such adversity was strange. But himself had been all his days in use therewith, and therefore could bear it the better. But for all this comfortable courtesy of the Duke of Gloucester, he sent the Lord Rivers, with the Lord Richard, and Sir Thomas Vaughan into the north country, into divers places to prison, and afterwards all to Pomfret, where they were in conclusion beheaded.’’* The young king’s asseveration of the innocence of his maternal relations is slightly noticed in the play :-+— * More in Hol., 366. + Act ili., Se. 1, which is in London, where the king is with Gloucester and Buckingham, and Archbishop Bour- chier, who is now a cardinal. E38 82 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. “* Prince. our crosses on the way Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy. I want more uncles here to welcome me. Glou. Those uncles which you want were dangerous: Your grace attended to their sugar’d words, But look’d not on the poison of their hearts ; God keep you from them, and from such false friends ! Prince. God keep me from false friends! but they were none.” The Queen, with her younger son, the Duke of York, takes sanctuary in Westminster Abbey.* Buckingham enjoins Hastings to take York away from his mother, using force if necessary. When the cardinal objects, Buckingham argues that the prince has done nothing to require sanctuary, and cannot have the benefit of it, ending in the very words ascribed to him by More :+ ‘“« Oft have I heard of sanctuary men, But sanctuary children ne’er till now.” Sir Thomas More gives a dialogue between the @ueen and the Cardinal, very interesting, but too long to be inserted here. Finally, the boy is given up, upon the prelate’s pledging himself for his safety. None of this is given in the play. On the other hand, there is a great deal of rather pert lan- « * Actii. Se. 5, and Act iii. Sc. 1. + Hol., 373. RICHARD III, 85 guage from the young Duke of York, for which I find no warrant in the Chronicle. Gloucester* and Buckingham now avow their intention of placing the former upon the throne, and make a confidant of Catesby,+ whom they em- ploy to sound Lord Hastings; and they announce their intention to hold * divided councils ;” the meaning of which is partly explained in another scene,{ in which Lord Stanley warns Hastings, by a messenger, that ** there are two councils held ; And that may be determined at the one, Which may make you and him to rue at th’ other.” And that he had been warned of evil conse- quences in a dream. Hastings laughs at the dreams; and tells the messenger, ‘‘ Bid him not fear the separated councils. His honour and myself are at the one ; And at the other is my good friend Catesby ; Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us, Whereof I shall not have intelligence. * Gloucester was now Protector; his appointment is said to have occurred in council, 27th May, but it was appa- rently either made or confirmed by the peers. See Lingard, *241; Croyl. Cont., 566; Excerpt. Hist., 13. + Catesby was of an ancient family in Northamptonshire. eM. 84 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. To fly the boar* before the boar pursues, Were to incense the boar to follow us.” More says, that ‘“« The_protector and the duke, after they had sent the lord cardinal, the Archbishop of York, then lord chan- cellor, the Bishop of Ely, the Lord Stanley, and the Lord Hastings, with many other noblemen, to commune and devise about the coronation, in one place, as fast were they in another place contriving the contrary, and to make the protector king. To which council, albeit, there were admitted very few, and they were secret ; yet began there, here and thereabouts, some manner of muttering among the people, as though all should not long be well. . . . By little and little all folk withdrew from the Tower, and drew unto Crosby’s in Bishopsgate-street, where the protector kept his house- hold. The protector had the resort, the king in manner. desolate: <). aaa The Lord Stanley, that was after Earl of Derby, wisely mistrusted it, and said unto the Lord Hastings, that he much misliked these two several councils. For while we (quoth he) talk of one matter in one place, little wot we whereof they talk in the tother place. My lord (quoth the Lord Hastings), on my life never doubt you; for while one man is there which is never thence, never can there be any thing once moved that should sound amiss towards me, but it should bein my ears ere it were well out of their mouths, This * Gloucester, so called from his badge, RICHARD III, 85 meant he by Catesby, which was of his near secret coun- cil, and whom he very familiarly used, and in his most weighty matters put no man in so special trust; reck- | oning himself to no man so lief, since he well wist there was no man so much to him beholden as was this Cates- by, which was a man well learned in the laws of this land, and by the special favour of the lord chamberlain in good authority, and much rule bare in all the county of Leicester, where the lord chamberlain’s power chiefly lay.” * The contemporary Chronicle says, that the coun- cil was divided by the singular cunning of the protector : a part being to meet in the Tower, and a part at Westminster. And this separation was, apparently, for the express purpose of facilitating the proceedings against Hastings.+ In the play, as in the Chronicle, Catesby pro- poses the elevation of Richard; congratulating Lord Hastings upon the destruction of Rivers and his other adversaries, at Pomfret. But Hastings refuses to take part against the young king. * Hol., 378. + Croyl. Cont., 566; Lingard, 242. It must be observed that three places of meeting are mentioned—the Tower, Westminster, and Crosby-square. I take the last to have been the scene of private consultations only, and that por- tions of the council met at the other two. See a contempo- rary letter on Hastings’s death in Excerpt. Hist., p. 16. 86 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. A council is now held at the TTower,* Gloucester enters, having heard of Hastings’s refusal, and having communed with Buckingham, he addresses the counsellors, ««T pray you all tell me what they deserve, That do conspire my death with devilish plots Of damned witchcraft, and that have prevail’d Upon my body with their hellish charms.” Hastings answers, that they deserve death. Glou- cester exhibits his arm, ‘ wither’d up,” and imputes this, which was in truth no new calamity, to the Queen and Jane Shore, the well-known mistress of Edward (a rather unlikely combination) :— “ Hastings. If they have done this deed, my noble ~ lord Glou. If! thou protector of this damned strumpet, Talk’st thou to me of ifs ? Thou art a traitor,— Off with his head! Now, by St. Paul, I swear, I will not dine until I see the same.” And execution is now done, Hastings’s head is produced on the stage, and afterwards a scrivener appears with the indictment against this unfortu- nate lord, which he has been ordered to draw in the utmost haste. The whole of this, even to the smaller incidents, * Buckingham, Stanley, Hastings, Bishop of Ely, Cates- by, Lovel, and others. RICHARD III. 87 including Gloucester’s sending to the garden of Ely Palace for a dish of strawberries, is taken from Sir Thomas More. That slight incident confirms the probability, that More’s history was derived from Bishop Morton, if not written (as Sir Henry Ellis conjectures) by that prelate himself. Except that Sir Thomas More is fuller, and nothing is said in the Continuation of Croyland* of the Queen’s reluctance} to part with her son Ri- chard, that contemporary register agrees as to facts with More’s narrative. No author, nor any record that is extant, gives reason to doubt of the sum- mary nature of the process by which the execution of Hastings, and of the prisoners of Pomfret, was effected. But More, and Shakspeare after him, place the withdrawal of the young prince from the sanctuary, before the execution of Hastings. Ac- cording to the more credible history, it occurred a few days afterwards.} Hastings was not the only person whom Glouces- ter, or his friends, attacked at this council in the Tower. More says that ** Another let fly at the Lord Stanley, which shrunk at the stroke, and fell under the table, or else his head had been cleft to the teeth, for as shortly as he shrunk, yet ran the blood about his ears.” a P. 556. + Hol., 374. { June 16th. Hastings was beheaded on the 13th. 88 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. And we are told that the Archbishop of York, and the Bishop of Ely, were only saved from capital punishment out of respect to their order, and that they were sent as prisoners into Wales.* Walpole attempts a sort of justification of Richard ; alleging not only, which is true, that the punishment of state offences was in those times conducted with little of judicial trial, but that the Queen and her friends were the aggressors ; having endeavoured: to surround the young king with a large force, and also assembled armed men in the neighbourhood of the sanctuary in which Elizabeth had taken refuge ;—all which hostile demonstra- tions were in order to maintain the custody of the king’s person, and to exclude from all share in the government, during the minority, the Dukes of Gloucester and Buckingham, one of them the first prince of the blood, and the other nearly allied to the throne. Richard wrote on the 10th of June a letter, commanding the men of the north “‘ to rise and come to London, under the Earl of North- umberland and the Lord Nevil, to assist in subduing, correcting, and punishing the Queen, her blood, and other her adherents, who intended to murder and destroy the Protector and his cousin, the Duke of Buckingham, and the old royal blood of the realm.” { * Croyl. Cont., 566. + Works, ii. 128. t Turner, iii. 405; from Drake’s Eboracum, p. 115; and see Lingard, 244. RICHARD III. 89 But this only shows the pretext, not the fact. Yet Sharon Turner gives Richard credit for the since- rity and reasonableness of his apprehensions. * A contest for power between the queen’s relations and those of the late king was a matter of course. Whether the measures adopted or contemplated by the former so far exceeded the bounds of political contention as to justify the brothers and friends of Edward in treating them as traitors, is a question upon which no sufficient evidence exists. Shakspeare’s version, which refers the executions to the tyranny and ambition of Richard, has cer- tainly a sufficient foundation for a dramatist; but it must not be received as authentic history, It is upon the same authority of Sir Thomas More,+ that Gloucester and Buckingham, by way of making it appear that a sudden alarm obliged them to arm in great haste, are introduced “in rusty armour, marvellous ill-favoured.”+ In this _ guise they send for the Lord Mayor of London, and easily satisfy him that Hastings had plotted against their lives, and that his sudden execution was an act of urgent necessity. What follows has more of poetical licence :— “* Glou. Come, cousin, canst thou quake and change thy colour ? * 111, 392. f) Hots} 382. t Act iii. Se. 5. 90 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. Murder thy breath in middle of a word, And then again begin, and stop again As if thou wert distraught, and mad with terror ? _ Buck. Tut! I can counterfeit the deep tragedian ; Speak, and look back, and pry on every side ; Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, Intending deep suspicion ;~ghastly looks Are at my service like enforced smiles ; And both are ready in their offices, At any time, to grace my stratagems.” It is now agreed that Buckingham shall openly harangue the citizens in favour of Richard’s claim to the crown, setting forth the illegitimacy of the two princes, by reason of their father’s marriage with “ Lady Lucy,” previous to his union with Elizabeth Grey. And he was even instructed, at the expense of the honour of Gloucester’s mother, the Duchess of York, to hint that Edward himself had been illegitimate ;* and this he was to enforce by the want of resemblance between the late King and Richard, Duke of York, while Gloucester him- self was described as ‘ Being the right idea of your father, Both in your form, and nobleness of mind.” * Clarence had been accused, in the Act of Attainder, of making a similar insinuation. AH the topics of Bucking- ham’s harangue are said to have been set forth in a sermon at Paul’s Cross, by Dr. Shaw (More in Hol., 386 ; Fabyan, 669). Shakspeare makes Richard send for him, but we hear no more.—See Lingard, 547. RICHARD III. 91 And Buckingham thus continues the report of his harangue, and its issue: he ** Laid open all your victories in Scotland ; Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, Your bounty, virtue, fair humility. Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose Untouch’d, or slightly handled in discourse. And, when my oratory grew to an end, I bade them that did love their country’s good Cry, God save Richard, England’s royal king ! Glou. And did they so? Buck. No! So God help me : they spake not a word; But, like dumb statues, or breathless stones, Star’d on each other, and look’d deadly pale ; Which, when I saw, I reprehended them ; And ask’d the mayor, What meant this wilful silence ? His answer was, The people were not used To be spoke to but by the recorder. Then he was urg’d to tell my tale again: Thus saith the duke-—thus hath the duke inferred ; But nothing spoke in warrant from himself. When he had done, some followers of mine own, At lower end of hall, hurl’d up their caps, And some ten voices cried, God save King Richard ! And then I took the vantage of those few : Thanks, gentle citizens and friends, quoth I ; This general applause and cheerful shout Argues your wisdom, and your love to Richard: And even here brake off, and came away.” 92 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. The mayor, however, had been gained, and was now expected, with a request that Richard would ascend the throne; and he, whose dra- matic character is that of a consummate hypo- crite, is to be found with a prayer-book in his hand, in serious discourse with two bishops.* All this is enacted, and, with a great deal of assumed unwillingness, he finally accepts the crown. The whole process is in Shakspeare’s autho- rity ;f but the precontract, upon which it was attempted to set aside Edward’s marriage with Lady Grey, was with Lady Eleanor Butler (not Lady Lucy, who, however, was also one of Ed- ward’s favourites) ;—this lady was daughter of the famous Earl of Shrewsbury, and widow of Lord Butler.t And the supplication to Richard, to take * Malone observes that this piece of hypocrisy is not in More. Bosw. 142. + Hol., 395. t See Walpole, 133; Croyl. Cont., 567. This lady is not named by Collins, among the children of Lord Shrewsbury, but Lingard shows (p. 250) that she has a place in the ‘Talbot pedigree. Nothing turns upon her birth or marriage. Comines says (b.v. c.18), that the Bishop of Bath (Stillington) told Richard, that he mar- ried Edward privately to a lady unnamed ; but he says afterwards, if I understand him (b. vi, c.9), that there was no marriage. RICHARD III. 93 upon him the royal dignity, had a somewhat more valid pretence to constitutional authority, than would be inferred from either Shakspeare or More. It professed to be an election by “ us, the three estates of the land;” though, when afterwards confirmed by act of parliament, it was said to have been delivered “* by many and divers lords, spiritual and temporal, and other nobles, and noteth persons of the commons in great multitude ;” but it is added, that “ neither the said three estates, neither the said persons which in their name presented and delivered the said roll, were assembled in form of parliament.”* The act set forth the illegitimacy of the two sons of Edward. We now come to the murder of the young princes : « K. Rich. Ah, Buckingham! now do I ply the touch, To try if thou be current gold indeed :— Young Edward lives ;—think now what I would speak. * Rolls, vi. 240 ; the Croyl. Cont. has also the expres- sion, ex parte dominorum et communitatis regni, and says nothing of Dr. Shaw. Fabyan (p. 669) mentions Suffolk and other nobles as present, but says nothing of estates. Suffolk was John de la Pole, son of Margaret’s favourite, and married to Elizabeth, the sister of Richard ITI. 94 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, Buck. Say on, my loving lord. K. Rich. Why, Buckingham, I say I would be king. Buck. Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned liege. K. Rich. Ha! Am I king? ’Tis so—but Edward lives. Buck. True, noble prince. K. Rich. O bitter consequence ! That Edward still should live.—True, noble prince !— Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so dull :— Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead ; And I would have it suddenly perform’d. What say’st thou now ?—Speak suddenly,—be brief. Buck. Your grace may do your pleasure. K. Rich. Tut, tut! thou art all ice, thy kindness freezes ; Say, have I thy consent that they should die ? Buck. Give me some breath, some little pause, dear lord, Before I positively speak in this : I will resolve your grace immediately. [ Bait. Catesby. The king is angry ; see, he gnaws his lip. K. Rich. I will converse with iron-witted fools, And unrespective boys; none are for me, That look unto me with considerate eyes ; High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.” I find no authority for this scheme, or for any attempt to involve Buckingham in the : TAR of the princes. The Richard of the play then employs a page RICHARD III, 95 to find him a murderer, and is informed of Tyrrel, to whom he gives the commission. Buckingham takes occasion to solicit the grants which Richard had promised him, but is treated scornfully, and announces his intention of retir- ing into Wales. In the next scene the murder is described, which had been accomplished, under Tyrrel’s superintendence, by Dighton and For- rest. Comparing, in this as in other cases, the nar- rative of Sir Thomas More with that of con- temporary writers, I find that the continuator of Croyland does not state that the princes were murdered, or that such was the general belief. But he says, that while the princes remained in the Tower, the people of the southern and wes- tern parts of England began to murmur ; and there was a report that some of the late king’s daughters had escaped from sanctuary to foreign parts, in order that, if anything should happen (this is very expressive) to the sons, the crown might still be preserved to the true heirs. It was after the people of the southern counties began to stir, and Buckingham had become their cap- tain, that it was reported that the two boys had died in the Tower, by some sort of violent death.* * Croyl., 567, 568. 96 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. The suspicions of Fabyan are expressed more plainly. He says, that « The common fame went, that King Richard had within the Tower, put unto secret death the sons of his brother, Edward IV.; for the which and other causes, hid within the breast of the Duke of Buck- ingham, the said duke, in secret manner, conspired against him.’’* The Records of Parliament furnish nothing but the recital, in the act of attainder of Ri- chard and his adherents, of “‘the unnatural, mischievous, and great perjuries, treasons, homicides, and murders in shedding of in- Ffant’s blood, with many other wrongs, odious offences, and abominations against God and man, and espe- cially against our said sovereign lord, committed and done by Richard, late Duke of Gloucester, calling and naming himself by usurpation, King Richard III.” + I do not lay much stress upon the absence of more direct reference, in this record, to the mur- der of Edward V. and his brother. The treason charged upon Richard was made, by a most im- pudent assumption, to consist in levying war at Bosworth against Henry VII., and it did not suit the Lancastrian policy of that king to recog- * P. 670, + Rollaaiaennin RICHARD III. 97 nise the son of Edward IV. as the sovereign whose life could not be taken away without high treason.* But I cannot agree with Hume, in giving faith to the narrative of Sir Thomas More, whe- ther written by that eminent man, or by Arch- bishop Morton. The murderous order sent to Brackenbury from a distance, in the uncertainty whether he would obey it ; the story of the page and Tyrrel, the commission to the Tower of that person for a single night, are circumstances highly improbable, with which, neither More nor Morton was in a situation to be acquainted, if they did actually occur. Morton was very likely to invent or exaggerate facts unfavoura- ble to Richard; and Tyrrel was of a station much too high to be picked out by a page. His brothers and he were successively masters of the horse. More’s authority proves, only what Fabyan’s is enough to prove, that there was a rumour and suspicion of murder. Comines says, that Louis XI. (not in general very scrupulous) refused to answer Richard’s notification of his accession, because he thought him wicked and cruel. But Louis’s answer is extant, and though short, is * See Hallam’s Middle Ages, iii. 297. VOL. II. F 98 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. passably courteous and friendly.* And cer- tainly there is this difference between this crime and the others which are imputed to Richard. For this, a more natural motive may be assigned; and while the disappearance of the two princes remains unaccounted for, the habits of the age, I fear, teach us to look upon their murder by their uncle, as not the least probable solution of the mystery. It is true, that Richard was already king, in fact, and that the death of his nephews did not make him king of right ;_ but their exis- tence might be thought eventually dangerous : the murder was not politic or necessary, but was not gratuitous. I cannot go more deeply into the controversy ; but I would recommend those who are disposed to rely upon Shakspeare, to read the ‘‘ Historic Doubts,” I do not profess to have myself resolved them in favour of Richard.+ * See Turner, 3d edit. 439. + Hume’s note (M. vol. iii.), is by some persons deemed a masterly answer to Walpole. But he relies too much upon Sir’ Thomas More; and Walpole’s criticisms (p.195) upon the passage in which he lauds the magnanimity of that historian, are quite just and applicable. Some pas- sages in the note are ridiculous; as where, the subject of question being the murder of the two princes in the Lower, he says, that itis plain that More had his infor- mation from eye witnesses ! His averment that “all the partisans of the house of York were assured of the mur- RICHARD III, 99 In the midst of his murderous plans against his nephews, the accomplished villain of Shaks- peare instructs his agent, Catesby, to ** rumour it abroad, That Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick ;” and tells him to “« Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman, Whom I will marry straight to Clarence’s daughter. The boy is foolish, and I fear not him ;” and adds, “I must be married to my brother’s daughter.” And in the next, he congratulates himself on the execution of all his plans, except the last. He has put young Clarence (Earl of Warwick) in prison, and has “ meanly married” his sister ; —his wife is dead, and so are the children of Edward. ‘“« Now, for I know the Bretagne Richmond aims At young Elizabeth, my brother’s daughter, And by that knot looks proudly on the crown ; To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer.” It is true that he placed Warwick in confine- ment; aud that Margaret was married to Sir der,’ is unsupported. I own, however, that I deem the notion, that one prince escaped and the other was mur- dered, as little supported by probability as by evidence. F2 100 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, Richard Pole; but Pole could not accurately be called mean, except in comparison with roy- alty. Nor does it appear that he was married at the instigation of Richard, or, indeed, that the marriage occurred during Richard’s life. Sir Richard Pole was connected with the family of Henry VII.,* who made him a Knight of the Garter. It is clearly insinuated by our poet, that the life of Queen Anne was shortened by her hus- band’s means, and this is the last of the imputed murders which I have to notice. This charge rests on More alone ; nor does he affirm the fact. Richard, he says, had spread a rumour of her death :— «*« Now, when the queen heard tell that so horrible a rumour of her death was sprung amongst the com- monalty, she sore suspected and judged the world to be almost an end with her. And in that sorrow- ful agony, she with lamentable countenance and sorrowful cheer, repaired to the presence of the king her husband, demanding of him what it should mean, * He was the son of Geoffrey Pole of Buckingham- shire, by Edith, daughter of Sir Oliver St. John, and Mar- garet Beauchamp, afterwards wife of John Beaufort, Duke of Somerset, and mother to the Countess of Rich- mond, the mother of Henry VIT.—See Coll. Topograph., i, 295, 310. He was a K.G., but probably not until the time of Henry VII. RICHARD III. 101 that he had adjudged her worthy to die. The king answered her with fair words, and with smiling and flattering leasings comforted her, and bid her be of good cheer, for (to his knowledge) she should have no other cause. But howsoever that it fortuned, that either by inward thought and pensiveness of heart, or by infection of poison which is affirmed to be most likely, within few days after, the queen de- parted out of this transitory life, and was with due solemnity buried in the church of St. Peter at West- minster.”’* I find nothing in Fabyan ; the Croyland Con- tinuator says, that Anne died of a languishing disorder ;+ I see no reason whatever for believ- ing that she was murdered. Richard’s intention to marry his niece Eliza- beth, is in More,} who says that her mother was gained over by promises of advantage to her family, as well as by Richard’s “ wily wit.” It is also mentioned in connexion with Queen Anne’s death, by the Croyland Continuator. * Hol., 430. + “ Regina vehementissimé egrotare cepit, cujus lan- guor ideo magis atque magis excrecisse censebatur, quod rex ipse thori sui consertium omnino aspernabitur. Itaque a medicis sibi consultum ut faceret, judicavit. Quid plura? Circa medium Martii sequentis, in die magno eclipsis solis que tune temporis accidebat, obiit prefata Anna Regina.” Croyl. Cont., p. 572. t Hol., 529, 533; Croyl. Cont., 572. 102 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. He says that many things happened of bad example, which is disagreeable to relate, but he cannot avoid mentioning. He then tells us, that much scandal was excited among the people, as well as among the peers and prelates, by the appearance of Queen Anne and the Princess Elizabeth at Richard’s court in dresses precisely similar, whence it was inferred, that either by a divorce, or by the death of the queen, Richard entertained the idea of marrying Elizabeth.* But the marriage was so unpopular, that he was advised by his closest adherents to deny that he had projected it. As in the case of his first wife, Richard’s wooing is performed upon the stage; and he talks over the queen dowager, who begins by imputing to him a whole catalogue of crimes, into giving her daughter, as he had talked over Anne into marrying him herself. It is not with- out reason that he calls her, “ Relenting fool, and shallow, changing, woman.” It clearly appears from a document published by Sir Henry Ellis, t that the queen dowager, after her marriagewith Edward had been declared * Croyl., 568. Then follows the passage about the queen’s sickness, already quoted. See Lingard, 262. + Letters, second series, i. 149, See Turner, 494. RICHARD III. 103 void, was invited to send her four daughters to Richard’s court, where they were to receive pecuniary allowances, and to be well treated, and married to gentlemen. And it appears from the story in the Croyland Continuation, that she accepted this invitation. Lingard,* as well as Walpole,+ gives credence to a story in Buck, from which it would appear, not only that the queen dowager consented to give her daughter to Richard, but that the young Elizabeth herself was ambitious of the proffered honour ; that she wrote a letter to the Duke of Norfolk, “ desiring him to be a mediator for her to the king, on the behalf of the marriage pro- pounded between them,—who was her only joy and master in this world, and she was his in heart and thought, withal insinuating that the better part of February was past, and that she feared the queen (whose death in that month had been predicted by physicians) would never die.”*t I own that I doubt the truth of this story. If I could believe it, 1 should certainly be very * P. 264. + P.Lél. \t See Kennet, i. 568. Buck says that this letter, in his time, was in the cabinet of Thomas, Earl of Arundel and Surry. Mr. Howard of Corby has kindly procured a search to be made for this curious paper; but it can- not be found. 104 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. slow, indeed, to think it possible that Richard murdered, or was at the time generally suspected of murdering, the two brothers. Yet, perhaps, the acknowledged return of the degraded widow of Edward IV. to Richard’s court might as fairly be deemed incompatible with that suspicion ! The mystery is, indeed, beyond me! Just before and after this scene of the court- ship, intelligence is brought to Richard of various important events. “* Catesby. Bad news, my lord, Morton is fled to Richmond ; And Buckingham, back’d with the hardy Welehinen! Is in the field, and still his power increaseth* Ratcliff. Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends, Unarm’d, and unresolv’d to beat them back. ‘Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral : And there they hull, expecting but the aid Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore. Stanley. Richmond is on the seas. K. Rich. There let him sink, and be the seas on him ! White-liver’d runagate, what doth he there ? * Activ. Se. 3. RICHARD III. 105 Stan. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess. K. Rich. Well, as you guess? Stan. Stirr’d up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton, He makes for England here, to claim the crown.” The king distrusts Lord Stanley,— “* But hear you, leave behind Your son, George Stanley: look your heart be firm, Or else his head’s assurance is but frail. Stan. So deal with him, as I prove true to you. Messenger. My gracious sovereign, now in Devon- shire, As I by friends am well advertised, Sir Edward Courtenay, and the haughty prelate, Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother, With many more confederates, are in arms. Second Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guildfords are in arms, And every hour more competitors Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong. Third Mess. The news I have to tell your ma- jesty, Is, that, by sudden floods and fall of waters, Buckingham’s army is dispersed and scatter’d, And he himself wander’d away alone, No man knows whither. F 3 106 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, Fourth Mess. Sir Thomas Lovel,* and Lord Mar- quis Dorset, ’Tis said, my lord, in Yorkshire are in arms ; But this good comfort bring I to your highness, The Bretagne navy is dispersed by tempest. Richmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out a boat Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks, If they were his assistants, yea or no ; Who answer’d him they came from Buckingham Upon his party ; he mistrusting them, Hoisted sail, and made his course again for Bretagne. Catesby. My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken, That is the best news; that the Earl of Richmond Is with a mighty power landed at Milford, Is colder news, but yet they must be told. K. Rich, Away, towards Salisbury.” + These events are not related exactly according to Sir Thomas More. When Buckingham, dis- contented with Richard, retired to Brecknock, he found Morton there, who had been committed, to his custody, just after the Protector, by way of a blind, I suppose, had admired his straw- * I do not know who this was. The Lovel who adhered to Richard, was Francis Viscount Lovel, of the house of Perceval. He left no issue, but the Earl of Egmont is his male heir. Collins, vii. 544. + Activ. Se. 4. RICHARD III. 107 berries. Morton had been a Lancastrian, though after the death of Henry VI. and his son, he had adhered to Edward IV., whose chaplain he became. He now took pains to entice Bucking- ham into a confidential conversation on the state of the monarchy,* and let it out pretty plainly that he was not well satisfied with King Richard. Just at this moment, in the midst of their con- versation, which Morton probably ‘himself re- peated to Sir Thomas More, we lose the autho- rity of that writer.- The rest of the conversa- tion is from Hall, and, of course, quite fanciful. However, Shakspeare makes no use of it, though it might certainly have furnished a good scene. For the bishop having let out his grievances cautiously and by degrees, at last solicited the duke to take the crown himself; or if he was * Morton exhorts the duke to deliver the kingdom from its perils, by the oath which he has taken as a Knight of the Garter. Sir Harris Nicolas informs me that at this time no oath was taken, except for the observance of the statutes. In the time of Henry VIII. they were sworn to sustain the honour and dominions of the king—there is another inaccuracy, when Richard swears by his George, a badge not used in his time. + So it is stated in the margin of Hol., 405. Hall has the same notice (p. 379), prior to the commencement of the communication between Morton and Buckingham. At all events, the important part of the conversation has not More’s authority. 108 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, averse to that, then “to set up again the lineage of Lancaster, or advance the eldest daughter of King Edward to some high and puissant prince.” Buckingham then opened himself to Morton ; telling him that Richard’s first purpose was, that he should wear the crown till young Edward should complete his twenty-fourth year: when Buckingham hesitated at approving this, he began to question the legitimacy of the two princes. Buckingham acknowledged that it was by his means that Richard was made king, pro- mising, however, that his nephews should live and be honourably maintained. The duke did not, according to this version, acknowledge that the murder of the boys had been proposed to him; but he left Richard, first, because the Hereford estate was denied to him,* and se- condly, because the princes had been put to death. Buckingham, then, according to his own account, thought of setting up his own claim to the crown ; for, he said, ** T suddenly remembered that the lord Edmund, Duke of Somerset, my grandfather, was with King Henry VI., in the two and three degrees from John, * Turner (ili. 436) shows that the Hereford estates were granted to Buckingham. This fact brings into question, not the credit, but accuracy of the information of Sir Thomas More, RICHARD III. 109 Duke of Lancaster, lawfully begotten, so that I thought sure, my mother being eldest daughter to Duke Edmund, that I was next heir to King Henry VI., of the house of Lancaster.” But he adds, ‘“* As I rode between Worcester and Bridgnorth, I - encountered with the lady Margaret, Countess of Richmond, now with unto the Lord Stanley, which is the very daughter and sole heir to John, Duke of Somerset, my grandfather’s elder brother, which was as clean out of my mind as though I had never seen her ; so that she and her son, the Earl of Richmond, be both bulament and portcullis between me and the gate, to enter into the majesty royal and getting of the crown.” The result was a suggestion, that Richmond should be set up as heir of Lancaster, marrying Elizabeth, as the heiress of York. The bishop now escaped from custody, and got over to Flanders, as in the play. How soon after this Buckingham raised his hardy Welsh- men, I have not ascertained; but no long time elapsed before his army, owing to the overflow of the waters, was dispersed and scattered. The appearance of Richmond and his fleet off the coast of Dorsetshire, and his ultimate landing at Miford, are taken exactly from the Chronicle. 110 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, The Courtenays* certainly rose in Devonshire. The Guildfords were a distinguished family seated at Hempstead in Kent. Sir Richard was K.G. under Henry VII., and Sir Edward, his son, was father-in-law to John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland. But much time, and important events, oc- curred before Richmond landed. Among the most remarkable, is the Queen Dowager’s in- viting her son, Dorset, to quit the Earl of Richmond. King Richard appears to have — completely succeeded in conciliating or intimi- dating her.+ The distrust of Lord Stanley, the detention of his son as hostage, and his communication with Richmond, and ultimate description of Richard, are all historical facts. And Sir Chris- topher Urswick is an historical person; he was chaplain to the Countess of Richmond, and * But there is some confusion. Holinshed (p. 417) makes ‘“ Peter Courtenay, Bishop of Exeter, and Sir Edmund Courtenay his brother, by King Henry VII. afterwards created Karl of Devonshire.’”’ Now Peter was of a younger branch, and not brother of Edward, after- wards created Earl of Devon; he had an elder brother Edmund; yet surely the powerful insurgent must have been the head of the family, to whom the earldom was restored by the new king, Probably both Edward and Edmund took arms. + Turner, 495. RICHARD III, 111 employed as a messenger between Richmond and his friends in England:* whose friends he thus enumerates,— ‘¢ Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier ; Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley, § Oxford, || redoubted Pembroke,{| Sir James Blount,** and Rise ap Thomas.” The fifth act opens with Buckingham, on his way to execution, at Salisbury. A note in Boswell, confirmed, as I understand, by local information, states that the execution really took place at Shrewsbury. We have now Richard in the neighbourhood of Tamworth, to which place he had marched from Milford, and as we have presently both armies in Bosworth field; Richard is accom- panied by Norfolk ++ and Surry. “K. Rich. Who has descried the number of the traitors ? * Bosw., 202. + [ cannot identify him. { Son of the second Earl of Shrewsbury and ancestor of the present. § Brother of Lord Stanley. || John de Vere, 13th Earl, who appears in Henry VI. 4] Jasper Tudor. ** T cannot find this Pattee among the Blounts of Mapledurham ; but see Malone’s note in Bosw., 207. ++ John Howard, the first duke of that name. Surry was his son Thomas, so created; the victor of Flodden. Collins, i. 57. 112 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. Norf. Six or seven thousand is their utmost strength. K. Rich. Why, our battalion trebles that account: Besides, the king’s name is a tower of strength, Which they of the adverse faction want.” Presently, “ K. Rich. Saddle White Surry for the field to- morrow, Saw’st thou the melancholy Lord Northumberland ? Rat. Thomas the Earl of Surry, and himself, Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop, Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers.* K. Rich. So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine; I have not that alacrity of spirit Nor cheer of mind, that I was won’t to have.” The private meeting between Richmond and Stanley is from the Chronicle. It took place at the village of Aderston.+ We have now the ghosts: «The fame went, that Richard had the same night a dreadful and terrible dream; for it seemed to him, * Malone says, that the epithet of melancholy was given to Henry, the fourth Earl of Northumberland, because he was ill-affected to Richard, and stood aloof (Bosw., 213). This does not assort with the activity here ascribed to him. + Hol., 439. RICHARD III. 113 being asleep, that he did see divers images like ter- rible devils, which pulled and haled him, not suffering him to take any quiet or rest. The which strange vision not so suddenly struck his heart with a sudden fear, but it shifted his head and troubled his mind with many busy and dreadful imaginations. For incontinent after, his heart being almost damped, he prognosticated before the doubtful chance of the battle to come; not using the alacrity and mirth of mind and countenance as he was accustomed to do before he came toward the battle.* _ Although Richard’s address to his companions in arms is suggested by Holinshed, where Rich- ard publicly confessed that for obtaining the crown he committed ‘*a wicked and detestable” act; of which, however, he has repented. Shakspeare’s Richard} makes this confession to himself alone, and in addressing his army, says, ** Conscience is but a word that cowards use.” His depreciation of Richmond as a milk-sop, and of his Breton soldiers, “‘ whom our fathers ee Have in their own land beaten, bobb’d, and thump’d,”’ Shakspeare has his usual authority. But in Holinshed, the king appeals to the rectitude of * Hol., 438, + Act. v., Se. 3. 114 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. his administration; whereas our poet studiously avoids allusion to any circumstance favourable to Richard. 7 In taking from Holinshed the oration of Richmond, the poet has not found it necessary to use his licence. ‘The Chronicler was the ori- ginal poet. He supplied a plentiful imputation, not only of murder in acquiring the crown, but of oppression and tyranny in using its powers; for which latter there is no authority whatever. The order of battle is from the Chronicle, but the unhorsing of Richard is imaginary ; it 1s allowed that he displayed much personal bravery, and, we are told that in this instance the personal conflict between the two rivals, which almost always occurs on the stage, did actually take place. It is, however, not stated that Richard fell by Henry’s own hand. It may be observed that Henry, referring in his final and triumphant address to the contest between York and Lancaster, says, “©O now let Richmond and Elizabeth, The true succeeders of each royal house, By God’s fair ordinance conjoin together.” Elizabeth was the undoubted heiress of York, and certainly conveyed to the Tudors their best hereditary title. Henry was not the representa- RICHARD III. 115 tive of Lancaster, in any sense in which that representation would have given him a title to the crown, either ancestral or parliamentary. Through his mother he was the representative of the Beauforts, the illegitimate descendants of John of Gaunt. But the crown was never given by parliament to the heirs of John of -Gaunt. The Lancastrian title began with Henry IV. Even, therefore, if the legitima- tion* of the Beauforts had not contained a bar to their claim to the royal succession, they would have had no claim while any descendants remained of the elder brother of John of Gaunt. Nevertheless, Henry VII. was fond of his Lan- castrian title, and seldom, if ever, put forward the Yorkist right of his wife, or built, as in the play, upon’the union of the two houses. Of Richard IIT. Johnson says, “« This is one of the most celebrated of our author’s performances; yet I know not whether it has not happened to him as to others, to be praised most when praise is not most deserved. That this play has scenes noble in themselves, and very well contrived to strike in the exhibition, cannot be denied. But some parts are trifling, others shocking, and some impossible.”’+ * On which see Excerpt. Hist., 152. + Bosw., 243, 116 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. Malone adds, that the play ‘“was patronized by the queen on the throne, who probably was not a little pleased at seeing King Henry VII. placed in the only favourable light in which he could have been exhibited on the scene.” And Steevens concurring in the judgment of Johnson and Malone, says, ‘** Perhaps they have overlooked one cause of the success of this tragedy. The part of Richard is, perhaps, beyond all others, variegated, and conse- quently favourable to a judicious performer. The hero, the lover, the statesman, the buffoon, the hypo- crite, the hardened and repentant sinner, &c., are to be found within its compass. No wonder, therefore, that the discriminating powers of a Burbage, a Gar- rick, and a Henderson, should at different periods have given it a popularity beyond other dramas of the same author. Yet the favour with which this tragedy is now received, must also, in some measure, be attributed to Mr. Cibber’s reformation of it, which, generally considered, is judicious.” I agree in the opinion that the popularity of this play is owing to the character of Richard, and the way in which it is sustained by the dramatist, and has been performed by the actor; not because the character is variegated, but be- cause it is uniform—that of an hypocritical vil- lain, pursuing by wicked means the one great RICHARD III. 117 object of ambition. The scenes which might be selected from the play as specimens of Shak- speare’s power are not his best. ‘They would be inferior in interest and excitement to the somewhat cognate scenes in the less valued play of King John, and would present few passages in splendid language. My friend, Mr. Broderip, has shown me a play,* from which it appears that in the time of Charles II., a different and inferior play of Richard III. was acted in London. Of secondary personages, Buckingham is the best; but there is not much in his character. Margaret sustains her part well, but that is entirely fanciful, and not to be admired. Shak- speare’s character of Queen Anne is imaginary, and not well imagined. Nor does the scene in which the courtship is represented, contain pas- sages of dramatic merit sufficient to countervail the fault of the conception. The received history is pretty closely followed ; but, when this play was written, the belief which it was the view of the Tudors to encourage had not been disturbed by the historic doubts of a later age. * The English Princess, or the Death of Richard IIT., as it is now acted at His Highness the Duke of York’s Theatre, 1674. 118 HENRY VIII. In coming to the last play of the English historical series, we omit a period of about thirty-five years; namely, the whole reign of Henry VII., and the first eleven years of that of Henry VIII. We pass from 1485 to 1520. The plays of Richard III. and Henry VIII. are distinguished, in one respect, from the pre- ceding ; they treat of times so near to those in which they were written, and of persons so nearly connected with the reigning queen, as to exhibit a stronger bias in favour of one view of doubt- ful history. In Richard III. this bias shows itself in blackening the character of Richard, and in representing Henry VII. in the favour- able light of his successful rival, invited by the nobles of the land to deliver it from a tyrannical usurper. From the reign of Henry VII. himself, it would probably have been difficult to make a HENRY VIII, 119 good play ; but it would have been still more difficult to make of the first of the Tudor kings a hero, who would realize the prophecy of Hen- ry VI.* and the expectations of the conquerors of Bosworth field. In the play of Henry VIII. Shakspeare does not forget that the king was the father of Elizabeth. Another peculiarity attached to this play is, that Shakspeare’s usual authority now becomes a contemporary ; at least, the narrative upon which he relies is derived immediately from con- temporary writings. Holinshed did not live in the time of Henry VIII., but Hall was cer- tainly of years of discretion—a barrister, and (like Fabyan) under-sheriff, if not a member of parliament during a part of that reign.t And the work of Polydore Vergil, whom Holinshed also quotes, was written and published within the same period.+ The point of time at which the play com- mences is fixed by the opening scene, in which * See p. 37. + He was probably born at the close of the fifteenth century, in the reign of Henry VII., and was at least twenty years old at the period at which this play com- mences—1520. Holinshed’s date is not known, but his work was published in 1577, the 19th of Elizabeth. Biog. Brit., xvii. 46. ¢ In 1533. Biog. Brit., xiii. 309. 120 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. the Duke of Norfolk* gives to the Duke of Buckingham+ a description of the famous meet- ing between Henry VIII. and Francis I.; and it appears to me that we recognise again the admirable language of Shakspeare, of which in the three parts of Henry VI., and even in Ri- chard III., we had nearly lost sight. “ Norf. *T'wixt Guynes and Arde: I was then present, saw ’em salute on horseback, Beheld ’em when they lighted, how they clung, In their embracement, as they grew together ; Which, had they, what four thron’d ones could have weigh’d Such a compounded one? Buck. All the whole time I was my chamber’s prisoner. Norf. Then you lost The view of earthly glory. Men might say Till this time pomp was single, but now marry’d To one above itself. Each following day Became the next day’s master, till the last Made former wonders its. ‘To-day the French All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods, * Thomas Howard, second duke, the Surry of the last play, son of Richard’s duke, who was killed at Bos- worth. ‘This Thomas was created duke in 1514, and died in 1524. Collins, i.64, + Edward Stafford, third duke, son of the duke who appears in Richard IT]J., Banks, ii. 525. HENRY VIII. 121 Shone down the English ; and to-morrow they Made Britain, India. Every man that stood Show’d like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were As cherubims, all gilt; the madams, too, Not us’d to toil, did almost sweat to bear The pride upon them, that their very labour Was to them as a painting. Now this mask Was cry’d incomparable ; and th’ ensuing night Made it a fool and beggar. The two kings, Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst, As presence did present them: him in eye, Still him in praise, and being present both "T'was said they saw but one, and no discerner Durst wag his tongue in censure, When these suns, (For so they phrase them) by their herald’s chal- leng’d The noble spirits to arms, they did perform Beyond thought’s compass: that old fabulous story (Being now seen possible enough) got credit ; That Bevis was believed. Buck. Oh! you go far. Norf. As I belong to worship, and affect In honour, honesty ; the tract of every thing Would by a good discoverer lose some life, Which action’s self was tongue to. All was royal : To the disposing of it nought rebell’d ; Order gave each thing view.” There is in Holinshed* a very full account of * Hol., 646; Hal., 604. VOL. II. G 122 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. this field of the cloth of gold. Various histories of this gay meeting were probably extant, and Shakspeare’s forcible description cannot be traced toone Chronicler in particular. Our poet appears to have invented Buckingham’s sickness for the mere purpose of making him listen to Norfolk’s story, for he is specially mentioned in the Chronicle as present. * In this conversation, in which Lord Aberga- venny+ takes part, there is much complaint of the expense of this royal-meeting ; and the blame of devising it, as well as officious intermeddling in all the arrangements, for “no man’s pye is freed From his ambitious finger,” is laid upon Wolsey. Buckingham is unmea- sured in his censure and sarcasm; Norfolk, pro- fessing friendly feelings, warns him that the car- dinal is a dangerous enemy. The complaints of the enormous expense which this expedition caused to those who were compelled to attend it, of whom * Hol., 654; Hall, 616. + George Neville, third lord. He married Bucking- ham’s daughter; he is said to have warned the king, while on his way to the meeting, that Francis was more numerously attended than he. The present earl is his lineal male representative. Collins, v. 162. HENRY VIII. 123 ** many Have broke their backs with laying harness on them For this great journey,” are taken from the Chronicle ; which also repre- sents Buckingham as incensing the displeasure of Wolsey by his complaints.* The political bearings of the meeting are dis- cussed in the play. “* Buck. What did this great vanity But minister communication of A most poor issue ? Norf. Grievingly, I think, The peace between the French and us not values The cost that did conclude it.” And, ‘France hath flaw’d the league, and hath attach’d Our merchants’ goods at Bourdeaux. Aberg. Is it therefore Th’ ambassador is silene’d ? Norf. Marry is’t.” A new treaty between France and England was the result of the meeting of the kings, by which Francis stipulated to pay annually 100,000 crowns to Henry.t I know not whether Shakspeare meant this by the peace which was * Hol., iii. 644. + Lingard, vi. 50; Rymer, xiii. 719. GA 124 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. not worth its cost; but as the money was not paid punctually, the remark might have been fairly made. A league* had been made a few years before between Henry, Charles, and Francis, which was certainly “ flaw’d” by a de- claration of war between the two latter; and, in 1523, the King of France sequestered English goods at Bourdeaux, and the French ambassa- dor was consequently ‘“‘ commanded to keep his house.” This French aggression appears to have arisen immediately out of Henry’s resenting the support given by France to the Duke of Albany in Scotland; but Henry was, during the whole of this time, plotting against France. Of these plots Francis had probably sufficient informa- tion to account for, and perhaps to justify, his hostile measures. Buckingham accuses the cardinal of being bribed by the emperor to break the peace be- tween England and France. I find no autho- rity for the accusation of Wolsey by the duke ; but as the cardinal had received, at the hand of Charles, some valuable preferment in Spain, t and hoped for his interest towards attaining the papacy, it was not unnatural that he should be * Oct. 1518; Lingard, 39; Rymer, xiii. 626. + Hol., 676; Hall, 633; Lingard, 60, 62. t Mackintosh’s Life of Wolsey, i. 14]. HENRY VIII. 125 suspected .of a bias towards the Austrian in- terest. Shakspeare follows his authority,* and the general belief, in ascribing to Wolsey the pro- ceedings against Buckingham, who is now ar- rested for high treason ;+ which event occurred in April 1521, some time before the proceedings at Bourdeaux, which he mentions in the play. The duke being accused, was summoned from Gloucestershire to London, and there arrested and conveyed to the Tower, without previous intimation. Hall says, that he discovered, when at Windsor in his way up, that he was a priso- ner ; that he went in his barge to call upon Wol- sey at York-house, but was told that the cardinal was sick; that he nevertheless landed, and went to the cellar to drink, but was very ill received ; and, when he had returned to his barge, was arrested and conveyed to the Tower; some of his followers had been previously apprehended. * Hol., 658; Hall, 622. + Acti. Se.3. He is styled Duke of Buckingham, and Earl of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton. He was Earl of Stafford by paternal descent. He assumed Hereford, and perhaps Northampton, as representative of the Bohuns; from whom the present Viscount Here- ford is descended. { Lingard, 54. § In the play, the duke is arrested by Brandon. His name does not occur in the Chronicles, Sir Henry 126 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. But Shakspeare interrupts these proceedings to introduce Queen Catherine, who comes to represent to the king— *« the subjects’ grief Comes through commissions, which compel from each The sixth part of his substance, to be levied Without delay.” She charges this exaction especially upon Wolsey,* who avers that what was done was the act of the privy council and judges. Henry dis- claims all knowledge of the affair, and chal- lenges his minister to produce a precedent, and directs the commission to be recalled, which order Wolsey thus cunningly executes : ‘* Let there be letters writ to every shire Of the king’s grace and pardon. The griev’d com- mons Hardly conceive of me ; let it be nois’d That through our intercession this revokement And pardon comes.” This commission to ascertain every man’s pro- perty is from Holinshed :— ‘“« Order was taken by the cardinal that the true Marne, or Marney, captain of the king’s guard, made the arrest. * Mrs. Jameson says (p. 256) this is true to history. I know not where she found it. HENRY VIII. 127 value of all men’s substance might be known, and he would have every man sworn to have uttered the true valuation of that they were worth, and required the tenth part thereof to be granted towards the king’s charges, now in his wars, in like case as the spi- ritualty had granted a fourth part, and were content to live on the other three parts.* This was in 1523. I rather think it was of a later proceeding that Holinshed says, in report- ing what followed upon the rebellion in Suffolk, “ The king then came to Westminster to the car- dinal’s palace, and assembled there a great council, in the which he openly protested that his mind was never to ask anything of his commons that might lead to the breach of his laws ; wherefore he willed to know, by whose means the commissions were so strictly given forth to demand the sixth part of every man’s goods. The cardinal excused himself and said, that when it was moved in council how to levy money to the king’s use, the king’s council, and namely the judges, said that he might lawfully demand any sum by commis- sion, and that by consent of the whole council it was done ; and took God to witness that he never desired the hindrance of the commons, but, like a true coun- sellor, desired how to enrich the king. The king, indeed, was much offended that his commons were thus entreated, and thought it touched his honour * Hol., 680; Hall, 630. 128 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, that his council should attempt such a doubtful mat- ter in his name, and to be denied both of the spiri- tualty and temporality. Therefore he would no more of that trouble, but caused letters to be sent into all shires, that the matter should no further be talked of; and he pardoned all them that had denied the demand, openly or secretly. The cardinal, to deliver himself of the evil will of the commons, purchased by procuring and advancing of this demand, affirmed and caused it to be bruited abroad, that through his intercession the king had pardoned and released all things.’’* Shakspeare is thus justified by his usual au- thority in this scene, as to the exactions from the people, and Wolsey’s ministerial finesse ; but not so in the introduction of the queen. Itisa gratuitous addition, which must have been made, not for political, but for dramatic reasons. Though it is probable that the obnoxious commission was devised by Wolsey, it is not so that the king was ignorant of the proceeding. But if undue praise has been ascribed to Henry, Hall is to be blamed, not Shakspeare. Our poet has put sentiments into Wolsey’s mouth, which are generally just, though not ap- plicable to the particular case. * Hol., 710; Hall, 700; see Grove, iii. 235, 347; Hallam’s Const. Hist., i. 25, 32. HENRY VLIL. 129 “Tf I’m traduc’d by tongues which neither know My faculties nor person, yet will be The chroniclers of my doing; let me say, ’Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake That virtue must go through: we must not stint Our necessary actions, in the fear To cope malicious censures ; which ever, As ray’nous fishes do a vessel follow That is new trimm’d, but benefit no further Than vainly longmg. What we oft do best, By sick interpreters, or weak ones, is Not ours, or not allowed: what worst, as oft Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up For our best act: if we stand still, in fear Our motion will be mock’d or carp’d at. We should take root here where we sit, Or sit state-statues only.” Shakspeare is justified by Holinshed, * in ascribing to Wolsey the proceedings against Buckingham ; Holinshed does not in this case copy Hall,+ but Polydore Vergil,t whose testi- mony, especially as to Wolsey, is to be received with great caution.§ It is probable that Buck- ingham, as a peer of an ancient family, was jealous of the proud and powerful churchman, * P.657. See Lingard, vi. 53. + P. 662. t P. 665 of edit. 1556. § See Grove, ii. 171; iv. 348. Polydore had been a disgusting flatterer of the cardinal. c 3 130 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, and also that the duke could not have been tried for treason, without the approbation of the minister; but there is no historical evidence for tracing either the trial or the accusation to per- sonal causes.* I find, however, in the deposi- tions,+ the charge most likely to excite Wol- sey’s wrath :— *« Adding further, That had the king in his sickness fail’d, The cardinal’s and Sir Thomas Lovell’s heads Should have gone off.’’{ It was deposed, moreover, that he listened to prophecies that he should become king after the death of Henry. There is no mention of the intention to “ put his knife” into the king. All that he said was, that if committed to the Tower, he should have had ten thousand men to deliver him. But that story was among the articles of charge. || Buckingham was now the next heir to Henry, in the Beaufort branch of the Lancastrian line, and next legitimate representative of Edward III., after the children of Clarence. * See, on the contrary, Grove’s note on Henry VIII. p. 26. . + Galt’s App. xxiv. t Hol., 661. || State Trials, 287; from Lord Herbert. HENRY VIII. 131 Of Buckingham’s dying speech,* the whole merit, I believe, belongs to Shakspeare; Hall only tell us, that ** He said he had offended the king’s grace through negligence and lack of grace, and desired all noble- men to beware by him, and all men to pray for him, and that he trusted to die the king’s true man.’’+ This is amplified by Shakspeare into a moving and impressive speech. ** All good people, You that thus far have come to pity me, Hear what I say, and then go home, and lose me. I have this day receiv’d a traitor’s judgment, And by that name must die ; yet, Heav’n bear witness, And if I have a conscience let it sink me, Eyen as the axe falls, if I be not faithful ! The law I bear no malice for my death, *T has done, upon the premises, but justice ; But those that sought it I could wish more Chris- tians : Be what they will, I heartily forgive them ; Yet, let them look they glory not in mischief, Nor build their evils on the graves of great men, For then, my guiltless blood must cry against them. For further life in this world I ne’er hope, Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies, * Actii. Se. 2. + Hall, 642, and Hol., 662. 132 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. More than I dare make faults. Ye few that lov’d me, And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave Is only bitter to him, only dying, Go with me, like good angels to my end, And as the long divorce of steel falls on me. Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, And lift my soul to heaven.—Lead on, o’ God’s name! Lovell. 1 do beseech your grace, for charity, If ever any malice in your heart, Were hid against me, now forgive me frankly. Buck. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you, As I would be forgiven : I forgive all. There cannot be those numberless offences *Gainst me, that I can’t take peace with: no black envy Shall make my grave. Commend me to his grace, And if. he speak of Buckingham, pray tell him, You met him half in heaven ; my vows and prayers Yet are the king’s; and till my soul forsake me, Shall cry for blessings on him ;—may he live Longer than I have time to tell his years! Ever beloved, and loving, may his rule be ; And when old Time shall lead him to his end, Goodness and he fill up one monument !” Sir Nicholas Vaux orders a barge to be got ready, with “ such furniture as suits the great- ness of his person.” HENRY VIII. 133 «« Buck. Nay, Sir Nicholas, Let it alone, my state now will but mock me. When I came hither, I was Lord High Constable, And Duke of Buckingham,—now poor Edward Staf- ford,* Yet I am richer than my base accusers, That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it, And with that blood, will make them one day groan for’t. My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, Who first rais’d hand against usurping Richard, Flying for succour to his servant Banister, Being distress’d, was by that wretch betray’d, And without trial fell ;f God’s peace be with him! Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying My father’s loss, like a most noble prince Restor’d to me my honours, and out of ruins Made my name once more noble. Now his son, Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all That made me happy, at one stroke has taken For ever from the world. I had my trial, And must needs say, a noble one ; which makes me A little happier than my wretched father : Yet thus far we are one in fortunes,—both Fell by our servants ; by those men we lov’d most. * In Shakspeare, as in Holinshed, the name is Bohun. See notet in p.125. The present Viscount Stafford is descended in the female line from this unfortunate duke, + Lingard, v. 259. 184 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. A most unnatural and faithless service ! Heaven has an end in all. Yet, you that hear me, This from a dying man receive as certain : Where you are liberal of your loves and councils, Be sure you be not loose ; for those you make friends, And give your hearts to, when they once perceive The least rub in your fortunes, fall away Like water from ye, never found again But when they mean to sink ye. All good people, Pray for me! I must now forsake ye: the last hour Of my long weary life is come upon me. Farewell ! And when you would say something that is sad, Speak how I fell.—I’ve done, and God forgive me !” We have now a scene of gossiping conversa- tion between the Lord Chamberlain,* Lord Sands,t and Sir Thomas Lovell.t They talk of the introduction of French manners and dress into England, by those who had been engaged in the late expeditions to France, and a proclama- “ Charles Somerset, the first of that name, Earl of Worcester: natural son of Henry Beaufort, third Duke of Somerset, and ancestor of the Duke of Beaufort, He was Lord Chamberlain for life, and died in 1526. Collins, i. 224. + The person here intended is Sir William Sands, who was not created Lord Sands until 1523, at the soonest. Nic., ii. 571. t See p. 106, and Collins, viii. 350. HENRY VIII. 135 tion is announced by Lovell, of which the ob- ject is— ‘** The reformation of our travell’d gallants, That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. Chamb. I’m glad ’tis there: now I would pray our monsieurs To think an English courtier may be wise, And never see the Louvre. Lovell. They must either (For so run the conditions), ‘ leave those remnants Of fool and feather that they got in France, With all their honourable points of ignorance Pertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks ; Abusing better men than they can be, Out of a foreign wisdom ; clean renouncing The faith they have in tennis and tall stockings, Short-bolster’d breeches, and those types of travel, And understand again like honest men ;’ Or pack to their old playfellows: there, I take it, They may, cum privilegio, wear away The lag-end of their lewdness, and be laugh’d at.” I can nowhere trace this proclamation, or the cause of it. There were about this time many quarrels between strangers and nations; but I hear of no imitation. And in this reign, as in several preceding, laws were made for regulating the dress of the several ranks of people, and the prohibition is in some instances of foreign arti- 186 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE., cles ;* but for any peculiar law or order against French manners or dresses, I can find no autho- rity, though I suspect that Sir Thomas Lovell’s news had a foundation somewhere. Shakspeare places, in the midst of the pro- ceedings against this duke, who was beheaded on the 17th May 1521,+ an entertainment? given by Wolsey, so grand as to be noticed in history.§ The incidents of this banquet are to be found in Cavendish’s Life of Wolsey, and in Stow,|| with this slight variation; that Wol- sey did not at once discover the king among the maskers, but picked out Sir Edward Neville by mistake. If this banquet were placed at its proper time by Shakspeare, his introduction of Anne Boleyn would have been an anachronism. In 1521, Anne was a girl of fifteen or sixteen years old, resident at the court of Claude, the queen of Francis I. She did not return till 1522, when she became maid of honour to Queen Catherine.4 It is recorded that, at an entertainment given by the king himself in May, 1527, Anne Boleyn was the partner of Henry; but it is highly im- * See Strutt’s Dresses, i. 229. t+ Lingard, 55. t Acti. Se. 4.- § In Wordsworth’s Eccl, Biog., i. 319. |] P. 504. §] Lingard, 111. HENRY VIII. 137 probable that this was, as Shakspeare makes it, the period of her first captivation of the heart of Henry.* The balls which Wolsey gave, were for the express purpose of pleasing the king and his favourite lady. Cavendish, after relating the rupture of Anne’s engagement to Lord Percy, by the in- terference of Wolsey at the king’s command, tells us that ‘Mistress Anne Boleyn was revoked unto the court, whereat she flourished after in great estima- tion and favour, having always a privy grudge against my Lord Cardinal for breaking off the contract made between my Lord Percy and her, supposing it had been his devised will and none other, nor yet know- ing the king’s secret mind thoroughly, who had great affection unto her, more than she knew. But after she knew the king’s pleasure, and the bottom of his secret stomach, then she began to look very haughty and stout, lacking no manner of jewels or rich ap- parel, that might be gotten for money. It was there- * « Fumes chez la reine, on l’ondansa; et M. de Tu- renne, par le commandement dudid Seigneur Roi, dansa avec Madame la Princesse, et le Roi avec Mistress Bul- len qui a été nourrie en France, avec la feue reine.” Journal, 5 May. MS. de Brienne, quoted by Lingard, 118. ‘This way of describing Anne is hardly consistent with the supposed notoriety of an attachment previously subsisting. 138 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. fore judged by and by through the court, of every man, that she being in such fayour might work mas- teries with the king, and obtain any suit of him for her friend.” * The great lords of the court, he tells us, who were jealous of Wolsey, consulted often with Anne Boleyn how to lower Wolsey in the king’s estimation ; but the cardinal, “‘espying the great zeal that the king had conceived in this gentlewoman, ordered himself to please as well the king as her, dissembling the matter that lay hid in his breast; prepared great banquets and high feasts to entertain the king and her at his own house; and thus the world began to grow to wonderful in- ventions, not heard of before in this realm. Love betwixt the king and this gorgeous lady grew to such a perfection, that divers imaginations were ima- gined, whereof I leave here to speak.” * The first mention in the play of the project for divorcing Queen Catherine, is in a conversa- tion among persons assembled on the occasion of Buckingham’s execution. “2d Gent. Did you not of late days hear A buzzing of a separation Between the king and Catherine ? lst Gent. Yes, but it held not: For when the king once heard it, out of anger, * Cav., 369, * Pp, 371. HENRY VIII. 139 He sent command to the Lord Mayor straight To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues That durst disperse it. 2d Gent. But that slander, sir, Is found a truth now;; for it grows again _ Fresher than e’er it was, and held for certain The king will venture it. Either the cardinal, Or some about him near, have (out of malice To the good queen) possess’d him with a scruple, That will undo her: to confirm this, too, Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately, As all think, for this business. lst Gent. ’Tis the cardinal ; And merely to revenge him on the emperor, For not bestowing on him, at his asking, Th’ archbishopric of Toledo, this is purposed.” These rumours are mentioned too soon. Buck- ingham was executed in 1521. The first men- tion of the rumours of a separation is assigned by Hall to the year 1527. Meanwhile Wolsey’s politics had changed : he now no longer espoused the cause of the emperor, but sought the alliance of France. It was the belief of the time, that he entertained a project for marrying Henry to Mar- garet, Duchess of Alencgon, sister of Francis I., and subsequently to Renée, the sister of his wife. * * Hall, 728; Hol., 736; Pol. Verg., p. 686. But see Lingard, 380. 140 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE In the next scene,* the preceding topics are handled by the Lord Chamberlain,+ Norfolk, + and Suffolk. § “* Chamb. I left him private, Full of sad thoughts and troubles, Norf. What's the cause? Chamb. It seems the marriage with his brother’s wife Has crept too near his conscience. Suff. No; his conscience has crept too near ano- ther lady. Norf. ’Tis so. This is the cardinal’s doing. * Actii. Se. 3. + There were two Lord Chamberlains during the period of this play. Worcester died in 1524, before the divorce was talked of. Lord Sands succeeded him, and he alone could have been a party in these conversations. Our poet confounds the two. { The duke who presided at the trial of Buckingham was the second duke, of whom we have already heard; he died in 1524, some years before the arrival of Car- dinal Campeggio. Shakspeare has therefore confounded him with his son and successor Thomas, the third duke. Collins, i. 85. § Charles Brandon (son of Sir William Brandon, slain at Bosworth), the first duke, who married Mary, the king’s sister, widow of Louis XII. of France. I think that the Duke of Northumberland is his representative, through Lady Catherine Grey, and other females. Banks, iii. 684. HENRY VIII. 14] Now he has crack’d the league Tween us and the emperor, the queen’s great nephew,* He dives into the king’s soul, and then scatters Doubts, dangers, wringing of the conscience, Fears, and despair; and all these for his marriage. Chamb. . . . All that dare Look into these affairs, see his main end,— The French king’s sister’ We have now the king with “ Wolsey and Cardinal Campeius, the pope’s legate, with a commission.” ‘“Wols. Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom Above all princes, in committing freely Your scruple to the voice of Christendom. Who can be angry now? what envy reach you? The Spaniard, ty’d by blood and favour to her, Must now confess, if they have any goodness, The trial just and noble. All the clerks, I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms, Have their free voices. Rome, the nurse of judg- ment, Invited by your noble self, has sent One general tongue unto us—this good man, This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius. * Charles V.—not a great-nephew, but a nephew who is great.—See Robertson, in works, iv. 221, 142 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. Camp. . . . To your highness’ hand I.tender my commission ; by whose virtue (The court of Rome commanding), you, my lord, Cardinal of York, are joined with me, their servant, In the impartial judging of this business.” ‘The king appoints Blackfriars for the trial of the case, and sends Gardiner* to acquaint the queen. Ona subsequent occasion, Henry gives this account of the origin of his scruples: ad- dressing Wolsey, he says, “© You ever Have wished the sleeping of this business ; never Desir’d it to be stirr’d, but oft have hindered The passages made tow’rds it. My conscience first received a tenderness, Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter’d By the Bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador; Who had been hither sent on the debating A marriage ’twixt the Duke of Orleans and Our daughter Mary. I’ th’ progress of this business, Ere a determinate resolution, he (I mean the bishop) did require a respite ; Wherein he might the king his lord advertise, Whether our daughter were legitimate, Respecting this our marriage with the dowager, Sometime our brother’s wife.” * The celebrated Stephen G., afterwards Bishop of Winchester. HENRY VIII. 143 He then says, that he began to regard it as a sign of God’s displeasure, that no male child of Catherine lived; that he then imparted his scruples to the Bishop of Lincoln,* who advised him to take the course which he did take; and desired the Archbishop of Canterbury} to sum- mon the court by which the question was to be considered. Such is Shakspeare’s account of the proceed- ings prior to “the triai,” with the exception of the dates, of which I have noticed the confusion. It is taken faithfully from Holinshed ;— «“You have heard how the people talked, a little before the cardinal’s going over to France the last year, that the king was told by Dr. Longland, Bishop of Lincoln, and others, that his marriage with Queen Catherine could not be good nor lawful. The truth is, that, whether this doubt was first moved by the cardinal, or by the said Longland, being the king’s confessor, the king was not only put in doubt, whe- ther it was a lawful marriage or no; but also deter- mined to have the case examined, cleared, and adjudged by learning, law, and sufficient authority. The cardinal verily was put in most blame for this scruple, now cast into the king’s conscience, for the * John Longland, who became bishop in 1520. + William Warham. 144 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. hate he bare to the emperor, because he would not grant to him the archbishopric of Toledo.” * This Chronicler is not very clear, as to the origin of the question of the divorce, for he had already mentioned+ (as Henry does in the play), that it was first raised by the Bishop of Bayonne, when treating of the marriage of the Duke of Orleans with the Princess Mary, who, if Cathe- rine’s marriage was not good, was not the legi- timate daughter of the king. It might seem, from the introduction of Anne Boleyn captivating the king, previously to the first hint of the intended separation from Ca- therine, that Shakspeare intended to represent Henry’s love for the maid of honour as the original cause of the divorce; but I think the general impression conveyed by the subsequent scenes is, that there was a bond fide scruple. Indeed, the play, in leaving doubtful the rela- tion between the divorce and the king’s attach- ment to Anne Boleyn, is more consistent with the history, as imperfectly known to us, than it could have been if more precision had been assumed. The story of the French bishop is doubtful, * Hol., 719, 736; Hall, 753. + P. 714, but not from Hall. HENRY VIII. 145 because it is not confirmed by the French re- cords;* it was too important a point in the negotiation to be left unnoticed in the official report. We may safely take the authority of Hall+ for the existence of a rumour of an intended separation previously to Wolsey’s departure for France in July, 1527; and we now know, from Wolsey’s correspondence, that the matter had been then discussed between the king and _ his minister. But this rumour was not, so far as I know, connected with Anne Boleyn. Upon the sole authority of Cardinal Pole, Lingard be- lieves, against all probability, that Anne herself infused the scruples.into the mind of her lover, and sent learned men to support them.{ And the desire of this generally fair historian to make the beautiful maid of honour the cause of the reformation, leads him to assign an unauthorized date to the loves of Henry and Anne.§ I agree * Lingard, 378. Pole Las t Lingard, vi., note in p.113, where the pros and cons are otherwise fairly stated. § Lingard, note* in p.113, and ¢ in 157. A letter from Henry to Anne (Hearne’s Avesbury, p. 360), men- tions his being employed upon his book, and must have been written in Dec, 1527, or Jan. 1528; another letter (p. 350), speaks of the attachment having lasted more than a year. Lingard assumes, apparently upon no VOL. Il. H 146 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, with Turner,* that there is no evidence of the existence of this attachment before 1527, pre- viously to May, in which year, the king pre- vented the marriage with Percy. How long before May 1527 (when Northumberland died), the interview between Wolsey and the father of the young man occurred, we cannot ascertain ; it may have been many months before. ‘The latest possible date would not be inconsis- tent with Cavendish’s+ averment, that Wolsey was aware of the attachment before he went abroad. But if any reliance is to be placed (which I much doubt) upon the arrangement of passages in Cavendish, Henry’s intention to marry Anne had been avowed to Wolsey before the battle of Pavia; and the cardinal’s objections ending in the suggestion of a reference to divines and canonists, connect the plan of a divorce with that intention. “The long-hid and secret love that was between the king and Mistress Anne Boleyn brake now out, other ground than that of the one letter being numbered 16, and the other 4, that the letter to which he can assign no date, must have been written before that which he fixes by the book. Surely, the allocation of letters in a printed book furnishes no proof of date. I do not contradict Lingard; I only affirm that his opi- nion is not supported by the evidence which he offers. * Henry VIII., 3d edit., p. 195. i ae tS HENRY VIII. 147 and the matter was by the king disclosed to my lord cardinal, whose persuasions upon his knees long time before to the king to the contrary would not serve : the king was so affectioned, that his will bare place, and discretion was banished clean for the time. My lord being provoked to declare his opinion and wis- dom in the advancement of his desired purpose, thought it not meet to wade too far alone, or to give him hasty judgment or advice in so weighty a matter, but desired of the king licence to ask counsel of men of ancient study and famous learning, both in the divine and civil law.” * The two dates, of the scruple and the love, are both too uncertain to be brought into com- parison. The mystery is too dense to be cleared up in a work like this. Whatever may have been the period of Henry’s attachment to Anne Boleyn, or of his avowal of it, it is certain that at the end of the year 1529, some months after the process before the legates in the case of Queen Catherine, the young lady was in acknowledged favour at court; for she began at that time to receive rich articles of dress from the royal wardrobe, sometimes money, and presents of various sorts from the king, and from the courtiers; and she occasionally played * Cay. 416, The battle of Pavia, which occurred in Feb, 1525, is narrated in p. 376. H 2 148 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. at cards with Henry. All this is collected from the account of Henry’s privy purse expences, which shew that at three years she received articles of clothing of the value of £468 6s. 1d.* The scene} between Anne and the old lady is of course imaginary; there is no reason to be- lieve that the young lady even pretended an aversion to rank and dignity: we have seen, on the other hand, that she readily assumed the station of a favourite; but it is admitted, even by an enemy,{ that she refused to receive Henry on any other than an honourable footing. But the grant of the title of marchioness is misplaced. It was not made until September 1532, a few months before Anne’s marriage, and long after the trial at Blackfriars, which occurred at the commencement of 1529, after a long interval spent in negotiations with the pope, which I cannot detail here. In his account of that proceeding, Shakspeare follows Holinshed,§ even in the justly celebrated speech of Catherine ;— * Sir Harris Nicolas’s Privy Purse Expences of Henry VIIT. Introd. xxxii. t Actii. Sc. 4. t Pole, in Lingard, 112. This cardinal mentions the fact with something very like a sneer. § P. 737. HENRY VIII. 149 ‘* Sir, I desire you do me right and justice ; And to bestow your pity on me; for I am a most poor woman, and a stranger, Born out of your dominions; having here No judge indiff’rent, and no more assurance Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas! sir, In what have I offended you ? what cause Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure, That thus you should proceed to put me off, And take your good grace from me? Heav’n wit- ness, I’ve been to you a true and humble wife, At all times to your will conformable : Ever in fear to kindle your dislike : Yea, subject to your count’nance ; glad or sorry, As I saw it inclin’d. When was the hour I ever contradicted your desire, Or made it not mine too? Which of your friends Have I not strove to love, although I knew He were mine enemy? What friend of mine That had to him deriv’d your anger, did I Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice He was from thence discharg’d? Sir, call to mind, That I have been your wife, in this obedience, Upwards of twenty years; and have been bless’d With many children by you. If in the course And process of this time you can report, And prove it too, against mine honour aught, My bond of wedlock, or my love and duty, 150 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. Against your sacred person ; in God’s name, Turn me away ; and let the foul’st contempt Shut door upon me, and so give me up To th’ sharpest kind of justice. Please you, sir, The king, your father, was reputed for A prince most prudent, of an excellent And unmatch’d wit and judgment. Ferdinand, My father, King of Spain, was reckon’d one The wisest prince that there had reign’d, by many A year before. It is not to be question’d That they had gathered a wise council to them Of ev’ry realm, that did debate this business, Who deem’d our marriage lawful. Wherefore, humbly, Sir, I beseech you spare me, till I may Be by my friends in Spain advis’d ; whose counsel I will implore. If not, i’ th’ name of God, Your pleasure be fulfill’d !” For this appropriate and touching appeal, there is the contemporary authority of Caven- dish ;* notwithstanding that Hall+ tells us, that the queen did not speak a word in this open court; and that Polydore Vergilt does not ascribe to her any discourse, except a vehement inculpation of Wolsey.§ But some of the pro- * P.424; Stow, 542. + P.756. ¢. P. 688, § Burnet says (Hist. Ref., iii. 80) that the king and queen never appeared in the court; but see Lingard, 151. HENRY VIII. 15] ceedings judiciously introduced by the drama- tist into this scene, occurred at Bridewell (then a palace), some time before, when the king ad- dressed ‘the nobility, judges, and counsellors, with divers other persons,”* in a speech from which Shakspeare took ** My Lord Cardinal, I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour, I free you from’t. You are not to be taught That you have many enemies, that know not Why they are so, but like to village curs, Bark when their fellows do: by some of these The Queen is put in anger. You are excused ; But will you be more justified ? You ever Have wished the sleeping of this. business ; Never desired it to be stirred.” f And then follows a history of the rise and progress of the royal scruples. It was also at Bridewell that the two cardi- nals came to the Queen (the ground of a subse- quent scenet in the play), when she addressed them, according to Hall,§ in a speech which he took from the notes of Cardinal Campeggio’s secretary. Catherine’s speech, in Hall, ascribes Wolsey’s * Cav. 426. + Act ii. Se. 4. t Actiii. Se, 1, § P, 755, 152 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. hostility to the emperor’s denial of support in his ambitious designs upon the popedom; I know not why this topic is omitted. The Chronicles are followed in the character which Henry gives to his wife ;—* ‘Go thy ways, Kate ! That man 7’ th’ world who shall report he has A better wife, let him in nought be trusted, For speaking false in that. Thou art, alone,— If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government, Obeying in commanding, and thy parts, Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out,— The queen of earthly queens. She is nobly born, And like her true nobility she has Carried herself towards me.” There is the same authority for Wolsey’s ap- peal to the king against the queen’s imputation of the projected divorce to his contrivances ; and in Catherine’s rejection of Wolsey’s attempt to address her in Latin ; and she did appeal, as in the play, to the pope himself. At the end of the second act, we have the first symptoms of Henry’s discontent with Wol- sey: it appears from a letter lately published,t * Hol., 738; Cav., 426; Stow, 542. + July 1, 1527. St. Pap., i. 194. HENRY VIII. 153 that Henry’s doubts of Wolsey’s zeal for the divorce were entertained at an early period. It is doubtful whether Wolsey at any time enter- tained the project with the view in which his master, either in the beginning or at an early period, chiefly regarded it. Wolsey might have a scheme for allying Henry, matrimonially as well as politically, with France; but he had no object in getting rid of Catherine for the purpose of substituting Anne. Whatever might be the cause, the two cardinals did assuredly offend Henry by their procrastination. At the end of this act, the name of a new and important person is introduced; and the first notice given of the king’s opposition to the papal authority. “« | may perceive These cardinals trifle with me; I abhor This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Rome. My learned and well-beloved servant, Cranmer, Pr’ythee return! With thy approval, I know, My comfort comes along !” It is probable that Shakspeare took this refe- rence to Cranmer from tradition, but he has ante-dated it. Cranmer was not at this time known to the king, nor was he now out of England. Soon after this time, he met with Fox and Gardiner H 3 154 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. in the country, and gave his opinion that the question of marriage might be decided by native authorities.* He wrote a book to prove his position, and hence his employment by the king and subsequent preferment. The first scene of the third act gives the in- terview between the cardinals and the queen, to which I have already alluded ; it is almost para- phrased from Holinshed and his authorities ; for instance : “« My lord, I thank you for your good will, but to make you answer to your request I cannot so suddenly. for I am set among my maids at work, thinking full little of any such matter, wherein there needeth a longer deliberation, and better head than mine, te make answer; for I need counsel in this case which touched me so near, and for any counsel or friend- ship that I can find in England, they are not for my profit ;—” ‘“‘ My lords, I thank you both for your good wills ; Ye speak like honest men : (pray God ye prove so!) But how to make ye suddenly an answer In such a point of weight, so near mine honour (More near my life, I fear), with my weak wit, And to such men of gravity and learning, In truth, I know not. I was set at work Among my maids ; full little, God knows, looking * See Burnet, i., 144: but whence? HENRY VIII. 155 Either for such men, or such business. For his sake that I have been (for I feel The last thing that I have been), good your graces, Let me have time and counsel for my cause. Alas! I am a woman, friendless, hopeless. Can you think, lords, That any Englishman dare give me counsel ? Or be a known friend, ’gainst his highness’ pleasure ?”’ We now approach another of the great events of this play—the disgrace of Wolsey. Norfolk,* Suffolk, Surry, and the lord chamberlain, are introduced,+ congratulating each other on the declining influence of the cardinal. And he is in disgrace, says Suffolk, because “ The cardinal’s letters to the pope miscarried, And came to the eye of the king ; wherein was read, How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness To stay the judgment of the divorce.” This incident is not in Holinshed, nor do I know where Shakspeare found it, or whence * There isa confusion here. The present Norfolk is the former Surry, No Surry was concerned in these proceedings. That title was now borne by Henry Howard, the celebrated and literary earl, now a lad of thirteen years old. Collins, i. 93. + Actiii, Se. 2. 156 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. comes the story of the inventory delivered by mistake.”’* But the greatest error in this scene, which must have occurred, at latest, in 1529, is the mention of the marriage of Anne Boleyn, and her intended coronation. The marriage certainly did not occur before 1533.+ The demand of the great seal by Norfolk and Suffolk, and Wolsey’s hesitation in delivering it upon a verbal message, are in Holinshed.t{ Surry (it should be Norfolk) now accuses Wolsey of the destruction of his father-in-law Buckingham, with which view, he (Surry) was sent to Ireland as lord deputy ; and after some allusions too personal to be repeated, he enume- rates the articles of charge against the cardi- nal :— “ Surry. First, that without the king’s assent or knowledge, You wrote to be a legate; by which pow’r You maim’d the jurisdiction of all bishops. Norf. 'Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else, To foreign princes, go et Rex meus Was still inscrib’d ; in which you brought the king To be your servant. * Steevens (Bosw. 412) points out a story in Holinshed of a mistake like this committed by Ruthall, Bishop of Durham. + Lingard, 189. t -Pouial: HENRY VIII. 157 Suf. That, without the knowledge Either of king or council, when you went Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold To carry into Flanders the great seal. Sur. Item, you sent a large commission To Gregory de Cassilis, to conclude, Without the king’s will, or the state’s allowance, A league between his highness and Ferrara. Suf. That, out of mere ambition, you have caus’d Your holy hat to be stamp’d on the king’s coin. Sur. Then, that you’ve sent innumerable substance (By what means got I leave to your own conscience), To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways You have for dignities, to the mere undoing Of all the kingdom.” These articles are to be found, with some others, in Holinshed.* ‘They are abridged from forty-four lengthy charges,t which were some time afterwards prepared in the House of Lords, and sent down to the Commons, but came to nothing. It may be observed, that the charge of writing Ego et Rex meus, with which we are familiar, is erroneously stated. Wolsey, according to the accusation, gave the king his place, but put himself too near to him. He wrote, “ The king =P, 747. t+ Parl. Hist. i. 492. 158 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, and I,” thus making himself a fellow to the king.* A new character is now introduced—Thomas Cromwell. His conversations with Wolsey are imaginary and very well imagined ; and he is appropriately produced as the faithful friend of the cardinal, whom he defended in the House of Commons against the charges lately noticed.+ Now Cromwell, the falling minister, learns that Sir Thomas More has already succeeded him as chancellor ; and that Cranmer, having returned from abroad, has been installed Archbishop of — Canterbury. This is right as to More;{ but Cranmer did not become archbishop until 1532, when Warham died. The chronological error respecting Anne Boleyn’s marriage and public acknowledgment is repeated by Cromwell. Cavendish imputes to this young lady a great share in biemect s fall, and accordingly he says, “There was the weight that pull’d me down. O Cromwell! The king has gone beyond me: all my glories In that one woman I have lost for ever. No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours, Or gild again the noble troops that waited * Art. 4, + Parl. Hist. i. 501. { 25th Oct. 1529. British Statesmen, i. 60. HENRY VIII. 5 159 Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell ! I’m a poor fallen man, unworthy now To be thy lord and master. Seek the king, (That sun, I pray, may never set!) I’ve told him What and how true thou art; he will advance thee: Some little memory of me will stir him (I know his noble nature), not to let Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell, Neglect him not; make use now and provide For thine own future safety. Crom. O my lord! Must I then leave you? must I needs forego, So good, so noble, and so true a master? Bear witness all that have not hearts of iron, With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. The king shall have my service, but my prayers, For ever and for ever, shall be yours. Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries: but thou hast fore’d me, Out of thy honest truth to play the woman. Let’s dry our eyes, and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me must more be heard, say that I taught thee— Say, Wolsey, that once trod the way of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, Found thee a way out of his wreck, to rise in— A sure and safe one, though thy master miss’d it. Mark but my fall, and that which ruin’d me, 160 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition : By that sin fell the angels. How can man (The image of his Maker), hope to win by’t? Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues; be just and fear not. Let all those ends thou aim’st at be thy country’s, Thy God’s, and truth’s: then, if thou fall’st, O Cromwell Thou fall’st a blessed martyr. Serve the king; And, pry’thee, lead me in— There, take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny, ’tis the king’s. My robe, And my integrity to Heav’n, is all I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell! Cromwell! Had I but serv’d my God with half the zeal I serv’'d my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies !” This last expression is thus reported by Ca- vendish, as addressed to Mr. Kingston, the cap- tain of the guard, who attended upon him after his arrest : ‘“‘ If I had served God as diligently as I have done the king, he would not have given me oyer in my gray hairs.”* * P.542; Hol., 755. HENRY VIII. 161 It is difficult to account for this arrest on a charge of high treason, precisely at this time. * In the fourth act, we have the coronation of the queen, which is placed, as in Holinshed, im- mediately after the mention of the court, held by Cranmer, at Dunstable, where the divorce between Henry and Catherine was pronounced.t It has been conjectured that the description of this and the other ceremonies in the play, were drawn up by another hand. The present, cer- tainly, is not taken from Holinshed.t+ The close of Queen Catherine’s life is repre- sented in a scene,§ describing also that of Wol- sey’s, of which Johnson says, “This scene is above any part of Shakspeare’s tragedies, and perhaps above any other scene of any other poet, tender and pathetic; without gods or fairies, or persons, or precipices—without the help of romantic circumstances, without the improbable sallies of poetical lamentation, and without the throbs of tumultuous misery.”’|| . * See Lingard, 163. + Hol., 778. t See Hol., 781, where Lord William Howard is said to have been present as Deputy Earl Marshal, and the Duke of Suffolk as Lord High Constable. In the play, we have no earl marshal, but Dorset as Chamberlain, and Surry bearing the rod of silver with the dove. The two accounts only agree as to Suffolk. § Act v. Se. 2. || Bosw., 441. 162 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, If I find some fault with this highly- wrought passage, it is not for the praise which it bestows upon this particular scene, so much as for the blame which it unfairly insinuates against others. Neither here nor elsewhere does Shakspeare ex- cite us to the pathetic, by the adventitious cir- cumstances which Johnson deprecates. Beau- tiful as the whole scene is, I am compelled by my critical duty to observe, that though the death of Wolsey followed quickly upon his dis- grace,* the unfortunate Catherine lived until the year 1536, having been, in 1532, deprived of the title of queen. Griffith’s description of Wol- sey’s end is admirable :— « At length with easy roads, he came to Leicester ; Lodg’d in the abbey, where the reverend abbot, With all his convent, 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 died Noy. 29, 1530. HENRY VIII. 163 He gave his honours to the world again, His blessed part to heav’n, and slept in peace.” Catherine’s character of Wolsey, and the more candid and apologetical statement of her gentle- man-usher, are taken from Holinshed :* ** Cath. So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him, Yet thus far Griffith give me leave to speak him, And yet with charity. He was a man, Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking Himself with princes ; one, that by suggestion Ty’d all the kingdom ; simony was fair play, His own opinion was his law: I’ th’ presence He would say untruths, and be ever double Both in his words and meaning; he was never, But where he meant to ruin, pitiful ; His promises were, as he then was, mighty ; But his performance, as he now is, nothing. Of his own body he was ill, and gave The clergy ill example. Griffith. Noble madam, Men’s evils live in brass, their virtues We write in water. May it please your highness, To hear me speak his good now. Cath. Yes, good Griffith, I were malicious else. * P, 756. 164 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. Griffith. 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 lov’d 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 towers of learning that he rais’d in you, Ipswich and Oxford! One of which fell with him, Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ; The other, tho’ unfinished, 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 helped himself, And found the blessedness of being little. And to add greater honour to his age, Than man could give him, he died, praising God !” Well may Catherine say, ** After my death I wish no other herald, No other speaker of my living actions, To keep my honour from corruption, Than such an honest chronicler as Griffith.” The visit of Capucius, and the queen’s letter to her husband, are also from Holinshed. HENRY VIII. 165 In the fifth act we have the famous Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, in conversation with Sir Thomas Lovell, who announces the approaching confinement of Anne Boleyn, for whose life he expresses some apprehension. Gardiner is made to express his hope that she will perish, with “ her two hands,” Cranmer and Cromwell. Lovell observes, that Cromwell* is master of the Jewel Office, and of the Rolls, and king’s secre- tary: and the archbishop very high in the king’s favour. Gardiner says, that he is *‘a most arch heretick,”+- and that he has obtained the king’s permission to accuse him before the council. Then follows the scene in which Cranmer is made to wait at the door of the council-chamber, is called in, and stoutly accused by Gardiner and other lords of the council, and is about to be committed to the Tower, when he shows the king’s ring. Henry, who had previously assured * Cromwell’s promotion is thus stated: In 1531 knighted, master of the jewels, and a privy councillor ; in 1532, clerk of the hanaper, and chancellor of the exchequer; in 1534, principal secretary of state, and master of the Rolls. Biog. Dict., xi. 35. + It will not be desired that I should discuss Cran- mer’s opinions: his first exhibition of heresy was his protest against the pope’s supremacy, made when he be- came archbishop. 166 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. him of his protection, comes in, rates his accu- sers and delivers him. I cannot find this scene in Holinshed, but it is almost a versification of a passage in Fox’s Acts and Monuments.* The transaction, so far from occurring, as in the play, at the moment of the birth of Queen Elizabeth, did not occur till the year 1443, when Catherine Parr was queen. This confusion of dates necessarily occasions a confusion of persons. Strype mentions only the Duke of Norfolk and Lord Russell. We have neither of these names in the play, but have, on the other hand, the lord chancellor, Suffolk, Surry, the lord chamberlain, Gardiner, and Cromwell, as secretary. The chancellor at the time of the accusation was Goodrich, Bishop of Ely ; the lord chamberlain was Lord St. John, of Basing; Surry was the Henry of whom I have spoken, but I am not aware that he was of the privy-council: his observation, that he had warned his colleagues of their danger, is, in the history, uttered by Lord Russell. Cromwell had been beheaded three years before. At the close of these proceedings, Henry in- vites Cranmer to be god-father to the young * So says Steevens’s note in Bosw., 460; and see Strype’s Cranmer, i. 177. HENRY VIII. 167 princess, associating with him “ the old Duchess of Norfolk,* and Lady Marquis Dorset.”+ The last scene displays the christening of the young Elizabeth, afterwards queen. This cere- mony is taken from Holinshed and Hall;t but Shakspeare, while he borrows one short and formal speech pronounced by Garter, takes the opportunity of putting into the mouth of Cran- mer a splendid prophetical eulogy upon the royal Elizabeth. ** Let me speak, sir, For Heav’n now bids me; and the words I utter, Let none think flattery, for they'll find them truth. This royal infant, (Heav’n still move about her !) Though in her cradle, yet now promises Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, Which time shall bring to ripeness. She shall be (But few now living can behold that goodness) A pattern to all princes living with her, And all that shall succeed. Sheba was never More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue, Than this pure soul shall be. All princely graces, That mould up such a mighty piece as this With all the virtues that attend the good, Shall still be doubled on her : truth shall nurse her, * ITpresume, Agnes, daughter of Sir Frederick Tyl- ney, and widow of Thomas, the second duke. + Wife of the second marquis, of the Greys. t Hol., 786; Hall, 798. 168 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her. She shall be loved and fear’d : her own shall bless her, Her foes shake, like a field of beaten corn, And hang their heads with sorrow. Good grows with her : In her days, every man shall eat in safety Under his own vine that he plants ; and sing The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours. God shall be truly known; and those about her From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.” And then come some lines which, there can be no doubt, were interpolated after the acces- sion of James I.* ‘«‘ Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phcenix Her ashes new create another heir, As great in admiration as herself ; So shall she leave her blessedness to one (When Heav’n shall call her from this cloud of dark- ness), Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour, Shall, star-like, rise, as great in fame as she was, And so stand fix’d. Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, That were the servants to this chosen infant, Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him. Wherever the bright sun of heav’n shall shine, * See Bosw., 495. HENRY VIII. 169 His honour and the greatness of his name Shall be, and make new nations. He shall flourish, And, like a mountain-cedar, reach his branches To all the plains about him: our children’s children Shall see this, and bless Heav’n.”’ The interpolation is rather awkwardly ma- naged, for the archbishop now returns to Eli- zabeth :-— ‘« She shall be to the happiness of England, An aged princess : many days shall see her, And yet no day without a deed to crown it. Would I had known no more! but she must die, She must—the saints must have her yet a virgin ; A most unspotted lily shall she pass To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.” “« The play of Henry the Eighth (says Johnson*) is one of those which still keep possession of the stage by the splendour of its pageantry. The coro- nation, about forty years ago, drew the people toge- ther in multitudes, for great part of the winter ; yet pomp is not the only ornament of this play. The meek sorrows and virtuous distress of Catherine, have furnished some scenes, which may be justly num- bered among the greatest efforts of tragedy. But the genius of Shakspeare comes in and goes out with Catherine; every other part may be easily conceived, and easily written.” * Bosw., 498. VOL. II. I 170 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, The critic does much less than justice to this play, which has been admired by a more mo- dern audience, for beauties far other than those of the coronation. Much, no doubt, was owing to the splendid representation of Catherine by Siddons,—splendid being here not superlative, but characteristic;—but there is scarcely one scene in the play which may not be admired in the closet. Of the characters, that of Catherine is doubtless the most complete and true. It is taken from history, with little colouring or sup- pression, and it has an admirable combination of dignity, simplicity, firmness, and feminine affec- tion.* It may be thought, that with the character of Henry more pains are taken, in order to repre- sent him in a favourable light; but no impor- tant incident or speech is given without war- ranty from the Chronicles. If, therefore, the dramatist has exercised any art, it is only in selecting from the life of his queen’s father those passages which exhibit him the least unfavour- ably. But though the history of his divorcing his first wife is taken from the recorded speeches * Although I do not go the whole way with Mrs, Jameson in my estimate of this character, I earnestly recommend her observations to perusal (Charact. ii. 260), as well as Catherine’s letters to which she refers. HENRY VIII. 171 of Henry himself, Shakspeare has freely stated the insinuations of unworthy motives which prevailed among the people. The imperiousness of the king’s character, too, is fairly represented on several occasions. The character of Wolsey, or rather all that illustrates the character of Wolsey, is taken from the Chronicle, just as Shakspeare found it; and no one of the historical dramas supports, more than this, the opinion to which I have felt inclined in going through the series, that Shak- speare used very little artifice, and, in truth, had very little design, in the construction of the greater number of historical characters. He dramatised incidents and speeches, and left cha- racters to be inferred. Malone has alluded* to somebody, who “ tam- pered with parts of the play so much, as to have rendered the versification of it of a different colour from all the other plays of Shakspeare ;” and the peculiar versification of this play, is the subject of an ingenious criticism by Mr. Rode- rick.+ This gentleman observes, that more lines in this play than in any other have a redundant or eleventh syllable; and that the pauses are * Bosw., 496. + Canons of Criticism, 7th edit., p. 263. ype 172 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, thrown nearer to the end of the verse.* I en- tirely agree with this critic, that a speech in Henry VIII. sounds differently to the ear from most others of Shakspeare, and I rather think that he has correctly mentioned the mechanical cause. How Shakspeare came thus to vary his measure I cannot guess, but that it is his mea- sure, I see not the slightest reason for doubting. I know that even in prose the construction of sentences, and (if I may say so) the air, is much affected by the tone of the writer’s mind at the moment, and by the nature of his subject. It did occur to me, as a cause of the variety, that the greater number of the speeches to which Roderick’s remarks are applicable, are. plain- tive ; but that is not the character of Cranmer’s speech at the christening, which is open to the same remark. I must leave the difficulty as I find it. Of these plays in general, Johnson says,+ ‘¢ The historical dramas are now concluded, of * There is a third observation, “ that the emphasis arises from the sense of the verse very often clashing with the cadence that would naturally result from the metre.’ This remark gives too much importance to quantity, which scarcely prevails in English; nor is it, I think, borne out. + Bosw., 502. HENRY VIII. N73 which the two parts of Henry IV. and Henry V. are among the happiest of our author’s composi- tions, and King John, Richard III. and Henry VIII., deservedly stand in the second class.” I would put Henry VIII., and I think King John also, in the same class with Henry V. Richard II. deserves also to be promoted. MACBETH. In yielding toa suggestion that I should give historical illustrations of some of Shakspeare’s historical plays which are not taken from the His- tory of England, and accordingly selecting, as the first of these, theonly play which relates a passage in Scottish history, I am bound to confess that there are not all the inducements to this exami- nation which led me to the English plays. Mac- beth is read, chiefly, if not solely, as a romantic tragedy ; few of those who read it, and fewer of those who witness its representation on the Lon- don stage, think about the history of Scotland. Nevertheless, this play was suggested to Shak- speare by the very same historian who supplied him with subjects for the ten plays from English history ; some, at least, of the characters are historical persons, and the story is ‘‘ founded in fact.” I hope, therefore, that I stand excused MACBETH. 175 for dealing with this play as I have dealt with the others. To ascertain the truth of the story is difficult, if not impossible, for it carries us back to a re- moter period than the earliest of the English plays—a period antecedent to our Norman Con- quest ;—and imperfect as are the annals of Eng- land at that period, those of Scotland are more so. Shakspeare’s authority was Holinshed. Ho- linshed copied for the most part from wri- ters who lived five hundred years after Mac- beth, and whose works are of no authority whatever. Contemporary chronicles there are none. But I shall recur to those which are nearest in date, and most prized by Scottish antiquaries. The darkness in which he found the early history of his country has apparently deterred Mr. Tytler, the most recent historian of Scot- land, from treating of any of the kings prior to Alexander III., who reigned in 1429, four centuries after Macbeth. As my guide to the Scottish chroniclers, I therefore take Pinkerton,* who has bestowed two volumes upon the early history of Scotland. * An Enquiry into the History of Scotland, preceding Malcolm III., or the year 1056; by John Pinkerton, 1814, 176 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. Duncan, king of Scotland, who is introduced to us in the first act,* succeeded, in 1031, his grandfather Malcolm II. But as it was through a daughter (who married Crinan, abbot of Dun- keld),+ that he was descended from his predeces- sor, his right to the throne is, by the learned, thought very doubtful. For the first event of which we hear—the re- bellion of Macdowald—Shakspeare has recourse to Holinshed,} according to whom it occurred in 1040, and on this occasion, Macbeth and Banquo were the successful generals employed on the part of the king; Banquo being himself Thane of Lochaber, in which district the rebellion broke out. The Thane of Cawdor having joined Macdowald, was condemned to death, and his Thanedom was given to Macbeth. Meanwhile Sweyn, king of Norway, invaded Scotland on the eastern side; «« The Norwegian lord, surveying vantage, With furbish’d arms, and new supplies of men, Began a fresh assault ;” but this invader also was defeated by the asso- ciated commanders. * Sc. 2. + It is doubted whether in these early days. priests married, or whether abbacies were given to laymen. t V. 265. MACBETH. 177 Thus far the Chronicle and the play run toge- ther, except that, according to Holinshed, the Scottish troops were in the first instance defeated at Culross; and it was through a stratagem of a strange sort that the invaders were ultimately overcome. ** The Scots took the juice of mickle-wort berries, and mixed the same in their ale and bread, sending it thus spiced and confectioned in great abundance unto their enemies. They, rejoicing that they had got meat and drink sufficient to satisfy their bellies, fell to eating and drinking after such greedy wise, that it seemed they strove who might devour and swallow up most, till the operation of the berries spread in such sort through all the parts of their bodies that they were in the end brought into a fast dead sleep, that in manner it was impossible to awake them.” And in this heavy sleep they were put to death by Macbeth. But not a word of this preliminary matter is found in the Scottish chronicles. ‘Those which, for want of earlier and better, are deemed the first and most authentic, are the Polichronicon of Fordun,* and the metrical chronicle of Andrew Wyntown.¢ Holinshed’s authority was Hector * Published by Hearne, in five volumes 8vo. It is also in Gale, ii, 565. + By Macpherson, two volumes 8vo. 1795. 13 178 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, Boyse (or Boethius, as he is called), whose his- tory is universally deemed fabulous.* It is net necessary to say much of Fordun, who wrote in the fourteenth or fifteenth century, and whose narrative is very meagre; it was probably founded partly on tradition and partly on some old chronicles now unknown. Fordun probably rejected all that appeared fanciful. He accordingly takes no notice of the witches» whom Shakspeare, following Holinshed, now introduces to us, accosting Macbeth and Banquo on their return towards Fores, after the defeat of the Norwegians. “1st Witch. All hail Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Glamis! 2d Witch. All hail Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor! 3d Witch. All hail Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter ! Ban. Good sir, why do you start, and seem to fear, Things that do sound so fair ?—I’ th name of truth, Are ye fantastical, or that indeed Which outwardly ye show ? My noble partner, You greet with present grace, and great prediction * See Macpherson, in Wyntown, i. p. 2. I take no no- tice of Buchanan, who preceded Shakspeare, by a few years only, because he is no authority, and was not used by our poet, directly or indirectly.—See Robertson, i. 4. MACBETH. 179 Of noble bearing, and of royal hope, That he seems rapt withal; to me you speak not : If you can look into the seeds of time, And say which grain will grow, and which will not, Speak then to me, who neither beg, nor fear, Your favours nor your hate. lst Witch. Hail! 2d Witch. Hail! 3d Witch. Hail! lst Witch. Lesser than Macbeth and greater ! 2d Witch. Not so happy, yet much happier ! 3d Witch. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none : So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo! lst Witch. Banquo and Macbeth, all hail! Macb. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more ; By Simel’s death, I know I am Thane of Glamis ; But how of Cawdor? The Thane of Cawdor lives, A prosperous gentleman: and, to be king, Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence You owe this strange intelligence, or why Upon this blasted heath you stop our way With such prophetic greeting ?” All this, including Banquo’s remonstrance, is from Holinshed* and Boethius. Holinshed, after mentioning the threefold address of the witches, gives this speech to Banquo :— «* What manner of women are you, that seem so little favourable to me, whereas to my fellow here, * Hol., 268. 180 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, besides high offices, ye assign also the kingdom, ap- pointing forth nothing for me at’all.” And the witch answers— “Yes, we promise greater benefits unto thee than unto him, for he shall reign indeed, but with an un- lucky end: neither shall he leave any issue behind him to succeed in his place, where certainly thou in deed shall not reign atall, but of thee there shall be born which shall govern the Scottish kingdom by long order of continual descent.”’ Then we have the mutual banterings of the two chiefs, , “* Banquo would call Macbeth, in jest, king of Scotland, and Macbeth again would call him in sport likewise, the father of many kings.” Elaborate remarks have been made* upon the belief of Shakspeare’s age in witchcraft, whereby his use of this preternatural ma- chinery is justified. It is enough that Shak- speare found the witches in his text-book, and fortunate for us that he used them to diversify his tragedy, if indeed that can be styled a variety which, in truth, constitutes the epic of the play. Inferences have also been drawn as to Shak- speare’s Intentions with respect to Macbeth’s * See Bosw., xi. 3. MACBETH. 181 character,* from the circumstance of Banquo being the first to speak to the weird sisters. My quotation from Holinshed shews that the poet has copied the chronicler. But it is remarkable that the Chronicle of Andrew Wyntown+ has nothing beyond nature in this story, but places in a dream the phanta- sies by which Macbeth was deluded. I will attempt a translation of the chapter (ch. xviii.), which is headed, When Macbeth-Finlay arose, and reigned in Scotland. In this time, as you heard me tell of treason that occurred in England, in Scotland nearly the like was practised by Macbeth, when he murdered his own uncle, through the hope which he had in a dream that he had when young and dwelling in the house of the king, who treated him fairly and well, in every little matter that belonged to him. For he was his sister’s son, and he caused every thing to be done for him that he desired. One night he thought, in his dreaming, that he was sitting beside the king on a hunting party, he accordingly had two greyhounds in his leash. He * Whateley’s Remarks, p. 47, Kemble, 41. See Coleridge’s Lit. Rem., ii. 239. + He was born, according to Macpherson, in the reign of David IIT. which began in 1329, 182 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, thought the while he was so sitting, he saw three women going by, and these three women, he thought, were most like to three weird sisters. The first he heard say, as she went by, ‘‘ Lo, there is the Thane of Cromarty.” The other woman said, “I see the Thane of Moray.’”’ The third said, << I see the king.” All this he heard in his dream. Macbeth had recently become Thane of Gla- mis, by the death of his father Sinel (or Finel); and he is now greeted equally in Holinshed and in Shakspeare as the Thane of Cawdor. Find- ing the witches right in two particulars, Mac- beth begins to contemplate the accomplishment of the more splendid prediction, and sees no way to it but the commission of a murder. So in Wyntown ;— ‘Soon after this, in his youth, he was made thane of these thanedoms ; moreover, he now thought to be king, after Duncan’s days should come to an end. Thus the fantasies of his dream excited him to slay his uncle, as in fact he did forthwith.” And in the play, ‘© Mach. Two truths are told, As happy preludes to the swelling act Of the imperial theme. This supernatural soliciting Cannot be ill; cannot be good : if ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, MACBETH. 183 Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor : If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair, And make my sealed heart knock at my ribs Against the use of nature? Present fears Are less than horrible imaginings : My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man, that function Is smother’d in surmise ; and nothing is, But what is not.” The idea of the murder, we see, came into Macbeth’s head before he was urged to it by his wife.* His apprehensions lest he should not obtain the third and most splendid prize is strongly excited, when the king, after conferring the thanedom of Cawdor upon Macbeth, makes his own son, Malcolm, Prince of Cumberland, which as Holinshed tells us— ** was thereby to appoint him successor in his king- dom immediately after his decease. Macbeth sorely troubled herewith, for that he saw by this means his hope sore hindered, (where by the old laws of the realm the ordinance was, that if he that should suc- ceed were not of able age to take the charge upon himself, he that was next of blood unto him should be admitted,) he began to take counsel how he might * See Mrs. Jameson, ii. 305. 184 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. usurp the kingdom by force, having a just quarrel so to do (as he took the matter), for that Duncan did what in him lay to defraud him of all manner of title and claim which he might, in time to come, pretend unto the crown.”* «* Macb. The Prince of Cumberland! That is a step On which I must fall down, or else o’erleap, For in my way it lies.” We have nowy the heroine and great support of the piece, Lady Macheth. In this part of his story, Shakspeare follows Holinshed and Be- thius, who improve upon the ancient Chronicle. Andrew Wyntown assigns to the wifeof Macbeth no part in the murder of Duncan, nor indeed assigns any wife to him at the time of that wicked action. The wife of Macbeth is, in the Chronicle, the widow of Duncan, and does not appear until after the murder of her first hus- band. . *«« And he took Dame Gruach, his uncle’s wife, and lived with her, deeming her both wife and queen, as she had been before to his uncle while he was reigning, for he paid little attention to the de- grees of affinity.” * Hol., 269. See Malone’s note, showing that Holin- shed copied from Beece and Buchanan.—Bosw., 57. 4 Act. Sexo: MACBETH. 185 Holinshed’s version is assuredly much the best for a dramatic purpose. ‘“* The words of the three weird sisters greatly en- couraged him hereunto, but specially his wife, lay ore upon him to attempt the thing, as she that was very ambitious, having an unquenchable desire to bear the name of a queen.”* This enables Shakspeare to paint his splendid picture of female ambition, and its effects, in in- spiring masculine courage into the soul of a woman. Her invocations are almost horrible : *« Come, come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here ; And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood, Stop up the access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect and it! Come to my woman’s breasts, And take my milk for gall. You murdering ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature’s mischief! Come thick night, And pall thee in the deepest smoke of hell ! That my keen knife see not the wound it makes ; Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry, Hold, hold!” * Hol., 269, 186 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, And her injunction to her husband, to con- ceal his purpose under a mask of kindness, is beautifully expressed ;— ‘* Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.” Yet, considering that this was the first time of her mentioning the murderous project to her husband, and that she could not be aware of the thoughts that had occupied his mind, this con- versation may appear rather brief. The defi- ciency is soon supplied, and taken all together, the soliloquies of the two guilty parties and their inter-communings are perfect. ““Macb. If it were done, when it is done, then *twere well It were done quickly. If the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch With his surcease, success; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time We'd jump the life to come.—But in these cases, We still have judgment here; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison’d chalice To our own lips. He’s here in double trust : First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, MACBETH. 187 Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead, like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking off : And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heaven’s cherubim, hors’d Upon the sightless coursers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself, And falls on the other.” He communicates the result of this self-debate to his wife. ‘* Macb. We will proceed no further in this busi- ness : He hath honour’d me of late, and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon. Lady M. Was the hope drunk Wherein you dress’d yourself ? Hath it slept since ? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou afraid To be the same in thine own act and valour, 188 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, As thou art in desire? Would’st thou have that, Which thou esteem’st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem ? Letting I dare not, wait upon I would, Like the poor cat i’ the adage ? Macb. Pr’ythee, peace: I dare do all that may become a man, Who dares do more, is none. Lady M. What beast was it then, That made you break this enterprise to me ? When you durst do it, then you were a man: And to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man. Nor time, nor place, Did then adhere, and yet you would make both: They’ve made themselves, and that their fitness now Doth unmake you. I have given suck, and know How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me : I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck’d my nipple from its boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn, as you Have done to this.” This is horribly powerful, but it is not quite borne out by what has passed. Although it is true, as Mrs. Jameson observes, * that an imagin- ing of the murder did come across the mind of Macbeth before his wife communicated her pro- ject, yet it is not correctly said either that he * 11. 305. MACBETH, 189 broke the enterprize to her, and so far from having sworn to perform it, he would not in the only interview which we have witnessed, finally make up his mind to the deed. Mrs. Jameson’s womanly feelings prompt her to sug- gest, that although Lady Macbeth was the more determined sinner of the two, her ambition was for her husband more than for herself. This suggestion might be justified by an hundred examples; but I find nothing in Shakspeare’s play, either to establish or negative it in the present instance. His authority, we have seen, ascribes to her an insatiable ambition for her- self, and the Chronicler from whom Holinshed borrowed, tells us that she was herein like others of her sex. “ His wife, impatient of long tarry (as all women are, specially where they are desirous of any pur- pose), gave him great hortation to pursue the third weird, that she might be a queen, calling him oft- times feeble coward. and not desirous of honours, since he durst not seize the thing with manhood and courage which is offered to him by benevolence of fortune. Howbeit, sundry others have seized such things before with most terrible jeopardies, when they had not such likelihood to succeed in the end of their labours as he had.”’* * Boyse, p. 173, Bellenden’s edit. also Bosw. 38. 190 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. I have distinguished some passages of this quotation, and of Lady Macbeth’s speech, from which it might be inferred that Shakspeare consulted Boethius as well as Holinshed. I must proceed with this striking scene. “* Macb. If we should fail ? Lady M. We fail! But screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep, (Whereto the rather shall his hard day’s journey Soundly invite him,) his two chamberlains Will I with wine and wassail so convince, That memory, the warder of the brain, Shall be a fume; and the receipt of reason A limbeck only. When in swinish sleep Their drenched natures lie, as in a death, What cannot you and I perform upon The unguarded Duncan ? what not put upon His spongy officers ; who shall bear the guilt Of our great quell? Macb. Bring forth men-children only ! For thy undaunted mettle should compose Nothing but males. Will it not be receiv’d, When we have mark’d with blood those sleepy two Of his own chamber, and us’d their very daggers, That they have don’t? Lady M. Who dares receive it other?” As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar Upon his death? MACBETH, 191 Macb. I am settled, and bend up, Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. Awake, and mock the time with fairest show ; False face must hide what the false heart doth know.” It has been observed by former commenta- tors,* that this attempt to impute the murder to the king’s two chamberlains, is taken from Holinshed’s account, not of this King Duncan, but of a King Duffe, who was murdered by order of Donwald, in whose castle he lay, at the instiga- tion of his wife. The circumstances are almost exactly those which Shakspeare has adopted, even to the killing of the chamberlains. ** Macb. O! yet I do repent me of my fury, That I did kill them. Macd. Wherefore did you so? Macb. Who can be wise, amaz’d, temperate, and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man. The expedition of my violent love Outran the pauser, Reason. Here lay Duncan, His silver skin lac’d with his golden blood ; And his gash’d stabs look’d like a breach in nature, For ruin’s wasteful entrance: there, the murderers, Steep’d in the colours of their trade, their daggers Unmannerly breech’d with gore: who could refrain, * Bosw. 85, 297. + Hol., v. 234. 192 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. That had a heart to love, and in that heart Courage, to make his love known ?” In the play, the murder is planned, and the secret kept, between husband and wife alone, and the strength of the drama would have been greatly injured by the admission of other con- spirators. But in order to concentrate his force upon Macbeth and his wife, Shakspeare has wisely departed from Holinshed, who says, “ At length, therefore, and communicating his purposed intent with his trusty friends, among whom Banquo was the chiefest, upon confidence of their promised aid, he slew the king at Inverness, or, aS some say, at Botgosuane, in the sixth year of his reign.” + The more ancient Chronicles do not even concur in ascribing to Macbeth the murder of Duncan, though they all say that he succeeded him. Of Banquo, not even the existence is mentioned, nor any other accomplice by name, male or female.* Shakspeare would lead us to believe that the * Pinkerton, ii. 192; Fordun in Gale, iii. 687 ; Chron. Mailros in Gale, i. 156. This Chronicle says only that Macbeth usurped Duncan’s throne after his death. The “‘Elegiac Chronicle” interpolated into it, states that he slew him. Gale, i. 597. + Hol., 269. MACBETH, 193 two sons of Duncan suspected Macbeth or some of the nobles. ** Malcolm. Let’s not consort with them : To show an unfelt sorrow, is an office Which the false man does easy: [Pll to England. Donaldbane. ‘To Ireland, I; our separated fortune Shall keep us both the safer : where we are There’s daggers in men’s smiles: the near tn blood, The nearer bloody.” This voluntary exile of the princes is from Holinshed; but the suspicion thrown upon them is Shakspeare’s own. Wyntown says, ** When first Macbeth began to rise, his uncle’s two legitimate sons fled out of the kingdom for fear. Malcolm, the third, who was not lawfully born, also went out with his brothers to Prince Edward, who then reigned in England; he received them thank- fully, and treated them right courteously.” This illegitimation of Malcolm I do not find elsewhere. It has been surmised that Haat is de- scribed as innocent of the murder, because he was the reputed ancestor of King James I., but there is no necessity for seeking any other than dramatic motives. VOL, II. K 194 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, In the third act we have Macbeth as king, as, according to all Chronicles, he was. But what relates to Banquo, and his murder, is from Holinshed and Boyse, and his imaginative pre- cursors; from these, however, Shakspeare has deviated slightly, in placing the murder of Banquo before the supper; and thus has in- troduced the famous banquet, in which the ghost of Banquo appears, and occasions one of the most interesting scenes in the play. It is to be observed that this new crime was planned by Macbeth himself. **« Macb. O, full of scorpions is my life, dear wife ! Thou know’st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. Lady M. But in them Nature’s copy’s not eternal. Macb. 'There’s comfort yet, they are assailable ; Then, be thou jocund. Ere the bat hath flown His cloister’d flight; ere, to black Hecate’s summons, The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums, Hath rung night’s yawning peal, there shall be done A deed of dreadful note.” The escape of Fleance is in the Chronicle, where the pedigree of the Stuarts, Kings of Scotland, is traced from Walter, the son of Fleance, who becomes Steward of Scotland. I remember hearing that the late Lord Erskine, MACBETH. 195 sitting one night to see the splendid acting of Kemble and Mrs. Siddons, observed upon the murder scene, that if Fleance had not escaped, he should not be there; alluding to the descent of the Erskines from Robert II.* But the learned in Scottish antiquities say, that this descent of the royal house of Stuart from Banquo is fabu- lous. All that is known is, that the Stuarts were a considerable family in the time of David I., whose reign began in 1124. The next incident of which we hear has higher authority. “ Macb. How say’st thou, that Macduff denies his person At our great bidding ? Lady M. Did you send to him, sir? Macb. I hear it by the way; but I will send : There’s not a one of them but in his house ; I keep a servant feed.” Again,t « Lenox. From broad words, and ’cause he failed His presence at the tyrant’s feast, I hear, © Macduff lives in disgrace.” * e° * Betham, Tab. 622. + 8c. 6. 196 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. «« Lenox. Sent he to Macduff? Lud. He did, and with an absolute Sir, not I, The cloudy messenger turns me his back, And hems, as who should say, You'll rue the time That clogs me with this answer.” The story in Holinshed * is, that Macbeth built a castle at the top of Dunsinane hill, ‘* to the end that he might the more cruelly oppress his subjects with all tyrant-like wrongs.” The work was very expensive, because all the mate- rials were to be carried up the hill, and Macbeth required all his thanes to assist in their turns, by sending their teams, I suppose. Macduff refused, and fled into England, when Macbeth having obtained admittance into his castle, caused his wife and children to be slain. The story in Wyntown has some interesting particulars. ‘* Macbeth now, as King of Scotland, made a great stir, and set about building a fortified house on the heights of Dunsinane. He had many oxen collected to draw timber and stone from Fife and Angus. One day, he saw a yoke of oxen fail in their draught ; he asked, who owned that yoke, and they answered, Macduff, the Thane of Fife, owned these oxen. Then Macbeth answered spitefully, and said angrily to the * P. 275. MACBETH, 197 thane, that he would put his own neck into the yoke, all writhing in his skin, and make him draw the draught ; not doubting his fear of the king. When the thane heard Macbeth say that he would put his neck into the yoke, he said nothing of his thoughts, but privately got out of the crowd, and the steward gave him a loaf for his supper. And as soon as he found time and an opportunity, ran out of the court, and carried that loaf with him to the waters of Erne. That bread he gave to the boatmen to: carry him over and land him on the south side without delay. That passage was long afterwards called Portne- baryan, that is, the Haven of bread. He was carried over the water without danger or hindrance. ** At Dunsinane, that night, so soon as the supper was spread, and his marshal called Macbeth to the hall, the Thane of Fife was missed, and no man knew where he was. But a knight who was sitting near Macbeth at supper, said that he would undertake soon to ascertain where the Thane of Fife then was, for he was a clever man at contrivance, and very cunning in his doings. He said to Macbeth, that he would spare no cost to find out where Macduff was. This highly moved Macbeth to proceed against Macduff. “* Nevertheless, Macduff, who was landed on the south of the waters of Erne, went on to Kennachy in Fife, where his wife dwelt in a house made for defence, and bade her to maintain that house with 198 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. all diligence, and if the king should come thither and command any felony to be committed, she was to hold Macbeth in fair entreaty, while she should see a boat sailing from the north to the south, and when she saw that boat to tell Macbeth that the Thane of Fife was there, and was travelling to Dunsi- nane to meet Macbeth; for the Thane of Fife thought, that when he came again to Kennachy he should bring with him a lawful king. “* Macbeth soon came to Kennachy, and would have done great injury, but his lady with fair en- treaty prevented his purpose from being executed : and soon, when she saw the sail up, she said to Macbeth with little fear, Macbeth, look up and see —the Thane of Fife is under that sail. Know well, and do not doubt, but that if ever you shall see him again, he will be put into great pain, since you would have set his neck in the yoke. Now, will I speak to you no more, go on your way, either well or ill, as may happen.” That passage has been since commonly called ‘‘ the Earl’s Ferry.” Andrew tells us that there ought by law to be always a boat on either side, and that the fare should be no more than four- pence. Macbeth is here, and from his accession to the throne, painted by the poet as a tyrant as well as usurper. MHolinshed represents him as commencing his administration well, and mak- MACBETH. 199 ing some very good laws,* but becoming after- wards a tyrant, through fear of his thanes. The more ancient Chronicle nowhere says that he was a tyrant, or a bad king, unless it be for his treatment of Macduff. ** When his uncle was dead (says Wyntown) he succeeded in his place, and reigned as king in Scot- land for seventeen years. All this time there was great abundance both by land and sea: he was right lawful in matters of justice, and very awful to his lieges. When Leo the Tenth+ was Pope of Rome, he went to that court as a pilgrim, and distributed alms of silver to all poor folk that were collected, and he acted, all his time, profitably for the holy church.” Macbeth’s second resort to the weird sisters,+ and their equivocating predictions, are in Holin- shed, § and so is the dialogue between Malcolm and Macduff,|| which is taken from Boethius. This curious incident is also found in Wyntown. It is unnecessary to say that the sleep-walking - scene is a beautiful fiction. ‘The remaining events are told in the play in pretty close accordance with Holinshed. Malcolm returned to Scot- * See Hol.,270. But these laws are not deemed au- thentic.—Lord Hailes, i. 3. + It should be Leo IX. TEAC Tyaoc sts § P. 274. || Act iv. Se. 3. 900 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. land, accompanied by an English army, under the command of Siward, Earl of Northumberland, and was joined by several of the Scottish chiefs : ‘* Menteth. The English power is near, led on by Malcolm, His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff.” * The wife of Duncan is supposed to have been the sister of Siward;t who is, therefore, pro- perly styled uncle to Duncan’s son. Holinshed tells us that the Scottish thanes were divided into the parties of Macbeth and Malcolm ; Shakspeare does not assign a single ‘nobleman of Scotland”t to the party of the usurper. Seyton, described as “an officer atten- dant upon Macbeth,” is his only partizan. The names of the thanes who sided with Malcolm are from Holinshed and Boethius. But the gene- alogist of the Scottish peerage does not claim for the families named so ancient an existence among the nobles of the land.§ It is evidently Shakspeare’s intention to repre- sent Macbeth as suffering from remorse, and * Act v. Se.2. + Hol., 269. $ “ Dram. Pers.—Macduff, Lenox, Rosse, Menteth, Angus, Caithness—noblemen of Scotland.” § Douglas, i. 62, 292; ii. 80, 223, 417. Macduff, Earl of Fife, appears to be only one of Shakspeare’s earls who is acknowledged by the Scottish genealogist, i. 573. MACBETH, 201 occasionally despairing, from consciousness of the hate which he had inspired. ‘* Caithness. Some say he’s mad; others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant fury; but, for certain, He cannot buckle his distemper’d cause Within the belt of rule. Angus. Nor does he feel His secret murders sticking on his hands ; Now minutely results upbraid his faith-breach, Those he commands move only in command, Nothing in love ; now does he feel his title Hang loose about him, like a giant’s robe Upon a dwarfish thief. “* Menteth. : Who then shall blame His pester’d senses to recoil and start, When all that is within him doth condemn Itself for being there ?” Such are the observations of his enemies ; but his own language confirms them. After receiv- ing with pettish impatience the news of the ap- proach of the English force ; “Tm sick at heart When I behold—Seyton, I say! This push Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now. I have liv’d long enough; my way of life Is fall’n into the sear, the yellow leaf : And that which should accompany old age, K 3 902 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but in their stead, Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, But dare not.” And when told by the physician of his wife’s * thick-coming fancies ;”— _ “‘ Can’st thou not minister toa mind diseas’d ; Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; Raze out the written troubles of the brain, And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuff’d bosom oi that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart ?”’* Moreover, presently,’ having heard of Lady Macbeth’s death, he moralizes— «© She should have died hereafter ; There would have been a time for such a word— To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time ; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow ; a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.” * Se, 3. MACBETH. 203 He becomes more and more desperate, and is for a moment quite unnerved, when he finds that the witches have equivocated with him. The stratagem by which Birnam wood is made to appear to come to Dunsinane is taken from Holinshed. In Wyntown, the boughs are assumed for the very purpose of frightening Macbeth, whose confidence in the prophecy was known to his enemies.* Shakspeare and Holinshed also differ from Wyntown as to the death of Macbeth. They make Macduff the victor in a personal com- bat; and Holinshed, as well as Wyntown, represents Macbeth as taking to flight, so soon as he perceived the moving wood ; but the old Chronicler says that Macduff was unsuccessful in his pursuit, and was forestalled by a certain knight; and to him, and not to Macduff, is assigned the strange birth which responded to the assurance of the weird sisters. It is from Holinshed+ that our poet took the remark of old Siward upon his son’s death— «« Siward. Had he his hurts before ? Rosse. Aye; on the front. Siward. Why, then, God’s soldier be he! * Wyntown, line 36]. t Hol., i. 749. 204 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. Had I as many sons as I have hairs, I would not wish them to a fairer death, And so his knell is knoll’d.”’ Shakspeare has done well in taking this inci- dent; the death of young Siward is related by the English Chronicles. Following Holinshed, Shakspeare gives the crown to Malcolm immediately after the death of Macbeth; and, certainly, several English historians affirm that Siward placed the young prince on the throne, by order of our Edward, the Confessor. But Pinkerton doubts whether the English king interfered at all; and as- cribes the aid given by Siward to his family connection with Malcolm. He says, moreover, that Malcolm did not immediately succeed Mac- beth, but that Lulach, who was in some way nearly related to the usurper, reigned for four months; and that there was afterwards an inter- reenum of a year anda half before Malcolm III. ascended the throne: in this interval Siward died.* This Scottish author is anxious to show that the Scots got rid of Macbeth by the assist- ance of Siward’s forces, but without any inter- ference on the part of the English government. * Flor., Wig., p. 629. MACBETH, 205 I cannot decide this point. Florence of Wor- cester, and the Chronicle of Mailros, both state that Siward’s proceedings were ‘by the com- mand of the king.” The Saxon Chronicle leaves room for Pinkerton’s conjecture :— “1054. This year went Earl Siward with a large army against Scotland, consisting both of ships and land forces ; and, engaging with the Scots, he put to flight the king, Macbeth; slew all the best of the land, and led thence much spoil, such as no man before obtained. Many fell also on his side, both Danish and English, even his own son Osborn, and his sister’s son Siward, and many of his house- earls, and also of the king’s, there were slain that day, which was called the day of the Seven Sleepers.”’* I cannot find good authority for the accession and short reign of Lulach ;+ Andrew Wypn- town says nothing about him. ‘The Chronicle of Mailros, which mentions} Malcolm’s being placed on the throne by Siward in 1054, men- tions him again in 1056 as succeeding to the throne by hereditary right, and reigning thirty- seven years. As the same authority says that he was slain in 1093, it would appear that the * Ingram’s Saxon Chron., p. 242, + According to Lord Hailes, this was a nickname ; it signifies a fool. { Gale, i. 156. 206 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, reign commenced at this second period, and that Siward did not succeed in establishing him fairly upon the throne after the death of Macbeth. Fordun, too, says that the reward of his friends, by promotion to a new title— «« My thanes and kinsmen Henceforth be Earls, the first that ever Scotland In such an honour nam’d,” is from Holinshed ; but the fact is denied.* “« This play,” says Johnson,f ‘‘is deservedly cele- brated for the propriety of its fictions, and solem- nity, grandeur, and variety of its action, but it has no nice discrimination of character, the events are too great to admit the influence of particular dis- positions, and the cause of the action necessarily determines the conduct of the agents. The danger of ambition is well described, and I know not whe- ther it may not be said in defence of some parts which now seem improbable, that in Shakspeare’s time it was necessary to warn credulity against vain and illusive predictions. The passions are directed to their true end. Lady Macbeth is merely detested, and though the courage of Macbeth pre- serves some esteem, yet every reader rejoices at his fall.”’ Macbeth is certainly one of the most popular * See note on Buchanan, 1752, p. 166, + Bosw., 276. MACBETH. 207 of Shakspeare’s plays, and perhaps it is so be- cause the interest and strength of the play is concentrated. An audience thinks little of any personage, except Macbeth and his wife ; and in them there is assuredly a sufficient discrimina- tion of character. ‘To Johnson’s observation on Lady Macbeth, and the contrary opinion of Mrs. Jameson, I have referred already.* I agree with this lady, whose enthusiasm for Shakspeare and for her own sex, are nearly equal, that Shak- speare, who formed the character of Lady Mac- beth upon a slight hint in the Chronicle, did not mean to paint a woman entirely unsexed; even in passages the most revoltingly criminal and cruel, there are indications of womanly feeling ; but that she excites our sympathy, I still deny : nor would Shakspeare’s work be so admirable, if such abominable iniquity were made to appear tolerable. Mrs. Jameson commends Hazlitt’s notice of Lady Macbeth, but thinks it still too harsh. Surely, his touch is quite sufficiently light for the subject. “The magnitude of her resolution almost covers the magnitude of her guilt. She is a great bad woman whom we hate, but whom we fear more than * P. 57, and also p. 183. + See the Charact., ii. 298. I do not quote them par- tially, because I wish them to be read in the original. 908 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, we hate. She doth not excite our loathing and ab- horrence like Regan and Gonerill. She is only wicked to gain a great end, and is, perhaps, more distin- guished by her commanding presence of mind, and inexorable self-will, which do not suffer her to be diverted from a bad purpose when once formed, by weak and womanly regrets, than by the hardness of her heart, or want of natural affection.”* Much controversy has been expended on the character of Macbeth himself. It has been said, truly, that he is not the deliberate and reckless villain which Richard III. is painted by Shak- speare ; but it is added, that he is not essentially a brave man. The late John Kemble, as I con- ceive, triumphantly refuted this opinion, which was published by a Mr.Whateley, and espoused by Steevens.- It is not, or certainly it was not a derogation from a man’s personal bravery, that he was appalled by the prophecies of a witch ; even in this age, one who believed a communi- cation to be preternatural, would be allowed to be awed by it, though he might hold a cannon- ball in contempt. Kemble styles this the noblest of tragedies, and it is natural that he * Characters of Shakspeare’s Plays, p. 18. + See Remarks on some of the Characters of Shaks- speare, 1785.— Macbeth and Richard III., by J. P. Kemble, 1817; and Steevens’s note in Boswell. MACBETH. 209 should prefer it to all others of Shakspeare, because, assuredly of the historical plays, and perhaps of all the plays, Othello alone ex- cepted, it is the finest in representation. To read, I own that it is, in my opinion, inferior to some others, from the absence of the splendid and stately speeches which I have noticed in former plays, CORIOLANUS. As it is certain that Shakspeare did not apply his great genius to the invention of plots, it was natural that when in search of dramatic subjects, he should look to the Roman History ; a history with which the English youth are familiar, and which is full of striking and romantic incidents. It can hardly be said that we take our Roman history from Shakspeare, because, in our system of education, the history of that remarkable people usually precedes that of our own country; and we learn the story of Coriolanus from Eu- tropius, or Goldsmith, if not from Plutarch, before we go to see a play. I shall not attempt to subject the three Latin plays—Coriolanus, Julius Cesar, and Antony and Cleopatra—to the sort of commentary which I have applied to the plays from English his- tory; nor do the materials exist for any such examination: but I hope that the lovers of CORIOLANUS. 211 historical truth, as well as the lovers of Shak- speare,—who certainly constitute a class a hun- dred-fold more numerous,— will allow me to show whereon the great dramatist founded his plays, and how far there is reason to believe that the history is true. And there will be ample opportunity for that which is by far the most pleasing part of my task, the quotation of striking passages from the works of this all-various poet. I must further premise that the historical criticisms of former commentators upon these Roman plays, are more copious than upon the English plays ;—probably because these learned men were better acquainted with ancient than with modern history. But, in their time, the searching criticism of continental commentators, and especially of Niebuhr, had not been applied to the popular Roman story,—a fact which may in itself justify a fresh commentary. Shakspeare’s Coriolanus is taken from Sir Thomas North’s translation of Plutarch’s Lives ; but it commences with a slight variation. Ac- cording to the Greek biographer, and to other received histories, the plebeians of Rome, about the year 260, sixteen after the expulsion of the Tarquins, retired, in consequence of their difference with the patricians, to a hill near to the city, which was afterwards called Mons Sacer. 912 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. The opening of the play (though placed in “a street in Rome,”) is evidently meant to represent this occurrence. But Shakspeare has not fol- lowed Plutarch as to the cause of this separation, or mutiny as he represents it. ‘The dearth of corn, of which the citizens complain, did not occur at this time; the present cause of com- plaint arose of the severe laws of debtor and creditor, which, while all the wealth was in the hands of the patricians, enabled them to oppress with cruel severity those plebeians who had been compelled to become their debtors, and who were consequently liable to be claimed as their slaves. * And it was on this occasion that Menenius Agrippa related the celebrated fable of the Belly and the Members, and also that tribunes of the people were first appointed.{ The complaint * Niebuhr, i. 562; Arnold, i. 137. These writers say, ‘that where there were several creditors, they might actually hew the body of the debtor in pieces, and whe- ther a creditor cut off a greater or a smaller piece than in proportion to its debt, he incurred no penalty.” It is, they say, a modern error, that the cutting up was to be understood of the debtor’s property, not of his person. Tt is with difficulty that I can believe them right! + Malone says (Bosw. xiv. 12, and ii. 457), that Shak- speare must have taken his version of the fable, in part, from Camden’s Remains ; but I think that North is suf- ficient. t North, 187. CORIOLANUS. 213 was, not of power usurped, or arbitrarily used by an aristocracy privileged by birth, so much as of “the rich men who had driven them out of the city ...... and that they were hurt with continual wars and fighting in defence of the rich man’s goods.” It was the moneyed aristocracy* by which they were oppressed. And though the old man, in the moral of his fable, likens the nourishment afforded by the belly to the wholesome counsels of the senate, yet the fable itself rather describes the possessors of wealth, who were said ‘“ to send it out again for the nourishment of other parts.” It is in conformity with Plutarch that Corio- lanus (now only known as Caius Marcius), is represented as stern, contemptuous, and unpo- pular ; and so of other remarkable traits of his character. «This man also is a good proof to confirm some men’s opinions, that a rare and excellent wit un- taught doth bring forth many good and evil things together : as a fat soil that lieth unmanured bringeth forth both herbs and weeds. For this Marcius’ natural wit and great heart did marvellously stir up his courage to do and attempt notable acts. But, on the other side, for lack of education, he was so cholerick and impatient, that he would yield to no living creature: which made him churlish, uncivil, * See Keightley’s Hist. of Rome, p. 65. 914 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. and altogether unfit for any man’s conversation. Yet men marvelling much at his constancy, that he was never overcome with pleasure, nor money; and how he would endure easily all manner of pains and travels, therefore they well liked and commended his shortness and temperancy. But for all that, they could not be acquainted with him, as one citizen would wish to be with another in the city, his behaviour was so unpleasant to them, by reason of a certain insolent and stern manner he had, which because he was too lordly was disliked.......... As for others, the only respect that made them valiant was, that they hoped to have honour, but touching Marcius, the only thing that made. him to love honour, was the joy he saw his mother did take of him. For that he thought nothing made him so happy and honourable, as that his mother might hear everybody praise and commend him, that she might always see him return with a crown upon his head, and that she might still embrace him with tears running down her cheeks for joy.’’* Compare, “1st Cit. First, you know Caius Marcius is the chief enemy to the people. All, We know it, we know it. He’s a very dog to the commonalty. 2d Cit. Consider you what services he has done to his country ? | lst Cit. Very well, and could be content to give * North, 185, 186. CORIOLANUS. 215 him good report for it, but that he pays himself with being proud. All. Nay, but speak not maliciously. lst Cit. I say unto you, what he hath done fa- mously, he did it to that end. Though soft-con- scienced men can be content to say it was for his country ; he did it to please his mother, and to be partly proud, which he is, even to the altitude of his mercy.” There is nothing remarkable in the use made by Shakspeare of the affair of Corioli, as related by Plutarch.* Commentators} have noticed an obvious anachronism, where the poet puts into the mouth of Titus Lartius, a contemporary of Coriolanus, a remark which Plutarch makes as from himself. ‘For he was even such another as Cato would have a soldier and a captain to be, not only terrible and fierce to lay about him, but to make the enemy afraid with the sound of his voice, and grimness of his countenance.” t¢ * Acti. Se. 1, 2,4 to 11. + Bosw. 35. t For other passages in which Plutarch is followed, sometimes into error, see Bosw. 42, 63, 83, 102, 127; see also p. 86, where Warburton says that at the period of this story the people had no voice in the election of consuls. The bishop speaks with more confidence than any records justify. 916 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. «Thou wast a soldier Even to Cato’s wish; not fierce and terrible Only in strokes ; but, with thy grim looks, and The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds, Thou mad’st thine enemies shake, as if the world Were feverous, and did tremble.” The refusal of the tenth part of the booty, the grant, by acclamation, of the surname, CorioLtanus, the release of the poor man at whose house in Corioli the Roman general. lodged, are all equally from Plutarch. Coriolanus stands for the consulate, being proposed by the consul Cominius,* whom the poet makes the channel of Plutarch’s own ac- count of the warrior: following him so closely, as even to copy this remark upon the peculiar characteristic of the Romans :— ‘In those days valiantness was honoured in Rome above all other virtues; which they call virtus, by the name of virtue itself, as including in that general name all other special virtues besides.” “Com. It is held That valour is the chiefest virtue, and Most dignifies the haver.” And he then relates the youthful deeds of * According to Livy, Posthumus Cominius was consul in the 262d year of Rome. According to Dionysius, in the 261st.—-See Arnold, 552. CORIOLANUS, AW Marcius, as recorded by Plutarch, who says, that the people, as well as the senate, were dis- posed to elect him. «There was not a man among the people, but was ashamed of himself to refuse so valiant a man, and one of them said to another, ‘ We must needs choose him consul, there is no remedy.’ ” And so the poet :— “If he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him. 2 Cit. We may, Sir, if we will. 1 Cit. We have power in ourselves to do it; but it is a power that we have no power to do: for if he show us his wounds, and tell us his deeds, we are to put our tongue into those wounds and speak for them ; so if he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him our noble acceptance of them.” * Plutarch says, that the plebeians at first elected Coriolanus, and afterwards rejected him. Shak- speare takes advantage of this, to represent the great commander addressing the electors with contumely and contempt; and the people speedily repenting of being cajoled out of their voices, and recalling them at the instigation of their tribunes. In this part of his play, Shakspeare evidently writes con amore; and it is not only in the * Actii. Se. 3. VOL. II. L 218 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, mouth of the proud candidate himself that he puts his favourite notions respecting popular applause; which, however, he qualifies with great propriety :— “2 Officer. ’Tis thought of every one, Coriolanus will carry it. 1 Off. That’s a brave fellow, but he’s vengeance proud, and loves not the common people. 2 Off. Faith, there have been many great men that have flatter’d the people that ne’er loved them, and there may be many they have loved, they knew not wherefore: so that if they love they know not why, they flatter upon no better a ground : therefore, for Coriolanus neither to care whether they love or hate him, manifests the true knowledge he has in their disposition; and out of his noble carelessness lets them plainly see ’t. 1 Off. If he did not care whether he had their love or no, he waved indifferently betwixt doing them neither good nor harm; but he seeks their hate with greater devotion than they can render it him, and leaves nothing undone that may fully discover him their opposite. Now, to seem to affect the malice and displeasure of the people, is as bad as that which he dislikes, to flatter for their love. 2 Off. He hath deserved worthily of his country ; and his ascent is not by such easy degrees as those who, having been supple and courteous to the people, bonnetted, without any further deed, to heave them CORIOLANUS., 219 at all into their estimation and report; but he hath so planted his honours in their eyes, and his actions in their hearts, that, for their tongues to be silent, and not confess so much, were a kind of ingrateful injury ; to report otherwise were a malice that, giving itself the lie, would pluck rebuke and reproof from every ear that heard it. 1 Of. No more of him; he is a worthy man. Cor. Most sweet voices! Better it is to die, better to starve, Than crave the hire which first we do deserve. Why in this wolvish gown should I stand here, To beg of Hob and Dick, that do appear, Their needless vouches ? Custom calls me to it :— What custom wills in all things should we do'’t, The dust on antique time would lie unswept, And mountainous error be too highly heap’d For truth to o’er-peer. Rather than fool it so, Let the high office and the honour go To one that would do thus.” And when told by the tribunes that the people refuse to confirm the election, he breaks out, in strict accordance with the character and habits assigned to him by Plutarch, and in spite of the remonstrance of his friends :— “« Cor. Now, as I live, I will.—My nobler friends, I crave their pardons : But for the mutable, rank-scented many, Lee . 29) COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. Let them regard me, as I do not flatter, and Therein behold themselves : I say again, In soothing them, we nourish ’gainst our senate The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition, Which we ourselves have plough’d for, sow’d, and scatter’d, By mingling them with us, the honour’d number ; Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that Which we have given to beggars.” All this is taken, even verbally in some parts, from a speech which Plutarch assigns to Corio- lanus, in opposing a suggestion for delivering out to the people, gratis, the corn that had been purchased by the government in the time of dearth ;—and further, “Cor. Whoever gave that counsel to give forth The corn of th’ store-house gratis, as ’twas us’d Sometime in Greece— (Though there the people had more absolute pow’r), I say they nourish’d disobedience, fed The ruin of the state.” Much besides, to the effect of refusing the demands of the people, lest concession should be attributed to fear, is borne out by Plutarch ; but Shakspeare, who was, I can have no doubt, what we should now call an ultra-tory, adds much also of his own :— CORIOLANUS. 22] ** Cor. No, take more: What may be sworn by, both divine and human, Seal what I end withal !—This double worship,— Where one part doth disdain with cause, the other Insult without all reason; where gentry, title, wisdom, Cannot conclude but by the yea and no Of general ignorance,—it must omit Real necessities, and give way the while To unstable slightness, purpose so barr’d, it follows Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore, beseech you, You that will be less fearful than discreet ; That love the fundamental part of state More than you doubt the change of ’t, that prefer A noble life before a long, and wish To jump a body with a dangerous physick, That’s sure of death without it, at once pluck out The multitudinous tongue, let them not lick The sweet which is their poison. Your dishonour Mangles true judgment, and bereaves the state Of that integrity which should become it ; Not having power to do the good it would, For the ill which doth control it.” It is with skill and judgment, as well as with sufficient general support from his authority, that Shakspeare has ascribed to the influence of Volumnia Coriolanus’s final appearance before the people; when, though he had undertaken to preserve moderation, he broke out in language so violent as to cause the people to condemn 922 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, him to death—a sentence afterwards softened to banishment from Rome. «« When they expected to have heard very humble and lowly words come from him, he began not only to use his wonted boldness of speaking (which of itself was very rough and unpleasant, and did more aggravate his accusation, than purge his innocency), but also gave himself in his words to thunder, and moreover did look therewithal so grimly, as he made no reckoning of the matter,” The offer of service to the Volscians, and the hostile approach to Rome, is a part of the story of Coriolanus which one would gladly suppress ; but it is told by his biographer. Shakspeare has added some characteristic disavowals by the citizens, of each man’s part in the banishment of the enraged chief :— ‘* 1] Cit. For mine own part, when I said, Banish him, I said, ’twas pity. 2 Cit. And so did I, and to say the truth, so did very many of us. That we did, we did for the best, and though we willingly consented to his banishment, yet it was against our will. .. : 1 Cit. The gods be good to us! Come, masters, let’s home. I ever said, we were in the wrong when we banished him. 2 Cit. So did we all!” CORIOLANUS. 223 It is now time to notice the female personages of this interesting drama. Shakspeare intro- duces us to the mother and wife of his hero, and their friend Valeria. This last-mentioned lady is mentioned by Plutarch, as the sister of Publicola, and has a part assigned to her, as we shall see presently. Of the wife, Virgilia, the biographer only tells us that Coriolanus married her at his mother’s request. ‘The poet had therefore to model her by his own fancy, and he has painted her with his usual skill, as Mrs. Jameson says, so as to make ‘a fine contrast between the haughty temper of Volumnia, her admiration of the valour and high bearing of her son, and her proud but unselfish love for him, with the modest sweetness, and the conjugal tenderness of his wife Virgilia.”* In all that Mrs. Jameson says of Volumnia, I fully concur ; yet it is remarkable that this lady, though she cites North’s translation, has not perceived that the ‘“‘admirable stroke of art” which traces the achievements of Coriolanus to his desire to please his mother, is not Shak- speare’s, but Plutarch’s. I cannot quite agree to bestow the epithet, graceful, upon the first scenet in which the ladies are introduced. ‘The ¥ Charact. ii. 177. + Acti. Se. 3. 994. COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, visit of Valeria is from Plutarch, who tells us that Virgilia was found with her children in her lap; and the language of the ladies is unques- tionably characteristic ; but the proof afforded of young Marcius inheriting the spirit of his father, in his cruelty to a butterfly, is not, I venture to suggest, a pleasing, or graceful, addition by the poet. It has been often, and correctly, observed, that Volumnia’s earnest and finally successful address to her son,* is taken from Plutarch. And the murder of the Roman general by the Volscians, at the instigation of the jealous Tullus Aufidius, is equally conformable to the old book. Such is the use which Shakspeare has made of that which is now called The Legend of Co- riolanus. Certainly, the story must be founded upon legends or traditions, and these passing over a great number of years; for its date is given at the 260th, or, according to some, the 290th year of Rome, being nearly five hundred years before the Christian era. Plutarch flou- rished in the time of the Emperor Claudius; nor have we any historian earlier than Livy, who preceded Plutarch by little more than a cen- * Actv. Se.3. CORIOLANUS. 225 tury.* The story in Livy+ is not materially different from Plutarch’s, and includes the enmity between Coriolanus and the commons, the successful embassy of the women, and various other particulars. But the Greek has improved upon the Roman, almost as much as the English- man has improved upon the Greek: the hero’s peculiar devotion to his mother, and all the nicer traits of his character, are worked out by Plu- tarch. Of those who preceded, Dionysius Hali- carnessensis comes nearest to him, who describes Coriolanus as one of the “ oligarchical patri- cians,” who spoke openly and boldly against the plebeians and their tribunes.t Plutarch’s work is more evidently wrought up for effect ; otherwise, Livy is hardly better authority for what passed in the third century of Rome. He is said to have founded his history, in great part, upon the writings of older authors, of which extracts have been given; but none of these go farther back than the sixth century ; § * Livy was born in 695, or fifty-eight years before Christ. + Book ii, c. 23. t See Spelman’s Dionysius, ii. b. vi, sect. 92, and b. viii. sect. 19 and 21. § Fabius Pictor, the first of these, was cotemporary with the second Punic war, about 529. Onall this, see the History of Rome, published by the Useful Knowledge Society, p. 43. pee 296 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. indeed, if any written annals of the early Roman history existed, it is not probable that they sur- vived the burning of Rome by the Gauls, in the year of Rome 372. If any less perishable records of brass or stone survived the confla- eration, they can be depended upon for nothing beyond a name or a date. Without underrating the critical labours of Niebuhr, I would observe, that in respect of the very early history, they are necessarily confined to the destruction of the fabric of history which he found in existence; re-construction was im- possible, for want of materials. His ingenuity may have been displayed in estimating probabi- lities, but it was not possible for him to establish facts. It is not even known what legends or traditions existed in the time of Livy, still less how far they were true. Niebuhr himself, though he makes out a story from the histories, ends by saying that ** the legend of Coriolanus has stifled the historical tradition in its whole extent.”* Antiquaries do not even quite agree, as to the political character of * the people,” to whom, in this story, Coriolanus was opposed. Shakspeare styles them citizens, but this, according to some recent authorities,} is precisely what they were * 11, 242, + Especially Dr. Arnold, see his eleventh chapter. CORIOLANUS, 227 not. On the contrary, they were those inhabi- tants of Rome who were noé citizens. Dr. Ar- nold uses patricians and burghers as synonimous terms. Yet Livy apparently speaks of the plebeians as being, or as capable of being, citizens; but Livy is not a good authority. His words are: “« Civitas, secum ipsa discors, intestino inter patres, plebemque, flagrabat odio, maximé proptu nexos ob es alienum. Fremabant, se, foris pro libertate et im- perio dimicantes, domi a civibus captis et oppres- sos esse, latinemque in bello quam in pace, inter hostes quam inter cives, libertatem plebis esse.’’* In Baker’s translation, ‘* The state itself was torn in pieces by intestine animosities between the patricians and commons, on account, principally, of persons confined for debt ; they complained that after fighting abroad for free- dom and empire, they were made prisoners, and oppressed by their countrymen at home, and that the liberty of the commons was more secure in war than in peace, amongst their foes than amongst their own countrymen.” It appears to me that Baker is right, in translating cives, countrymen, or fellow-citizens : * Livy, b. ii. sec, 23. 998 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. and this chiefly because, when the patricians and plebeians came soon afterwards to terms,—the services of the latter being required as the infan- try of the army,—the principal concession was, an edict that no Roman citizen should be bound or confined so as to prevent his giving in his name (for military service); and hereupon the nexi (plebeians confined for debt) were set at liberty.* If I understand the theory of those who hold that none were citizens of Rome but the patricians, it is that these were descended from the ancient inhabitants, at the time of Servius Tullus, and that although the number of inha- bitants was greatly increased by conquests and other means, none of the new Romans (who were chiefly employed in agriculture) were ad- mitted to the privilege of citizenship: and that populus included the patricians only, being con- trasted with plebs, not synonimous, as we some- times use it. * “ Concioni deinde edicto addidit fidem, quo edixit, ne quis civem Romanum vinctum aut clausum teneret, quo minus ei nominis edendi apud consules potestas fieret.. . . Hoc proposito edicto, et qui aderant, nexi profiteri exemplo nomina; et undique ex totd urbe pro- cipientium se ex privato quem retinendi jus creditori non esset ; concursus in forum, ut sacramento dicerent, fieri.”’ Ib., sect. 24, = ~~ ey ee ~ CORIOLANUS, 229 I have perhaps dwelt too long upon these matters, upon which I am certainly incompetent to pronounce an opinion; it is enough for us that Shakspeare unquestionably contemplated a populace, such as that which, in his time, as in ours, existed in England. Niebuhr does not mention the election of Coriolanus to the consulate. I have noticed an alleged mistake* (taken from Plutarch) in giv- ing to the plebeians a share in the election ; but I find no light thrown upon this subject by the modern expositors of Roman history. “The tragedy of Coriolanus is” (in Johnson’s opinion) “‘ one of the most amusing of our author’s performances. ‘The old man’s merriment in Mene- nius, the lofty lady’s dignity in Volumnia, the bridal modesty in Virgilia, the patrician and military haugh- tiness in Coriolanus, the plebeian malignity and tri- bunitian insolence in Brutus and Sicinius, make a very pleasing and interesting variety ; and the various revolutions of the hero’s fortune, fill the mind with anxious curiosity.” > Coriolanus is surely a very fine play, and jus- tice is hardly done to it by the doctor. No doubt it owed much, in our day, to Kemble; but it 1s, even when read, a splendid drama. The character of Coriolanus, though in small part of * P. 212, + Ibid. 86. 930 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. Shakspeare’s invention, is extremely well sus- tained; and the criminality of his conduct (for assuredly he was a great criminal,) is covered by its magnificence ; a sort of character peculiarly appropriate to tragedy ;—as profligacy covered by kind-heartedness is the ground-work of suc- cessful comedies. Of the ladies I have already spoken. Old Menenius might have been praised for something beyond merriment; and perhaps the high political notions of Dr. Johnson make him too severe upon the tribunes of the people, whose hostility was certainly not unprovoked. In Coleridge’s notice of this play, there is a remarkable instance of error occasioned by not searching Shakspeare’s authorities. He asks, ** Whether Cato was quoted, without, or in contempt of historical information.”* I have shewn that the passage was copied (but incor- rectly) from Plutarch.t Coleridge and Schle- gel differ as to Shakspeare’s contempt of the plebeians; Schlegelf thinks it (as I do) very marked and sincere; Coleridge, who wrote, I believe, in the days of his ultra-whiggery, treats it as a good-humoured laugh.” * Lit. Rem., ii. 137. + See p. 215. { Com. de Lit. Dram, iii, 82. 231 - . JULIUS CHSAR. Tuts play, which embraces a period of Roman history somewhat less obscure than that which we have lately reviewed, is also taken from Plu- tarch; not entirely from the life of Ceesar,* but partly from those of Brutus} and Antony.t A question has been raised,§ whether Shakspeare did not avail himself of the play of Julius Cesar, written by William Alexander, Farl of Sterline, and published in 1607,|| the year in which, according to Malone, Shak- speare composed his play. There is much simi- larity between some passages in the two plays,1 * North’s Translation of Plutarch’s Lives, p. 612. Ta BL ys t Ib. 754. § See Malone’s note in Bosw. xii. 2. || It is to be found in “ Recreations with the Muses,” fol. 1637, p. 185. q See Bosw. xii. 55, 56, 57, and Sterline, 217. See also a passage in Bosw. 47 (as to putting Antony to death), and Sterline, 225, 932 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. but none, as it strikes me, which may not have arisen from the use of the same materials by the two poets. And there are essential differences also;—Lord Sterline taking no notice of the speeches of Brutus and Antony. Shakspeare’s play commences with the disaf- fection of the tribunes, who are represented as the adherents of Pompey, the offer of the crown to Cesar by Mark Antony, and the stirring up of Brutus by his brother-in-law Cassius, to rise against Cesar. All this, with the placards thrown into the house of Brutus, is taken from Plutarch, but the depreciation of the personal bravery of the dictator, as one of the means: used by Cas- sius to excite his friend,* is Shakspeare’s own. It has been strangely said to be taken from Suetonius,f who relates the story of Czesar saving himself by swimming, at the same time holding his writings above the water, to keep them dry. But this is mentioned by Suetonius, among the instances of his fortitude or con- stancy. Plutarch{ tells the story without com- ment, but certainly with no view to depreciate Cesar. Speaking generally, the topic may be said to be judiciously chosen by one who wished to excite jealousy of a man in power; but the * Act.i. Sc.2. + Jul.64. — ¢ North, 609. JULIUS CASAR. 233 selection is certainly not appropriate. The re- mainder of the scene is skilful. Ceesar’s apprehension of spare and reflecting men, like Cassius, has better authority ;*— “* Let me have men about me that are fat ; Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep of nights : Yon Cassius has a lean and hungry look ; He thinks too much, such men are dangerous.” Again, *« He reads much; He is a great observer, and he looks Quite through the deeds of men. He loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony; he hears no musick : Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort, As if he mock’d himself, and scorn’d his spirit, That could be mov’d to smile at any thing.” The reflections of Brutus, on the eve of the Ides of March, are well imagined ;— “It must be by his death; and, for my part, I know no personal cause to spurn at him, But for the general. He would be crown’d : How that might change his nature, there’s the ques- tion. It is the bright day that brings forth the adder ; And that craves wary walking. Crown him? That— And then I grant we put a sting in him, * North, 819. 934. COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, That at his will he may do danger with. The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins Remorse from power : and to speak truth of Cesar, I have not known when his affections sway’d More than his reason. But ’tis a common proof, That lowliness is young ambition’s ladder, Whereto the climber-upward turns his face : But when he once attains the upmost round, He then unto the ladder turns his back ; Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend: so Cesar may ; Then, lest he may, prevent. And since the quarrel Will bear no colour, for the thing he is, Fashion it thus; that what he is, augmented, Would run to these and these extremities : And therefore think him as a serpent’s egg, Which hatch’d, would as his kind grow mischievous; And kill him in the shell.” And, ‘* Since Cassius first did whet me against Cesar, I have not slept. Between the acting of a dreadful thing, And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream : The genius, and the mortal instruments, Are then in council; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.’’* * Act ii. 00.23 JULIUS CAESAR. 235 Portia’s expostulation with her husband for his want of confidence in her, when she exhibits the self-inflicted wound, by which she thought to convince him of her constancy, is from Plu- tarch. ** T grant, I am a woman, but withal, A woman that lord Brutus took to wife ; I grant, I am a woman; but withal, A woman well-reputed, Cato’s daughter. Think you, I am no stronger than my sex, Being so father’d and so husbanded ? Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose them : I have made strong proof of my constancy, Giving myself a voluntary wound Here, in the thigh; can I bear that with patience, And not my husband’s secrets ?’’* The exclusion of Cicero from the conspiracy, and all the circumstances preliminary to the murder, including the dreams of Calphurnia, and Czesar’s apprehensions of evil on that parti- cular day, rest upon the same authority. And Plutarch represents Caesar as abandoning all notion of safety or defence, so soon as he found that Brutus was among his assailers. Commentators have been puzzled,+ by the insertion of Czesar’s address to Brutus, *‘¢ tu, * Act ii. Sc.1. North, 821, 822. + Bosw. 78. 936 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. Brute.” It is not in North, nor in Lord Ster- line’s play ; nor even in Suetonius, where the phrase is, “ And thou, my son,” and the origi- nal is not in Latin, but in Greek. Where Shak- speare found it, I cannot divine. The apparent reconciliation between Mark Antony and the murderers of his friend, is jus- tified by Plutarch’s statement that they supped together.* But it is chiefly in the orations of Brutus and Antony that Shakspeare improves upon his original. ** The next morning, Brutus and his confederates came into the market-place to speak unto the people, who gave them such audience that it seemed they neither approved nor allowed the fact, for by their great silence they shewed that they were sorry for Cesar’s death, and also that they did reverence Bru- tus. Now, the senate granted general pardon for all that was past, and to pacify every man, ordained besides that Cesar’s funeral should be honoured as a god, and established all things that he had done; and gave certain provinces also, and convenient honours unto Brutus and his confederates, whereby every man thought that all things were brought to peace and quietness again. But when they had opened Ceesar’s testament, and found a liberal legacy of money bequeathed unto every citizen of Rome ; and * North, 823. JULIUS CESAR. 237 that they saw his body (which was brought into the market-place) all bemangled with gashes of swords, then there was no order to keep the multitude and common people quiet, but they plucked up forms, tables, and stools, and laid them all about the body, and setting them afire, burnt the corpse.’’* Again, “When the people saw Brutus in the pulpit, although they were a multitude of rake-hells of all sorts, and had a good will to make some stir, yet being ashamed to do it, for reverence they bare unto Brutus, they kept silence to hear what he would say. When Brutus began to speak, they gave him quiet audience ; howbeit, immediately after, they showed that they were not at all contented with the murder. They (the senators) came to talk of Cz- sar’s will and testament, and of his funeral and tomb. Then Antonius, thinking good his testament should be read openly, and also that his body should be honourably buried, and not in hugger-mugger, lest the people should thereby take occasion to be worse offended, if they did otherwise, Cassius stoutly spake against it, but Brutus went with the motion, and agreed toit. . . . . When Cesar’s body was brought into the market-place, Antonius making his funeral oration in praise of the dead, according to the ancient custom of Rome, and perceiving that his * North’s Plutarch’s Cesar, p. 615. 938 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. words moved the common people to compassion, he framed his eloquence to make their hearts yearn the more, and taking Czesar’s gown all bloody, in his hand, he layed it open to the sight of them all, shew- ing what a number of cuts and holes it had upon it. Therewith the people fell presently into such a rage and mutiny, that there was no more order kept among the common people.’’* Out of this Shakspeare has constructed some of the finest passages in the play ;—those with which we are all familiar in our boyhood, pro- bably even more than with those which illus- trate the English history. I quote the speeches in the market-place, and the preliminary dialogue :— ** Cassius. Brutus, a word with you.— You know not what you do; do not consent, That Antony speak in his funeral. Know you how much the people may be mov’d By that which he will utter? Brutus. By your pardon, I will myself into the pulpit first, And show the reason of our Cesar’s death, What Antony shall speak, I shall protest He speaks by leave and by permission ; And that we are content that Cesar shall * North, p. 823.—See also, in the Life of Antony, p. 759, a similar account. JULIUS CAESAR, 239 Have all due rites, and lawful ceremonies ; It shall advantage more than do us wrong. Cas. I know not what may fall; I like it not. Bru. Mark Antony, here, take you Cesar’s body, You shall not in your funeral speech blame us, But speak all good you can devise of Cesar, And say, you do’t by our permission, Else shall you not have any hand at all About his funeral. And you shall speak, In the same pulpit whereto I am going, After my speech is ended. Antony. Be it so; I do desire no more.” Mark Antony’s soliloquy follows, beginning — “OQ pardon me, thon bleeding piece of earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers! Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times. Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood !” And then Brutus to the people, in the forum : ** Romans, countrymen, and lovers ; hear me for my cause ; and be silent, that you may hear. Believe me for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cesar’s, to him I say, that Brutus’s love to Cesar was no less than his. If, then, that 240 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. friend demand why Brutus rose against Ceesar, this is my answer :—not that I loved Czesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cesar were living and die all slaves, than Czesar were dead, to live all freemen? As Cesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him; but as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his love; joy for his fortune ; honour for his valour; and death for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak, for him I have offended. Who is here so rude, that would not be a Roman? If any, speak, for him have I offended? Who is here so vile, that will not love his country? If any, speak, for him have I offended. I pause for a reply. All. None, Brutus, none. Bru. 'Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Cesar, than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the capitol : his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy ; nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death |” Warburton says, that ‘¢ this speech is in imita- tion of Brutus’s famed laconic brevity, and is very fine in its kind, but no more like that bre- vity than the times were like Brutus’s.”* Of the similarity I do not pretend. to judge ; * Bosw., 92. JULIUS CASAR. 241 but the speech is surely a very skilful perform- ance, and the oratory of the downright Brutus is well contrasted with that of the artful and facund Antony :— ** Ant. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears. I come to bury Cesar, not to praise him ; The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their bones : So let it be with Cesar! The noble Brutus Hath told you, Cesar was ambitious : If it were so, it was a grievous fault ; And grievously hath Czesar answer’d it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest (For Brutus was an honourable man, So are they all, all honourable men), Come I to speak in Czesar’s funeral ; He was my friend, faithful and just to me ; But Brutus says, he was ambitious, And Brutus is an honourable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill : Did this in Cesar seem ambitious ? When that the poor have cried, Cesar hath wept ; Ambition should be made of sterner stuff : Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious, And Brutus is an honourable man. You all did see, that, on the Lupercal, I thrice presented him a kingly crown, VOL, II. M 942 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition ? Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious, And Brutus is an honourable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause; , What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for him? O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason! Bear with me, My heart is in the coffin there with Cesar, And I must pause ’till it come back to me.” This pause gives an opportunity to the people, as Antony intended that it should, of expressing to each other the feeling which he had excited :— “« Cesar has had great wrong.” Antony resumes his speech— ‘‘ But yesterday the word of Cesar might Have stood against the world : now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence. O masters ! if I were disposed to stir Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, Who, you all know, are honourable men. I will not do them wrong, I rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you, Than I will wrong such honourable men. But here’s a parchment, with the seal of Ceesar, I found it in his closet, ’tis his will ; JULIUS CASAR. 243 Let but the commons hear this testament (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read), And they would go and kiss dead Ceesar’s wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, Unto their issue.” Then, when the people call for the will— “« Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it ; It is not meet you know how Cesar lov’d you ; You are not wood, you are not stones, but men ; And being men, hearing the will of Czesar, It will inflame you, it will make you mad. ’*Tis good you know not that you are his heirs ; For if you should, O what would come of it !”’ The citizens* are still urgent— ** Read the will; we will hear it, Antony ; You shall read us the will, Ceesar’s will. Ant. Will you be patient ? will you stay awhile? I have o’ershot myself to tell you of it. I fear I wrong the honourable men, Whose daggers have stabb’d Cesar ; I do fear it. 4 Cit. They were traitors. Honourable men! Cit. The will! the testament ! 2 Cit. They were villains, murderers. The will, read the will. * The people are so called in Boswell’s edition ; Johnson and Steevens style them plebeians. M 2 244 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, Ant. You will compel me, then, to read the will ? Then make a ring about the corpse of Cesar, And let me shew you him that made the will. Shall I descend? and will you give me leave ?” They invite him to come down, calling out— ‘“ Room for Antony ; most noble Antony ;” and he once more addresses them, standing over the mangled corpse of his friend, and exhibiting his cloak. ‘« Tf you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle ; I remember The first time Cesar ever put it on; *T'was on a summer’s evening, in his tent ; That day he overcame the Nervii. Look in this place, ran Cassius’ dagger through : See what a rent the envious Casca made ; Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stabb’d ; And as he pluck’d his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Cesar followed it; As making out of doors, to be resolv’d If Brutus so unkindly knock’d, or no ; For Brutus, as you know, was Cesar’s angel : Judge, O ye gods, how dearly Cesar lov’d him ! This was the most unkindest cut of all: For when the noble Cesar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors’ arms, Quite vanquish’d him; then burst his mighty heart ; And in his mantle mufiling up his face, JULIUS CASAR. 245 E’en at the base of Pompey’s statue, Which all the while ran blood, great Ceesar fell. O, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish’d over us. O, now you weep, and I perceive you feel The dint of pity : those are gracious drops. Kind souls, what, weep you, when you but behold Our Czesar’s vesture wounded ?—Look you here, Here is himself, marr’d, as you see, with traitors.” The people begin to cry, *« O piteous spectacle !”— And soon the subtle poison works. “We will be revenged: revenge; about, seek, —burn,—fire,—kill,—slay,—let not a traitor live.” Antony pretends to attempt to pacify them. «¢ Ant. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny. They that have done this deed are honourable ; What private griefs they have, alas! I know not, That made them do it; they are wise, and honourable, And will, no doubt, with reason answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts, I am no orator, as Brutus is: But as you know me all, a plain, blunt man, That love my friend, and that they know full well, That gave me public leave to speak of him. 946 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men’s blood, I only speak right on: I tell you that which you yourselves do know, Shew you sweet Cesar’s wounds, poor, poor, dumb mouths ! And bid them speak forme. But were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue In every wound of Cesar, that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.” It may well be supposed that this artful harangue is followed by a general cry for mu- tiny ; but Antony takes care to add fresh fuel to the flame which he had raised ; he now reads the will, by which Ceesar has left seventy-four drachms to every Roman citizen, and all his gardens as a public walk: and he dismisses the infuriated mob, in the mind to do mischief ;— ** We'll burn his body in the holy place, And with the brands fire all the traitors’ houses.” Antony’s speeches, and the whole of this scene,* are, in my opinion, equal to the very best efforts of Shakspeare’s genius; indeed, I know few passages of equal merit. We had heard in the third act of the arrival of Octavius at Rome; and the fourth act brings * Act.iii, Sea, JULIUS CASAR. 247 us to the meeting of Antony, Octavius, and Le- pidus, the self-appointed triumvirs, in a small island near Mutina.* Ceesar was slain in March ‘707, and this meet- ing of leaders occurred in 709. In the interval there had been violent dissensions between the friend of Julius Czesar and his nephew. Their quarrels had reference to Ceesar’s property, to which (subject to the bequest to the Roman people,) Octavius was heir; as well as to ques- tions of political power. Cicero, the advocate of republican principles, had taken part against Antony.+ At the point of time selected by Shakspeare for renewing the narrative, Antony and Octavius were acting together as friends, having associated with them Lepidus, who had the command of an army in Gaul, and had sided with Antony. An extensive and bloody pro- scription followed, with which the scene opens. I do not know why Antony is represented as objecting to Lepidus,— «« This is a slight unmeritable man, Meet to be sent on errands ; is it fit, The threefold world decided, he should stand, One of the three to share it? * Such is the heading of the scene, but Shakspeare appears to have placed the conference at Rome. + North’s Antony, p. 760. 948 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. Octav. You may do your will, But he’s a tried and valiant soldier. Ant. So is my horse, Octavius ; and for that, I do appoint him store of provender, It is a creature that I teach to fight, To wind, to stop, to run directly on ; His corporal motion govern’d by my spirit.” By this time Brutus and Cassius were in arms against Antony and his associates ; and we have now the most celebrated scene in the play, the quarrel and reconciliation of the two conspira- tors. It is founded upon Plutarch ;—* ‘** Men reputed Cassius to be very skilful in wars, but otherwise marvellous cholerick and cruel, who sought to rule men by fear, rather than with lenity ; and on the other side he was too familiar with his friends, and would jest too broadly withthem. But Brutus, in contrary manner, for his virtue and valiant- ness, was well beloved of the people and his own; esteemed of noblemen, and hated of no man; not so much as of his enemies, because he was a marvellous lowly and gentle person, noble-minded, and would never be in any rage, nor carried away with pleasure and covetousness, but had ever an upright mind with him, and would never yield to any wrong or injus- tice, the which was the chiefest cause of his fame, of his rising, and of the good-will that every man bore * P. 827. JULIUS CAESAR. 249 him ; for they were all persuaded that his intent was good. . . . . Now, whilst Brutus and Cassius were together in the city of Smyrna, Brutus prayed Cassius to let him have some part of his money, whereof he had great store, because all that he could rap and rend of his side, he bestowed in making so great a number of ships, that by reason of them they should keep the sea at their commandment. Cassius’ friends hindered this request, and earnestly dissuaded him from it, persuading that it was no reason that Brutus should have the money which Cassius had got together by sparing, and levied with great evil will of the people, their subjects, for him to bestow libe- rally upon his soldiers, and by this means to win their good-wills, by Cassius’ charge. . .« Brutus sent to pray Cassius to come to the city of Sardis, and so he did. Brutus understanding of his coming went to meet him, with all his friends. There both the armies being arrived, they called them both Emperors.* Now, as it commonly happens in great affairs between two persons, both of them having many friends, and so many captains under them, there ran tales and complaints betwixt them ; there- fore, before they fell in hand on any other matter, they went into a little chamber together, and bade every man avoid, and did shut the doors to them. Then they began to pour out their complaints one to the other, and grew hot and loud, earnestly accusing * Imperator. M 3 950 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. one another, and at length fell both a weeping. Their friends that were without the chamber, hear- ing them loud within, and angry between themselves, they were both amazed and afraid also, lest it would grow to further matter, but yet they were com- manded that no man should come to them. The next day after, Brutus, upon the complaint of the Sardians, did condemn and note Lucius Pella, for a défamed person, that had been a przetor of the Romans, and whom Brutus had given charge unto ; for that he was accused and convicted of robbery, and pilfering in his office. This judgment much mis- liked Cassius, because he himself had secretly, not many days before, warned two of his friends attained and convicted of the like offences, and openly had cleared them, but yet he did not lean to employ them in any manner of service as he did before. And therefore he greatly reproved Brutus for that he would show himself so straight and severe, in such a time as was meeter to bear a little than to take things at the worst. Brutus in contrary manner answered, that he should remember the Ides of March, at which time they killed Julius Cesar, who neither pilled nor polled the country, but only was a favourer and suborner of all them that did rob and spoil, by his countenance and authority. And if there were any occasion wherein they might honestly set aside justice and equity, they should have had more reason to have suffered Ceesar’s friends to have JULIUS CAESAR, 251 robbed and done what injury they would, than to bear with their own men. For then, said he, they could but have said they had been cowards, but now they may accuse us of injustice, besides the pains we take, and the danger we put ourselves into.” Shakspeare has wrought up these materials into an admirable scene ;* in which, while some of the speeches are almost copied from Plutarch, the interest and feeling of the dialogue are much heightened by some slight touches of the pcet’s hand, and these are in no way inconsistent with the characters which history has assigned to Brutus and Cassius :— ** Remember March, the Ides of March remember ! Did not great Julius bleed for justice sake ? What villain touch’d his body that did stab And not for justice ? What shall one of us That struck the foremost man in all the world, But for supporting robbers, shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes ? And sell the mighty space of our large honours, For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? I’d rather be a dog and bay the moon Than such a Roman! Again— There is no terror, Cassius, in thy threats, For I am armed so strong in honesty, * Activ. Se. 3. 952 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, That they pass by me, as the idle wind, Which I respect not. I did send to you For certain sums of gold, which you deny’d me; For I can raise no money by vile means : By Heaven, I had rather coin my heart And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash By any indirection. | Cass. Brutus hath riv’d my heart. A friend should bear a friend’s infirmities, And Brutus makes mine greater than they are. You love me not. Bru. I do not like your faults. Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. Bru. A flatterer’s would not, though they doappear As high as huge Olympus. Cass. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come; Revenge yourself alone on Cassius, For Cassius is a-weary of the world: Hated by one he loves ; brav’d by his brother, Check’d like a bondman, all his faults observ’d, Set in a note-book, learn’d, and conn’d by rote, To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep My spirit from my eyes !” (Cassius offers his breast.) Strike, as thou didst at Cesar; for I know, When thou did’st hate him worst, thou lov’dst him better . Than ever thou loy’dst Cassius. Bru. Sheath your dagger : JULIUS CAESAR. 253 Be angry when you will, it shall have scope ; Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour. O, Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb, That carries anger, as the flint bears fire ; Who, much enforced, shews a hasty spark, And straight is cold again. Cass. Hath Cassius liv’d To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, When grief, and blood ill-temper’d, vexeth him ? Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-temper’d too. Cass. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. Bru. And my heart too. Cass. O, Brutus! Bru. What’s the matter ? Cass. Have you not love enough to bear with me, When that rash humour which my mother gave me, Makes me forgetful ? Bru. Yes, Cassius, and from henceforth, When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, I'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.” The interruption by a cynical poet is from Plutarch ; and so Portia’s suicide by swallowing fire, but not the stoical indifference with which Brutus hears the news of her death.* The appearance of Cesar’s ghost, and other * It is not quite intelligible in the play. First, Brutus tells Cassius of his wife’s death ; and presently it is broken to him by Messala. 954 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. principal incidents of the period which preceded the battle of Philippi, are also in Plutarch; as is also the dialogue between Brutus and Cassius as to the disposal of themselves, in the event of defeat : — “« Cass. If we do lose this battle, then is this The very last time we shall speak together. What are you then determined to do? Bru. Even by the rule of that philosophy Whereby I did blame Cato for the death Which he did give himself; I know not how, But I do find it cowardly and vile, For fear of what might fall, so to prevent The time of life: arming myself with patience, To stay the providence of some high powers That govern us below.” Cassius, understanding this speech to mean, as it certainly does, that Brutus would not de- stroy himself, even in the event of defeat, asks him whether he would be contented to be led through Rome as a captive? Brutus answers, that he “ bears too great a mind for this ;” and he takes an everlasting farewell of his friend, lest they should not meet again. This is not very consistent, and the inconsis- tency arises from Shakspeare’s misreading of the first speech ; for Brutus (according to North)* * P, 831. JULIUS CAESAR. 256 referred to his opinion against suicide, as one which he had entertained in youth, but had now abandoned. Steevens says,* that the passage in North might easily be misunderstood ; this I partly admit, but Shakspeare’s adoption of a version contradicted, not only by a passage immediately following, but by the event which he presently pourtrays, is a striking instance of his careless use of his authorities. In the events of the battle of Philippi, and the suicide of Cassius and Brutus, Shakspeare fol- lows Plutarch, by whom the short but remark- able speech of Antony over Brutus, is also sug- gested :— *« It was said that Antonius spake it openly divers times, that he thought that of all them that had slain Cesar, there was none but Brutus only that was moved to do it, as thinking the act commendable of itself; but that all the other conspirators did con- spire his death for some private malice or envy that they otherwise did bear unto him.” + «© Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them all! All the conspirators, save only he, Did that they did in envy of great Cesar ; * Bosw., 138. The perplexity arises from North put- ting J trust in the present tense. The original is in the past tense. See North, p. 831 ; Langhorne, vi. 231; and Plutarch, i. 1002. TE 827. 956 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, He only in a general honest thought, And common good to all, made one of them. His life the gentle, and the elements, So mix’d in him, that Nature might stand up, And say to all the world, This was a man !” We have seen that Plutarch was Shakspeare’s authority. Plutarch, however, was not born for an hundred years after Ceesar’s death; nor, with the exception of Velleius Paterculus, has any historian a greater right than Plutarch to be deemed a cotemporary. Ferguson* quotes Appian, Suetonius, and Dion Cassius, as well as Plutarch; but all of them flourished many years after him.f Although, therefore, the authority of the Grecian biographer may not stand high, there is no other by which to cor- rect him; for the history of Velleius Pater- culus is too meagre to be compared with Plu- tarch. The orations and letters of Cicero throw some light upon the events of this time, and where they are applicable, they are by far the most valuable authority; and any modern history which makes use of these, for instance, Dr. Mid- * History of the Progress and Termination of the Roman Republic, iii. 34, 203. : + According to Dibdin (Introd. to Classics), Plutarch died 120 years after Christ; Appian, 143; Suetonius, 160; Dion Cassius, 229, JULIUS CAESAR, 257 dleton’s life of this great man, in which a copious use is made‘of his writings, is really a more valuable history than any of those traditionary narratives to which we are in the habit of refer- ring. | But it is enough that I advert to a few pro- minent circumstances, We have Cicero’s authority for the offer of the crown to Cesar.* I do not anywhere find that Cassius was the instigator of Brutus. From some accounts, it would rather appear that Bru- tus was the original suggester of the plot ;+ and Cicero always speaks of him as a leader in the affair. For the “ Et tu, Brute,” I find no autho- rity in Cicero, nor, indeed, in those words, any- where. It is clear that Antony was professedly on good terms with the conspirators soon after Ceesar’s death; and that he procured a decree for confirming all the acts of Cesar.t He also procured a public funeral for his deceased friend ; at which he managed to excite the populace, or at least a number of persons who were assem- bled on the occasion, to attack the houses or persons of Czesar’s enemies. § There is this much of foundation for Plu- * Philipp. ii. 34. + Dion Cassius, |4. { Middleton, iii, 13, from Philipp. i. § Cicero to Atticus, lib, xiv. Ep. 10. 958 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. tarch’s account of the speeches over Cesar’s body, on which Shakspeare has formed his splen- did scene. According to Dion Cassius, Antony made a very long speech. For this the historian probably drew upon his own imagination ; for although the omission, by later historians, and still more by Velleius Paterculus, of some of the circumstances narrated by Plutarch, may throw a doubt upon the accuracy of that writer: it is equally certain, that where Plutarch has left only an outline, his followers could not possess authentic materials for filling it up. Their de- tails, therefore, may well be doubted. I am, nevertheless, tempted to give (in Ferguson’s translation of Dion Cassius,) the peroration of the speech ascribed to Antony :— ‘On the subject of his administration of the state, I need not make any observation to you. You were witnesses of his conduct. Descended of your an- cient kings, he had more glory in refusing a crown that was offered to him, than they had in wearing it with all its honours. You loved him, you set him at the head of your priesthood, at the head of your army, at the head of the republic ; you declared his person sacred as that of your tribunes; you declared him the father of his country; you showed him to the world, adorned with the ensigns of sovereign power—your dictator—your guardian, and the terror JULIUS CESAR. 259 of your enemies. But he isno more! This sacred person is now breathless before you. The father of his country is dead: not, alas ! of disease, not of the decline of years, not by the hands of foreign ene- mies, not far from his own country; but here, within your walls, in the Roman senate, in the vigour of health, in the midst of all his designs for your prosperity and glory. He who often repelled the swords of his enemies, has fallen by the hands of treacherous friends, or by the hands of those whom his clemency had spared. But what availed his clemency ? What availed the laws with which he so anxiously guarded the lives of his fellow-citizens? His own he could not guard from traitors. His man- gled body, and his grey hairs clotted with blood, are now exposed in that forum which he so often adorned with his triumphs, and near to that place of public debate from which he so often captivated the people of Rome with his eloquence.”’* There is some foundation for the jealousies existing between Brutus and Cassius ; but these took their rise from circumstances which pre- ceded Ceesar’s death ; and there must have been some difference between the conduct of the one and of the other in respect of money matters, as Cassius was well provided, while Brutus was in * Ferguson, ili.68. Dion Cassius, lib. xliv. 49. 960 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. want.* That they both committed suicide,+ there is no reason to doubt, and none certainly of their previous defeat at Philippi. The suicide of Por- tia is less positively known. Into further details I do not think it necessary to go. “Of this tragedy,” (says Johnson,) ‘‘ many par- ticular scenes deserve regard, and the contentions and reconcilement of Brutus and Cassius is univer- sally celebrated ; but I have never been strongly agi- tated in perusing it, and think it somewhat cold and unaffecting, compared with some others of Shak- speare’s plays: his adherence to the real story, and to Roman manners, seems to have impeded the natu- ral vigour of his genius.’’} I doubt whether Dr. Johnson was strongly agitated in reading any of these plays; but, surely, the scenes which he praises, that to which I have ventured even to give the preference, and some others, are calculated to move the feelings of a more susceptible man. 'The intense and continuous interest, which is thought essential to modern stories, whether in drama or novel, can scarcely be expected in an historical play, nor indeed was it Shakspeare’s object. _ It has been said, that Shakspeare has not made * Middl. iii. 272, from Appian, 1. iv. 667. + Vell. Patere. t Bosw. 156. JULIUS CASAR. 261 enough of the character of Czesar. And it is true that Cesar has little to do, but to appear and be slain. It is remarkable that the more modern translator of Plutarch*, makes the same observa- tion as to the biographer himself. If it be just as to the dramatist, I claim it asa corroboration of my remark,+ upon the slight attention which Shakspeare paid to his historical characters. The conversation with Antony about fat men, and with Calphurnia about her dreams, came conveniently into his plan; and some lofty expressions could hardly be avoided, in pourtraying one who was known to the whole world as a great conqueror. Beyond this, our poet gave himself no trouble. Schlegel says,{ that Shakspeare has been blamed for making Caesar boast ; and Boswell § adduces the boastful speech of Czesar, when warned of his danger by Calphurnia, as “a proof of Shak- speare’s deficiency in classical knowledge.” In Plutarch, certainly there is no assertion of cou- rage, and Ceesar is made to go out with some re- luctance: yet I see no force in these criticisms. Cesar might write modestly of his own deeds, but surely, a strong sense of his own superiority was one of his characteristics ; and his readiness * Langhorne, vi. 78. + See p. 171. t Cours, de Lit. Dram, iii. 83. § P. 64, 962 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. to brave danger was, on the present occasion, necessarily avowed. Doubtless, not Cesar, but Brutus, is the hero of the piece. Concerning this great man, and his self-debate as to the murder of Cesar, hear a curious remark from Coleridge ;— «« This speech (it must be by his death, see p. 233,) is singular; at least I do not at present see into Shakspeare’s motive, his rationale, or in what point of view he meant Brutus’s character to appear. For surely—(this, I mean, is what I say to myself, with my present quantum of insight, only modified by my experience in how many instances I have ripened into a perception of beauties where I had before descried faults ;)—surely, nothing can seem more discordant with our historical preconception of Brutus, or more lowering to the intellect of the stoico-platonic tyrannicide,, than the tenets here attributed to him—to him, the stern Roman repub- lican ; namely—that he would have no objection to a king, or to Cesar as monarch in Rome, would Cesar but be as good a monarch as he now seems disposed to be! How, too, could Brutus say that he found no personal cause—none in Cesar’s past conduct as aman? Had he not passed the rubicon? Had he not entered Rome asa conqueror? Had he not placed his Gauls in the senate ?—-Shakspeare, it may be said, has not brought these things forward. True, and JULIUS CAESAR. 263 this is just the ground of my perplexity. What cha- racter did Shakspeare mean Brutus to be ?” Here is another illustration of my remark. I might answer to Coleridge—that Shakspeare did not form in his own mind a precise notion of the political sentiments of Brutus. But, in truth, I perceive nothing strange in the passage, as the speech of a republican. Brutus says that he will kill Caesar, because he is powerful, and may abuse his power: and the passages of his life, to which Coleridge refers, gave Brutus no personal cause of offence, though much “ for the general.” No character in Shakspeare is better sustained than that of Brutus, though the copying (above noticed*) of North’s mistake, justifies me in say- ing that here, as elsewhere, Shakspeare was con- tented with his authority. Portia is well drawn from the original ; Casca is, I believe, Shakspeare’s own, and makes a judicious variety. I regard Julius Cesar as an excellent play. * P, 255. 264 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. ALTHOUGH every body has a general acquain- tance with the story of this play, we are less familiar with the play itself (which is never acted), than with the other plays of Shakspeare ; nor is there much reason of any sort for dwelling long upon it. Like the others, it is taken from Plutarch,* who is followed with remarkable exactness. It opens at that point of history in which Antony was first at Alexandria with Cleopatra, by whose beauty and artifice he had been captivated, when he summoned her to meet him in Cilicia, while he was on his way to make war upon the Par- thians. The passage in which her voyage is described is almost verbatim from Antony’s biographer ;— * North’s Antony, p. 762. ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, 265 “ Enobarbus. The barge she sat in, like a burnish’d throne, Burnt on the water ; the poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfum’d, that The winds were love-sick with ’em; the oars were silver ; Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water, which they beat, to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggar’d all description: she did lie In her pavilion (cloth of gold, of tissue), O’er picturing that Venus, where we see The fancy out-work nature. On each side her Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, With many-coloured fans, whose wind did seem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, And what they undid, did. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, So many mermaids, tended her i’ the eyes And made their bends adornings : at the helm A seeming mermaid steers; the silken tackles Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands, That yarely frame the office. From the barge A strange invisible perfume hits the sense Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast Her people out upon her; and Antony, Enthron’d in market-place, did sit alone, Whistling to th’ air; which, but for vacancy, VOL. II. N 266 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, And made a gap in nature.’’* I imitate former commentators, in placing near to this celebrated passage the equally noted description of the same voyage by Dryden, who puts it in the mouth of Antony himself :— ‘“« Her galley down the silver Cydnus row’d, The tackling silk, the streamers waved with gold ; The gentle winds were lodged in purple sails : Her nymphs, like Nereids, round her couch were plac’d ; Where she, another sea-born Venus, lay. She lay, and lent her cheek upon her hand, And cast a look so languishingly sweet, As if, secure of all beholders’ hearts, Neglecting, she could take them: boys, like Cupids, Stood fanning, with their painted wings, the winds That play’d about her face; but if she smiled, A darting glory seem’d to blaze abroad, That man’s desiring eyes were never wearied, But hung upon the object: to soft flutes The silver oars kept time, and while they play’d, The hearing gave new pleasure to the sight, And both to thought. ’I'was heav’n or somewhat more : For she so charm’d all hearts, that gazing crowds * Actii. Sc.2. See North, 763. ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 267 Stood panting on the shore, and wanted breath To give their welcome voice.’’* In the first act of Shakspeare’s play, the infatuated Antony has just heard of the pro- ceedings of his wife, Fulvia, who had quarrelled and made war with Lepidus, and afterwards with Octavius Cesar; and he is told that Labienus (a Roman and follower of Brutus) had been victorious in Asia, at the head of a Parthian army. Immediately afterwards, Antony hears of Fulvia’s death ; whereon he makes this re- mark ;— ‘«« There’s a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it : What our contempts do often hurl from us, We wish it ours again; the present pleasure, By revolution lowering, does become The opposite of itself; she’s good, being gone ; The hand could pluck her back that shov’d her on. I must from this enchanting queen break off ; Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know, My idleness doth hatch.” Plutarch describes the Queen of Egypt (now about twenty-nine years of age), as a woman more celebrated for her powers of conversation than even for her beauty ;— “ Her beauty (as it is reported) was not so pass- * All for Love, Act iii. Sc.1. Works, v. 361. N2 268 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, ing as unmatchable with other women, nor yet such as, upon present view, did enamour men with her ; but so sweet was her company and conversation, that a man could not possibly but be taken. And besides her beauty, the good grace she had to talk and dis- course, her courteous nature that composed her words and deeds, was a spur that pricked to the quick. Furthermore, besides all these, her voice and words were marvellous pleasant, for her tongue was an instrument of music to divers sports and pas- times, the which she easily turned into any language that pleased her.” Shakspeare has made good use of Plutarch’s hint; and has well painted the fascinating queen, playing with the captivated conqueror, when the news from Rome summons him into Italy. He has just told her, very coldly, of his wife’s death ;— “* Cleo. O most false love! Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see, In Fulvia’s death, how mine shall be received. Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepared to know The purposes I bear; which are, or cease, As you shall give the advices. By the fire That quickens Nilus’ slime, I go from hence, Thy soldier, servant ; making peace, or war, As thou affect’st. ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 269 Cleo. Cut my lace, Charmian, come :— But, let it be—I’m quickly ill, and well; So Antony loves. Ant. My precious queen, forbear ; And give true evidence to his love, which stands An honourable trial. Cleo. So Fulvia told me. I pr’ythee, turn aside, and weep for her ; Then bid adieu to me, and say, the tears Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one scene Of excellent dissembling, and let it look Like perfect honour. Ant. You'll heat my blood—no more. Cleo. You can do better yet, but this is meetly. Ant. Now, by my sword,— Cleo. And target.—Still he mends ; But this is not the best ; look, pr’ythee, Charmian, How this Herculean Roman does become The carriage of his chafe. Ant. I'll leave you, lady. Cleo. Courteous lord, one word. ° Sir, you and I must part,—but that’s not it ; Sir, you and I have lov’d,—but there’s not it ; That you know well :—something it is, I would :— O, my oblivion is a very Antony, And I am all forgotten. Ant. But that your royalty Holds idleness your subject, I should take you For idleness itself. 970 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, Cleo. ’Tis sweating labour To bear such idleness so near the heart, As Cleopatra this.” She now changes from her raillery to the impassioned strain of a warrior’s mistress :— ‘* But, sir, forgive me; 3 Since my becomings kill me, when they do not Eye well to you: your honour calls you hence ; Therefore be death to my unpitied folly, And all the gods go with you! Upon your sword Sit laurell’d victory! and smooth success Be strewed before your feet.’’* I shall not give more of the pleasant talk of Cleopatra, to which ample, perhaps more than ample, justice has been done by Mrs. Jameson:+ one piece, however, of practical badinage, men- tioned by Plutarch, that engaging writer does not notice ;— “« Cleo. Give me mine angle,—we'll to the river ; there, My music playing far off, I will betray Tawny-finn’d fishes : my bended hook shall pierce Their slimy jaws ; and as I draw them up, I'll think them every one an Antony, And say, Ah, ha! youre caught. * Acti. Sc. 3. + Charact. ii, 117. ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 271 Charmian. "Twas merry, when You wager’d on your angling; when your diver Did hang a salt fish on his hook which he With fervency drew up.”* Charmian’s allusion is to a story told by Plu- tarch ; Antony, to conceal his bad angling, sent down divers, who put upon his hook fish that had been caught before. Cleopatra discovered this trick, and sent down her divers with fish ready salted. All following incidents are taken from Plu- tarch. The peace which Cesar and Antony made up with Pompey, the insidious suggestions of Menas to Pompey, and his reply ; the subse- quent quarrel between Czesar and Antony, Cleo- patra’s flight at the battle of Actium, the mission of Thyreus and Antony’s jealousy of him,+ and his belief in Cleopatra’s treachery, are all related in the play as they stand in the history. The de- fection of Enobarbus, and Antony’s generosity to him, are in Plutarch, though related of another person. Octavia’s conflict of duty between her husband and her brother,§ and her journey to meet the * Act ii. Se. 5. t North, 780. t He is called Domitius. See North, 776. § Ib, 766. 972 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, latter; and all the circumstances attending the successes of Ceesar, and the confessions of the Egyptian treasurer, (even Cleopatra’s speech on that occasion,) the death of Antony and Cleopa- tra, are equally warranted by the Grecian writer. As to historians, by whom Plutarch may be corrected, nearly the same remarks are appli- cable as those which have been made on Julius Cesar. ‘The outline of the history is probably correct ; though there is no historian of the time upon whom we can depend.* Dr. Johnson says, that— “‘ This play keeps curiosity always busy, and the passions always interested. The continual hurry of the action, the variety of the incidents, and the quick succession of one personage to another, call the mind forward without intermission, from the first act to the last. But the power of delighting is derived principally from the frequent changes of the scene; for, except the feminine arts, some of which are too low, which distinguish Cleopatra, no charac- ter is very strongly discriminated. Upton, who did not easily miss what he desired to find, has disco- vered that the language of Antony is, with great skill and learning, made pompous and superb, accord- ing to his real practice. But I think his diction not distinguishable from that of others ; the most tumid * See Velleius Paterculus, lib. ii. 85-7. ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 273 speech in the play is that which Cesar makes to Octavia.* The events, of which the principal are described according to history, are produced without any act of connection, or care of disposition.t This, the last of Dr. Johnson’s criticisms which I have to quote, is, perhaps, the least satisfac- tory of all. In some of the worst plays (for instance, in Henry VI.), the changes of scene and of persons are remarkably frequent; but this play has one merit, in which some, even of the plays possessing the highest merit, as to separate passages, are deficient. The fascination of Antony by Cleopatra, and its effect upon public events, furnish a definite and interesting * In Act iii. Se. 6. ‘¢ Why have you stol’n upon us thus? You come not Like Cesar’s sister: the wife of Antony Should have an army for an usher, and The neighs of horse to tell of her approach, Long ere she did appear: the trees by the way, Should have borne men; and expectation fainted, Longing for what it had not. Nay, the dust Should have ascended to the roof of heav’n, Rais’d by your populous troops: but you are come, A market-maid to Rome; and have prevented The ostentation of our love, which left unshewn, Is often left unlov’d; we should have met you, By sea and land, supplying every stage With an augmented greeting.” + Bosw. 426, N23 2974 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, plot: and Cleopatra’s part is executed with consummate skill. The proofs of this are brought together by Mrs. Jameson, with a degree of judgment and truth* that makes one the more lament the exaggerationof sentiment and strange- ness of language in which they are displayed. The character of Antony, I conceive, is “strongly discriminated,” as well according to history as to nature. Octavius and Octavia have not much to sustain; but they sustain well what is ascribed to them ; asdoes Enobarbus, who has the advan- tage of being more Shakspearian than historical. As to this play, Coleridge, whom from his more imaginative dogmatism, I am sometimes disposed to call the poetical Johnson, is more just than his predecessor :— ** The art displayed in the character of Cleopatra is profound ; in this, especially, that the sense of criminality in her passion is lessened by our insight * There is, perhaps, an exception in the remark that “‘ passionate maternal tenderness was a strong and re- deeming feature in Cleopatra’s historical character.” I know not where this appears; it surely is not shewn by her calling her children the sun and the moon. And I apprehend that the Cesarion whom in her despair the queen calls upon the heavens to smite (Bosw. 333), is not her son by Julius, but a child yet unborn. Hazlitt (p. 98) is much struck with the ¢magination displayed in the passage about Cleopatra’s birth-day (Bosw. 335), being apparently unaware that it is taken from Norih. ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 275 into its depth and energy, at the very moment that we cannot but perceive that the passion itself springs out of the habitual craving of a licentious nature, and that it is supported and reinforced by voluntary stimulus and sought-for association, instead of blos- soming out of spontaneous emotion.’’* I am not aware that this play has been acted in modern times; nor do I believe it to be as great a favourite with readers in general as the high commendations of modern critics would lead me to expect. I know little of the his- trionic art, but should imagine that Cleopatra, and Antony too, in good hands, would be ex- ceedingly attractive on the stage; and there, perhaps, relying on the interest of the story, and the good acting, we should not so much miss that force and dignity of versification which captivate us in other plays, of which the plot and scenes are less interesting. * Lit. Rem., ii. 143. See also Schlegel, Cours de Lit. Dram., iii. 86. 276 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. Berore [I proceed with the general remarks, suggested by the careful perusal of the histori- cal plays which this work has required of me, I must vindicate my plan against some pretty severe censures which have been passed upon it, by an editor who would, perhaps, have appeared wiser, if he had let his attractive book remain unsullied by captious criticisms upon the works of others. The public has been told that my plan is ‘“‘ nearly as absurd as it would be to derogate from the merits of Mr. Turner’s beautiful draw- ings of coast scenery, by maintaining and provy- ing that the draughtsman had not accurately laid down the relative position of each bay and pro- montory.” * * Pictorial Shakspere, Histories, i. 21, GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. PH LF I am willing to adopt this illustration; but to make the case parallel it should be premised, that those who venture along the line of our coast had been told, in publications, English and Foreign, of high authority, that the bays and promontories had been laid down so accu- rately in the drawings, as to render them safe guides for the navigator. Hada character so inappropriate been bestowed upon the drawings, the denial of its truth would have been a neces- sary task, and might have been performed by the warmest admirer of Mr. Turner, who assur- edly never arrogated to himself, nor does his fame require, any merit of that sort. Be it remembered, that I have already shown, not only that Shakspeare’s dramas are recom- mended for the history which they contain, but that the most popular of our historians has actually stated as an historical fact, an incident, or rather a feeling of a man’s mind, for which he had no authority but a scene in one of these plays.* But, further; suppose an amateur of these ** beautiful drawings,” engaged in a coast voy- age, being at the same time a fond observer of nature and her works. Must this person be * See i. 155, 2978 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, twitted with insensibility to the art of ‘Turner, if he should use the leisure afforded by a calm in contemplating at once the picture and the original? What if he should point out to his fellow-passengers here and there a liberty taken with truth, or a striking feature in the scene disregarded ! — Unquestionably, this employ- ment of time would be quite harmless, and not altogether useless, either to the lover of art, to the observer of nature, or to him who derives pleasure from both. It is thus, that habitually engaged in histori- cal researches, I have been delighted to connect them with the plays of Shakspeare. I shall have done no harm, if I have induced those who can devote more time to the perusal of these splendid dramas, to connect with it the study of the his- tory of England. And, certainly, “ it is not to derogate from the poet to say that he is not an historian ;” and often, no doubt, “it may be to elevate Shakspeare when we compare his poe- tical truth with the truth of history.” I have expressed ‘* no wish that he had been more exact and literal.”* Quite the contrary ; I began with the expression of a doubt, “ whether we might not have reason rather to regret Shakspeare’s adhe- * Pict. Shak. p, 22. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 279 rence to history, than his departure from it.”* If I have shown that those who have ascribed to the dramatist the merits of the historian have spoken heedlessly, surely I have not thereby depreciated his poetical merit. I shall not now enquire whether historical truth is itself desirable: more, or less, impor- tance may be ascribed to history ; but surely, if history be valuable at all, it is valuable in proportion to its accuracy; if we desire a pleasing narrative, we should recur to Walter Scott rather than to Lingard: if we desire a narrative of real transactions, we must look for those of which the evidence is the best. This is my apology for the minuteness of detail into which my love of historical accuracy has occa- sionally led me. In reference to this topic, I beg leave to subjoin a passage with which I have met, in an article in the Quarterly Review{ on the “ Early History of Rome.” ‘‘ The intrinsic value of a history depends upon the extent and accuracy of research displayed in its compilation ; and that extent can only be marked, that accuracy can alone be established, by copious reference. Notes are indispensable to its existence : they are guarantees for its trustworthiness ; they are SE TOls: le Xlity t+ Pict. Shak., part 1, 2, 3. t xxvii. 307. 980 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. the only measure which the reader possesses of the credulity or discrimination of the writer. Without them, he does not know whether he is depending on the assertions of a Dionysius or a Tacitus; and he may, for anything he knows to the contrary, be reposing on the tales of the former, that confidence which he perhaps would be willing to concede only to the philosophic narrative of the latter. The per- sonal friends indeed of the historian may perhaps feel satisfied that he would advance nothing as matter of historic truth, except what he had attentively examined and expressly believed ; but what inference will other persons draw from a history without note or reference? They will assuredly never rest their belief on its assertions; they will never receive its unsupported details as matter of strict and conclu- sive evidence.” If it were necessary for me to make any further defence against the critic who censures the plan of my Historical Illustrations, I should find it in the example of the critic himself, who has ap- pended to each of his chapters, under that very title, a specimen of that ‘ worse than useless em- ployment of running parallels between the poet and the chronicler.” How he has executed this task, it is not for me to say, seeing that my critic is also my rival. I am, however, certainly entitled to the merit of preceding him in the GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 281 work ; whether my labours have been of any use to him, it is not for me to decide. The high literary character of Dr. Johnson induced me, at: the commencement of my un- dertaking, to reprint his criticism upon each play, though by no means prepared to concur in the justice of his sentences. In reviewing these, I find scarcely one instance in which I am satis- fied with the criticism. The commendation is, in my opinion, generally too sparingly bestowed, nor is the selection of praiseworthy points always judicious. Nevertheless, the vigour of Dr. John- son’s understanding, and, still more, the inde- pendence of his spirit, induce me to pursue his criticisms a little further. Dr. Johnson’s sentences are the most just upon Henry 1V.,* Macbeth,t and Coriolanus :t of all which plays he speaks well; and upon Richard ITI.,§ which he conceives to have been over-rated. In the single instance of the three parts of Henry VI.|| he bestows undeserved praise ; but he does less than justice to Richard II.,41 Henry V.,** Henry VIII.,t+, Julius Cesar, {t and Antony and Cleopatra.§§ * i, 158. t ii. 206. Pte 229; Brite neo: || ii. 55, s AVET OA tt ii. 169. tt ii. 260. §§ ii. 255. On the general effect of Johnson’s summa- ries, see A, W. Schlegel, Lit. Dram., ii. 369. 982 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. I differ from Johnson, as to the general character of Shakspeare’s merit in these histori- cal plays. ‘¢ Shakspeare,” (he says) ‘‘ is, above all writers, at least above all modern writers, the poet of nature ; the poet that holds up to his readers a faithful mirror of manners and of life. His characters are not mo- dified by the customs of particular places, unprac- tised by the rest of the world; by the peculiarities of studies or professions, which can operate but upon small numbers; or by the accidents of transient fashions or temporary opinions ; they are the general progeny of common humanity, such as the world will always supply, and observation will always find. His persons act and speak by the influence of those general passions and principles by which all minds are agitated, and the whole system of life is conti- nued in motion. In the writings of other poets, a character is too often an individual; in those of Shaskspeare, it is commonly a species. It is from this wide extension of design that so much instruc- tion is derived. It is this which fills the plays of Shakspeare with practical actions and domestic wis- dom. It was said of Euripides that every verse was a precept, and it may be said of Shakspeare, that from his works may be collected a system of civil and economical prudence.”’* . * Johnson’s preface, Bosw. i, 62. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS, 283 To most of this, I apprehend, every reader of Shakspeare will subscribe; and it can only have been from not thinking the allusion necessary in this particular place, that Johnson omitted to mention those characters of Shakspeare which are purely imaginative. Even these may be said to be beyond or beside nature, rather than op- posed to it. But what follows requires, at least, much qualification. ** Yet his real power is not shewn in the splen- dour of particular passages, but by the progress of his fable and the tenor of his dialogue; and he that tries to recommend him by select quotations, will succeed like the pedant in Hierocles, who, when he offered his house for sale, carried a brick in his pocket as a specimen.”* Now, it appears to me, that in many of the plays, and perhaps in most of the historical plays, it is in separate passages that the supe- riority consists. Such, indeed, is necessarily the case, where the play describes not one great action, but a series of events. And if this be admitted, where our author drew from an old Chronicle, it is not less true, or less natural, * Ibid. 62. 984 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, when he adopted an inferior play. I would add, that it is occasional speeches, rather than in the dramatic history of particular characters, that the instruction of which the critic justly speaks, is to be found. Indeed, Dr. Johnson himself elsewhere ap- pears to be of this opinion. “His first defect is that to which may be imputed most of the evil in books or in men. He sacrifices virtue to convenience, and is so much more careful to please than to instruct, that he seems to write without any moral purpose. From his writings, in- deed, a system of social duty may be selected, for he that thinks reasonably must think morally ; but his precepts and axioms drop casually from him, he makes no just distribution of good or evil, nor is always careful to show in the virtuous a disapproba- tion of the wicked; he carries his persons indiffe- rently through right or wrong, and at the close dis- misses them without further care, and leaves their example to operate by chance. . . . The plots are often so loosely formed, that a very slight consi- deration may improve them, and so carelessly pur- sued that he seems not always fully to comprehend his own design. He omits opportunities of instruct- ing or delighting, which the train of his story seems to force upon him, and apparently rejects those exhi- bh %. ; GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 285 bitions which would be more affecting, for the sake of those which are more easy.”’* I had forgotten this passage, when I made a remark, —for which, if these commentaries should be the subject of criticism, I shall pro- bably be censured,—on the absence of design in Shakspeare’s historical characters. I shall listen, I trust, with candour and good temper, to any man who will endeavour to convince me that I am wreng in this point: I confess that my opinion is founded upon obser- vation, not only of Shakspeare and his plays, but upon what generally passes in the world. I am a great disbeliever in complicated plots and deep-laid intrigues. I suspect that in nine cases out of ten in which elaborate design is imputed to what a man says or does, the imputation is false or exaggerated. ‘* Many mischiefs (as Johnson himself says,) and many benefits, are done and hindered without design.” + This frame of mind may perhaps have dis- posed me more readily to receive the impression which I have avowed. Yet, in looking back to the prominent characters in the fourteen plays which I have reviewed, I am satisfied that, as applied to the historical dramas, it is just. * Bosw. 72. 5 rad Pa A he 4a t Bosw. 65. 986 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. I believe Shakspeare to have been a very idle man. His observation was extensive and accu- rate, his imagination unbounded, his invention fertile, his understanding vigorous, and, withal, the whole frame of his mind poetical ; from all these he derived masterly powers of delineation and creation. But he was often indolent in the use of these powers, and if the “ present popu- larity and present profit”* which he sought, could be attained by the conversion of the works of others, he was satisfied. Nullum tetigit quod non ornavit. Not only could he improve what was good before, but he could raise excellence out of baseness, and turn an utterly worthless piece into a splendid drama. He took little pains except with the lan- guage and versification. In amplifying a speech, he did not often introduce new ideas, but he en- larged, and clothed in more correct language and more stately verse, those which he found prepared for him. Whether he found them in a play or in a chronicle, he seldom reconstructed the plot or the characters; and if either the un- skilfulness of former writers, the mistakes of his- torians or translators, or the real facts of history, had occasioned a want of that consistency, defi- * Johnson, in Bosw. 90. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS, 287 nitiveness, and unity, which are as desirable for moral as for dramatic effect, Shakspeare cared not to supply the deficiency. For his historical dramas, he had always a model, copious in detail, either in a chronicle, an older play, or both. To these, sometimes very unworthy sources, he recurred for scenes as well as plots; and it is, therefore, that in these plays there is less of Shakspeare’s own than in many of the plays of which the borrowed outline was less complete. It will be found that where a mere hint was all that his prototype supplied, he was most successful. I have men- tioned one of these instances, —the speech of Antony over Ceesar’s body, and I am glad to find, in a work which will live so long as the English language endures, a confirmation of my opinion of that masterly and effective oration. ©, . . Nor isthere perhaps in the whole range of ancient and modern eloquence, a speech more fully realizing the perfection that orators have striven to attain.” * But it is in this same play, that that memo- rable instance of inattention occurs, through * Hallam’s Introduction to the Literature of the 15th, 16th, and 17th Centuries, iii. 571. 988 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, which Brutus, from Shakspeare’s use of a mis- translation, is made to contradict himself.* Notwithstanding the laudatory tone in which Johnson, in his ‘‘ celebrated preface,” speaks of Shakspeare in the general, and the undoubted correctness of many of his remarks, he exhibits his faults in a tone so censorious and almost contemptuous, and neglects so many of his ex- cellences, as hardly to be classed properly among the admirers of the great dramatist. Yet, though I cannot adopt him as my mas- ter in criticism upon Shakspeare, I own that, if I turn from the austere Johnson to the enthu- siastic Coleridge, I am equally at a loss! If the one is too cold, the other is too hot. Coleridge is one of those who acknowledging, as Christians or philosophers, the imperfection of every thing human, yet conceive that it pleased Providence to make one exception ; and to favour the reign of Elizabeth, the kingdom of England, the county of Warwick, the town of Stratford- upon-Avon, and the one man Shakspeare born there, with an exemption from this otherwise universal rule. | I write this sentence in fear and trembling, because I know that Coleridge is one of a nume- * See p. 255. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 289 rous class; many persons, very many, there are, who affect the enthusiasm which Coleridge really felt; and who imagine, as it would seem, that by ascribing to Shakspeare a genius, such as no man has possessed, they will themselves obtain credit for a portion of it.’ Hallam says truly,* that we contemplate Shakspeare with Idolatry; the term is fully justified by Coleridge’s professed belief that ‘* Shakspeare’s genius was super-human,”+-— language, I presume to say, equally absurd and blasphemous. I have already, in speaking of Wolsey,t ex- pressed my suspicion that Shakspeare did not take the trouble to choose, in his own mind, be- tween the different characters which are assigned to one man; he was content that the dramatic character should remain, as historical characters necessarily must, a matter of doubt and ques- tion. If any critic should suggest, that herein Shak- speare evinced his knowledge of mankind, for in truth there is not in human minds that absorb- ing passion and intensity of motive which are thought essential to dramatic excellence, I shall assuredly not quarrel with the criticism. If it * iii. 576. + ii. 142. pio Fy WA VOL. II. oO 990 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. were shown to be by design and not through carelessness, from observation and not from idle- ness, that our poet sometimes left his heroes with characters that puzzle us, I should readily ac- quiesce in a suggestion so consistent with a know- ledge of the world as it is. And I gladly quote from Coleride himself some remarks to this effect :-— ‘The characters of the dramatis persone, like those in real life, are to be inferred by the reader—. they are not told to him. And it is well worth remarking, that Shakspeare’s characters, like those of real life, are very commonly misunderstood, and almost understood by different persons in different ways. The causes are the same in either case. If you take only what the friends of the character say, you may be deceived, and still more so, if that which his enemies say ; nay, even the character him- self sees himself through the medium of his charac- ter, and not exactly as he is. Take all together, not omitting a shrewd hint from the clown or the fool, and perhaps your impression may be right, and you may know whether you have, in fact, discovered the poet’s own idea, by all the speeches receiving a light from it, and attesting its reality by reflecting it. Lastly, in Shakspeare the heterogeneous is united as in nature.”* There is still, I admit, a material difference * Lit, Rem. ii. 82. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS, 291 between Coleridge and me; I doubt whether this poet’s own idea existed. I suspect that Shakspeare made the persons of this drama act heterogeneously, as he saw his neighbours act, and that he did not, in the one case more than in the other, draw the whole character in his mind. Coleridge imputes, in one instance, incon- sistency to Shakspeare’s Brutus.* In that in- stance I think Coleridge wrong, but his enthu- siasm would not permit him to seek the true solution of his difficulty. On the female characters, Coleridge remarks : ** In all the Shaksperian women there is essen- tially the same foundation and principle ; the distinct individuality and variety are merely the result of the modification of circumstances, whether in Miranda, the maiden; in Imogen, the wife; or, in Catherine, the queen.’’t . What is this but to affirm, that the female sex has a character of its own, which appears in every form and condition of woman ? Male or female, Shakspeare’s characters are natural ; and exhibit a very accurate and philo- sophical knowledge of the human mind. I am satisfied that he would have held those in con- tempt who ascribe to him the exclusive power of discriminating and painting human caprices. * See p. 262. + Lit. Rem. 97. 02 292 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, In this power, or rather in the opportunity of using it, the novelist has a great advantage over the dramatist, and since persons of great know- ledge of the world have applied their minds to the invention of stories in which every sort of character is put into every sort of position, many more complete delineations have been pro- duced. The dramatist has not time or space for the multifarious and minute illustrations of character which the novelist can furnish, and of which our own day and country have afforded numerous examples; it is, indeed, only because such specimens are no longer rare that we hesitate to place the characters of Austin and Scott by the side of those of Shakspeare, Cer- vantes, and Le Sage. I mention here the Spa- nish and the French novelists, because to them also, and from a similar cause, we habitually ascribe an undeserved superiority over the mas- terly productions of our own day. Be it noted, that I am speaking of the deline- ation and illustration of character, and of that only. I pretend not to name a modern author, in whom a just and striking portraiture of cha- racter is connected with so much of splendid versification, so much of lofty and affecting poetry, by turns didactic, descriptive, affecting, tremendous, so many acute and ingenious reflec- GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 293 tions and precepts, and so much, withal, of dramatic excellence, as in Shakspeare. But I still claim for the novelists a superiority, not only in the interest of the story, but in the accu- rate, varied, contrasted, and curiously-shaded discrimination of human character. And this not only in the characters called purely natural, in which we recognize what we see daily, but in those upon which the art of the poet has been exercised ; not so as to make them altogether unnatural, or beyond that which we can easily conceive, but characters that tremble between ' truth and fiction, and participate in the beauties of both. It is curious to observe the different selection of topics for praise, made by those who speak of Shakspeare’s characters. Johnson, we have seen,* says that each character is a species. Pope says, that ‘ every single character is as much an indi- vidual as those in life itself.” There is no real inconsistency between the two critics. Johnson means that each character is justified by a nume- rous class in real life; Pope, that each dramatic character may clearly be distinguished from the others. * P, 282. + Bosw., i. 4. See Schlegel, Lit. Dram., ii. 376. He is not very clear. 994 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. I am bound to own, that a different estimate from mine, of the modern novelists, has been formed by him among critics upon whose judg- ment—if I may venture to say so of a modern —I have the greatest reliance :-— “The name of Shakspeare'is the greatest in our literature—it is the greatest in all literature. No man ever came near to him in the creative powers of the mind; no man had ever such strength, at once, and such variety of imagination. Coleridge has most felicitously applied to him a Greek epithet, given before to I know not whom, certainly none sa deserving of it, ¢evegsovevs, the thousand-souled Shak- speare.* The number of characters in his plays is astonishingly great, without reckoning those who, although transient, have often their individuality, all distinct—all types of human life in well-defined dif- ferences. Yet he never takes an abstract quality to embody it, scarcely, perhaps, a definite condition of manners, as Jonson does ; nor did he draw much, as I conceive, from living models ; there is no manifest appearance of personal caricature in his comedies, though in some slight traits of character this may not improbably have been the case.” ‘ Observing, that if he had constructed (as is practised in modern times) particular parts for particular performers, * Table Talk, ii. 301. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS, 295 “« he never would have poured forth, with such inex- haustible prodigality, the vast diversity of characters that we find in some of his plays. This it is in which he leaves far behind, not the dramatists alone, but all writers of fiction. Compare with him Homer, the tragedians of Greece, the poets of Italy, Plautus, Cervantes, Moliére, Addison, Le Sage, Fielding, Richardson, Scott, the romances of the elder or later schools. One man has far more than surpassed them all. Others may have been as sublime—others may have been more pathetic—others may have excelled him in grace and purity of language, and have shun- ned some of its faults ; but the philosophy of Shak- speare—this intimate searching-out of the human heart, whether in the gnomic form of sentence, or in the dramatic exhibition of character, is a gift peculiarly his own. It is, if not entirely wanting, very little manifested, in comparison with him, by the English dramatists of his own and the subsequent period, whom we are about to approach.* * Hallam, iii. 574.—I1 will put what Hallam says per contva inanote. ‘ The ¢dolatry of Shakspeare has been carried so far of late years, that Drake, and perhaps greater authorities, have been unwilling to acknowledge any faults in his plays. This, however, is an extravagance rather derogatory to the critic than honourable to the poet. Besides the blemishes of construction in some of his plots, which are pardonable, but still blemishes, there are too many in his style. His conceits and quibbles 2996 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. The mention of Scott, and the later romances, compels me to confess that Hallam’s decision is against me; yet his concluding passage shows, and indeed many of his expressions show, that he had dramatists and poets in his mind, rather than the writers of tales in prose. Of Shakspeare we must assuredly say, in his own words— ‘* Take him for all in all, We ne’er shall look upon his like again.” I do not pretend to set up against him any one of the writers whom Hallam has enumerated ; but for the particular excellence of which we now speak, I do claim equal credit for many of them, and for many of the writers of the nine- teenth century. often spoil the effect of his scenes, and take off from the passion he would excite.” eres ‘“‘ It is certain, that throughout the seventeenth century, and even in the writings of Addison and his contemporaries, we seldom or never meet with that complete recognition of his supremacy, that unhesi- tating preference of him to all the world, which has become the guilt of the last and the present century. And itis remarkable, that this apotheosis, so to speak of Shakspeare, was originally the work of what.has been styled a frigid and tasteless generation—the age of George II.”’—iii. 576. Yet Dryden is very strong in his commendation.— Works, xv. 350, GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 297 I now insert what Hallam says of the histori- cal plays. “ Many attempts had been made to dramatize the English Chronicles, but, with the single exception of Marlowe’s Edward II., so unsuccessfully, that Shak- speare may be considered as almost an original occu- pant of the field. He followed historical truth with considerable exactness; and in some of his plays, as in that of Richard II., and generally in Richard III. and Henry VIIJ., admitted no imaginary personages, nor any scenes of amusement. The historical plays have had a considerable effect upon Shakspeare’s popularity. They have identified him with English feelings in English hearts, and are very frequently read more in childhood, and consequently better remem- bered than some of his superior dramas. And these dramatic chronicles borrowed surprising liveliness and probability from the national character and form of government. A prince, and a courtier, and a slave, are the stuff upon which an historical dramatist would have to work in some countries; out every class of freemen in the just subordination, without which neither human society, nor the stage, which should be its mirror, can be more than a chaos cf huddled units, lay open to the selection of Shak- speare. What he invented is as truly English, as truly historical, in the large sense of moral history, as what he read.” This appears to me somewhat fanciful; un- 03 998 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. questionably, the periods of English ‘history which preceded Shakspeare’s, and those indeed which he dramatized, are memorable for the struggles between different classes of freemen ; Hallam himself has made this struggle familiar to us all; but Shakspeare has not told of it, nor, indeed, is it a very poetical subject. I have had occasion to speak in high praise of Shakspeare’s rhythm; which appears to me ge- nerally to unite strength and beauty so as to produce an effect highly pleasing and impressive. The place that William Gifford filled in the his- tory of criticism induces me,—who nevertheless always thought him an unfair and unpleasing critic,—to mention that he, I believe he only, denies that rhythmical modulation is among Shakspeare’s excellences, and places Massinger before him, in this branch of art;* and he quotes, as “rhythmical and melodious almost beyond example,” a speecht which to me appears, in * Gifford’s Massinger, i. Ixxix. + Luke, “’Twas no fantastie object, but a truth, A real truth; nor dream; I did not slumber, And could wake ever with a boding eye To gaze upon’t! It did endure the touch ; I saw and felt it! yet what I beheld And handled oft, did so transcend belief, (My wonder and astonishment pass’d o’er) I faintly could give credit to my senses. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 299 that respect, as inferior to Shakspeare as 7'he City Madam is, in all respects, to The Tempest. Gifford has done injustice to Massinger as well as to Shakspeare, for his selection from the for- mer is by no means well chosen. Hallam praises *¢ the harmonious swell of numbers,”* which is assuredly to be found in many passages of Mas- singer, but not in Gifford’s example. Still, I know net how much of the preference may be traceable to pleasure derived in boyhood ; but, to my ear, neither Massinger nor any other writer, sounds so gracefully as Shakspeare, in so many varied styles. ‘‘'To him,” says Johnson, t That dumb magician (taking out a key), that without a charm, Dids’t make my entrance easy to possess W hat wise men wish, and toil for! Hermes’ molly, Sibylla’s golden bough, the great elixir Imagin’d only by the alchemist, Compared with these are shadows, thou the substance, And guardian of felicity! No marvel, My brother made his place of rest thy bosom, That being the keeper of his heart, a mistress To be hugged ever! In by-corners of This sacred room, silver in bags, heap’d up, Like billets saw’d and ready for the fire, Unworthy to hold fellowship with bright gold That flow’d about the room conceal’d itself.” And more of the same, not better. — City Madam, Act iii. Se. 3.—Works iv. 66. * iii, 612, + Bosv, 89. 300 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. ‘‘ we must ascribe the praise, unless Spenser may divide it with him, of having first disco- vered to how much smoothness and harmony the English language could be softened.” But the vigour and dignity of which our mother-tongue is unquestionably susceptible, are equally well illustrated by Shakspeare. I cannot imagine how Johnson could say that ‘his declamations or set speeches are commonly cold and weak,* for his power,” he adds, ‘* was the power of nature ;” I know not precisely how a set speech is defined, or where the power of nature is supposed to end: But I have had the pleasure of giving harangues from Shakspeare, both original and adopted, as warm and as forcible as language can bef I think that I have heard it said, that Shakspeare did not shine in narration. I know not where to find any thing finer than the entry of Richard and Bolingbroke into London ;{ and a less ela- borate passage, describing Wolsey’s death,§ sounds to my ear as agreeably as the funeral scene in the Andria. And so of more familiar life,—the conversation at the smith’s forge about Arthur's death :||—I could easily and gladly fill * Ky Oe + With others, see the speeches of Queen Catherine and Mark Antony, ii. 149 and 241. TiO). § ii. 162. || i. 23, GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 301 a volume with instances of declamation, narra- tion, and description, equally excellent for the sentiment and the rhythm. But I am soaring into regions to which I claim no peculiar right, and I must have done. My main purpose has been, to tell in cold narra- tion the story which Shakspeare has sung poeti- cally ; but it is sadly unfair to impute to me the opinion, that Shakspeare ought to have sacrificed poetry to truth. I was, almost in childhood, bred up upon Shakspeare and the history of Eng- land, and I would not now that our youth should, for any thing that I write, love Shak- speare the less, but that they should study history the more. 302 ADDITIONAL NOTICES OF THE SEVERAL PLAYS. Kine Joun.—Campbell has observed upon the omission of “the great charter of our liber- ties,’’ in a way to entitle him to share with me the sneer of the Pictorial Editor.* “ It is remarkable that the poet of England, and the most eloquent poet who ever summed up the vir- tues of Brutus, should have dramatized the reign of King John, without the most distant allusion to Magna Charta. Was he afraid of offending Elizabeth ? I think not ; for he brought out Julius Cesar in the reign of King James, whose petty mind was more afraid of popular principles than that of Elizabeth.” I suspect that Elizabeth was at least as likely as James to visit with severity the circulation ©. al oD, ADDITIONAL NOTICES, 303 of unpalatable principles. But there is nothing offensive in this way in Julius Caesar. However, Shakspeare was probably guided by the old play ; not, as the Pictorial Editor fancifully suggests, because the people were familiar with the story as it is told there, but because it was convenient to him to adopt it. Mr. Campbell has committed another of the sins for which I am rebuked by the Pictorial : he has suggested a topic omitted by Shakspeare. « T regret further that his mighty genius did not turn to poetical account another event in King John’s reign, still more adapted to poetry, namely, the su- perstitious desolation of the English mind which immediately followed the papal excommunication that was issued from Rome against England and her king. The shutting up the churches, the nation’s sudden deprivation of all the exterior exercises of its religion, the altars despoiled of their ornaments, the cessation of sabbath bells, and the celebration of mass with doors shut against the laity, all these cir- cumstances have been wrought up by Hume* into an historic picture that is worthy of Livy; and what would they not have been as a poetical picture in the hands of Shakspeare ?” Shakspeare was undoubtedly sensible of the * ii. 62, from the Dunstable Chronicle, i, 51, 304 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE., associations connected with the sound of church bells ; “« If ever you have look’d on better days, If ever been where bells have knell’d to church.”*— But I doubt whether he was familiar with the effects of an interdict; and he found not even the outline of Hume’s picture in Holinshed ; in- deed, Hume himself gives a rather poetical ver- sion of the chronicle to which he refers. Ricuarp I].—Though not desirous of dwel- ling upon controversy, I must mention, that. under this reign, my critic gives, in one instance, Holinshed and Shakspeare in parallel columns.+ The same editor suggests (p. 101) that Shak- speare might have dramatized the insurrection of Wat Tyler. It has been seen{ that our poet transferred parts of this story to that of Jack Cade, which had really a different character. Henry IV.—Of the passage quoted in vol. 1. * As you Like It, Actii, Sc.7. Bosw., vi. 407. + P.156. The editor has remarked (p.127) on an observation of mine (i. 58), that a more minute know- ledge of history would, in a particular case, have been useful to Shakspeare. I should have said, more minute attention to history; for it is true that Holinshed, whom the poet consulted, tells the story to which I refer. f i. 303. ADDITIONAL NOTICES, 305 p: 109, descriptive of Prince Henry and _ his followers, Burke says,*— “There are many descriptions in the poets and orators, which owe their sublimity to a richness and profusion of images, in which the mind is so dazzled as to make it impossible to attend to that exact co- herence and agreement of the allusion, which we should require on every other occasion. Ido not now remember a more striking example of this than the description which is given of the king’s army in the play of Henry IV.—*‘ All furnished, all in arms,” &c. Gifford+ quotes from Worcester’s speech in the first part,— « T'll read you matter deep and dangerous, As full of peril and adventurous spirit, As to o’erwalk a current, roaring loud, On the uncertain footing of a spear.” { He says that Massinger borrowed “a noble figure” from this passage, when he wrote,— ‘** What a bridge Of glass I walk upon, over a river Of certain ruin, mine own weighty fears Cracking what should support me.’’§ * Works, i. 188. + Mass., i. p, exxxiil. t Acti. Sc.3. Bosw. xvi, 222. § Bondman, Activ. Se.3, Giff., 11.91. 306 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. And Massinger, he says, “ has improyed upon his original.” I see neither the imitation nor the improye- ment; I like Shakspeare’s simple figure better than the other, which partakes of the conceit. Henry V.—Mr. Collier says,* “ the History of Sir John Oldcastle,’—an old play by four authors,—furnished Shakspeare with hints for the scene in which the king discloses his know- ledge of the conspiracy of Lord Scope and the others. Henry VI.—Hallam says— ‘‘ In default of a more probable claimant, I have sometimes been inclined to assign the first part of Henry VI: to Greene. ........:. si te ee however, of Henry VI. is, in some passages, not un- worthy of Shakspeare’s earlier days, nor, in my judgment, unlike his style; nor, in fact, do I know any one of his contemporaries who could have writ- ten the scene in the Temple Garden.t The light touches of his pencil have ever been still more inimi- tative, if possible, than its more elaborate strokes.” t In the former volume, I declined giving an opinion upon the authorship of the first part of * Poetical Decameron, i. 52. t See i. 243. tT ia ADDITIONAL NOTICES, 307 Henry VI. I now confess myself inclined to agree with Hallam, that this scene in the garden has deep marks of Shakspeare’s hand. The same author observes,* that ‘ some of the passages most popular in the second and third parts, such as the death of Cardinal Beaufort,t and the last speech of the Duke of York, are not by his hand.” It appears to me that the death-bed scene in Shakspeare’s play is so materially altered from that in ‘*‘ The Contention,’{ as to constitute a new work of which Shakspeare is to have the credit, as fully as if he had taken it from a prose chronicle. According to the commentators, Shakspeare scarcely altered the last speech of York from the original.§ I humbly suggest, that it is not worth contending for. Ricuarp I]I.—Hallam has no remark upon this play. Coleridge says, ‘ pride of intellect is the characteristic of Richard. Shakspeare here, as in all his great parts, developes, in a tone of sublime morality, the dreadful conse- quences of placing the moral in subordination * i. 377. t See i. 289, + See Bosw. xviii. 276. § Bosw. iii. 397, and see ante p. 11. 308 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. to the intellectual being.” This is not a bad spe- cimen of Coleridge’s elaborate fancifulness. Ri- chard is an ambitious man, who disregards mora- lity in the pursuit of his end, and is finally over- come by a combination which, for dramatic effect, is represented as a righteous resistance offered to tyranny and usurpation. Henry VIII.—Campbell takes a remarkable view of Shakspeare’s motive, in his management of the character and conduct of this king. He assumes that Shakspeare did not believe Henry to be impelled by conscientious scruples to divorce Catherine; but observes that he never- theless ‘“‘ Contrives, though at some sacrifice of historical truth, to raise the matron Catherine to our highest admiration, whilst, at the same time, he keeps us in love with Anne Boleyn, and on tolerable terms with Henry VIII. But who does not see (he adds), under all this wise management, the drift of his design, namely, to compliment Elizabeth as a virgin queen, to interest us in the memory of her mother, Anne Boleyn, and to impress us with a belief of her inno- cence, though she suffered as an alleged traitress to the bed of Henry. The private. death of Catherine of Arragon might have been still remembered by many living persons, but the death of Anne Boleyn ADDITIONAL NOTICES, 309 was still more fresh in public recollection, and a wiser expedient could not have been devised, for assert- ing the innocence of Elizabeth’s mother, than by por- traying Henry’s injustice towards Queen Catherine. For we are obliged to infer, that if the tyrant could thus misuse the noble Catherine, the purest inno- cence in her lovely successor could be no shield against his cruelty.”’* I do not believe in this elaborate manage- ment: I have already said that Shakspeare took pretty freely from the chronicle those pas- sages of Henry’s life which he introduced into his play. But I see no reason to believe that Elizabeth was more anxious about the repu- tation of her mother, than about the character of her father: or that she would willingly consent that Henry should be pronounced un- just, in order that Anne might be deemed inno- cent. Her anxiety, if she had any as to this matter probably was, that the divorce and sub- sequent marriage should be held good ; and this is sufficiently established in the play. Macsetu.—Of this play Hallam says— *‘The majority of readers, I believe, assign to Macbeth, which seems to have been written about 1606, the pre-eminence among the works of Shak- * Camp. lii. » wie aeort We dh 310 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. speare; many, however, would rather name Othello, one of his latest, which is referred to 1611; anda few might prefer Lear to either. The great Epic drama, as the first may be called, deserves, in my own judgment, the post it has attained as being, in the language of Drake, ‘the greatest effort of our author’s genius, the most sublime and impressive drama which the world has ever beheld.’ ’’* Cortotanus. — After mentioning that in others of his Roman plays Shakspeare copies Plutarch too closely, Hallam says— ‘« This fault is by no means discerned in the third Roman tragedy of Shakspeare, Coriolanus. He luckily found an intrinsic historical remedy which he could not have destroyed, and which his magnificent delineation of the chief personage has thoroughly maintained. Coriolanus himself has the grandeur of sculpture; his proportions are colossal, nor would less than this transcendant superiority by which he towers over his fellow citizens, warrant, or seem for the moment to warrant, his haughtiness and their pusillanimity. The surprising judgment of Shak- peare is visible in this. A dramatist of the second class, a Corneille, a Schiller, or an Alperi, would not have lost the occasion of representing the plebeian form of courage and patriotism. A tribune would have been made to utter noble speeches, and some * Hallam iii. 570. ADDITIONAL NOTICES. 311 critics would have extolled the balance and contract of the antagonist principles. And this might have degenerated into the general laws of ethics and po- litics which philosophical tragedians love to pour forth. But Shakspeare instinctively perceived, that to render the arrogance of Coriolanus endurable to the spectator, or dramatically probable, he must de- base the plebeians toa contemptable populace. The sacrifice of historic truth is often necessary to the truth of poetry. The citizens of early Rome, “‘ rus- ticorum, mascula, militum, prolos,” are indeed calum- niated in his scenes, and might almost pass for bur- gessess of Stratford ; but the unity of emotion is not dissipated by contradictory energies.’’* I cannot agree with Hallam. Shakspeare could not have made his plebeians utter noble sentiments without inconsistency with his own views. He regarded all commons as “ rude unpolished hinds.” JuLivus Casar.—‘‘ In Julius Cesar the plot wants even that historical unity which the romantic drama requires ; the third and fourth Act are ill connected ; it is deficient in female characters, and in that com- bination which is generally apparent amidst all the intricacies of his fable. But it abounds in fine scenes and fine passages; the spirit of Plutarch’s Brutus * i, 572. 312 COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE. “is well seized ; the characters have that individuality which Shakspeare seldom misses.’’* I acknowledge carelessness in omitting to no- tice the address of Marcellus, the tribune to the people :— ‘“* Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels ? You blocks! you stones! you worse than senseless things ! Oh, you hard hearts! you cruel men of Rome, Knew ye not Pompey? Many a time and oft Have you climb’d up to walls and battlements, To towers, and windows, yea, to chimney tops, Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The live-long day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome ; And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout, That Tiber trembled underneath his banks, To hear the replication of your sounds, Made in her concave shores ? And do you now put on your best attire ? And do you now cull out a holiday? And do you now strew flowers in his way, That comes in triumph over Pompey’s blood ? Begone:; "PR. Efile . ADDITIONAL NOTICES. 313 Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude.” Of these lines, Campbell says, that “ they are among the most magnificent in the English lan- guage,’ and so they strike me. With slight excep- tions, the ideas are simple and homely ; but the words ¢eil, like one of the Duke of Wellington’s speeches, where florid ornament might fail. Antony anp Cieopatra.—‘“ This play,’ says Hallam, ‘‘ does not furnish perhaps, so many striking beauties as the last, but is at least equally redolent of the genius of Shakspeare. Antony, indeed, was given him by history, and he has but embodied in his own vivid colours the irregular mind of the triumvir—am- bitious and daring against all enemies but himself. In Cleopatra he had less to guide him. She is another incarnation of the same passions, more lawless and insensible to reason and honour, as they are found in women. This character being not one that can please, its strong and spirited delineation has not been sufh- ciently observed. It has, indeed, only a political originality, the type was in the courtezan of common life, but the resemblance is that of Michael Angelo’s sybils to a muscular woman. In this tragedy, like Julius Cesar, as has been justly observed by Schlegel, the events that do not pass on the stage are scarcely made clear enough to one who is not previously VOL. II. P 314. COMMENTARIES ON SHAKSPEARE, acquainted with history, and some of the persons appear and vanish again without sufficient reason. He has, in fact, copied Plutarch too exactly.”* Of the three Roman plays this judicious critic says :— | ‘* Coriolanus is less rich in poetical style than the other two, but the comic parts are full of humour. In these three tragedies it is manifest that Roman character, and still more, Roman manners, are not exhibited with the precision of a scholar; yet there is something that distinguishes them from the rest, something of a grandiosity in the sentiments and language which shews that Shakspeare had not read the history without entering into its spirit.” > * ili. 571.—See Campbell, p. 1xi. + P. 573. INDEX. ABERGAVENNY, Ear! of, i. 77. George Neville, third lord, ii, 122. Actium, battle of, ii. 271. Agincourt, battle of, i. 189-205. Albany, John Stewart, Duke of, ii. 124. Alencon, Duke of, i. 205. Amyot, Thomas, i. 35; on the death of Richard II., 72. Angers, town of, i. 6. Anglia Sacra, quoted, i. 131, 134. Angus, Scottish noble, ii. 200, 201. Anjou and Maine, i. 3, 260, 287. Anne, daughter of Warwick, wife of Prince Edward, and of Richard III., betrothed to Edward, ii. 27; her marriage, 30, 31; with Richard, 65; her disguise, 66; her wooing, 68; her death, 100; her dress, 102; her character, 117. Anne Boleyn, first mentioned, ii. 136,140: how far the cause of the divorce, 144-8, 1533; scene with the old lady, 148; her marriage, 156, 158; Gardiner’s hostility, 165: her character, 308, 309. Antony and Cleopatra, the play, ii. 264, 281. , Mark, ii. 231, 232, 236, 297, 247, 268, 271; his address to Cesar’s corpse, 239; his speech over it, 241, 258, 287; over Brutus, 255; captivated by Cleopatra, 264, 268; jealous of her, 271; observes on his wife, 267; his character, 272, 274. Appeal of treason, i. 39. pP2 316 INDEX. Appian, ii. 256. Archeologia, quoted, i. 46, 47, 54, 56, 57, 58, 59, 64, 65, 69. Archers, English, at Homildon, i. 76. Armagnac, Earl of, i. 252, 263. Armorial bearings worn at Agincourt, i. 198. Armourer, the, and his man Peter, i. 273. Arnold’s History of Rome, quoted, ii. 212, 226, Arthur of Bretagne, Prince, the King of France claims the crown for him, i. 2; knighted, 5; why so named, 2b. ; created Earl of Richmond, 11; his disposition, 15; scene with Hubert, 16; death, 20; discontents thereat, 23. Arundel, Richard Fitz-Alan, Earl of, i. 38. Ashley, Lady, ii. 63. Attainder of the Yorkists, i. 307; ii. 5, 12; of Clarence, 73,90; of Richard III., 96. Audley, James Touchet, fifth lord, ii. 4. Aumerle, Edward Plantagenet, Duke of.—See York. Austria, Archduke of, i. 3. Bacon, Lord, i. 35. Bagot, Sir John, i. 44, 47, 61. Banquo, ii. 178, 193, 195. Barante, quoted, i. 222. Bardolph, Lord, i. 120, 123, 196. Falstaff’s companion, i. 84, 197, 184. Barons of England, their revolt against John, i. 27 Basset, 1. 249. Bayonne, Bishop of, ii. 144. Beaufort, Cardinal, i. 213; bickerings with Gloucester, 217, 224, 237, 240; anegociator, 254; his part in the king’s marriage, 256, 266, 268 ; described, 269 ; concerned against Elinor, 270, 272, 277, 279, 280; his death, 288 ; character, 313. family, ii. 115. Beaumont, John, first viscount, i. 6. Bedford, John Duke of, (see Prince John of Lancaster, ) i. 174, 194, 196, 197, 213, 222, 223, 224, 237; his death, 227, INDEX, 317 Benevolences, i. 49. Berkeley Castle, i. 51. Birnam Wood, ii. 203. Blanche of Castile, i. 9, 10. Blore Heath, battle of, ii. 4. Blount, Sir Charles, ii.111. Blunt, Sir Walter, i. 110, 117. Boethius, ii. 177, 178, 179. Bolingbroke, afterwards Henry IV., accuses Mowbray, i. 36 ; his part in Radcot-bridge, 39; pardoned, 40; banished, 41; lands again, 48, 51, 68; prevented from marrying, 65; his character, 73; accused of murdering Richard, 131. — See Henry IV. Bonville, heiress of, ii. 27, 28. Boswell, James, jun. ii, 243, 261, Bosworth Field, ii. 111, Bourchier, Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury, ii. 70. Bourbon, Duke of, i. 185. Bourdeaux, Talbot’s camp before, i. 231. Boyse, see Boethius, ii. 177. Brackenbury, ii. 64. Bramham Moor, battle of, i. 136. Brandon, Sir William, ii. 125; slain at Bosworth, 140,— See Suffolk. Bretagne. — See Arthur and Constance. Broderip, W. J., ii. 117. Bruges, or Bourges, Archbishop of, i. 180, 182. Brutus, the Tribune, ii. 229. Marcus, iis 232; his speech to the people, 236, 2309 ; his opinion upon suicide, 254; his quarrel with Cassius, 259; his character, 262,263; Coleridge upon him, 262, 291, Buchanan, George, ii. 184, Buckingham, Humphrey Stafford, Duke of, i. 260, 265, 266, 273, 280; on Henry’s side, 312. — Henry Stafford (his grandson), ii. 70, 73,77 ; united with Gloucester, 83, 86, 88, 89; deserts him, 104-9; executed, 111; his character, 117. Edmund Stafford (son of the last), ii, 120; op- 318 INDEX. posed to Wolsey; 122,123; arrested, 125, 129; his dying speech 131. Burbage, i. v; ii. 116, Burgundy, Duke of, John, sans-peur, i. 151, 178, 208, 209. Philip his son, i. 208, 228, 229, 237, 252. Busby, Sir John, i. 47, 54. Cade Jack, i. 297-304. Cesar, Julius, the play, ii. 231, 311. ii, 232; his death, 235; oration over his body, 239; his character, 261, 262, Octavius, ii. 247, 267, 274. Caithness, Scottish noble, ii, 200. Calphurnia, ii. 235. Calverley, Sir John, killed at Shrewsbury, i. 118. Cambridge, Richard, Earl of, conspires against Henry V., i. 2°74. Campbell, Thomas, on the characters in Henry IV., i. 78, 97,118; on Agincourt, 211; on King John, ii. 302, 303 ; on Henry VIII., 308; on Julius Cesar, 313. Campeggio, Cardinal, ii. 151. Canning, George, quotes Shakspeare, i. 53. Canterbury, Archbishop of.— See Chicheley, Bourchier, War- ham, Cranmer. Capucius, ii. 164. Carlisle, Thomas Marks, Bishop of, his speech, i. 54, 69. Casca, ii. 263. Cassius, his deprecation of Cesar, ii. 232; Czesar’s reflection on him, 233; his quarrel with Brutus, 248; his suicide, 255. Catesby, ii. 83, 104. Catherine of France, daughter of Charles VI., married to Henry V. ii. 208-10. of Arragon, Queen, reproaches Wolsey, ii. 126 ; her divorce, 142-161; her speech at the trial, 148; Henry’s character of her, 152; her death, 161. Cato, Coriolanus compared to, li. 215, 230. Cawdor, thanedom of, ii. 176, 179, 182, 183. INDEX. 319 Caxton, his Chronicle, i. 263. Chamberlain, Lord, ii. 134, 140, 161, 166. Chancellor, Lord, Sir Thomas More, i. 178; ii, 158; Bi- shop Goderich, 166. Charles VI., King of France, i. 178. Charles V., Emperor, ii. 124, 141. Chatham, Earl of, i. iv. Chatillon, supposed ambassador from France, i. 2. battle of, i. 232. Chicheley, Henry, Archbishop of Canterbury, i. 161, 165, 167, 170. Christening of Princess Elizabeth, ii. 167. Chronicles, English, i. 12, 161, Scottish, ii. 177. Church, exactions from, i, 28. Cicero, not in the plot against Cesar, ii. 235; his orations and letters, 256. Clarence, George Plantagenet, Duke of, his age, i. 214; created duke, ii.18; presents Queen Elizabeth Grey, 23; quarrels with Edward, 26; joins Warwick, 29; marries Isabel Neville, 29, 31, 37, 39; returns to Edward, 35, 41, 42; his part in Prince Edward’s death, 45-9; his im- prisonment and death, 64, 69, 71, 73, 75. Cleopatra, Queen, her voyage down the Cydnus, ii. 264; Plutatch’s account of her, 266; her dialogue with An- tony, 268; her character, 272, 274. Clifford, Thomas, twelfth lord, slain, 1. 312; ii. 4. John, thirteenth lord, ii. 1; slays Rutland, 11. Clifton, Sir John, slain at Shrewsbury, i. 117. Cobbam, Elinor, Duchess of Gloucester, i. 222; accused of witchcraft, 270 ; Queen Margaret’s description of her, 273. Cockayne, Sir John, killed at Shrewsbury, i. 118. Coke, Lord Chief Justice, i. 140. Coleridge, S.T., on historical plays, i. ix; on Richard 1T., 43, 73; on Coriolanus, ii. 230; on Julius Cesar, 262, 291 ; on Antony and Cleopatra, 274; on Shakspeare, generally, 288, 289; onthe female characters, 291. 320 INDEX. Coleville of the Dale, Sir John, i. 135. Collier, J. P., i. 364. Commons, House of, i. §1, 167, 257, 262, 283, 284, 285, 298, 308. Constance of Bretagne, i. 7; her age and character, 8, 11; her grief, 21, 22, 28, 32. Corbet, Bishop, his iter boreale quoted. Coriolanus, the play, ii. 210, 299, 310. -—— his character, 213, 225, 229; stands for the con- sulate, 216. Council divided by Gloucester, ii. 83. Coronation, of John, i, 24; of Anne Boleyn, ii. 161. Courtenay, Sir Peter, i. 51. Sir Edward, ii, 105, ———— Peter, Bishop of Exeter, ii, 110.—-See Devon- shire, Earl of. Cranmer, Archbishop, ii. 153, 158; accused, 165; his pro- phetic speech, 167, 172. Crecy, battle of, i, 172, Crevant, battle of, i. 223. Cromwell of Wingfield, one of Talbot’s titles, i. 235, —— Thomas Lord, scene with Wolsey, ii. 158; his promotion, 165. Crown scene in Henry IV., i. 144. Croyland, continuation of the register of, i. 221, &c. Culross, battle of, ii. 177. D’Albret, Charles, Constable of France, i. 178, 189. Daru, Hist. de Bretagne, i. 6, 11, Davison, secretary, i, 20. Dauphin of France, Louis, son of Philip Augustus, i, 25, 29. Louis, son of Charles VI., i. 173, 178, 189. ———-—— Charles, afterwards Charles VII., i. 225, 259. Desmond, the old Countess of, ii. 62. Devonshire, Thomas Courtenay, fifth Earl of, i. 308. INDEX. 321 Devonshire, Thomas Courtenay (his son), sixth Earl of, ii. OG, 1B. John Courtenay (brother to the last), ii. 49. Humphrey Stafford, Earl of, ii. 30. Diet, English and French, i. 185, 189. Dion Cassius, ii. 256; his speech of Mark Antony, 258. Dionysius Halicarnassensis, ii, 216. Dorset, Thomas Grey, Marquis, Lord Chamberlain, ii, 161. Marchioness of, ii. 167. Douglas, Archibald, Earl of, i. 76; his character, 78, 107. James, Earl of, i. 100, Dover, George Charles Lord, on the death of Richard IT., 73: Duffe, King of Scotland, story respecting, ii. 191. Dugdale, i. 26, 249. Duncan, King of Scotland, ii. 176, Dunois, bastard of Orleans, i. 223. . Dunsinane, hill and castle of, ii. 196, 203. Eastcheap, riot in, i. 151. Edward, Prince of Wales, son of Henry VI., ii. 26, 31, 34; his death, 45. Edward Plantagenet, Earl of March, afterwards King Ed- ward IV., i. 310; ii. 1; said to have urged his father to break his oath, ii. 8,9; obtains a victory at Mortimer’s Cross, 13; has possession of the government, 20; his marriage with Lady Grey, 20-23; contemplated marriage with Bona of Savoy, 24; flies to Flanders, and lands again at York, 34; taken prisoner and escapes—disclaims the crown, 36, 38; before Coventry, 41; his decree, 43; his treatment of the son of Henry VI., 45; enumerates his foes slain, 54; his character, 56; his death-bed speech, 74; his concern in the death of Clarence, 7b. V., brought to London, 77; speaks for his mother’s relations, 81; murder of him and his brother, 93. Edwards, ——, his criticisms, i. 94. Elinor, Queen, widow of Henry II., 1. 7, 8. Elizabeth, queen of Edward 1V.—See Grey, Lady, P3 322 INDEX, Elizabeth, daughter of Edward IV. (afterwards Queen of Henry VII.), Richard’s intention to marry her, ii. 101 ; dresses like Queen Anne, 202; her letter to the Duke of Norfolk, 103; destined for Richmond, 109. © Princess (afterwards Queen), ii. 166. Ellis, Sir Henry, Letters on English History, i. 309. Elmham, Thomas of, i. 167, 169, 105, 205, 209, 210, 221; follows Titus Livius, 85. Ely, Bishop of.—See Fordham and Morton. Elyot, Sir Thomas, his ‘ Governor,’ i. 140. Embassies to France, i. 179. English, their diet, i. 185, 189; their supposed superiority over the French, 189. Enobarbus, ii. 265, 274. Erpingham, Sir Thomas, i. 192. Erskine, Thomas Lord, ii. 194. Essex, Geoffrey Fitz-Peter, Earl of, i. 27. Robert Devereux, Ear! of, supposed allusion to him, i. 207. Eutropius, ii. 210, Exeter, John Holland, Duke of, i. 57, 72, 253. Thomas Beaufort, Duke of, i. 166, 171, 179, 185, 186, 194, 197, 208, 210, 214, 218, 219, 224, 225, 240, 303, his death, 231; confusion respecting him, 252. John Holland, Duke of, i. 293, 296. Henry Holland, Duke of, i. 305; ii. 58. Fabyan, i. 256 ; ii. 90,93; his friend, i. 262. Falconbridge, Robert, i. 28, 268, 274, 278, 281, 283, 287, 306, 310. one of Talbot’s titles, i. 235. Falstaff, Sir John, i. 81, 83, 135, 156, 158. Farmer, Dr., i. 36, 212. Fastolfe, Sir John, i. 230. Female Characters.— See Coleridge and Jameson. Fife, Earl of i. 75. Fluellen, Captain, i. 186, Fordham, John, Bishop of Ely, i. 161, INDEX. 323 Fordun, his polychronicon, ii. 177- Fox, Edward, bishop of Hereford, ii. 153. France, English regency of, i. 220, 250, 275, 280. King of, Charles VI., i. 178, 223; Charles VII., i. 232; Francis I., ii. 120, 123, 124, losses in, i. 218, 223, 292. negotiations with, after the battle of Agincourt, i- 208, succession to thecrown of, i. 164, 170. Suffolk’s truce with, i. 258. — treaty with, Henry and Francis, ii. 123. French soldiers, i. 184. Fulthorpe, or Fulford, Judge, i. 134. Fulvia, wife of Mark Antony, ii. 267. Furnival, one of Talbot’s titles, i, 235. Gadshill, robbery at, i. 82. Gaillard, his narrative, i. 71. Gam, Davy, i. 204. Gardiner, Stephen, ii. 142, 153, 165. Garrick, Dayid, ii. 116. Garter, oath of aknight of the, ii. 107. Gascoigne, Chief Justice, i. 198. Gaunt, John of, remonstrates with Richard II., i. 43; his death-bed speech, 45; his property seized by the king, 47. Germans admire Shakspeare, i. v. Gifford, William, on Massinger and Shakspeare, ii. 298, 305. Glendower, Owen, i. 75, 76, 108, 124; his character and acquirements, 78, 96, 98; his death, 127. Glamis, thanedom of, ii. 182, Gloucester, Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of, his death, i. 38, 40, 73. Duchess of, his wife, i. 52. Humphrey, Duke of, i. 208, 713, 2313; his quar- rel with Cardinal Beaufort, 217, 237, 239; Lord Protec- tor, 221, 224; dismissed, 275; objects to the release of the Duke of Orleans, 229; his conduct as to Henry’s mar- riage, 254, 261, 264; cabal against him, 266,276; his po- eel 324 INDEX, pularity and character, 268, 313; his death, 281, 282, 303; his wives, 222. Gloucester, Richard Plantagenet, afterwards, Duke of, and subsequently Richard III., i. 313; ii. 1, 12, 13, 17, 97, 68, 83; character and designs ascribed to him, ii. 13, 29, 55, 60, 70, 116; his deformity, ii. 23, 51, 61, 63; his age, ‘39; his part in Prince Edward’s death, 45; and in that of King Henry, 50; of Clarence, 64, 70; his marriage, 65; his conduct on the death of Edward 1V., 77-82; his at- tempts upon the throne, 83, 89, 90, 92; Walpole’s justifi- cation of him, 88; his part in the death of the young prince, 93; in that of Queen Anne, 99; his intended marriage with Elizabeth, 99, 101; the rising against him, 104; his conduct before the battle of Bosworth, 111; Coleridge’s opinion of the character, 307. Goderig, one of Talbot's titles, i. 235. Gough, Matthew, i. 306. Grafton quoted, i. 272, 274. Green, Sir Henry, i. 47, 52, 54. Grey, Sir Thomas, i. 174. Elizabeth, wife of Edward IV., ii. 20, 26, 66,90, 92, 103, 204; her remonstrances, 28, 69; takes sanctuary, 82: gained by Richard IITI., 101, 102, invites her son to quit Richmond, 110, Richard, her son, it. 66. Grove’s Life of Wolsey, ti. 128. notes on Henry VIILI., 11. Guienne and Gascony, i. 231, 233. Guildfords, the, of Kent, ii. 105, 110. Hall quoted, passim, his date, ii. 119. Hallam, Henry, on the succession of John to the throne, i, 2; on the quarrel of Bolingbroke and Mowbray, 41; on Shakspeare generally, ii. 293; on the historical plays, 296, on Massinger, 299; on the first part or Henry VI.. 306; on Macbeth, 309; on Coriolanus, 310; on Julius Cesar, 311; on Antony and Cleopatra, 313; on the three Roman plays, 314. INDEX. 325 Harcourts, the, 1. 136. Hardy, T. D., i. 3, 21, 31. Hardyng, a follower of the Percies, i. 77; a Yorkist edition of his Chronicle, Harfleur besieged, i. 182, 186, Hastings, Edward, i. 123, Lord, ii. 78, 82, 83, 84, 87, 89; beheaded, 86. Henry IV. Part I., the play, i. 75, 158; ii. 304. II., the play, i. 113, 158; part of it trans- ferred to Richard III., ib. V., the play, i. 150, 210; ii. 306, VI., Part I., the play, i. 212; the authorship, ib. 2333 ii. 57, 58, 306. VITI., the play, ii. 118, 308, IV. (see Bolingbroke), his wish that his son had been changed, i. 80; his remonstrances with him, 101, 142; his death, 437; his projected expedition to the Holy Land, li. 75, 150; his character, 159. Prince, afterwards Henry V., his character and con. duct as prince, i. 78, 79, 81, 57, 162, 163; his account of himself, 85; a musician, 97; compared to Richard II., 103; his strange dress and interview with his father, 7b. ; his swiftness of foot, 109 ; his horsemanship, 110; his cha- rity and temper, 142; his companions, 82, 109; at the battle of Shrewsbury, 114; story of the chief justice, 137, 154; his father’s remonstrances, 101, 142; whether put out of the council, 152; question as to his youthful wild- ness, 83, 150 ; his supposed attempt to usurp regal autho- rity, 153; becomes king, 7b. ; his change of manners, 155; his treatment of his old friends, 156.—See Henry V. V., the archbishop’s character of him, i. 162; Hol- linshed’s, 7b. ; his claims on France, 164, 173; resolved upon war, 180; his address to his soldiers, 183; to the French herald, 188; scene with his soldiers, 192; his ap- peal to heaven, ib.; his address to Westmoreland, 195; his order to kill prisoners, 201; his rencontre with Alen- con, 205; his piety, 7b.; his triumphal return, 7. ; his 326 | INDEX. death and dying injunctions, 213, 218; his character, 211 ; in the play, 214; by Holinshed, 1. ** Henry V., the famous victories of,” old play, i. 82. VI., crowned at Paris, i. 230, 250; mediates between York and Somerset, 250; his proposed marriage with the daughter of the Earl of Armagnac, 252; with Margaret of Anjou, 253, 260; his supposed hostility to Duke Hum- phrey, 276; his remonstrance with the Queen on account of Suffolk, 286; his compromise with York, ii. 1, 7; arbi- trates between York and Somerset, 4; before the city of York, 15; retires into Scotland, 19; returns and is made prisoner, 20; released, 34; appoints Warwick and Clarence protectors, 37; his speech in his own behalf, 40; again made prisoner, 42; his death, 50; his character, 59. VII.— See Richmond. VIII., his meeting with Francis I., ii. 119; his re- mission of taxes, 127; dances with Anne Boleyn, 136; first talk of his marrying her, 140, 145; determines to try the divorce case, 142; his letters to Anne, 145; his con- duct at the trial, 151; discontented with the cardinals, 153; Campbell’s view of his dramatic character, 308. Hemingford, Walter, i. 5. Herbert, Sir Walter, partizan of Henry VII., ii. 111. Hexham, battle of, ii. 20. Hereford.— See Bolingbroke. one of Buckingham’s titles, ii. 125. Holinshed, i. 1, 12, et passim; his date, ii. 119. Homildon, battle of, i. 75. Hook, Theodore, i. iii. Horses, French, do not neigh at Agincourt, i. 193. Hotspur, i. 75-118; his character, 78; supposed rivalry with Prince Henry, 80, 88; his speech about the prisoners, 87; his letters, 90; his dislike of music and poetry, 97; his accusation of Henry IV., 111; at the battle of Shrews- bury, 115; his death, 116, Howard of Corby, Mr., ii. 103. Howards, the, i. 36. INDEX, 327 Hoveden, i. 4, 8, 11, 27. Hubert, Archbishop of Canterbury, i. 4; his supposed speech for King John, 5. Hubert de Burgh, scenes with John, i. 18, 19, 32; called an upstart, 25, 26. Hume, David, quoted, i. 62, 74, 167, 173; founds an inci- dent on Shakspeare, 155; ii. 177. Huntingdon, John Holland, Earl of, 252.—See Exeter. Isabel of France, Queen of Richard I]., i. 52, 60, 63, 65. of Carlile, first wife of Edmund, Duke of York, i. 66. Jacqueline of Hainault, Duchess of Gloucester, i. 222. James I., Cranmer’s prophetic speech respecting him, ii, 168. his supposed descent form Banquo, 193. Jameson, Mrs., on Constance, i. 33; on Lady Percy, 94; on Queen Margaret, 272, 287; ii. 57, 58; on the Duke of York’s speech, and death, ii. 11; on the authorship of Henry VI. Part L., ii. 58; on Queen Catherine, 126,170; on Lady Macbeth, 188, 207 ; on Volumnia, 223; on Cleo- patra, 270, 2'74. Jerusalem Chamber, the, i. 150. Joan of Are, i. 225, 226, 227; taken and burned, 236. John, King, the play, i. 1. stands out against the Pope, i. 13; scenes with Hubert, 19, 32; question as to his coronation, 24; sub- mits to the Pope, 29; his death, 31; character, 27, 33. Johnson, Dr., his general criticisms on the several plays, see the end of each play ; on Richard II., i. 52, 55, 65; on Henry IV., 133, 145; on Henry V., 197; on Henry VI., 213, 233, 290; ii. 13; on Henry VIII., 161; on his cri- ticisms generally, 261. Julius Cesar.— See Cesar. Justice, Chief.— See Gascoigne new one appointed by Henry V. 154. Keightley, History of Rome, ii. 213. Kemble, John, on Macbeth and Richard III., ii. 208. 328 INDEX. Kemp, John, Archbishop of York, i. 268, Kighley, Sir Richard, slain at Agincourt, i. 234. Lancaster.— See Gaunt, and John. Langton, Cardinal Sephen, i. 12, 28. Leland, Collectanea, i. 9, 263, 3103 ii. 9. Lenox, Scottish noble, ii, 200. Lennox, Mrs., quoted, i. 296. Lepidus, the triumvir, ii. 247, 267. Lewis, son of Philip Augustus, 1. 10, 25, 29. Lingard quoted, on the marriage of Henry VI.,i, 257; on charges against Cardinal Beaufort and Duchess Elenor, 270,272; on Henry’s prejudice against Humphrey, 276 ; on the succession of regents of France, 280; on the pro- cess against Suffolk, 287; on Beaufort’s projects, 292; on Cade’s rebellion, 306; on the committal of Somerset, 312; on the death of York, ii. 9; on Henry’s breach of agree- ment, 16; on Henry’s capture, 20; on the captivity of Ed- ward, 35; on the white rose, 38; on the death of Prince Edward, 49; on Clarence’s jealousy of Warwick, 65; on the train accompanying Edward V., 78; on the decided councils, 85; and Richard’s proceedings, 88; on the alleged illegitimacy of Edward IV., 90; on the death of Queen Anne, 102; on Buckingham’s arrest, 125, 129; on Anne Boleyn, 136-150, 156 ; on Wolsey’s arrest, 161; e¢ passim. Lisle, John Talbot, Viscount, i. 232. Livius, Titus, chronicler so called, i. 85. Livy, quoted, ii. 216; his story of Coriolanus, 225; his foundations, 226; his account of intestine broils, 227. Longland, John, Bishop of Lincoln, ii. 143. Longsword.— See Salisbury. Lords, House of, judgment in cases of treason, i. 312; arti- cles against Wolsey prepared in, 157. Lovel, Lord, i. 100. Sir Thomas, ii. 136, 132. Lucy, Sir William, i. 233. Luders, Alexander, on Henry V.,i. 80; on the robbery, 84; INDEX. 329 on the chief justice story, 140; conduct and character, 152, 153, 155. Lulach, supposed son of Macbeth, ii. 204, 205. Macbeth, the play, ii. 174, 309. employed against Macdonwald, ii, 176; meets the witches, 178; again, 199; became Thane of Glamis and Cawdor—contemplates the murder of Duncan, 182; the story doubtful, 192; his soliloquies, 186; his dialogues with his wife, 186, 187, 190,194; his murder of Banquo, 194; treatment of Macduff and his family, 195; his death, 203; his character, 180, 198, 200, 208, Lady, ii. 184; her soliloquy, 185; her character, 189, 207; her sleep-walking, 199. Macdonwald, his rebellion, ii. 176. Macduff, his refusal to come to Macbeth, ii. 195; his story from Wyntown, 196; dialogue with Malcolm, 199; his supposed conflict with Macbeth, 203. Mackintosh, Sir James, his History of England, i. 223, 262, 296. Macpherson, James, notes on Wyntown, ii. 178, 181. Magna Charta, not noticed by Shakspeare, i. 30; ii. 30; ii. 202, Maid of Orleans. — See Joan. Mailros, Chronicle of, ii. 192. Malcolm, Prince of Cumberland, afterwards Malcolm III., ii. 183; suspects Macbeth, and flies, 193; doubts of his legitimacy, 7b.; dialogue with Macduff, 199; has a party, 200; king, 204. Malone, Edmund, his historical notes, i. xii et passim; his opinion on the authorship of Henry VI. i, 212, 227; ii, 12. March, Dunbar, Scottish Ear] of, i. 107. Edmund Mortimer, Earl of, confounded with ano- ther Edmund, i. 92. Edward Plantagenet, Earl of. —See Edward. Margaret of Anjou, her marriage, how brought about, i. 254, 262; her appearance at court, 260; cabals against Glou- ee 330 INDEX. cester, 266, 275, 280, 283; her love of Suffolk, 285, 287, 296; her part in Somerset’s release, 310; refuses to ac- knowledge her husband’s compromise, ii. 8 ; her treatment of York at the battle of Wakefield, 10 ; at York city, 17; retires to Scotland and France, 19 ; reconciled to Warwick ; 25, 36; at the battle of Tewksbury, 46, 48, 50; her cha- racter, 573; re-appearsin Richard ITI., 69. Mark Antony.—See Antony. Marlborough, great Duke of, said to have learned history from Shakspeare, i. iv. Marney, Sir Henry, ii. 125. Marshall, William.— See Pembroke. Mary, sister of Henry VIII., wife of Louis XII. and of the Duke of Suffolk, ii. 140. daughter of Henry VIII. (afterwards Queen), ii. 144. Massie, sir John, killed at Shrewsbury, i. 118. Massinger, his rhythm compared with Shakspeare’s, ii. 298 ; his supposed imitation of Shakspeare, 305. Matthew Paris quoted, i. 4, 12. Melun, Count, i. 31, 32. Menenius Agrippa, his fable, ii. 212, 230, Menteth, Scottish noble, ii. 200, 201. Merlin, his prophecies, i. 99. Meulan, meeting near, i. 208, 210, Meyrick, Sir Gilly, indicted for acting Richard II., i. 35. Monstrelet, his account of Prince Henry’s taking the crown, i. 149. Montagu, John Neville, Marquis of, ii. 1 Montargis, battle of, i. 223. Montjoy, French herald, i. 187. More, Sir Thomas, his History of Richard III., ii. 61; its date, 62, 63, 65, 71, 75, 79, 82, 87, 89, 95, 97, 99, 101; when it ceases, 107. Morritt of Rokeby, 1. 94. Mortimer, Sir Hugh, killed at Shrewaltete i, 118, Edmund, taken by Glendower, i. 75; his ransom refused, 86, 91; supposed to have been captured inten- tionally, 91; uncle and nephew confounded, 92. Samana INDEX, 3o1 Mortimer, Edmund, Earl of March, his claim to the crown, i. 177, 245-6. Mortimer’s cross, battle of, i. 13. Morton, John, Bishop of Ely, afterwards Archbishop, ii. 62, 97, 106.9. Mowbray. — See Norfolk. —— Thomas, son of the banished duke, i, 123, 134, 159. Music despised by Hotspur, i. 88, 97. cultivated by Prince Henry, 97, Naseby, battle of, i. 198. Nevilles, the, ii. 40. Niebuhr’s History of Rome, ii. 211, 226, 229, Nicolas, Sir Harris, on Hotsputir’s letters, i, 90; value of his ‘ Battle of Agincourt,’ 160, Norfolk, Roger Bigot, Earl of, i. 26. Thomas Mowbray, Duke of, accused by Boling- broke, i. 36; concerned in the affair of Radcot Bridge, 39 ; banished, 42. John Mowbray, third duke, his nephew, i. 302; ii. 1. John Howard, first duke of that name, a partizan of Richard III., ii. 111. Thomas Howard, second duke (see Surrey), describes ‘the Field of the Cloth of Gold, ii. 120, third duke, confounded by Shakspeare with his father, ii. 140; enemy of Wolsey, 155; and of Cranmer, 166. . Agnes, Duchess of, widow of the second duke, ii, 167, Normandy, loss of, i. 234, 254, 308. North, Sir Thomas, his translation of Plutarch, ii. 211. Northampton, battle of, ii. 6. one of Buckingham’s titles, ii. 125. Northumberland, Henry Percy, first Earl of, joins Boling- broke, i. 48, 56, 58,62; King Richard’s address to him, 65; his character, 74; does not rise against Henry IV., 107, 121, —— Henry Percy, fourth Earl of, ii. 112. 332 INDEX. Octavia, second wife of Mark Antony, ii. 273, 274. . Octavius Cesar, ii. 246, 267, 274. Orleans, Duke of (Louis, brother to Charles VI.), i. 152, 189; his release, 228, 284, Maid of..— See Joan. siege of, i. 225. bastard of (Dunois), i. 223, 259. Ostrich feather, the badge of the Prince of Wales, ii. 34. Otterbourne quoted, i. 76. Oxford, John de Vere, thirteenth earl, a partizan of Henry VI. ii. 14; of Henry VII. 111. Palgrave, Sir Francis, i. 303. Pandulph, the Pope’s legate, i. 12. Paris balls. — See Tennis. Parisians, revolt against Henry VI., i. 236. Parliament, at Shrewsbury, 1398. i. 40; Westminster, 1404, 61; Leicester, 1414, 167; Leicester, 1425, 240, 248; Westminster, 1445, 266; Bury St. Edmunds, 1447, 281; Westminster and Leicester, 1450, 285 ; Westminster, 1451, 308; Reading, 1453, 311; Westminster, 1455, ii. 3; Co- ventry, 1459 or 1460, 5; Westminster, 1461, 6; West- minster, 1477, 73. Parr, Catherine, Queen of Henry VIII. ii. 166, Participle used as an adverb, i. 138. Paston letters quoted, i. 229, 295, 296, 308. Patay, battle of, i. 224, 225. Pembroke, William Marshall, Earl of, i. 4, 25, 27. Jasper Tudor, Earl of, ii. 13, 30, 111. —— Marchioness of, Anne Boleyn so created, ii. 148. Percies, the, rise against Henry IV., i. 107; their manifesto, 111. Percy, Lady, wife of Hotspur, 1. 94. Lord, the lover of Anne Boleyn, ii. 146. Philip Augustus, King of France, i. 3, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10, 21, 28. Philippi, battle of, ii. 255, 260. Pictorial Shakspere, ii. 276, 300. Pistol, ancient, i. 185, 192, 200. INDEX. 300 Pix stolen by a soldier in France, i 184. Plantagenet, Richard (afterwards Duke of York), i. 244; his claim to the crown, 247; claims his dukedom, 248.— See York. —— Margaret, daughter of Clarence, married to Sir Richard Pole, ii. 99. Plebeians of Rome, ii. 214, 217, 222, 226, 243, 310. Plutarch, ii. 211, 256. Poins, Ned, companion of Prince Henry, i. 84, Pole, Sir Richard, married to Margaret Plantagenet, ii. 99. Cardinal, ii. 145. Polydore Vergil, his date, ii. 119, 129. Pope, the, King John stands out against, i. 13, 28; surren- ders his crown to him, 29, Alexander, on Shakspeare’s characters, ii. Portia, wife of Brutus, ii. 263. Poynings, Lord, i. 223. Poyntzes of Sussex, i. 84. Prisoners at Agincourt put to death, i, 200, Proclamation against foreign customs, ii. 135. Punctuation, effect of a mistake in, i. 76. Quarterly Review on historical references, ii. 279. Radcote Bridge, affair of, i. 39. Rambures, Lord of, i. 139. Rapin quoted, i. 229, 249, 254, 280. Regnier, Duke of Anjou, i. 225, 255. Renée, sister of the wife of Francis I., ii. 139. Reynolds, Sir Joshua, his death of Cardinal Beaufort, i. 200. Rhythm, remarks on Shakspeare’s, i. 101. Richard II., the play, i. 34; ii. 304; Sir Gilly Meyrick in- dicted for acting, i. 35, 64. King, suspected of Gloucester’s murder, i. 40; his address to, 55; his prayer, 56; his conference with Bo- lingbroke at Flint, 59; charges against him, 62; his pro- gress from Flint to Chester, 66; his death, 71, 111; cha- 334 INDEX. racter and behaviour, 59, 63, 73; his devotion to France, 64. Richard III., the play, i. 119; ii. 60, 118, 307, See Gloucester. Richmond, Margaret, Countess of, ii. 67. Henry Earl of, afterwards Henry VII., prophecy of Henry VI. respecting him ; ii. 37 ; aims at marrying the Princess Elizabeth, 29, 109; embarks for England, 105 ; lands at Milford, 106; his speech to his men, 114; his title, ib. Rise ap Thomas, partizan of Henry VIL,, ii. 111. Rivers, Anthony Widville, Lord, ii. 66, 74, 77, 78; exe- cuted, 79. Roderick, Mr., on Shakspeare’s versification, ii, 171. Rokeby, Sheriff of Northumberland, i. 94. Roman history, plays founded upon, ii. 210, 314. Roses, red and white, scene in the Temple Gardens, 244; first quarrel about them, 249; roses worn by the Yorkists ii. 35, 39; doubts concerning them, 41, 42, Ross (or Roos), William, Lord, i. 48, Rosse, Scottish noble, ii. 200, Rouen, entered by Joan of Are, i. 48. Rous, John, his account of Richard III., ii. 63. Russell, first lord, ii. 166. Rutland, Earl of. — See Aumerle. —- Edmund Plantagenet, Earl of, claim by Clifford, ii, 11. Salic law, i. 195. Salisbury, William Longsword, Earl of, i. 24. — John de Montacute, seventh earl of, i. 218, 223, 225, — Richard Neville, Earl of, a partizan of York, i. 233, 260,265; supports Gloucester, 268 ; opposes Suffolk and the Cardinal, 213; takes up arms, 312; ii. 3, 4. Salisbury, William Ayscough, Bishop of, i. 285, Sands, Sir William, afterwards Lord, i. 134, 140. Say, James Fiennes, Lord, i. 285, 306. INDEX. 335 Schlegel, Augustus William, his criticisms, i. vi. ix, 103. — Frederick, i. xi. Scotland, old saw respecting, i. 166; history of, obscure, ii. 175. Scrope, Richard, Archbishop of York, rebels against Henry IV., i 120, 121, 128, Henry, third lord, of Masham, conspires against Henry V., i. 174. Shakspeare, history learned from him, i. iv; ii. 277; no in- ventor of plots, i. viii; his anachronisms defended by Schle- gel, ix, 230; his loyalty and high Tory notions, 44, 50, 55, 300; ii. 217, 311; his rhythm and versification, i. 101, 145, 212; ii. 171, 209, 297; compared with Massinger’s, 298; his characters, i. 158, 171; ii. 282, 285; female cha- racters, 291; question whether he wrote Henry VI., i. 212, See Campbell, Coleridge, Hallam, Johnson, Schlegel. passages quoted from—John’s speech to the legate, i. 1; scene with Hubert, 19; on Arthur’s death, 23; on the double coronation, 24; on Bolingbroke’s popu- larity, 44; on the kingly character, 55; the garden scene in Richard IT., 60; Richard’s address to Northumberland, 65; description of Richard and Bolingbroke, 67; Prince Henry on his own reformation, 85, 155, 157; Hotspur on denying his prisoners, 87; on honours, 99 ; on music, 97; Glendower, translation from his wife, 98 ; expostulation of Henry IV. with his son, 101; description of the prince and his companions, 100, 110; Hotspur’s remonstrance with the King, 111; Worcester’s, 113, 129; Northumber- Jand on the change of popular sentiment, 124; Lady Percy on her husband, 125; King Henry’s address to sleep, 126; character of Prince Henry, 142, 143; the King’s lamen- tations for his son, 143; the crown scene, 145; the Arch- bishop upon Henry V., 162; Henry’s address to Lord Scrope, 175; chorus on Henry’s passage to France, 1813 Henry’s address to the herald, 188; chorus on the eve of Agincourt, 190; Henry’s address to God, 192; on the wish for more men, 195; chorus on Henry’s triumphal entry, 205; Gloucester’s lamentations on the Anjou match, 264 ; . 336 INDEX, Salisbury on Gloucester and the Cardinal, 261; Margaret on Elinor Cobham, 273; on Gloucester, 276; Gloucester’s defence, 278; the Cardinal’s death-bed scene, 289; con- versation of Jack Cade and his followers, 298 ; Margaret’s address to the Duke of York, ii. 10; Gloucester (Richard) on himself, 23, 51, 67, 70; Queen Elizabeth’s expostula- tions, 28, 69; Henry VI. on himself, 40; Prince Edward on his mother, 45; Henry’s address to Gloucester, 50; Ed- ward IV. on Clarence’s death, 75; Richard III. trying Buckingham, 93; description of the Field of the Cloth of Gold, 120; Wolsey on the fate of place, 128; Bucking- ham’s dying speech, 131; Lovell on foreign customs, 835 ; Wolsey and Henry on the divorce, 141; Queen Cathe- rine’s speech on the trial, 148; Henry to Catherine, 152; dialogue between Wolsey and Cromwell, 158; Wolsey’s journey, 162; Catherine and Griffith on his character, 163 ; Cranmer at the christening of Elizabeth, 167; Macbeth on the contemplation of the murder, 182, 186; Lady Mac- beth’s invocation, 185 ; their conversation, 187, 190; Mac- beth’s description of Duncan dead, 191; on Banquo’s intended murder, 194 ; on the eve of the battle, 201; Co- riolanus on the people, 219; address to them, 221; Bru- tus on the eve of the Ides of March, 233; Mark Antony on Cesar, 239; Brutus to the people, 2b.; Antony, 241; quarrel-between Brutus and Cassius, 251 ; Antony on Bru- tus, 255; description of Cleopatra on the Cydnus, 265; An- tony on Fulvia, 267; dialogue between Antony and Cleo- patra, 268; Octavius to Octavia, 273; on Pompey, 312. Shallow, Justice, i. 233. Shirley, Sir John, killed at Shrewsbury, i. 117. Shrewsbury, battle of, i. 116. ae first Earl of.—See Talbot. John, second earl of, i. 6. Sigismund, the Emperor, comes to England, i. 208. Simeox, Sanders, the blind man cured, i. 274. Siward, Earl of Northumberland, ii. 200, 203-5. Somerset, John Beaufort, Earl and first Duke of, i. 231, 245» 251. INDEX. GOT Somerset, Edmund, second duke of, i. 233, 240, 260, 265, 266; regent of France, 275, 280; his committal, release, &¢c. 307-12; ii. 4; slain, 312 ; character, i. 314. —-—— Henry, third duke, ii. 4, 5. —— Edmund (query if Duke ?), ii. 29 ; beheaded at Tewksbury, 30. — Dukes of, some confusion and doubt respecting them, i. 233, 245, 246, 251; ii. 44. Somme, the river passed by Henry V.,, i. 187. Southampton, Henry V. embarks at, i. 174. Southey, Robert, learnt history from Shakspeare, i. viii. Stafford, Edmund, Earl of, killed at Shrewsbury, i. 117. Humpbhrey, Earl of, afterwards Duke of Bucking- ham, i. 252; cabals against Gloucester, 266, 273. Humphrey, son of the Duke of Buckingham, slain at St. Albans, i. 313. : Staffords, two killed in Cade’s rebellion, i. 306.—See Buck- ingham and Devonshire. Stanley, Sir William, partizan of Henry VILI., ii. 111. Thomas, second lord, ii. 67, 70, 75, 83, 84, 87; his son detained as a hostage, 110. Steevens, George, his historical notes, i. xv; his opinion on Henry VI., 312. Sterline, William Alexander, Earl of, his play of Julius Cx- sar, li. 331. Strange, one of Talbot’s titles, i. 235. Stuarts, descent of the royal house of, ii. 195. Suetonius quoted, ii, 232. Suffolk, William de Ja Pole, fourth earl and first duke, plucks a red rose, i. 244; his part in Margaret’s marriage, 255-8 ; ii. 260-7; cabals against Gloucester, 270, 277, 279, 280, 282; accused of the murder, 283, 284, 285; banished, 286; Margaret's love for him, 287; his death, 293 ; cha- racter, 314. Surrey, Thomas Holland, Duke of, i, 41, 57. Thomas Fitzalan, Ear] of, i. 127. Thomas Howard, Earl of (afterwards second Duke of Norfolk), ii, 111.—See Norfolk. VOL. II, Q 338 INDEX. Surrey, Henry Howard, Earl of, ii. 155. Swan, white, the badge of Prince Edward, i. 4. Talbot, Gilbert Lord, at Agincourt, i. 197. John, first earl of Shrewsbury, defeated and taken at Patay, i. 224-225; influence of his name, 227; adventure with the Countess of Auverque, ib.; created earl, 230; slain with his son, 232; his titles, 235; character, 259. Sir Gilbert, partizan of Henry VIL, ii. 111. Tawny coats, i. 237. Tennis balls sent by the Dauphin to Henry V., i. 172. Ternoire, the river, passed by Henfy V., i. 187. Thierry quoted, i. 5. Thanes, in Scotland, made Earls, ii, 206, Thomas, Prince, afterwards Duke of Clarence, i. Tide, unusual, i. Treason, judgment of the Lords respecting Northumberland’s, i. 123; Scrope’s, 176, Triumvirs, meeting of, ii. 247. Tower of London, i. 237. Troyes, meeting at, i. 208. Tullus Aufidius, ii. 224. Turner, Sharon, i. 153, 300. Tyler, Rev. J. E., his Henry of Monmouth, i. 80; deficient in references to authority, 81; on Prince Henty's letter, ib. ; Hotspur’s letters, 90; on the King’s, 91. Tytler, Patrick Fraser, historian of Scotland, ii. 175. Orsius, Des, quoted, i. 173. Unkinfield, one of Talbot’s titles, i. 235. Valence, one of Talbot’s titles, i. 234. Vaughan, Sir Robert, i. 94. —— Sir Thomas, executed at Pomfret, ii. 79, 81. Vaux, Sir Nicholas, ii, 132. Velleius Paterculus, ii. 256, Verdun, one of Talbot’s titles, i. 235. Verneuil, battle of, i. 223. a INDEX. 339 Vernon, Sir Richard, i. 100. (another), i. 244, 240. Vernons, the, i. 136. Volumnia, mother of Coriolanus, ii. 221, 223, Walpole, Horace, on Richard IIT. ii. 63. Warburton, Bishop, quoted, i. 20. Wakefield, battle of, ii. 9. Warham, William, Archbishop of Canterbury, il, 143. ' Warwick, Richard Beachamp, Earl of, i. 127, 143, 153, 197, 208, 213, 231, 240, 242; Regent of France, 251, 265. Richard Neville, Earl of, partizan of York, i. 234, 260, 268, 270, 283, 312; iil. 1; governor of Calais, 3; rebels against Henry VI., 5; captures him, 6; beaten at second battle of St. Albans, 14; victorious at Towton, 19; demands Lady Bona—quarrels with Edward, 24; recon- ciled to Margaret, 25, 26, 28; cause of the quarrel, 31, 32, 33; with King Henry, 39; before Coventry, 41; slain at Tewksbury, 44. ——— Earls of, confounded by Shakspeare, i. 213, 269,283. -—— Plantagenet, Earl of, son of Clarence, ii. 99. Waterford, one of Talbot’s titles, i. 234. Waterloo, battle of, i. 198. Wat Tyler, part of the story transferred to Jack Cade, ii. 304. Webb, Rev. John, his notes on Richard II., i. 46, 54. Wellington, Duke of, ii. 313. Wendesle, Sir Thomas, killed at Shrewsbury, i. 118. Westmoreland, Ralph Neville, first earl of, i. 76. Wexford, one of Talbot’s titles, 1. 234. Whateley, Mr., on Macbeth, ii. 181, 208, Willoughby, William Lord, i. 48. Wiltshire, William Scrope, Earl] of, i. 41, 47, 54. James Butler, Earl of, i. 5. Witches in Macbeth, ii. 178, 199. Wolsey, Cardinal, ii. 123; accusations of him, 124; author of proceedings against Buckingham, 125, 129 ; charged by Queen Catherine, 126; oppressive exactions, 7b.; his speech on the accusations against him, 128; his grand 340 INDEX. entertainmenf, 136; interferes between Anne Boleyn and Percy, 137, 146; Anne’s cabals against him, 138 ; espouses the cause of France, 139; joined in commission with Campeius, 141; justified by Henry, 142, 151; his part in the divorce and marriage, 145, 150; disgraced, 155; arti- cles against him, 156; conversation with Cromwell, 158; his well-known wish, 160; death and character, 162, 171,289, Woodville, Richard, i. 237. Worcester, Thomas Percy, Earl of, discontented with Ri- chard II., i. 48; with Henry 1V., 86; governor of Prince Henry, 100; his remonstrance with the King, 103. — Charles Somerset, Earl of, ii. 134. ° Wyntown, Andrew, his Chronicle of Scotland, ii. 177, 181. York, Archbishops of.—See Scrope and Morton. —— Edmund, Duke of, son of Edward III., i. 40; discon- tented with Richard II., 45; Regent, 47; embarrassed, 51, 52; his wives, 66; his character, 73. — Duchess of, his wife, i. 66, 70. —— Edward, Duke of (and of Aumerle), his son, is with Richard II., i. 54; joins Bolingbroke, 57; accused of Gloucester’s murder, 61; conspires against Bolingbroke, 70; leads the van at Agincourt, 199 ; slain there, 200. —— Richard, Duke of (see Plantagenet), difference with So- merset, i. 249, 251; Regent of France, 250; discharged, 261; said to favour Gloucester, 270 ; detects the Duchess: 273; superseded in the regency by Somerset, 275; eabals against Gloucester, 280 ; instigates Jack Cade, 297, 305; returns from Ireland, 306 ; encamps at Dartford, 308; sub- mits, 310; takes up arms again, 312 ; occupies the Parlia- ment House, ii. 1; lieutenant of the realm, 3; companions attainted, 2-8 ; defeated and slain at Wakefield, 9. - Edward, Duke of, afterwards Edward IV., Richard, Duke of, brother of Edward V., ii. 82; de- clared illegitimate, 93.—See Edward V. THE END. Printed by J. L. Cox and Sons, 75, Great Queen Street. Companton to the Gaberley Pohels, PROSPECTUS OF COLBURN’S MODERN STANDARD NOVELISTS, WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE FINDENS AND OTHER EMINENT ARTISTS. EACH WORK COMPLETE IN A SINGLE VOLUME, PRICE 6s. ELEGANTLY BOUND IN MOROCCO-CLOTH. HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. TO BE HAD OF ALL BOOKSELLERS. COLBURN’S STANDARD NOVELISTS. COMPANION TO THE WAVERLEY NOVELS. Now in course of publication, each work complete in a single volume, elegantly bound in cloth, price 6s., printed uni- formly with Byron and Scott, and beautifully embellished with the Portraits of the Authors, and other Engravings, by the Findens, and other eminent Artists, COLBURNS MODERN STANDARD NOVELISTS A SELECT COLLECTION OF Cie best ehorks of Hiction OF THE MOST DISTINGUISHED ENGLISH WRITERS, WHICH CANNOT BE PROCURED IN ANY OTHER COLLECTION. 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EITHER OF WHICH MAY BE HAD SEPARATELY, Price ONLY 68. EACH. SIR L. BULWER’S PELHAM MR. JAMES’S RICHELIEU SIR L. BULWER’S DEVEREUX MR. HOOK’S SAYINGS AND eee SIR L. BULWER’S DISOWNED DOING oF tHer RERIES MR. HOOK’S SAYINGS AND DOINGS—SEconD SERIES MR. H. SMITIV’S BRAMBLE- MR. HOOK’S SAYINGS AND MR. WARD’S TREMAINE TYE HOUSE DOINGS—Tairp SERIES CAPTAIN MARRYAT’S FRANK LADY MORGAN’S FLORENCE MILDMAY MACARTHY MR. LISTER’S GRANBY LADY MORGAN’S O’DONNEL OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. “This collection continues to realise the most sanguine expecta- tions of that large class of readers who, with ourselves, were anxious to have all the best modern works of fiction brought out on the plan which Mr. Colburn has so judiciously adopted, and in which elegance and economy are so happily combined.”’— Sunday Times. ** A truly popular undertaking. 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War—love—ambition—the scroll of ages—the festivals of wit— the intrigues of states—all that agitates mankind, the hope and,the fear, the Jabour and the pleasure—the great drama of vanities, with the little interludes of wisdom ; these have been the occupations of my manhood—these will furnish forth the materials of that history which is now open to your survey.’ —Jntroduction. “A first-rate Novel, the production of a first-rate mind.”—Literary Gazette. “This tale includes a series of years, from Charles the Second to George the Second ; and all the celebrated public characters who figured during that brilliant and eventful period are introduced as agents in the story. Lord Bolingbroke is a leading character ; and the picture, drawn by the novelist, of this great man, is one of the finest and most dramatic specimens extant of literary portraiture.”— Globe. COLBURN’S STANDARD NOVELISTS. THE DISOWNED. “BY THE AUTHOR OF “ PELHAM.” **1f ‘ Pelham’ justly raised for its Author a very high character, the * Disowned’ will raise it far higher.’—Literary Gazette. ‘*1f I were asked which of my writings pleased me the most in its moral—served the best to inspire the younger reader with a generous emotion and a guiding principle—was the one best calculated to fit us for the world, by raising us above its trials—and the one by which I would most desire my own heart and my own faith to be judged—I would answer—‘ The Disowned.’”’—Author’s Preface. SAYINGS AND DOINGS. BY THEODORE HOOK, ESQ. FIRST SERIES. Comprising Danvers, The Friend of the Family, Merton, &c. ‘*T have for many years watched the world, and have set down all that I have seen; and out of this collection of materials, I have thrown together a few historic illustrations of quaint sayings, the truth and sagacity of which the characters introduced by me have unconsciously exemplified in their lives and conduct; and which I have the small merit of bringing to bear, after long observation, upon the axioms affixed to each tale. In short, I have thought it a curious matter of speculation to compare the doings of the moderns with the sayings of the ancients; and therefore submit to the public a few ‘wise saws’ illustrated by ‘ modern instances.’ ””—Author’s Preface. Sir Walter Scott was a prophecier of things past—he wears the palm of legendary lore alone—to him the past is every thing, the present nothing. Mr. Hook, on the contrary, is a man of the present world—he writes down what he has actually seen, and puts it into print. 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FRANK MILDMAY; OR THE NAVAL OFFICER. mee GAPLATN MARRYAT: The author of ‘ Frank Mildmay,’ ‘ Peter Simple,’ and ‘ Jacob Faith- ful’ stands alone amongst the writers of his century.”’—Spectator. 5 ‘* Our naval officer sketches his life and adventures almost with the naiveté and caudour of Rousseau in his ‘ Confessions ;’ but his adven- tures are infinitely more numerous and diversified. Commencing with his boyish days, and his midshipméen’s berth, we are carried through calm and hurricane, in all quarters of the globe; we are mixed in fights, from the adventurous and desperate boarding expedition, to the scientific battle of fleets, and from the action purely naval, to the mixed service in which the sailor becomes amphibious, defending forts as he would a maintop, and swimming off, when beaten, to his ship, as he would descend from a tottering mast by a haul-yard or backstay. 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Its pictures of life are interesting without being forced; and, as a narrative, it is replete with incident.”—Atias. “ This tale of fashionable life is one of the best and most successful ofits kind. Itis deservedly admired for the unexaggerated vivacity of its portraits and the spirit of its descriptions.” —Swz. “The great success of this novel is owing chiefly to its very easy and natural pictures of manners, as they really exist among the upper classes ; to the de-cription of new characters, judiciously drawn and faithfully preserved, and to the introduction of striking and well- managed incidents.”—dinburgh Review. COLBURN’S STANDARD NOVELISTS. O’DONNEL ; A NATIONAL IRISH TALE. BY LADY MORGAN. ‘© ¢Q’Donnel,’ one of the best works in our language. For mas- culine vigour, originality of thought, and penetration, Lady Morgan stands first on the list of female writers.”—Morning Chronicle. “ Assuredly the public benefit by the new fashion of cheap reprints. 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JAMES, ESQ. “ This new and striking story of the French tourt commences with the last year of the reign, as it may be termed, of the Cardinal de Richelieu, who governed not only Louis XIII., but all France, with a despotic and resistless sway. Among the numerous characters ifitro- duced are the king ; his consort, Anne of Austria; her majesty’s dame @honneur, Clara de Hauteford ; the Duc d’Orleans ; the cardinal’s great friend and coadjutor, Chavigni; Cing-Mars; de Thou, &c. The ostensible hero is the Count de Blenau, chamberlain to the queen}; the heroine Mademoiselle de Beaumont.”— Morning Journal. “We congratulate Mr. James no less on the judgment which has chosen the subject, than on the talent which has developed it. The eventful days of Richelieu are an admirable period, quite untrodden ground, and abounding in events of every species of the picturesque, the terrible, the mysterious, and the romantic.” — Literary Gazette. On the 1st of October will appear, ZILLAH; A TALE OF THE HOLY CITY. BY THE AUTHOR OF “ BRAMBLETYE HOUSE,” &c, ~ rs 7 , » ¢ ee ; fad i) ae L * TU iw ay wy se ; mo ; aM Lay yi i ‘ ~ r P ‘ Syl } ' % i 1 ' ASAP i ita 7 >» . : ‘ { is e ee a “ Anke ra ching AS YN ED co a » eS . ey LAM nm 7 ot ri, ty y Reel: Ma ve to) ke ; Wes 4p ¥. ine bapa th Me K Fh ATO meme ee ee One 8h ge key be Wiehe Soh W iar av Wy, eke H ‘ ‘ 4 BWSR Ts riot Meke bey i , fies ? , iS Lota! UMS Bot dee Te eae bd i ie ihe te if eae We tale I) = 5 : Aa He winsbellty oral Aig) FA ra indatiate RP ad Rony UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA ay | rit ges bear : 1 dia shiny ere Wd Tura wed a Uluru Wenieaal totality iit te bey net aa by ied i eA ah rn erie ie ele ' ui y f Ebraeh de Pe ewe Wi her : ns I ri ‘ : i pa Pano Ha alia As rf Ae CSB an ie ye bot . ‘ ‘ nts Srhieaty tt i nas gt 4 { ita rt if Pf , en hetnatetey “We getty | eee ete yh “4! 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