fflemrfl HmvetJ^itg | SlrtMg BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME T« FROM THE SAGE endowme:^^^ THE GIFT off' ..A.12AC).L^. ^ 'r/f^/9^ DATE DUE tilil^'Y^^ ,v.i^j liWh^SBBrW Tl irWT: '.U -mr^ URBRESERVE FA lu m \ PRtNTEDINU.S.A. Cornell University Library PR 3014.W27 English history in Shakespeare's plays. 3 1924 013 163 120 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013163120 EN"GLISH HISTORY IN SHAKESPEAEE^S PLATS ENGLISH HI8T0EY IN SHAKESPEARE'S PLAYS BY ' ' /, [, I; y BEVEELEY E. WAENER, M.A. " We can say He Bliowa a history couctied in a play. A Malory ot noble mention, known Famous ana true : most noble, 'cause our own : Not forged from Italy, from Prance, from Spain, Bnt clironlcled at home." —Fora's Prologue to PerKin Warlieclc. NEW YORK LONGMANS, GEEEN, AND 00. AND LONDON 1894 A. 77^^^ Copyright, 1894, by LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. TROW DIRECTORY PHINTIKG AND BOOKBINDINQ C0MPAN1 NEW YORK WHiLIAM PRESTON JOHNSTON, LL D. FAESIDBNT OF THH TULIKK UNIVEBSJTY OF LOUISIANA IN APPRECIATION OF A VALUED FRIENDSHIP PEEFAOE. This volume had its origin in a course of lectures on the study of history as illustrated in the plays of Shakespeare. It is never safe to assume that what has been listened to with attention will be read with interest. The lectures, however, have been recast, pruned, and amplified, and much machinery has been added in the way of tables of contents, bibliography, chronological tables, and index. With such helps it is hoped that these pages may effect a working part- nership between the Chronicle of the formal historian and the Epic of the dramatic poet. They are ad- dressed especially to those readers and students of English History who may not have discovered what an aid to the understanding of certain important phases of England's national development lies in these histor- ical plays, which cover a period of three hundred years — from King John and Magna Charta to Henry VIII. and. the Reformation. New Oklbans, October, 1894. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE An Introduction to the English Historical Plats, . 1 CHAPTER II. King John.— The Transition Period, 18 CHAPTER III. Richard II. — The Lancastrian Usurpation, 57 CHAPTER IV. Henry IV.— The Passing of Feudalism, ... . . 93 CHAPTER V. HBtjRT V. — England's Song of Triumph, 134 CHAPTER VI. Henry VI.— The Wars of the Roses, 169 CHAPTER VII. Richard III.— The Last of the Plantagenets, . . . 206 OONTENTS. CHAPTBE Vin. PAGE Henry VIII.— The English Reformation, . . 244 CHAPTER IX. Summary, . . . ... 291 APPENDIX I. Bibliography, . ... 297 APPENDIX II. On the Date of the Authorship op Henry VIII., . . 299 APPENDIX III. Table of Shakespeare's English Kings, .... . 306 APPENDIX IV. On the Genealogy and Connections op the Houses op York and Lancaster, ... . . . . 307 Index, . . .311 ENGLISH HISTORY IN SHAKESPEARE'S PLAYS. CHAPTEE I. AN INTBODUCTION TO THE ENGLISH HISTORICAIi PLAYS. Thoroughness of Shakespearean criticism. — His merits as an historical teacher passed over. — Knight's comment. — Purpose of this work. — The use of the historical plays. — Anachronisms and omissions. — Shakespeare's purpose in writing. — The student warned against ex- pecting too much. — The Elizabethan environment. — Cranmer's proph- ecy. — The English Zeit-geist. — The unity of the historical plays. — The theme is the decline and fall of the house of Plautagenet. — Epitome of each play. — Character contrasts. — Shakespeare's illuminat- ing pen. — His patriotic bias. — Conclusion. There is little enough in the works of Shakespeare that has escaped the critic's eye and pen. Every line has been measured, every word scrutinized, every punc- tuation mark solemnly adjusted, every printer's error in the First Folio has its " significance " pointed out, and emendations are a weariness to the flesh. One field of Shakespearean lore, however, has not received the attention it deserves. The art of the poet, the skill of the dramatist, the wit of the humorist, the wisdom of the philosopher, the genius of the man, all these have been turned to account and to good account. But the use and value of Shakespeare's con- tribution to English History has been passed over, or too lightly touched upon, and Coleridge's declaration, 2 - PURPOSE OF THIS WORK. that the people took their history from Shakespeare and their theology from Milton, could not, in the case of the former at least, be truthfully quoted of this generation. Some critics have pointed out the obvious fact — which others have yet denied — that a unity of purpose runs through the poet's treatment of English history in the ten chronicle plays from King John to Henry VIII. W Thomas Peregrine Oourtnay has taken the trouble to set forth, in his valuable commentaries, the discrepancies in events and persons, between the poet and history. \\ But there has been almost no attempt to illustrate the people and life of England, by the light thrown on them in these great historical dramas. One notable exception is the little volume, ' ' English History," now out of print, by the late Professor Henry Eeed, of the University of Pennsylvania. This has a quaint and fascinating interest ; but the lectures as studies are not always accurate, and if Professor Beed had access to the original sources of the chron- icle plays he does not seem to have often used them. The following chapters seek to interest students of history in Shakespeare, and readers of Shakespeare in English history. Some of the plays rise to the dignity of history in its most engaging form. The broad sweep of events is neither swamped in the child-like annals of painful chronicles, nor smothered in the profundity of the modern school historian. " History strictly so called," says Charles Knight, both historian and critic, " the history derived from rolls and statutes, must ' pale its ineffectual fire ' in the sunlight of the poet." It is not claimed, to be sure, that the plays could take the place of formal history. We do not read SHAKESPEARE'S HISTORICAL METHOD. 3 Shakespeare for annals, or diaries, or even accurate succession of events; but for the illumination he throws upon these — their interpretation, as subtly in- dicated in the process of dramatic evolution — for vividness of detail and richness of local color. Lord Bacon exactly defines, in this spirit, the value of the historical drama, and hence the function of Shakespeare as a teacher of history: "Dramatic poetry is like history made visible, and is an image of actions past as though they were present." Heine, whose criticism is not always sound or based upon any canon beyond the author's own prejudices, does yet fairly estimate and sum up the historical value of these plays. " The great Briton is not only a poet but an historian : he wields not only the dagger of Melpomene, but the stUl sharper stylus of Olio. In this respect he is like the earliest writers of history, who also knew no difference between poetry and his- tory, and so gave us not merely a nomenclature of things done, or a dusty herbarium of events, but who enlightened truth with song, and in whose song was heard only the voice of truth." So writing, Shakespeare taught history as it has never been taught since — not in tables, nor dates, nor statis- tics — not in records of revolts or details of battle-fields ; but history in its highest and purest form — the uncov- ering of those springs of action in which great national movements take their rise. The dramatist was bound by fidelity to his main pur- pose, to subordinate the details of history ; and accord- ing to the preponderance of the dramatic or the his- toric, we have a tragedy like Macbeth or a chronicle 4 ELIZABETHAN ENGLAND. like Eichard III. We are neither misled nor deceived therefore, when we find in these historical plays what would have no place in formal history. The very anach- ronisms of the poet are often most valuable in the interpretation of events described, just as a discord in music heralds the resolving chords which introduce new harmonies. " They are perfect," these plays, in their way, " because there is no care about centuries in them." The England of Shakespeare's day was a potent en- vironment for both poet and people. Before Shake- speare left Stratford for London, began " the dawn of that noble literature, the most enduring and the most splendid of the many glories of England." It was the threshold of a new world. It was the golden age of Elizabeth, whose long and glorious reign left an after- glow during the first years of her pedantic successor, James. In that splendor Shakespeare lived and did most of his work ; in that after-glow he completed his task and died. " That epoch," as Motley finely says, " was fuU of light and life. The constellations which have for centuries been shining in the English firma- nent were then human creatures, walking English earth." /All England was thrilling with the sense of a finer national life, a higher ideal of religion and patri- otism, an ever clearer conviction that the Anglo-Saxon was the race of destiny^N The great captains— Ealeigh, Hawkins, Gilbert, Thomas Cavendish, and Sir Francis Drake — were push- ing their bold prows into all seas, planting colonies in all new lands, and extending the dominions of the Vir- gin Queen with a mighty hand and a stretched-out arm. ORANMER-S PROPHECY. 5 Shakespeare was impregnated with the Zeit-geist. In almost the final passage of the last chronicle play (" Henry VIII.") Aj-chbishop Oranmer utters a pro'- phetic strain upon the theme of Elizabeth and James, which well denotes for what state of national feeling the poet wrote and in what mood of the national mind he found reception for his work. After describing the glory and honor of Elizabeth's reign at home, the times of James I. and the settle- ment of the New World are thus referred to : Nor shall this peace sleep with her ; but as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, Her ashes new create another heir, As great in admiration as herself, So shall she leave her blessedness to one (When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness) Who, from the sacred ashes of her honor, Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, And so stand iixed. Peace, plenty, love, truth, teiTor, That were the servant to this chosen infant. Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him : Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine. His honour and the greatness of his name Shall be, and make new nations ; he shall Sourish, And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches To all the plains about him ; our children's children Shall see this and bless heaven. ' Such resounding periods voiced the sentiment of all England, of which London was then, even more than now, the mouthpiece. In those times, before the news- paper press had begun to mirror each day's record with ■ Henry VHI., Act V., Scene. 4. i 6 THE ENGLISH ZEIT-GEI8T. photographic minuteness, the pulpit and the stage were the enunciators and moulders of public opinion. But while there is a great deal of valuable current history to be extracted from pulpit utterances of the Beforma- tion period, the stage was best a-dapted to reflect the tastes and exhibit the humors of the day. In this England and with these inspirations, all sorts and con- ditions of men and women thronged the playhoiises, where they would hear the story of their ancestors told in swelling words and their glory sung in martial strains : " Wherein," says Thomas Nash, " oui- fore- fathers' valiant acts, that have been long buried in rusty brass and worm-eaten books, are revived, and they themselves raised from the grave of oblivion, and brought to plead their aged honors in open presence." The intellectual soil of that Elizabethan England, was thus a veritable hot-house, fertilized by a spirit of nationalism which was broadened, deepened, and con- tinually nourished, by that colonization of new lands which had become a passion with every rank and class. Shakespeare was stimulated to the production of historical dramas, and the people were stimulated by their presentation. This reciprocal relation of stage and pit is one of the curious phases of the social life of the day. It is evident that Shakespeare, as a wise and prudent playwright, knew his audience, and wrote for it. It is also evident that the demand upon him fired his imag- ination to its loftiest heights, and plumbed his philo- sophical insight to its lowest depths. We have a sustained and sometimes, it must be ad- UNITY OF THE PLATS. 7 mitted, a strained note of eulogy upon all things English, which the thoughtful reader will mark as not only an ebullition of the Zeit-geist, but an example of that insular contempt for all things un-English which has not been entirely lost to succeeding generations. This was to supply the demand of the " groundlings." But we have, too, what no other poet of that day offered, in either such kind or degree, the moral of England's history, set forth as an interpretation of the past and a guide for the future ; all the more valuable because not put forth as a theory, and so obtruded upon our view. This moral will sufficiently appear in the course of the following pages and is summed up in the final chapter. Before taking up the thread of the story, an epitome of its contents will be found helpful and suggestive. There are ten of the English historical plays in all, not written in chronological order, although so ar- ranged for convenience in all modern editions. Schlegel remarks of them, " The dramas derived from the EngUsh history are ten in number : one of the most valuable works in Shakespeare, and partly the fruit of his natural age. I say advisedly one of his works, for the poet has evidently intended them as parts of a great whole." The unity of the series thus noted by the German critic is an important consideration in their study. An exact title might be accurately stated as " The Decline and Fall of the House of Plantagenet, with a prologue on King John and an epilogue on Henry VIII." The body of the series deals with the house of 8 THEME OF THE PLAYS. Plantagenet from Eichard II. to Eichard III. It is a family struggle for the English throne, varied by dreams and actualities of foreign conquest. The " seven phials of the sacred blood " of Edward III. are nearly all drained in the internecine contest. The bloody flux is stayed only by a political marriage, the Earl of Eichmond with Elizabeth of York, which seats a Tudor where Plantagenets had reigned for generations. As a prologue to this story the play of King John gives us a glimpse at the conditions which had in them the germ not only of division, but of reunion. John's England was an example of the futility of attempting to hold transmarine heritages or conquests in common bonds of interest with the throne of the "sceptred isle " of England. The Plantagenet family woidd not learn this lesson, and the Shakespearean epic describes the external trials and humiliations which were a con- sequence. John's England gave utterance to the voice of the people also, speakiag, with no uncertain sound, through the Magna Charta of the Barons, who were, as nearly as could be, the representatives of the people in that day ; and with faithful pen the poet historian has written down the internal misery which followed upon the ever-recurring deafness of royal and noble ears to the mandates of that voice. So King John, although separated by six generations from the first overt event in the downfall of the Plantagenets, is a noteworthy and necessary preface to that dramatic tale. It may be likened to the last warning cry of the prophet, who then wraps himself in silence and waits for his Word to crystallize into Fact. EPITOME Of THE PLATS. 9 The poet maintains this silence during the reigns of Henry III. and the three Edwards. The leaven is working however. In Eichard II. decay begins. The king, with his " incurable leakiness of mind," is a prod- uct jof the times. We pity but hardly condemn him. He is the child of those external and internal condi- tions of which we have spoken. We realize that the usurpation of Bolingbroke is an historical necessity, and it is almost with a sense of relief that we throw up our caps for Henry IV. And yet Bolingbroke has no hereditary right to that title, and in his usurpation of the claims of an elder brother's son lies the germ of, the fratricidal Wars of the Boses. The melancholy' end of Richard II. is revenged in the gloomy, remorse- ful reign of his cousin Henry IV. But now a ray of sunlight emerges, from this internal gloom of the Plan- tagenet family, as Henry V. succeeds his father and brings the house of Lancaster to its highest pinnacle of glory. And yet the seeds of dissolution are shoot- ing up through this too fertile soil. For, biding its time, the feeble but legitimate house of York is lifting its head above the surface of events. To secure in- ternal peace Henry V. picks a foreign quarrel and em- barks upon that career of transmarine conquest, the glory of which is fallacious because unnatural. Henry VI. inherits two kingdoms, and^after a" feign accented by the deeds of a Warwick and upheld by the fiery brilliancy of a Margaret of Anjou, dies in the posses- sion of six feet of grudging earth. Henry VI. is a fruitful study. As in the career of King John, Shakespeare shows that positive evil done by kings reaps its reward of failure in spite of auda- 10 OHARACTEB 00NTBA8T8. cious boldness and criminal sagacity, so in Henry VI. he makes it equally clear that goodness and saintliness do not preserve a king from defeat, if he be negatively evil. The appeal to God to preserve his kingdom, be- cause he himself is a godly man and tells his beads, is of no avail imless Henry VI. be a man and plays a kingly part. John was weak because he was unkingly in his evil. Henry was weak because he was unkingly in his virtue. Bach earned his defeat, though in a different way. s The poet historian passes over with brief notice the reign of Edward IV. and the pathetic episode of Ed- ward v., using them as a framework for the last scene in the fall of the house of Plantagenet, that of which Eichard III. is the central figure. There are still " historic doubts " as to the justice of assigning Eichard to the disgraceful niche he occupies in the corridor of English royalty. Shakespeare has done more to fix the orthodox impression of the hunch- back's character than any writer of formal history. And yet he took the foundation and superstructure of that characterization from contemporary historians. He has simply illuminated and immortalized what he found at hand. He may have exaggerated, but he did not invent the infernal Duke of Gloster. As an histori- cal study this Eichard III. is a portrait worthy of more than a superficial glance. Bolingbroke did accomplish something for England as well as for himself in his usurpation. Warwick car- ried kings at his girdle, pulling them down and set- ting them up, not by intrigue, but by the sword and his good right arm. There were confusion and blood EPILOGUE OF THE SERIES. 11 and strife in the reign of Henry VI. and during the whole Lancastrian occupation. But there was a noble quality in it aU. There were problems of large calibre involved. In Richard III., while we see the same things ac- complished, it is in ignoble ways. The court and the council -room smell of chicanery, demagogism, cant. Over all, the demon of unholy selfishness broods in sullen, snarling possession. The noblest moment of Gloster's career is that of his death. He had put all to the hazard of battle, and Bosworth Field has its heroic side, apart from the victorious Richmond. The story that ends with the fall of the last Plantag- enet must have its epilogue, or Shakespeare were no true patriot. With an unsparing hand he has uncov- ered England's weaknesses and recorded her defeats. But all for a purpose — a purpose which we can now see, whether or not it was a conscious purpose of the poet historian. He gives England time to settle down after her ex- hausting civil wars, her fallacious foreign essays in con- quest, and when he lifts the curtain again it is upon that transformed England suggested in the final event of the last historical drama in chronological sequence, the baptism of Elizabeth, daughter of Henry VIII. The murmur of that baby at the font was the first note of a splendid roll of harmony which was to thrill and inspire the English people as never before. Shall we not say as never since ? With that last wave of his magic baton, the master singer paused. It was enough. The England of Elizabeth was worth all the blood and bigotry, the pain and wretchedness, the shock of for- 12 AyACHROXISMlS. eign wars and the miseries of civil turms, with which her people had been afflicted for three hundred yoai-s. This is the story of the English plays. They are fibi"es of England's life. To object that the historical student finds them full of auachi-ouisms is nothing to the purpose. That the poet is biassed bj- his own consuming pati'iotism is still less so. We know that in his " King John ' no nn^rord is made of the Great Charter of English liberties, yet tlu-ough- out the play breathes the very spu-it of which Ma^jua Chartii was but an outward sign. Heury YIII. barely mentions the Englisli Reforma- tion, yet it is the very stoiy of the Beformation with every alternating shade of proii;ross sxnd retrogi-ession set down ; every broad and nai'ix)w motive indicated ; every occasion, political, social, and religious, subtly woven throughout its scenes. " Henry "\X" is as con- fused in its dramatic conceptions as the actual historic events were in fact, yet the Wsu-s of the Eoses are therein better underetood as to their causes and in the way tlioy sorrowfully touched the gi-eat suffering body of the English people, than in any severe record of the rolls and statutes. It is here that the historian and poet becomes the illuminator, the prophet, the accurate teacher of reali- ties. We people those former centuries with shadows, which become more and moi-e attenuated in the hiuids of the dry chronicler. Shakespeare shows these shad- ows to have been men and women who lived, loved, hated, fought, and died. " Behold therefore, the Eng- land of the year 1200 was no chimerical vacuity or dreamland, peopled with vaporous Fanttvsms, Ryniev's SII.\lil<:SI'/i}AHl and cuUJo roso to labor, and uiglit by iiigliti n\tnvnod homo to tlioir several Inii'H. In WDudrouH Duolisui, tluui as now, lived natiouH of bi't^alluug uuni, nltoniating iu txll ways bo- twtMMi life and doidh, hotwoon joy aud sorrow, b^^l\vol*u riiHt. and toil, b(U.\v«ou hopo, ]u)ju< roaohiug liigli aa hoa.von, and fonv Aooy aw vory luvll." ' What Carlyli^ tlms ways of t1h> yotu- 1200 in still ti'iio of tlio ooutuvioH that foUowod. Shalcesp(Miro niakoH ns rtndi/,(> this. No periods of English history lu-o so \v(>Il known to tho aviM"agi\ roailor as tlioso iUuiuiuatod by his pon. llt\ury VII., with many points oi ox- Iraoiilinary dromatio intoi'est, is oomparativoly un- known; whilo lloury VJ., ono of tho most iiuspoolcably droai-y of nugus, witli little or nothing in its confused and bloody ri^vohitions to attract tlio roador, is ai woll- artioiUu>t(>d bit of tho known historical franiowork of l't's patriotio biiis, tli<> ovitio must admit it to bo a blomish njion his work. ThidiM- tlioir propor lu>a.dings iustanot's of this aro nottnl in tlu^ following pagos. It is suirioiout horo io point out tiiofaot, as, for oxaiiiplo, iu tho n.nti-pa[)M.l spirit of "King .Tohn," the partisa,u unfairuoaa of " lloury V.," lUid tho brutal uiis- < (tfti-lylti'n Patti ami Pfoionk, Uook U,, 'riif Auoi«nt Monk, V\n\\\ I. 14 HIS PATRIOTIC BIAS. conception of the character of Joan of Arc in " Henry VI." These are blots, indeed ; yet, as compared with contemporary writers, Shakespeare was very far in advance of his age. While he allowed himself to be swayed by the applause of the " groundlings," he was in truth a veritable reformer of the stage along these very liaes. There is nothing mean or bitter in his bias, while there is much that was evidently the over- flowing of a heart devoted to England as to a mother, and concerned as deeply for her majesty and honor. The speech of dying John of Gaunt in the play of Eich- ard II. is imbued with this spirit of nationalism which characterized Shakespeare's whole treatment of English history. If he vaunted her glory, he wept for her shame ; if he boasted of her victories, he chronicled her defeats. This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war. This happy breed of men, this little world. This precious stone set in the silver sea. Which serves it in the office of a wall. Or as a moat defensive in a house, Against the envy of less happier lands ; This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Feared for their breed and famous for their birth, Eenowned for their deeds as far from home (For Christian service and true chivah-y) As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's son.' ' Rich. n. , Act n. , Scene 1. GOJSTOLUSION. 15 Shakespeare loved his England and so sounded her praises. The imagination of the poet seized upon the skeleton^f the chroniclers and clothed them with flesh and blood. From King John to Henry VIII., from Magna Char- ta to the Beformation, whether conscious or not of the splendid scope of his achievement, the poet his- torian has sung an immortal epic of the EngUsh na- tion, having for its dominant note the passing of feudalism and the rise of the common people. The germ of this development has never died out of the souls of that hardy race whose forefathers crept across 'the gray waste of the German ocean in their frail boats of wood and hide, to grapple with unknown foes upon unknown shores, and to lay the corner- stone of that great and free nation, of whose best life Shakespeare was the poet, chronicler, and seer. KING JOHN. The foundation of Shakespeare's play is an anony- mous work in two parts, entitled "The Troublesome Eaigne of John, King of England, with the discourie of King Bichard Cordelions Base Sonne (vulgarly named the Bastard Fauconbridge). Also the Death of King John at Swinsted Abbey. As it was (sun- dry times) publikely acted by the Queenes Maisties Players, in the honourable Citie of London. Imprint- ed at London for Sampson Clarke, and are to be solde at his shop, on the back side of the BoyaU Exchange. 1591. 4°." This play was reprinted in 1611, with the initials "W. Sh. upon its title page ; but it is conceded on all hands that this was a publisher's trick, and not an acknowledgment of the poet's authorship. Shakespeare's play was published about 1596, in quarto ; was mentioned by Francis Meres, in his "Wit's Treasury" (1598), and was included in the first Folio of 1623, among the "Histories." CHEONOLOGY OF KING JOHN. 1199. John crowned at Westminster, May 27. Arthur Plan- tagenet (lineal heu-), Duke of Bretagne, asks assistance of Philip of France to maintain his rights over the French provinces. John enters France with an army to enforce the English claim. 1200. By agreement between John and Philip, Lewis the Dau- phin and Blanche of Castile (John's niece) are married, and a satisfactory division of the provinces in dispute is made, Arthur retaining Brittany. 1202. Philip breaks this treaty. War resumed. Arthur taken prisoner by John. 1203. Arthur dies under suspicious circumstances at Eouen. 1204. All Normandy lost to John and united with the crown of France. 1205-7. In the election of an Archbishop of Canterbury, Pope Innocent insisted upon his right to nominate Stephen Lang- ton. John defies the Pope, maintaining his own supreme right of nomination, and refuses to allow Langton at Canter- bury. 1208-9. Interdict and excommunication of John by Innocent III. 1212. Innocent deposes John, and commands Philip of France to invade England and carry the sentence into effect. 1213-14. John, frightened at the result of his opposition to the Pope, basely submits and does homage to Eome for his crown. English nobles, led by Stephen Langton, confed- erate to resent this betrayal of the kingdom and their liber- ties. 1215. Magna Charta signed, but almost immediately violated by John. The English nobles appeal to France and promise to choose the Dauphin Lewis as their king, if he will help them with an army against John. 1216. The French army comes over. Before battle John dies —(Oct. 16). His son is crowned as Henry III., and Lewis forced to return to France. 3 CHAPTEE II. KING JOHN. — THE TRANSITION PERIOD. Introduction.— Successive waves of conquest that swept over Britain and their blending in one strain. — Continental complications. — John's incompetency causes loss of foreign territory, and completes the soli- darity of the English people. — Shakespeare's play covers this transition period. — Three historic centres of dramatic action. — (I.) The disputed title of King John (a dramatic fiction.) — (II.) The quarrel of John with Pope Innocent. — (III.) Magna Charta and revolt of the Barons. — ^The minor events violate historical accuracy and anachronisms abound. — The reason found in the poet's adherence to an old play. — Philip of France espouses the cause of Arthur Plantagenet. — Chatillon's de- mands. — Negotiations ensue. — Arthur's claims abandoned. — The dis- puted territory in France given mainly as a dower to Blanche (John's niece) on her marriage with Lewis (Philip's son). — Arthur is kept alive by poetic license for dramatic purposes. —John's refusal to accept the Pope's nomination to the see of Canterbury. — The curse of Rome. — Philip of France commissioned to carry it into effect. — Peter of Pom- fret's prophecy. — John receives his crovm as a fief of Rome. — Omis- sion of any mention of Magna Charta. — Revolt of the Barons and alliance with Prince Lewis of France, who lands with a force in Eng- land. — Skirmishing between the King's faction and the Barons. — The Barons, discovering treasonable intentions on the part of Lewis, be- gin to treat with their King — In the middle of negotiations John dies. — Lewis dismissed and JoKn's son (as Henry III.) comes to the throne. Whether designedly or not, Shakespeare fastened upon a period for the first, in order of time, of his English chronicle plays, which may be accurately dis- tinguished as the great turning point of English his- torical development. Eor it was in the reign of that most sordid and despicable modarch John Lackland, that the nation was severed from Continental embar- DATE OF KING JOHN. 19 rassments by the loss of Normandy and other trans- marine provinces, and the English constitution began to take deeper root in and flourish out of the religion and patriotism of the English people. Allusion has been made, in the introduction, to the broad stage upon which these historical dramas were acted, as having had an influence upon their spirit and scope. The date of " King John's " appearance, espe- cially, may account to a certain extent for the fervid nationalism which pervades every scene and inspires the utterance of its dramatis personce. It was pro- duced in the year 1596, but eight years after the de- struction of the Spanish Armada. All Englishmen were stiU thrilling with a hatred of the foreigner, and were bound to their Virgin Queen and to each other by ties of a sort of religious patriotism like that which moulded the life of the Hebrew people in the first days of the conquest under Joshua. The interest of this play, however, to modern stu- dents, lies not so much in its illustration of the Eng- land of Elizabeth as in its interpretation of the Eng- land of John. To approach the story of the play with a proper appreciation of its historical accuracy, we must note in brief the steps that led up to the first scene, where the phrase " borrowed majesty " is flung at the occupant of the English throne by the French .ambassador. John came officially to the throne in 1199, the suc- cessor of Richard Cceur de Lion. Four generations before this, in 1066, on the field of Hastings, died Harbld, last of the Saxon kings, and William Duke of Normandy came by right of con- 20 WAVB8 OF CONQUEST. quest to the Englisli throne. Before this conquest by the Norman, there is little enough to tell of connected English history. From the early occupation by the Eomans under Julius Csesar, a.d. 24, until Harold ex- pired, there had been a long course of successive up- heavals and settlements. There were wars on a large and small scale ; peoples divided against each other, fighting for the love of war, and not for peace ; hordes of savage invaders overcoming aboriginal tribes, and driving them in torn remnants to the caves of Corn- wall and the mountain fastnesses of Wales. Wave after wave of conquest swept the island of Britain : Danes, Jutes, Angles and Saxons, the two latter on the whole predominating. The language of these raiders dominated the land as Anglo-Saxon, and the name of one tribe, doubtless the bravest and hardiest, became the name of the whole miscellaneous immigration of pirate settlers, whence from Angle- land we have the modern England. The final wave of conquest was that upon whose crest William Duke of Normandy swept into power. With William came prelates, nobles, and men-at-arms, and Saxon veins began to run with Norman blood. Here was that mingling of races, out of which, as the elements finally settled, emerged the English people. How did it happen that " this sceptred isle " be- came Angle-land instead of Norman-land ? First of all, the Norman conqueror was too wise to carry his victory to the point of extermination. He did not seek to blot out or drive out the Saxons. The common people, serfs and freemen, were of too much use as hewers of wood, to be got rid of without grave BLENDING OF RA0E8. 21 cause. Even the Saxon tlianes were permitted, here and there, not only to occupy their castles and lands, but to mingle on nearly equal terms with their con- querors. The chief reason, however, why the Anglo-Saxon rather than the Norman became the parent of civiliza- tion in Britain, lay deeper in events than William or his nobles could reach. In casting in their lot with the Anglo-Saxon people to the extent of adopting manners, customs, and finally language, the Normans were but going back home. For Angle, Saxon, and Norman had a common ancestry in the heart of the German forests, and along the slopes of the Scan- dinavian hiUs. Their differences at the time of the Conquest were the result of environment. While the Angle and Saxon were still lying in their native lairs, or embarking on predatory excursions to the low- lying, sedgy shores of Britain, their brethren in the north, called Northmen, of common race and almost common tongue, had descended upon the northwest coast of France, where by force of arms they wrested a fine province from the French kings, and set up for themselves as Dukes of Normandy. They were in course of time Gallicised, and in Duke William's time were French in everything but blood and name. But even then to scratch a Norman was to find a Northman, elder brother to Angle, Jute, and Saxon, and kin to the people with whom he was placed in intimate domestic relations by the Conquest. Hence Saxon and Norman blended in one not unnatural strain ; and a new people, Feared for their breed and famous by their birth, 22 SOLIDARITY OF THE PEOPLE. came into existence — having, in time, the vigor and brawn of the ancient sea-kings and marauders, united with the wit, polish, and finesse of the Norman knight. This did not happen easily or all at once. There were continuous battles, feuds, race troubles, and rivals ries ; but when John came to the throne, four fruitful generations after the battle of Hastings, these internal broils had ceased. The names Saxon and Norman were forgotten, and only Englishmen remained. One important element in the development of the English as a homogeneous people remained to be added. Her kings were still half foreigners. The Norman provinces were appanages of the royal family. The political life of the growing English people was thus bound up in an unnatural manner with what was practically a province of France. It remained there- fore, in the curious irony of historical evolution, for the reign of one of the least patriotic of English kings to witness the beginnings of a larger and more splendid life for the English people. For, through John's shuf- fling, time-serving, and criminal incapacity, Normandy was cut off from allegiance to the royal house of Eng- land. Thereafter, with no foreign interests to clash, and perhaps take precedence of those at home — with no alien quarrels for which they were bound to become responsible— the English people grew together more closely and with a greater identity of aim. Shakespeare's play of " King John " is a dramatic picture of this transition stage of English history. Observing carefully the action of the play, it is found to revolve about three distinct historical events, THREE CENTRES OF ACTION. 23 which are, however, more or less confused with each other for dramatic piirposes : I. The disputed title of John, and the political in- trigues of Philip of France resulting therefrom, includ- ing the use of Arthur, John's nephew, as a movable pawn by all parties. II. The quarrel of King John with Pope Innocent III. concerning the filling of the vacant see of Canter- bury, which ended in John's disgraceful reconciliation, at the price of holding the crown of England as a fief of the Pope. III. The revolt of the Barons, which the poet attrib- utes to discontent over the violent death of Arthur, but which historically was caused by the king's at- tempted nullification of Magna Charta. This is the framework of Shakespeare's play. In the essential facts he preserves the spirit and history of the times, but in some glaring instances is far astray. The reader who knows history and reads this play for the first time, and superficially, is tempted to make the criticism that either the poet was not acquainted with the reign he describes, or that he ruthlessly sacri- ficed historical accuracy on the altar of dramatic ne- cessity. In both judgments there is a measure of truth. Shakespeare was never troubled by anachro- nisms when they served his purpose, and in this play, contrary to his usual custom, he did not consult the chroniclers who were his faithful allies for all the others of the series. There is not an allusion in the whole play, exempli gratia, to the greatest event not only of John's reign but, in one aspect certainly, of all English history, the granting of Magna Charta. Many 24 SOURCE OF THE PLAT. of the events leading up to and evoking it are touched upon, and the especial event which occurred because of its attempted nullification is minutely detailed, namely, the calling over of Prince Lewis, of France, to lead Englishmen against their king ; but this event is linked with the alleged death of Arthur at John's command, and the Great Charter is not so much as mentioned. The explanation is simple enough, however. Shake- speare did not look into the chronicles here as when he dealt with other periods ; but, finding an old play by another hand, remodelled it for his own need. The real source, the general framework, and many of the passages, barely disguised, of the play of " King John " are to be found in a piece in two parts, by an anonymous author (some attribute it to Samuel EiOwley), entitled " The Troublesome Raigne of King John." This was written or at least published some twenty years before Shakespeare's performance, and was plainly a tractate against Home, one of the swarm that sprang into hfe in the first years of the Reforma- tion. It was rabid, ill-tempered, and frequently un- fair, and Shakespeare wisely, both for his fame and his art, did not decant its spirit into his performance. An occasional quotation of parallel passages will give the student opportunity to note how the great dram- atist, while sometimes copying slavishly from material at hand, almost always transmuted the base metal of others into the fine gold which was all his own. To resume the thread of history where the play of " King John " takes it up, it begins with a claim made upon John of England, by Philip of France, for the GHATILLON'S DEMANDS. 25 crown of England and all its territories, together with the Norman provinces, in the name of Arthur Plan- tagenet, John's nephew. Chatillon, the French ambassador, speaks : Philip of France, in right and true behalf Of thy deceased brother Geoffrey's son, Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim To this fair island and the territories, To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine ; Desiring thee to lay aside the sword Which sways usurpingly these several titles, And put the same into young Arthur's hand. Thy nephew and right royal sovereign.' The " Troublesome Eaigne " has it : " Philip, by the grace of God most Christian king of France, having taken into his guardian and pro- tection Arthur, Duke of Britaine, sonne and heir to Jeffrey thine elder brother, requireth in the behalf of said Arthur, the kingdom of England, with the lord- ships of Ireland, Poitiers, Aniow, Torain, Main ; and I attend thine annswere." Before this formal claim is made, Chatillon sets the key of the whole play as follows : Thus, after greeting, speaks the king of France, In my behavior, to the majesty. The borrow'd majesty of England here.^ That phrase the "borrowed majesty " is a reflection upon the title by which John reigned in England as well as over the French provinces which were an in- 1 Act I. Scene 1. ^ibid. 26 STRENGTH OF JOHN'S TITLE. heritance of the Angevins. Shakespeare, following the old play, assumes that John was an usurper, and that the English people were at heart devoted to the claims of young Arthur Plantagenet. The French provinces and Arthur's rights over them will be touched upon presently. Just now it must be made clear to the reader who " takes his history from Shakespeare and his theology from Milton," that this alleged usurpation of the English crown was a mere assumption of the poet, of which he makes vivid dramatic use in the sor- rows of young Arthur. King John of England had, for those days, a particularly strong title. He was the oldest living brother of Richard I., whom he succeeded, and had acquired reputation and influence, as a sort of deputy, during the Lion Heart's crusades against the Saracens. When Richard died, it is true that, accord- ing to strict laws of primogeniture, the heir of the throne was Arthur Plantagenet, son of John's dead elder brother Geoffrey. But primogeniture had not by any means been accepted as the only law of suc- cession to the English throne. Nor indeed have the English people ever been so wedded to the law of primogeniture but that for good and sufficient reason they could break it. The names of Henry IV., Oliver Cromwell, and William of Orange, testify to the exist- ence of this inherent independence of the people, who have ever been the king-makers themselves, in one form or another, and never surrendered their rights. King John succeeded legitimately to the throne by virtue of three claims : (a) Nearness of kin to the late monarch, (b) A revised will of Richard, quoted by contemporary chroniclers, setting aside a former be- PBINOE ARTHUR'S CLAIMS. 27 stowal of the crown upon Arthur, because of his youth and weakness, and bestowing it upon John, (c) And most inaportant and conclusive of all, a free election of the Barons, representing the whole realm, among whom he was crowned at Westminster. For those days this constituted a good title. Shakespeare, how- ever, has so fastened the idea of usurpation upon the English mind, that John has had added to his other crimes that of being, what he certainly was not, an unconstitutional ruler. There was never any question among Englishmen as to his right to reign over them, until toward the end of his career, when the Barons were exasperated into the attempt of dethroning him as a liar, a slanderer, a breaker of promises, and a bawd of the nation's honor. It must also be noted in the interest of historic truth (although it is no part of the author's purpose or in- tention to go into the details of these events), that the French king did not make the claim, as in the play, for the crown of England, but in behalf of Arthur solely for the transmarine provinces. Arthur's claims to these provinces were partly in virtue of his lineal right to the throne of England, and partly through other sources. The conflicting and overlapping claims of John and his nephew are thus clearly stated by Mr. Henry Hudson in his introduction to this play : " Anjou, Touraine, and Maine were the proper pat- rimony of the Plantagenets, and therefore devolved to Arthur as the acknowledged representative of that house, the rule of lineal succession being there fully established. To the ducal chair of Bretagne, Arthur was the proper heir in right of his mother (Constance) 28 TBVOE BETWEEN PHILIF AND JOHN. who was then Duchess regnant of that province. John claimed the dukedom of Normandy as the proper in- heritance from his ancestor, William the Conqueror, and his claim was there admitted- Poitou, Guienne, and fiye other French provinces were the inheritance of Eleanor his mother ; but she made over her title to him, and there also his claim was recognized. The English crown he claimed in virtue of his brother's will, but took care to strengthen that claim by a par- liamentary elec-tion. In the strict order of inheritance all these possessions, be it oYjserved, were due to Ar- thur ; but that order it appears was not then fully es- tablished, save in the provinces belonging to the house of Anjou. As Duke of Bretagne, Arthur was a vassal of France, and therefore bound to homage as a condi- tion of his title." In this complex condition of aflEairs Philip Augustus of France saw an opportunity of striking a final blow at the power of the Plantagenet family and dissolving the connection which had existed, since the Norman conquest, between the English monarchy and French provinces. He lent himself therefore the more readily to the interests of Arthur Plantagenet. The first two acts of the play are occupied ^^-ith negotiations between France and England, ostensibly over Arthur's rights, actually with diplomatic fencing for political advantage. These tilts end, after many complications of intrigue and jwlicy, in the conrpletion of a truce between Philip and .John, in which the cause of Arthur is entirely set asi^le as of slight importance in the larger affair-; of kings. .John retains a portion of the disputed territory, and another portion is set DICATII OH' AUTIIUli. 21) awidd as a marriage dowcir for the Lady Blanche, of C!iiHtil((, JoIiu'h iiioco, on her ujiiou with J'riiuK! Lewis, I'liillpH Hon and hdir. Arthur wiih coulinncd in IiIh duluuloiti III' Jlrittaiiy. During the ctmrHo of these two acts, while very few <)[ the I'tHiorded incidontH arc historically accurate, Uio spirit of tli() timoH is admirably preserved, and tho rela- tions of poi'HoniigoH and events aro sot forth with I'lulli- fuhidHH. 11: wo shoidd attempt to trace every ])ootio statement to its historical source, we should liiid oui- Bi'Iv(W in II ])ro])Osterous entaugloiiient. But having c.ojiconi only with the broad uiovomonts of English lil'o, SliakoHpoare is a vivid und lucid interpreter. Jolm luiuutidnod his authority in the transmarine pi-ovinces, with now and tlioji a mbellioii on the part of l.h() Ij'nuK^h iiobldH, until ho was mortally crippled by tlio idfusal of liiw EngliHh knights to aid him in ()U(01iug tlxiHo ro volts, which Bometimos aHHuinod seri- ous shape. "During Uioho conflicts, John took Avtlnir piMHonor, who afterward diod myHtoriously, sotno say by tbo hand of John himself. All historians attribute truth to tlio pid)li(! fauui tliat tho unnaturnl king was dinintly or indirectly r( Act II., Scenes. 32 " GHABGE8 OF WABBE." the historian must explain and interpret or he be no true historian. There are two most significant lines in the earlier portion of the play which illustrate the poet's method of transmuting whole reams of fact and poetry into a single paragraph of description. The lines are : Our abbeys and our priories sliall pay This expedition's charge.' In the " Troublesome Eaigne " the corresponding passage is : And toward the maine charges of my warres, lie ceaze the lasie Abbey lubbers' lands Into my hand to pay my men of warre. The Pope and Popelings shall not grease themselves With gold and groates that are the soldiers' due. The anonymous play has also an exciting and sugges- tive scene in which Philip Falconbridge makes a raid upon the abbeys for moneys, which is omitted in the play of King John. But the two lines just quoted tell the whole story, and for dramatic purposes tell it better than the old writer's pages of bold and coarse attack upon the lives of the monks and nuns. Rulers in those times might be ever so faithful sons of Holy Church ; but when there was need of the " charges of warre," they did not hesitate long between their piety and their necessities. The next centre of action of Shakespeare's play, after the disputed title of John and the political in- * Act I., Scene 1. THE WAIL OF 00N8TANCE. 33 trigues that were involved, is the quarrel between Pope Innocent and John of England. It must be said of John that he was a stubborn man if not a truly courageous one, to brave the power of the Pope of Borne, with the memory still fresh of his father Henry creeping to the tomb of Becket in old Canterbury, a shivering penitent. Henry II. was a far braver and better man than John, and had quite as good a cause. Moreover, he was a born ruler of men, and John was, in moral stamina, the most fickle and nerveless of leaders. The beginning of the third act is an historical rem- nant left over from the second. It is the wail of Odnstahce, mother of Arthur, for the shameful way in which his claim had been foi^otten, in the selfish arrangement of the two kings and the marriage o^ Blanche and Lewis. Constance. Gone to be married. Gone to swear a peace. False blood to false blood joined. Gone to be friends. Shall Lewis have Blanche ? and Blanche those provinces ? It is not so. Thou hast mispoke, misheard ; Believe me, I do not believe thee, man ; I have a king's oath to the contrary.' And when the poor mother is assured beyond doubt that the compromise is made : O ! if thou teach me to believe this sorrow. Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die ; Lewis marry Blanche. O boy, then where art thou ? France friend with England, what becomes of me ? * 1 Act III., Scene 1. =Ibid- 3 34 PANDULPH'a MISSION. The grief of ConstaBce is broken in upon by the en- trance of the two kings, the newly married pair, and others, in the full flush of their recent joy. Her re- proaches of them are interrupted by an influx of new characters, and the beginning of the great quarrel between John and the Pope. It has been already said that the history is here thrown to the winds, for purposes of the drama. Ar- thur had been dead for some years before the eccle- . siastical censures of the Church were visited upon his uncle. But Shakespeare, following the old play, vio- lates the fact, in the introduction of Constance and Arthur as though contemporary with Pandulph. To the parties of the historic drama, grouped upon the stage, comes Pandulph, announced by Philip : " Here comes the holy legate of the Pope." To connect this with the story, we must recall one or two historic facts. At a vacancy in the see of Canter- bury the Pope rejected the choice of an archbishop who had the sanction of King John, and nominated his own candidate, Stephen Langton, whom John refused to receive. It might have been obstinacy, or as he thought good policy, on the part of the English king to resent the constant intrusion of the Pope in the ecclesiastical affairs of England. Doubtless he was really actuated by the spirit which has ever lain, now dormant, now active, in the heart of the English Church and which culminated and expressed itself in the Eeformation of the sixteenth century. England had always protested, sometimes with success, some- THE aUBSE OF ROME. 35 times in vain, against the idea of a universal bishop as accented in the see of Rome. The autonomy of the English church and the autonomy of the English people were ideas not always consciously, but always actually held in the intelligence of the nation as it gi'ew to maturity. So John, in resenting the imposition of an Arch- bishop of Canterbury against his will, was, from what- ever motive, acting in harmony with the development of English thought and the evolution of the English ideal. The Pope sent over his legate, as in the play, to argue with John, and transmitted through the same messenger a valuable present of four golden rings, set with precious stones, as a sort of political retaining fee. Either the bribe was too small or John's con- science was aroused, for the legate was authorized to "launch the curse of Eome" reserved for extreme cases. This scene, first of the third act, after the en- trance of Pandulph, is wholly accurate as to the spirit of the event, and presents one of those fine outbursts of patriotic pride and national independence, for which the age in which Shakespeare wrote, just after the destruction of the Spanish Armada, was especially ripe, and was indeed the very offspring of the times themselves. Pandulph. I, Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal And from Pope Innocent the legate here, Do in his name religiously demand Why thou against the Church, our holy mother, So wilfully dost spurn ; and force perforce Keep Stephen Langton, chosen Archbishop 36 JOHN'S DEFIANCE. Of Canterbury, from that holy see ? This, in our foresaid holy father's name, Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee. K. John. What earthly name to interrogatories Can task the free breath of a sacred king ? Thou canst not, cardinal, devise a name So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous, To charge me to an ansTCer, as the Pope. Tell him this tale ; and from the mouth of England Add thus much more ; that no Italian priest Shall tithe or toll in our dominions ; But, as we under heaven are supreme head. So under him that great supremacy. Where we do reign, we will alone uphold Without the assistance of a mortal hand ; So tell the Pope ; all reverence set apart To him and his usurped authority.' These words were like sweet liouey to the Virgin Queen, Elizabeth, to whom tindotibtedly Shakespeare paid his court in writing them. For she had been through exactly such a papal struggle as was now to follow in the case of John. She felt the " supreme headship" of the Church as keenly as any who pre- ceded or followed her. Largely through her person- ality, which was a sort of concretion of the English thought and English feeling of the day, England was an armed camp of religious and patriotic soldiers. It was an intense age and the ideal England of Elizabeth, of her nobles, of her commoners, was just that ex- ploited in Shakespeare's line, That no Italian priest Shall tithe or toll in our dominions. 'Act III., Scene 1. EXTREME MEASURE.^ OF THE POPE. 37 We find the basis of this fine speech in the " Trouble- some Epaigne," and if we bear in mind the splendid pe- riods, just quoted, of Shakespeare, and compare with them these words from the older play, we will have a fair example of the way in which Shakespeare was wont to use the material of others and make it peculiar]}' his own. K. John. And what hast thou, or the Pope, tliy maister, to doo, to demand of me, how I employ miue own? Know, Sir Priest, as I know the Church and holy churchmen, so I scorn to be subject to the greatest prelate in the world. Tell thy mais- ter so from me, and say John of England said it, that never an Italian priest of them all shall ever have tythe, tole or polling penie out of England ; but as I am King, so will I raigne next under God, supreme head both over spiritual and temrall ; and hee that contradicts me in this, He make him hoppe headless. To resume the theme of the play. Pandulph pro- ceeds to extreme measures. Pandulph. Then, by the lawful power that I have. Thou shalt stand cursed and excommunicate ; And blessed shalt he be that doth revolt From his allegiance to an heretic ; And meritorious shall that hand be called, Canonized, and worshipped as a saint, That takes away by any secret course Thy hateful life.' This curse of the poet, set down in a few lines and as though pronounced at one breath, really involved four separate acts of the Pope against John and cov- ered some years of time. First was the interdict, by ' Act III., Scene 3. 38 PHILIP EMPLOYED AGAINST JOHN. which all bishops and clergy were forbidden to say the religious offices of the Church throughout the king- dom.' This, failing of its intended effect, was followed by excommunication, which was to shut out John from all personal intercourse with his people. This, in turn, was succeded by a decree absolving John's subjects from their allegiance; and finally was pronounced a sentence of deposition from the throne of England. The great quarrel began in 1207, and John did not make his submission until 1213. Meanwhile the Pope must needs find force of arms to bring John to terms, and Philip of France, having previously won from John all practical foothold in Normandy, is found ready at the Pope's appeal to try for the crown of England. War is therefore declared between the two powers, and it is declared a holy war for the honor of the Cross, all privileges granted to crusaders being promised by the Pope to Philip and his knights. Shakespeare tacks together the formerly made truce between Philip and John, cemented by the marriage of Blanche and Lewis, and this new outbreak. Although not historically accurate, therefore, the events depicted in this first scene of the third act are relatively so. "VVe have a fresh-made compact broken for selfish reasons ; we have the pathetic and touching by-play of the newly married happiness of the young people threat- ened and rudely brushed aside as of no importance compared with the affairs of kingdoms. ' Hume's description of the effect of the interdict is probably one of the finest passages in his history, and should be read by all who wish to realize the awful nature of the event. — Hume's England, Vol. I., Ctiap. 11. CONFUSION OF TEE HISTORY. 39 " What," cries poor tortured Blanche ; ' ' Shall our feast be kept with slaughtered men ? Shall braying tnimpets and loud churlish drums, Clamours of hell, be measures to our pomp ? husband, hear me. Ah, alack ! how new Is husband in my mouth ; even for that name. Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pronounce, Upon my knee I beg, go not to arms Against mine uncle." And again : Which is the side that I must go withal ? 1 am with both ; each army hath a hand ; And in their rage, I having hold of both, They whirl asunder and dismember me. Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose.' But the love soitows of a young couple, wedded out of policy, can never stand in the way of policy, and all private ties become as nothing before the necessities of state. The rest of the act is taken up with the contest be- tween the two kings, in which the seizing of Arthur by John plays a part, although historically Arthur has been dead three or four years. Toward the last of the act the historical facts are tangled together in absolute confusion. This struggle of the kings glides poetically into a plot arranged between the Pope's legate and the yoimg French prince, Lewis, for the latter to enter England with an army and seize the throne on behalf ' Act III., Scene 1. 40 DISCONTENT OF THE ENOLTSH. of Blanche, his wife, the niece of John. This is based in the play upon the disturbed relations between John and his English barons on account of the imprisonment of Arthur. The situation was really this : At the request of the Pope, and to enforce his nomination of Langton, Philip had prepared an immense army for the invasion of England. The English barons were discontented with John's arbitrary, vacillating, and selfish policy. The English clergy almost to a man were arrayed against John because of his stubborn fight over the See of Canterbury, and the mass of the people were restless and frightened because of the withdrawal of religious functions and, in that superstitious age, were looking for trouble and disaster, finding strange omens and auguries in earth, sea, and sky. Agitators, taking ad- vantage of this unsettled state of affairs, pushed their own disaffections industriously, and John was looked upon by all classes as the cause of their woes. The papal legate is represented by Shakespeare as translating these signs of the times to Lewis, while urging him to take advantage of them to lay his claim through Blanche to the English throne. The passage is well worth remembering as indicative of the worldly- wise policy of the Eoman See of that day in dealing with its enemies : Pandulph. You, in the liglit of Lady Blanche, your wife, May then make all the claim that Arthur did. Lewis. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did. Pandulph. How green you are, and fresh in this o\A world ; John lays you plots ; the times conspire with you; PETER OF POMFRET. 41 This act so evilly borne shall cool the hearts Of all his people and freeze up their zeal That none so small advantage shall step forth To check his reign, but they will cherish it ; No natural exhalation in the sky, No scope of nature, no distempered day, No common wind, no customed event, But they will pluck away his natural cause. And call them meteors, prodigies and signs. Abortives, presages and tongues of heaven, Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John.' And, again, when Falconbridge, ever faithful to the king, comes to him with reports of how affairs are progressing in the matter of despoiling the abbeys for war charges, he says : Bastard. How I have sped among the clergymen The sums I have collected shall express. But as I travelled hither through the land, I find" the people strangely fantasied, Possessed with rumors, full of idle dreams, Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear. And here's a prophet that I brought with me From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found With many hundreds treading on his heels ; To whom he sung, in rude harsh-sounding rhymes, That e'er the next Ascension day at noon Your highness should deliver up your crown." Unquestionably John's superstitious nature was so wrought upon Jby this alleged prophecy — for Shake- speare's Peter of Pomfret was really a vagrant fanatic who uttered the prophecy as recorded — that his fears brought about what neither threats of Pope nor armies > Act III. , Scene 4. " Act IV., Scene 3. 42 JOHN'S SUBMISSION TO BOMB. of king had moved him to do. He succumbed before the lunatic chatter of a wandering mountebank, who had stood unshaken under the excommunication of Innocent III., and had not quailed in the presence of the greatest soldier of his times. On that very Ascension day, John submitted to the Pope ; agreed to all his terms ; received Stephen Langton as Archbishop; and, most shameful of all, yielded up his crown to the Pope's legate, and after waiting five days received it back again as a gift from the Pope, promising to hold his kingdom in submis- sion to Eome as feudal lord, and to pay a certain sum of money annually as token of the tributary relations of England to the " Italian priest," he had formerly so bravely scouted. The submission being made, Philip was commanded by the Pope to make a truce with John. The rage of the French king was fierce, but fruitless. The fleet he had prepared for the conquest of England was de- stroyed, and he gave up English affairs in disgust. He then turned his attention to a war with Otto, Emperor of Germany, and finally established his power, as the arbiter of European Continental politics. Shakespeare, following the older play, identifies the turning back of Philip from his attack upon England with the turning back of Lewis, who was summoned some years later by the English nobles to their aid. As a matter of history, all of those scenes which in the play have to do with the papal interference against Prince Lewis, on behalf of John, were actually true as toward King Philip, after the submission of John. To get at the true history again, we must leave the MAGNA CHART A. 43 point where Pandulph is inciting the French prince to claim England in behalf of his wife, and go back to summarize the events which led up to the calling over of Lewis by the English nobility, which this passage suggests. After his reconciliation with the Pope, John's troubles were by no means ended. Released from the distress of the excommunication he found himself at odds with barons and people. He hanged Peter of Pomfret on the historic Ascension Day, but the people knew that Peter had turned out a true prophet. John himself is made to acknowledge it at Shakespeare's mouth : K. John. Is this Ascension day ? Did not prophet Say that before Ascension day at noon My crown I should give off? Even so I have ; r did suppose it should be on constraint ; But, heaven be thanked, it is but voluntary.' This national humiliation entered like iron into the souls of England's proud nobility. It had a powerful effect in the disaffection, rebellion, and revolt, which finally culminated in the wresting from John of the Magna Charta, the great Charter of English liberties, one of the great and crucial turning points of Eng- lish history, and immeasurably the event of great- est importance in John's reign. The Charter was given by John finally, and a council of the barons chosen to see that it should be faithfully carried out. But John was shifty and vacillating as ever. After » Act v., Scene 1. 44 BBVOLT OF THE BARONS. granting the Charter, he sought to evade it in all pos- sible ways ; withdrew himself from all intercourse with his barons, and finally collected about him a large army composed of many of his own subjects, " lewd fellows of the baser sort," who saw nothing to lose and much to gain in the overthrow of the nobility — soldiers of fortune, and mercenary troops from Normandy and other places on the Continent. The mass of the English people in deadly terror of civil war, and taught by long ages of use, to bow meekly to the strong hand and oppressive laws of the powers that be, failed to support the barons, who in desperation finally turned their eyes to France, and elected Lewis, the son of Philip, in the right of his wife, Blanche, niece of John, their king and leader. The patriotic Englishmen who may question the policy of this desperate course, because it turned out badly, will remember, however, that under similar cir- cumstances William of Orange was chosen and en- throned King of England, by the lords and commons, nearly five hundred years later. The revolution of 1688 succeeded, and that of 1216 failed, both for good and sufficient reasons. But according to this measure of worldly success or failure, the one is called a " glo- rious revolution," and the other a dismal rebellion ; the one is counted a shining page in English history, the other a dismal record to be blotted out of the memory of England's sons. Again, however, we must disentangle our minds from the inaccuracies of Shakespeare's historical rec- ord. He assumes, again copying the "Troublesome Eaigne," all throughout those portions of the play UNHISTORIO USB OF ARTHUR. 45 which deal with the sullen humors of the people and the rising discontent of the barons, that these unhappy circumstances are due to reports of the imprisonment of Arthur-. The Earl of Pembroke, answering the king, who asks : What you would have reformed that is uot well ; And well shall you perceive how willingly I will both hear and grant you your requests, says : Pembroke. Then I, as one that am the tongue of these To sound the purposes of all their hearts. Both for myself and them, but chief of all Your safety (for the which myself and them Bend their best studies), heartily request The enfranchisement of Ai-thur ; whose restraint Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent To break into this dangerous argument.' But, as already noted, Arthur had been dead for ten years before the revolt of the barons which ended in the giving of Magna Charta, and twelve years before Lewis was chosen to lead the barons against John. Moreover, there is no contemporary history to bolster the deduction that Arthur's affairs ever had much sym- pathy, as for his claims against their own king, among the English people. Shakespeare has so dom- inated the true history, by his wondrous picture of a fair sweet boy deprived of his rights by a brutal ty- rant, who was hated by the people for such a black crime, that the average reader of history is insensibly » Act IV. Scene '.i. 46 CHANGE OF PARTIES. led to adopt it as true. The reason for idealizing a boy of ten or twelve years, with presumably all the rough edges of that period of a lad's life, may be two- fold. First, it was necessary to the making of an act- ing play that the pathetic element should not only be included, but carefully exploited, as is the case in the drama of our own day ; and second, as Eichard Grant "White suggests in one of his studies in Shakespeare, the poet's " only son Hamnet died at the age of eleven years in 1596, and that ' King John ' was written in that year. It would seem as if the lovely character of Arthur (which is altogether inconsistent with the facts of history) was portrayed, and the touching lament of Constance for his loss written by Shakespeare, with the shadow of this bereavement upon his soul." The true reason for the calling over of Lewis was, as has already been pointed out, the nullification of Magna Charta by John. Note now how in the whirli- gig of time the parties to this human drama had shifted ground. Stephen Langton, who had been forced by the Pope upon John, was the head and front of the barons' cause in securing the great Charter. The Pope, upon the complaint of John, was incensed against Langton and the barons, for getting the Char- ter without his consent as feudal lord of England. Lewis, the French prince, formerly the ally of the Pope against the king and barons, was now the ally of the barons against the Pope and king. The play brings the army of Lewis to halt, after some large successes, by the submission of John to the Roman see. As we know, however, this interfer- ence of the Pope had been against the army of Philip. DEATH OF JOHN. 47 WMle the events of the last scenes of the play there- fore are very fairly accurate, they are so turned out of their order in time, as well as twisted as to the rela- tions of the prime actors, that there is not room for the smallest pretence to suppose that Shakespeare ever consulted history at all in the construction of this play. The barons began to grow tired of their bargain with Lewis. Eumors came to their ears that he was only waiting to be seated fairly on the throne, to cast them off and probably kill the most distinguished of them, in order to replace them in the affairs of state with Frenchmen from among his own nobles. It began to look indeed like another conquest of the islanders, by another French invasion. The English barons weakened in their allegiance to the prince they had sworn the most solemn oaths to support. John was still holding out, but messengers were passing between him and the fickle barons. Suddenly John, retreating after some repulse, was overtaken with mortal sickness at Swinstead Abbey. It was reported that he was poisoned by the monks. At all events he died sud- denly, and the rebellion of the barons came to an un- timely end. Lewis, albeit somewhat indignant, was persuaded to go back to France, not as in the play by threats of th? Pope's legate, but by force of circum- stances, the falling away of the leaders by whom alone he could be maintained on English soil for a day. The young son of John (Henry III.) was crowned king, and the Earl of Pembroke appointed regent. Against such odds Lewis could not reasonably contend, and he disappeared forever as a factor in English politics. 48 LEGEND OF SWINBTEAD ABBEY. So John died and his " troublesome raigne " came to an end. The implication of Shakespeare that the king was poisoned is based upon the old play, which has a long scene with conversations between the Swin- stead monks upon the appearance of John in their midst, and an outlining of the way in which the poison was administered. A quotation from this scene, being the soliloquy of Manet the monk, in Swinstead Abbey, may not be un- interesting, especially as Shakespeare in the play does not touch the details in his reference to the event. Monk. Is this the king that never loved a fiiar ? Is this the man that doth contemn the Pope ? Is this the man that robbed the holy Church ? And yet will ily into a Friory. Is this the king that aims at Abbey's lands ? Is this the man whom all the world abhors ? And yet will fly into a Priorie. Accursed be Swinsted Abbey, Abbot, Friars, Monks, nuns, and Clarks, and all that dwells therein, If wicked John escapes alive away. He free my country and the church from foes And merit heaven by killing of a king. Shakespeare's method at times of crystallizing whole scenes into a single line or two, yet vividly in those few words presenting a picture spread over pages by his inferiors, is seen in the way he treats this incident : P. Henry. How fares your majesty ? K. John. Poisoned, ill fare, dead, forsook, cast oflf.' 'Act v.. Scene?. ANTI-PAPAL SPIRIT OF THE AGE. 49 And yet the poisoning is pronounced apocryphal, and modem historians attribute John's death to either the fatigue of his dangerous passage of the river, aided by his anxiety and crushing weight of trouble ; or to a surfeit of peaches and new cider; or to a distemper which had preyed upon his system for some months. But whatever its cause, the death of John was the sal- vation of England, as his miserable life had been, in the strange chemistry of Providence, her redemption from a Contiaental province to the state of a proud and compact nation. We may not close our study of King John's " troublesome raigne " without noting again how the old play, to a greater extent than Shakespeare's, was infected with the violence of the anti-papal spirit of those days in which it was written, and how Shake- speare softened this down so that Roman and Anglican could witness its presentation side by side. One quo- tation may be made of a play, written it must be re- membered in that transition period while the memory of Henry VIII. was still fresh in the minds of middle- aged men. The passage evidently had in mind Henry and the circumstances of his revolt from the Eoman obedience. The words are put by the author of the " Troublesome Eaigne " in the mouth of John while wi'ithing under the sentence of interdict and excom- munication. John. (Solus.) Then, John, there is no way to keep thy crown But finely to dissemble with the Pope. That hand that gave the wound must give the salre To cure the hurt, else quite incurable. Thy sinnes are far too great to be the man 4 50 OHARACTER OF FALOONBRIDGB. To abolish Pope and poperie from the Kealme, But in thy seat, if I may gesse at all, A king shall raigne that shall suppress them all. This seems, even though it was written as having been uttered three hundred years before the English Eef- ormation, to be accurate as representing the spirit of those very times of Shakespeare. It was such waves of feeling gathering for many generations that, swelling to high tide in the sixteenth century, swept the Bishop of Eome from his long- assumed authority over the autonomous Church of England. But if the religious feeling of the England of Shake- speare's day finds expression in this play, the patriot- ism of the times is no less interpreted, not in mere word pictures, although the play ends with a fine apostrophe which is quoted at the conclusion of this chapter, but in its delineation of English manhood. The character of Philip Falconbridge, the natural son of Richard the Lion Heart, is looked upon as an ideal of the poet's brain, with no other foundation than the fact of the existence of such a person who was not at all conspicuous in history. But Falcon- bridge seems to have been more than an ideal. He did really exist, not as a faithful servant of King John, as in the play, but in hundreds and thousands of loyal steadfast men, citizens of England. Not nobles, nor barons, nor degraded serfs, but men. The forgotten men of most historic records. The men who are ploughiug and sowing ; buying and selling ; marrying and bringing up sons and daughters like themselves ; paying the taxes of despotism and suffering the incon- WOMEN OF THE PLAY. 51 veniences of oppression, while doing their duty in that state of life to wMoh it had pleased God to call them. Men who faced the daily problems of life, and as God gave them strength sought to deal with them, not complaining over much. Even giving their bodies to be set up as targets at the king's will, because he was the king, and they were loyal to him as sons of the soil. Philip Falconbridge is an interesting study. It would appear that Shakespeare intended to have him represent the sturdy heart of English manhood, which, while often misused, humiliated, and beaten back, finally conquered and rose to its proper place in the making of later and nobler England, as the commons ; not the legislature of that name narrowly, but the makers of legislatures. So while Philip Falconbridge was an imaginary character he was not an imaginary force. Another set of characters in this play are of more than passing interest, the women. Of Blanche we have already spoken ; how her youth and innocence were played with as common pawns to advance the interests of worldly-wise bishops and designing kings. But of Constance, the mother of Arthur, and Elinor, the mother of John, and hence grandmother of Arthur, something remains to be said. In the actual history of the times they did not play so important a part as is attributed to them by the dramatist. But that they exerted some influence upon the politics of their day cannot be doubted. Women have, noticeably, always managed to influence for good or evil the affairs of kingdoms and the actions of kings. 52 CONSTANCE AND ELINOR. The picture Shakespeare draws of Constance is touching in the extreme. Her grief over the death of Arthur is one of the finest outbursts of the poet's genius. But we must read it apart from the other scenes in which the fair lady appears, or our sym- pathies will receive a shock. There are passages-at- arms between Constance and Elinor which exceed, in not always refined Billingsgate, the choicest scoldings of literature. Space will not serve to quote. Their relations as rivals were such that Holinshed, quoted by Malone, and requoted by Courtenay in his " Com- mentaries " on the play, must give us an idea of the trouble that lay at the root of their contentions. " Surely Queen Elinor, the king's mother, was sore against her nephew Arthur, rather moved thereto by envy conceived against his mother, than upon any just occasion given on behalf of the child. For that she saw, if he were king, how that his mother, Constance, would look to bear most rule within the realm of England till her son should come of lawful age to govern of himself. So hard it is to bring women to agree in one mind, their natures commonly being so contrary, their words so variable, and their deeds so indiscreet." Throughout the plays we see, however, that the women were not without influence in the adjustment or maladjustment of the affairs of state. A fact which is true to history then as now, and another evidence that Shakespeare paid more attention to the under- lying philosophy than the outward accuracy of his chronicle plays. The moral of the play, if we may so regard it, is the MORAL OF THE PLAY. 53 exaltation of England's place among the nations of the world and the inspiring of England's sons to attain this bright ideal. To illustrate this, and as one more comparison of the paraphrasing of the words of others to his own use — paraphrasing which under his genius became original — compare the last lines of the " Troublesome Eaigne " and the parallel passage from Shakespeare's play. FcdconbiHdge. (After the crowning of Prince Henry.) Thus England's peace begins in Henryes raigne, And bloody wars are closed with happy league. Let England live but true within itself, And all the world can never wrong her state. If England's Peers and people join in one Nor Pope, nor France, nor Spain can do them wrong. Now Shakespeare : This England never did, nor never shall. Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror. But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms. And we shall shock them. Naught shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.' 1 Act v., Scene 7. KIOHAED II. There is no evidence that Shakespeare had access to, or, at all events, used another play based on the events of this reign. The history is found in Holinshed's " Chronicle " and other less known publications. " Eichard II." is mentioned by Meres, and its date is 1597. CHRONOLOGY BETWEEN KING JOHN AND RICHAED II. 121G-72. Henry III. (son of King John) reigned. First reg- ular English Parliament summoned, January 20, 1265. 1272-1307. Edward I. (son of Henry III.) reigned. Conquest of Wales, 1272. Final organization of the English Parlia- ment, 1295. Conquest of Scotland, 1296. 1307-27. Edward II. (son of Edward I.) reigned. Battle of Bannockburn, defeat of the English, January 24, 1314. Semi- conquest of Ireland achieved, 1316. Truce with Scotland, 1323. Edward deposed by Parliament, 1327, and murdered in the following September at Berkeley Castle. 1327-77. Edward III. (son of Edward II.) reigned. Inde- pendence of Scotland recognized, 1328. 1327-77. Edward claims crown of France, 1337-38. Battle of Cressy, 1346. Calais captured and truce with France, 1347. Renewal of French war, 1355. Battle of Poitiers, 1356. Treaty of Bretigny, May, 1360. "By this treaty the English King waived Ids claims in the crown of France and on the Duchy of Normandy. But, on the other hand, his Duchy of Aquitaine was not only restored, but freed from its obligation as a French fief and granted in full sovereignty with Ponthiar, as well as with Guisnes and his new conquest of Calais." 1376. Death of Edward, Prince of Wales, the Black Prince. CHEONOLOGY OP EICHAED H. 1377. Eichard comes to the throne. The government in the hands of a Council, named by the lords but influenced by the king's uncles, the Dukes of Gloucester, Lancaster, and York. 1381. Wat Tyler's rebellion. 1386. Eichard's favorite, the Duke of Suffolk, impeached, and a regency dominated by Gloucester appointed. 1388-89. After various trials of strength between the king and the opposition, Eichard shakes off all control and reigns in- dependently. 1397. For alleged conspiracies against the throne Gloucester is at first imprisoned, and then dies in Calais under suspicious circumstances, the king being implicated by common report. 1398. Shakespeare's play begins. Quarrel of the Dukes of Hereford (Heniy Bolingbroke, son of the Duke of Lancaster) and Norfolk. Eichard prevents a duel and banishes both contestants. 1399. Eichard interferes with the marriage between Boling- broke and the daughter of the Duke de Bern. Lancaster dies, and Eichard, contrary to his promise to Henry Bolingbroke, seizes the paternal estates for the crown. Eichard goes to Ireland to complete its conquest. Bolingbroke lands at Ea- venspurg (July 4th), and both nobles and people flock to him. Eichard returns to find himself deserted by his Uncle York, whom he had left as regent, and is betrayed into the hands of Bolingbroke. Eichard is impeached at Westminster, re- signs his crown, and is deposed. Henry Bolingbroke claims the throne, and is elected by the Parliament under the name of Henry IV. CHAPTEE III. EICHAKD II. — THE LANCASTRIAN USURPATION. Connecting historical links between John and Richard II. — The fatal passion for foreign conquest. — The play covers last two years of Richard's reign. — Story of the previous years. — Richard in leading- strings. • — Breaking away from control, the king rules unwisely.— Conspiracies and plots. — Death of Gloucester. — Richard grows more and more despotic. — Three centres of action. — (I.) The banishment of Bolingbroke. — (II.) Boliugbroke's return and revolt. — (III.) Deposi- tion of Richard and usurpation of Bolingbroke as Henry IV. — Arraign- ment of Bolingbroke and Mowbray on countercharges of treason. — The quarrel referred to the lists at Coventry. — Richard interferes. — Un- equal .sentence of the combatants.— Bolingbroke in exile — His father dies, and the king seizes his estates. — Richard goes to the Irish wars. — Bolingbroke (now Duke of Lancaster) returns and lands at Ravens- purg. — His declared intention merely to recover his estates. — The latter his ground of appeals to other nobles to join him. — Richard, hearing of the return, delays acting, but finally lands on the Welsh coast. — York yields to Bolingbroke's blandishment. — Richard wholly deserted, inveigled, and betrayed — He breaks down and goes to Lon- don imder compulsion. — Analysis of the king's altered character. — The king signs his abdication. — Henry IV. — Prophecy of the Bishop of Carlisle. — Henry's title and the legitimate heir. — Parliament con- dones the usurpation. — Minor plots to restore Richard. — His death. — Character of Richard. — Historic setting of the play. There is an historical gap of about one hundred and eighty years between the last scene of " King John " and the first of "Eichardll." Meanwhile England had been working out her destiny, which destiny was largely influenced by what had taken place in the reign of him whose inglorious career is indicated by his inglorious sobriquet of "Lackland." There is an analogy be- tween the careers of dynasties and men. A youth 58 FATE OF THE PLANTAGENETS. spent in weakness and folly foresliadows a manhood of decay and impotency. This was the history and the fate of the house of Plantagenet. We may not say that the sins of John were visited upon the head of Rich- ard III. But, in writing out that story which ended in the deserved dissolution of a dynasty that had lasted for more than three hundred years, the poet has set forth a perfect syllogism in political morals, with John as its premise and Eichard III. its conclusion. The play of " Eichard II." introduces us to a state of affairs which can be fully understood only by a brief survey of the score of years which had passed since the young king's accession to the throne ; and to under- stand this in turn, the reader of English history will require a rapid sketch of the interval of nearly two centuries, unilluminated by the genius of Shakespeare, between the accession of Henry III. (after the death of his father King John) and the month of September 1398, in which the opening scenes of the present play are laid. * Henry III. was a babe when he came to the throne. This always, or almost always, involves trouble. Un- scrupulous ministers and back-stair influence are apt to be rife. Henry was fated, as his father before him, to have the kingdom taken from him for a time and put in the hands of a commission. Meantime Magna Cliarta had strengthened the national life, and the first representative parliament was assembled. Edward I. succeeded Henry and by comparison reigned brill- iantly. Wales was conquered and made an appanage of the royal family, the heir apparent taking the title of Prince of Wales. Edward II. on the surface lost FROM JOHN TO BIGHARD II. 59 much of his father's prestige, and was deposed and murdered after a reign of twenty years, during which Ireland was conquered, to become a rankUng thorn in the English body politic forever, and Scotland secured her independence, to become in later centuries the strong right arm of English loyalty. Here was a vic- tory and a defeat, " of which it has been strangely but truly said, that the victory should be lamented by England as a national judgment, and the defeat cele- brated as a national festival." The discrowned and murdered Edward was suc- ceeded by his son, third of the name, whose reign has ever been looked upon as one of the most glorious in English annals. It is marred in the eyes of the modem philosophical patriot by an insatiable desire for foreign conquest. We cannot blame the crass and immature statesmanship of Edward III., however, for not seeing, as clearly as posterity, that Continental complications, of whatever nature, which interfered with the insular solidarity of England were injurious, however fruitful of famous victories. It was a Plantagenet character- istic to look upon France as a province of England, and it was not until the last of the Plantagenets found a bloody end on Bosworth Field that the idea was actually given up. The Black Prince, who would have succeeded his father of glorious memory, died before the throne was vacant, and at the age of eleven years his son Richard II. was crowned king. Edward III. left as an heritage to his grandson not only such victories as Cressy and Poitiers, but a peo- ple who had risen to power in national affairs, and a throne with acknowledged limitations. Magna Charta 60 SOURCES OF THE PLAY. had acquired character and was presently to assert it- self in the Wat Tyler rebellion, which, although in one sense a failure, was the means of striking off the shac- kles of English serfdom. It was at this period also that the English language began to be spoken and written as the national tongue. French and Latin had had their day. Chaucer had started the rushing fountain of English speech. Wyck- liffe had added the element of the Holy Bible in the vernacular ; and although for lack of the printing press literature was kept back for a few decades, the seed was in the soil, and its time of flower and fruitage came. Shakespeare's play is founded on Holinshed's " Chron- icle." There was no previous dramatic work of the kind at hand ; or if there were, tlae poet preferred to fly on his own wing. The historic accuracy of the drama is undoubted. The gravest anachronism is that of mak- ing Queen Isabel a woman of mature years. She was in reality but eleven years old, and Eichard's marriage with her (1396) and the alliance with France so secured, was one of the incidental reasons of jsopular dissatisfac- tion which came to a head in his deposition. Isabel is the only female character of any importance in the i)lay, and if her age was advanced a few years, so that her relations with the king should add a touch of pathos to the story, it must be admitted, with Skottowe, that the effort was a failure. The scenes in which Isabel appears are the weakest in the tragedy. Shakespeare's was yet a 'prentice hand in the delineation of female character, and the genius which was to rise so high in the portrayal of Katharine of Arragon "imped on a drooping wing " with Isabella of France. THE KING IN LEADING STRINGS. 61 The scenes grouped about the deposition of the king and the enthroning of Bolingbroke are reversed in or- der of time ; and Aumerle's mother who pleads for him with the usurper, in the last act, had been dead some years. But as usual with the poet, his use of wide li- cense in such matters tended to the greater vividness of his dramatic pictures. These anachronisms are so few and trifling, and so practically unimportant to the literal historic movement, that for purposes of illustration "Eichard II." is one of the best of the chronicle plays. To sketch in brief the main thread of Eichard's reign up to the point where the play opens, we must in imagination see Eichard crowned at the age of eleven years. A commission of nine powerful nobles held the reins of power, among whom were conspicuous the king's uncles, the Dukes of Gloucester, Lancaster, and York. His coronation as the legal heir of the Black Prince of idolized memory, with its accompaniments of homage, fulsome praises, and gross flatteries, was calcu- lated to inflate his boyish ideas as to the difference be- tween the blood of kings and of common people. What else could be expected of a child who found himself, for no conceivable reason apparent to himself, the centre of adulation and a bone of contention between princes. It was in these scenes of his impressionable years that he learned the lesson of the divine .right of kings, and that ( Not all the water in the rough lude sea ! Can wash the balm from an anointed king. I The breath of worldly men cannot depose I The deputy elected by the Lord. ' 'Act III., Scene 8. 62 HIS EMANCIPATION. So surrounded by scheming relations, particularly the older uncles, Gloucester and Lancaster; restless barons beginning to feel the pressure and restriction of the commons on their actions ; held in tutelage be- yond the years of nonage ; alternately flattered and de- ceived ; Richard one day bluntly asked his uncles if he were not old enough to govern for himself, and without more ado assumed the prerogative. Eichard may be pardoned for throwing off the bands of com- missions and regencies at the age of twenty-two ; but the effects of his political infancy were to bear bitter fruit. His suspicions of his uncles (doubtless well founded) end in the exile of Lancaster for a time, and the death in prison of Gloucester, which death was laid by common report at his nephew's door. It must be remembered in connection with this episode that the Mowbray of the play was in charge of Gloucester when his death was reported. Richard had been growing more and more des- potic as a natural result of his forced tutelage. The people, who had begun to taste the sweets of parliamen- tary government, were rudely set aside, and by an act wrenched from a subservient legislature, in the year be- fore the play begins, all practical power was placed in the hands of the king and his council. ^__,,,--Th.e Irish wars and his private expenses made huge inroads on the public purse, and finally the combined avarice and necessities of Richard led him to "farm out " the realm. And, for our coffers with too great a court And liberal largSss are grown somewhat light, We are enforced to farm our royal realm ; JOHN OF AUNT 8 LAMENT. 63 The revenue whereof shall furnish us For our affairs iu hand.' Gaunt, in his dying speech, " a prophet new inspired " laments : This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This land of such dear souls, this dear, dear land. Dear for her reputation through the world, Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it, Like to a tenement or pelting farm ; '^ and hurls at the recreant king, Landlord of England art thou, and not king. The chronicler Fabyan says (quoted by Knight), " In this twenty-second year of Eichard, the common fame ran that the king had letten to farm the realm unto Sir William Serope, Earl of Wiltshire, and then treasurer of England, to Sir John Bushy, Sir John Bagot, and Sir Henry Green, knights." It is evident from this why " Bushy, Bagot here, and Green," are selected by Shakespeare as types of the favorites about Bichard's person, who, according to -Bolingbroke's charge on their apprehension, " misled a prince, a royal king." It is at this period that the play opens. The lords an d nobles are disgusted with the unkingly actions of their sovereign. The commons have been deprived of the sweets of self-government. Plots were thickening and conspiracies gathering strength from the twenty years of a reign in some respects as weak as that of John. 1 Act I. , Scene 4. ' Act II. , Scene 1. 64 THREE CENTRES OP ACTION. Shakespeare deals with three historic events of im- portance within the limits of the play, around which cluster and out of which grow the minor incidents. These are (I.) the banishment of Bolingbroke ; (II.) his return and rebellion, as Duke of Lancaster ; and (III.) the deposition and death of Richard II. The banishment of Bolingbroke is a natural sequence of the events of the reign which preceded it. The quarrel between Bolingbroke and Mowbray, with which the play opens, culminating in the lists of Coventry and the common exile of the participants, is one of those historical secrets, the explanation of which is lost in the mazes and intricacies which characterized the political life of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. The two contestants had been leagued together formerly in the "treasons of these eighteen years," and both had guilty knowledge of conspiracies to hold the king in leading strings. Mowbray was, on the whole, more loyal to Richard than Bolingbroke, although the latter had been pardoned for his share in the late treasonable practices. It was now recalled that Mowbray Avas in charge of the Duke of Gloucester when he met his sus- picious death. The mutual recriminations of the two nobles in the first scene of Act I. do not throw much light upon their quarrel, save that Mowbray is accused of being a traitor on general principles, which on general principles he denies : That all the treasons for these eighteen years Complotted and contrived in this land Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring, That he did plot the Duke of Oloucester's death. MOWBRAY AND BOLINOBROKB. C5 Mowbray, in a very eloquent plea, puts in a defence : And interchangeably hurl down my gage Upon this overweening traitor's foot, To prove myself a loyal gentleman. ' As a matter of fact there was no noble of Richard's court but that had some hand in the treasons of those eighteen years ; and a charge of malfeasance in office and misuse of public moneys is a customary move of political warfare not unknown to our own days. The accusation of Gloucester's death was a more serious one. In reality it was an arraignment of Rich- ard over Mowbray's shoulders, and all the parties con- cerned knew it. It was well known that if Gloucester ^ ha .d suffered a violent end it must have been the in- spiration of Richard. Gaunt and Gloucester's widow voiced the common opinion when the latter appeals to the old Duke : To safeguard thine own life The best way is to venge my Gloucester's death. Gaunt. Heaven's is the quarrel ; for heaven's substitute His deputy anointed in his sight Hath caused his death.' It was a bold cast of Bolingbroke to hurl that ma- licious dart, and he won by it. The king could not defend Mowbray without incriminating himself. Mow- bray could not, from loyalty or, indeed, with any safety, lay the death of Gloucester upon the king. The trial by battle is appointed at Coventry, and at the moment of beginning the contest the king (with the advice of his council, not arbitrarily as the play 1 Act I., Scene 1. = Act I., Scene 2. .5 66 RICHARD'S INTERFERENCE. suggests) throws down his warder, declines to allow the duel to proceed, and sentences Mowbray to life exile, and Bolingbroke to banishment for ten, after- ward reduced to six years. This change of front was quite typical of the king. While it seemed to lean to the side of mercy, it was an ^exhibition of that despotic power which, even in small affairs, delighted Richard. And it was a logical se- quence of those earlier years of his reign, during which he had the semblance, while deprived of the reality of power. Moreover, if Bolingbroke won the duel, he had given boastful public notice that he felt it incum- bent upon him to avenge his uncle's death. Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth. To me for justice and rough chastisement : And, by the glorious worth of my descent, This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. ' Richard had proved the loyalty of Mowbray, and their common guilty knowledge of Gloucester's death acted as a further bond between them. It would be as easy to recall Mowbray, after a short time, as to banish him for life, and the king felt that Mowbray's loyalty would stand the test of the temporary discomfort of exile for his sovereign's sake. On the other hand, BoUngbroke's popularity with the Commons, whom Richard had offended, his royal blood and powerful political as well as family connections, all conspired to make of him a foe to be feared. This appears to have been the secret of the change of the king's mind in ' Act I., Scene 1. FATE OF MOWBRAT. 67 regard to the duration of his cousin's exile. It seemed a master-stroke of policy. As though to intimate to the haughty noble that his punishment were merely nominal after aU. Of Mowbray we hear but once again. Sacrificed (although perhaps but temporarily) to the selfish interest of the master he had loyally served, and who was soon to lose the power, even had he the intention, to restore his friend, the gallant "Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray," took service under the banner of the Crusaders, and when Boling- broke, as Henry IV., would have recalled his ancient enemy, it was too late. Norfolk was dead. Many a time hath banished Norfolk fought For Jesus Christ, in glorious Christian field, Streaming the ensign of the Christian Cross Against black pagans, Turks and Saracens, And toiled with works of war, retired himself To Italy : and there at Venice, gave His body to that pleasant country's earth And his pure soul unto his captain, Christ, Under whose colors he had fought so long.' But the king's compromise failed. He had put off the evil day of reckoning, not delivered himself from the necessity of it. It was nearer even than any of the prominent actors in it dreamed. Richard's public reason, why the sentence of banishment on both con- testants was preferable to allowing them to settle their quarrel by the duello, reads strangely with our later knowledge : For that our kingdom's earth should not be soiled With that dear blood which it hath fostered, ' Act IV., Scene 1. 68 aSBMS OF OIVIL WAR. And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect Of civil wounds plowed up with neighbor's swords.' He would avoid cml wars, but tlie banislnneiit of the two nobles was the opening skirmish of the severest and bloodiest fratricidal strife in England's history, the "Wars of the Boses." Bolingbroke's absence em- boldened the king to confiscate the estates of his house upon the death of "John of Gaunt, time-honored Lan- caster." This act gave the ambitious noble a pretext to return from exile, and to gather a force under his banner for the restoration of his lands and seignories. Rebellion and the deposition of Eichard followed; Bolingbroke challenged the throne and secured it. " Plume-plucked Eichard " died by force or otherwise, in prison. The Bishop of Carlisle needed no more than ordinary inspiration to prophesy : The blood of English shall manure the ground. O ! If you rear this house against this house It wiU the woefullest division prove That ever fell upon this cursed earth, Prevent it, resist it, let it not be so. Lest child, child's children, cry against you, woe.' Old Gaunt's speech also, already quoted, made to Eichard from his dying bed, not only analyzes the state of the realm but, seer-like, predicts the course af- fairs must take unless, Though Bichard my life's counsel would not hear, My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear.* ■ Act I. , Scene 3. » Act IV. , Scene 1. 'Act II., Scene 1. BOLINGBROKE'S WRATH. 69 Some of the learned critics sagely remark that there is no historic authority for this speech. Doubtless not for the hteralists. Even dukes when about to die did not send for chroniclers in order that their final mes- sage to the world might be set forth in due form. It is sufficient for historical purposes, and adapted to dramatic exigencies, that the situation of affairs be summed up so accurately as in the words of this dying man, than whom no living soul was better versed in the trend of national politics and the connection with them of Richard's weakness and rapacity. We have antici- pated the story here to illustrate Eichard's fatal facil- ity of deafness and blindness, when to hear and to see were easier. The Irish wars attract him. Now for our Irish wars. We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns, And for these great affairs do ask some charge, Toward our assistance, we do seize to us The plate, coin, revenues and movables, Whereof our Uncle Gaunt did stand possessed.' The scene shifts and with the same personages a new turn is given to this drama of real life. Bolingbroke hears of the escheatment of his estates and the death of his father. His heart is hot against ^Richard on an- other count beside that of his banishment, for the king's influence had prevented his marriage with a daughter of the Duke de Berri (Mary de Bohun) while he was high in favor at the French court. Bolingbroke hears of the continued discontent of the Commons and "Act II., Scenol. 70 BOLINGBROKE'S RETURN. the sullen attitude of the great nobles. He hesitates no longer. Having, with all his faults, the genius of catching the flood tide in the affairs of men, possessed of inordinate ambition, inspired by hatred, and nerved by a courage that never swerved in " plucking the flower of safety from the nettle danger," he landed in England with a handful of attendants on July 4, 1399. This brings to our notice the second point of historic action illustrated by the poet in this play — the return and rebellion of Bolingbroke. In taking his departure for the Irish wars Eichard had made his surviving uncle, Duke of York, regent during the period of his absence. Ordinarily it was a safe and crafty arrangement, for York was the most timid, irresolute, and unambitious of men. No danger could be suspected from any ulterior designs of his, upon either the affections of the people or the throne of the realm. But these very qualities made him as paper-pulp in the hands of the scheming and arbitrary Bolingbroke. Upon hearing of the latter's landing and the growth of an army under his banner, York be- comes as supine and helpless as a child. If I know How or which way to order these affairs Thus thrust disorderly into my hands, Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen : The one is my sovereign, whom both my oath And duty bids defend ; the other again Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wronged. All is uneven, And everything is left at six and seven.' ' Act II., Scene 2. PRETEXT OF THE REBELLION. 71 Forces gather about Bolingbroke, among whom es- pecially welcomed were the powerful Percys: North- umberland, his brother Worcester, and gallant young Harry Hotspur, three thorns afterward to sting the hand within whose grasp they had placed the sceptre of power. There are two possible views of Bolingbroke's re- bellion against Eichard. It is within the limits of probability that before his banishment he was in cor- respondence with the nobles who afterward joined him, and that the conspiracy, nipped in the bud by the king's interference in the personal quarrel at Coventry, blossomed anew, with the pretext of the exile's return to reclaim his unjustly seized estates. Northumber- land's speech, when he hears of the landing of BoKng- broke, implies that rebellion against the crown and not the restoration of a brother noble's lands, was his leading motive. If then we shall shake oflf our slavish yoke, Imp out our drooping country's broken wing, Bedeem from broken pawn the blemished crown. Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt, And make high majesty look like itself, Away with me in post to Eavenspurg.' In Mowbray's counter accusation there may be an im- plication of some such plot : No, Bolingbroke. If ever I were traitor, My name be blotted fi-om the book of life, And I from heaven banished as from hence. But what thou art, heaven, thou, and I do know : And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue." ' Act II. , Scene 1 . ^ Act I . , Scene 3. 72 THE BEOENT'S WEAKNESS. On the other hand Shakespeare is historically correct in making BoHngbroke's protest, first to his allies, and afterward to the king's own face, that he was im- pelled to return in seeming rebellion only to win back his hereditary estates, and that the nobles and Com- mons forced him, for the sake of England's better gov- ernment and honor, to assume the crown. When poor old York endeavors feebly to withstand the rush of Bolingbroke's popularity, and petulantly cries, " Tut, tut ! grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle, I am no traitor's uncle," he is very quickly silenced by his nephew's special pleading, backed by the powerful Northumberland's indorsement, who says : The noble duke liatli sworn his coming is But for his own ; and for the right of that We all have strongly sworn to give him aid. And let him ne'er see joy that breaks that oath.' York's attitude is really pitiable. He is a type of character quite common in stirring times, who slide along safely, and even gracefully, over the surface of events, until deep currents disturb the ordinary flow of life. In the main such a one perceives the right thing to do, and if he had his preference would choose to do it. But he will not commit himself irretrievably to the right, if it be in a minority. He wiU warn others, but go no further by example. Here York cries : Well, well, I see the issue of these arms : I cannot mend it, I must needs confess, Because my power is weak and all ill left : But if I could, by him that gave me life, ' Act II. , Scene 3. RIOHABD'8 DALLIANOE. 73 I would attach you all and make you stoop Unto the sovereign mercy of the king : But since I cannot, be it known to you I do remain as neuter.' Bolingbroke was very well satisfied to liave no sharper opposition from the regent and his army than " neu- trality," especially as the declaration was followed by an invitation to become York's guest at his castle for the night. Meanwhile Bichard was acting out the character he _had been accreting for a score of troubled years. He first heard of the rebellion in Ireland. Knight ^ quotes the contemporary account of a Frenchman, in the suite of Eichard, as to the way in which the news was re- ceived. " Good Lord," he cries, turning pale with anger, " this man designs to deprive me of my country." Salisbury was despatched to Wales to raise an army, but for some unknown reason Eichard dallied for nearly three weeks in Dublin, and when at last he landed on the Welsh coast the army had disappeared. The last scene of Act II. of the play tells the story vividly. The Welsh, ever a superstitious people, are convinced by the king's delay that he is dead, and that the expedition is ill-starred. Salisbury argues in vain. The captain says : ' Tis thought the king is dead : we will not stay. The bay-trees in our country are all withered And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven, The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth. And lean-looked prophets whisper fearful change. 1 Act II., Scene 3. = History of England, Vol. I., Chap. 33. 74 THE WELSH ARMY MELTS AWAY. These signs forerun the death or fall of kings ; Farewell : our countrymen are gone and fled As well assured Eichard their king is dead.' Eichard, not aware of this defection, lands in the spirit '^"m one assuming, without fear of contradiction, that The breath of worldly men cannot depose The deputy elected by the Lord. ' \ For every man that Bolingbroke hath pressed ■■J To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown Heaven, for his Eichard, hath in heavenly pay A glorious angel.' But this high 'tone does not last long. He wandered from castle to castle without additions from either earthly or heavenly sources. The first news that greeted him was the melting away of the Welsh army on which he had chiefly relied. Quickly followed the intelligence that the common people threw up their hats for Henry of Lancaster. White -beards have armed their thin and hairless scalps Against thy majesty : and boys, with women's voices. Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints In stiff unwieldly arms against thy crown : Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows Of double fatal yew against thy state : Yea, distaff women manage rusty bills Against thy seat : both young and old rebel. And all goes worse than I have power to tell.' At length the inevitable end comes. With only a handful of supporters — the chief men who had re- mained loyal to him in the hands of the rebels — ^Tork, ' Act rr., Scene 4. '- Act III. , Scene 2. > Act III. , Scene 8. ALTERNATE MOODS OF THE KING. 75 the regent, feebly remonstrating against revolt, while entertaining Bolingbroke at his board — the whole coun- try permeated with the subtly sprinkled poison that Henry of Lancaster was but righteously contending for that of which he had been unjustly deprived, and that his grievance was only the common grievance of aU English subjects, — Eichard weakly, pitiably, suc- ' cumb s . -^ But not all at once. — — ' There were Y Bt-spajks of .the. nobility_ of soul that caused him, when but a boy half grown, to ride forth alone and put himself at the head of a hundred thou- sand malcontents in Wat Tyler's ranks, as their natural leader who would see their wrongs righted. One moment he cries : This earth shall have a feeling and these stones Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms. The next he sobs : Have I not reason to look pale and dead ? All souls that will be safe fly from my side ; For time hath set a blot upon my pride. Again, under spur of Aumerle : I had forgot myself. Am I not king ? Awake, thou sluggard majesty, thou sleepest ; Is not the king's name forty thousand names ? But again : Of comfort no man speak : Let's talk of graves, worms, and epitaphs. 76 MEETING OF THE RIVALS. Make dust our papei-, and with raining eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.' Brought face to face with Bolingbroke at last, the k-ing'sHiemper" shifts a;ndjy£.ejs„. in, the. same uncertain way. But alth ough his moods_lhus express them- selves, it is not now from sudden bravery or sheer affright. The whole of scene third, act third, in which thfi first ii-itfirvifiw.ia]r.ea_pla.p.fi^ a.nrl wViiVh anrlH with the setting forth of the..ghief personages in company to IjOTidQiir marks a^Qtabletransition in the. character of .."RiHiarrly It must be remembered that, although Shakespeare makes no mention of the fact, Richard, in these pre- liminary interviews with Bolingbroke and his mes- sengers, was probably intending treachery as well as expecting it. If he -had ..been, suddenly transformed into an angel of humility it would have been a mirac- ulous event. His bringing up in undignified boffdaig^ to his uncles, while yet wearing the splendid pomp of a heaven-anointedr SQV6reigiL_Jmd.^fie med to confu se his moral_sense. His a^eliance was not so much upon God as that he beheved even God could not but es- pouse the cause of " his elected deputy." Shakespeare gives the substance but not the form of Richard's meeting with Bolingbroke. In reality he was betrayed by Northumberland. The latter came as an ambassador, apparently unattended, to Conway Cas- tle where the king was, and " admitted to the castle he proposed certain conditions to the king, which were willingly agreed to, as they impaired not the royal au- ' Act III., Scene 3. RICHARD BETRAYED. 77 thority, and to the observance of these Northumber- land swore. It was promised that Lancaster should come to Flint and, having asked pardon on his knees, should be restored to the estates and honors of his family."! The king was on his way from Conway to Flint when he was made a prisoner by the treacherous Northum- berland's forces, and from that moment there was no further hope of a meeting on equal terms between the two foes. This episode is passed over by Shakespeare, for unknown reasons. The chronicles record it. It would surely have afforded a dramatic scene, and have helped to illustrate that entire change in Eichard's character which is manifestly the design of Shake- speare in these later scenes. For, from the moment he appears, before Bolingbroke, practically a prisoner, the king is no longer the Eichard of the earlier portions of the play, and we are indebted to the dramatist, far more than to the chroniclers, for this vivid character drawing of the last days of the once arrogant and proud Plantagenet. / It is not desperation, nor sorrowful bombast, nor xEe whine of despair that brings the king to his knees before the subject he had banished from the realm. Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee To make the base earth proud with kissing it. Up, cousin, up ; your heart is up I know, Thus high at least (touching his own head) although your knee be low. ' Knight'B History of England, Vol I., p. 584, quoted from a contem- porary MS. 78 OHABACTEB OF RICHARD. '/Cousin, I am too young to be your father, / Though you are old enough to be my heir. I What you will have, I'U give, and -willing too ; ) For do we must what force will have us do.' This is not the language of mere sordid weakness and cowardice. It is the yielding to fate of one to whom the further game is not worth the candle. j Kichard would never have won a crown by force of masterful assertion and his good right arm. Having royalty as an heritage, he held it as a right not to be J disputed, rather than a trust to be administered. His weakness in defence was moral not physical. So long as he was surrounded by a brilliant court and backed by a powerful army, the crown was the most glorious possession in the world. But, to him, it was not worth " the stress and storm." Shakespeare's pa- thetic speech put in the king's mouth seems the justest estimate of his feeble yet not undignified (if the para- dox may be allowed) character. What must the king do now ? Must he submit ? The king shall do it : Must he be deposed ? The king shall be contented : must he lose The name of king? O' God's name, let it go : I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, My gorgeous palace for a hermitage. My gay apparel for an almsman's gown. My figured goblets for a dish of wood, My sceptre for a palmer's walking staff. My subjects for a pair of carved saints. And my large kingdom for a little gi'ave, A little, little grave, an obscure grave : Or I'll be buried on the king's highway, 'Act III., Scenes. DETHRONEMENT OF BIOHARD. 79 Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet May hourly trample on their sovereign's head ; For on my heart they tread now whilst I live — And buried once, why not upon my head ? ' Coleridge would hare him weak and womanish throughout, " what he was at first he was at last, except so far as he yields to circumstances." It was exactly in this " yielding to circumstances " that marks the tran- sition and denotes the essential change in Kichard. If he had yielded earlier he would have been a stronger king ; that he did so eventually made him a better man. The third and last historic centre of action in this drama is the deposition and death of Bichard, and in- cidentally the crowning of Henry Bolingbroke as Henry IV. It was inevitable of course. A discrowned and imprisoned king seldom escapes his earthly trials save through " the grave, and gate of death." The play assumes, in entire consonance with the chronicles, that Bichard's resignation of the crown was voluntary, and that he designated Bolingbroke as a fit- ting successor. York. Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee Prom plume-plucked Richard ; who with willing soul Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields To the possession of thy royal hand. Ascend his throne, descending now from him ; And long live Henry, of that name the fourth.^ The poet, for no conceivable reason, dramatic or his- toric, that appears on the surface, places Bolingbroke's In God's name I'll assume the regal throne ' 1 Act ni. , Scene 3. ' Act IV. , Scene 1. ' Ibid. 80 USURPATION OP LANCASTER. before the formal resignation of Richard. This slight anachronism does not prevent the fourth act (of which there is but one scene) from being an admirable pict- ure, down to the least detail, of the dethronement of the king and the usurpation of Henry of Lancaster. For dethronement and usurpation are the proper designations of these acts concerning which York ut- ters the euphemism : Wliicli tired majesty did make thee oflfer, The resignation of thy state and crown,' The Bishop of Carlisle, loyal to his king, protested against both deposition and encroachment upon the royal demesne. What subject can give sentence on his king ? And who sits here that is not Bichard's subject ? ' There is a suggestion throughout the speech that the good Bishop is standing up for the divine right of kings, but on closer reading it will be perceived that his argument is based mainly on the fact that Kichard is not being treated fairly by being deposed in his absence. Thieves are not judged but they are by to hear.' The dramatic and historic unity of the play is main- tained by the prophecy already quoted of civil war, which is sure to result if Bolingbroke is crowned. The effort is made to commit Eichard to his own deposition, and Northumberland addresses him : 1 Act IV., Scene 1. = Ibid. 3 Ibid. ARTICLES OF IMPEACHMENT. 81 Bead These accusations and these grievous crimes Committed by your person and your followers, Against the state and profit of this land : That, by confessing them, the souls of men May deem that you are worthily deposed.' Richard's pathetic protest might have moved even the cold sternness of the powerful nobles who thus played, cat-like, with his griefs. Must I do so? And must I ravel out My weaved-up follies ? Gentle Northumberland, If thy ofi^ences were upon record, Would it not shame thee, in so fair a troop To read a lecture of them ? ^ The bill of particulars referred to here, and contained in the impeachment of Biehard before the Commons, had thirty-three charges, the most important of which were those laying the death of Gloucester at his door, the seizure of Bolingbroke's estates, and general accu- sations of despotism, unfaithfulness, and inconstancy. That they~were untrue no one would claim. That they offered sufficient grounds for a forced abdication of the throne, in that rude age, is open to argument. . Henry VIII. was far more guilty after a lapse of more than two centuries, and died in his bed, shrieking out with his last earthly breath a despotic command that was all but carried out. Guilty as Eichard undoubtedly was, "so variable and dissembling in his words and writings, that no man living who knew his conditions could or would ' Act IV., Scene 1. = Ibid. 6 82 DEPOSITION OF BICHABD. confide in him," still he was the victim of a youth which had been formed for him by others, and chiefly by those who shouted Hail ! to Henry of Lancaster, as he ascended the throne from which he had plucked his cousin. And the marvellous skill of the dramatist in these scenes portrays the reality, under the show of things, in such a way that the reader knows the truth, and that it is not with Bolingbroke. The act (IV.) which tells this story concludes significantly. The new king announces a day for his coronation and leaves the stage to a handful of those whose loyalty to " un- kinged Richard " remained unshaken. Abbot. A woeful pageant have we liere beheld. Bishop of Carlisle. The woe's to come : the children yet unborn Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. Abbot. I see your brows are full of discontent, Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears : Oome home with me to supper : I will lay A plot shall show us all a merry day.' Two points of interest remain ; the death of Eichard, and the abortive plot to rise in rebellion against his successor. Over the whole of the last act in which these events are dramatically set forth, there is thrown a glamour of pity for the dethroned monarch. The interview between Eichard and his queen does not rise to more than mediocrity, perhaps because it is both historically inaccurate and psychologically im- possible. The king and queen did not meet again at all after their parting when Eichard set out for Ire- ' Act IV., Scene 1. AUMEULE-S TEEASOJSr. 83 land, and Queen Isabel was a child. In no other point does the play show its early composition so certainly as in the poet's handling of this character. That knowl- edge and appreciation of womanhood which is one of the noblest components of his later works, is lament- ably deficient here. York's interview with his dnchess, interrupted by sobs and weepings on both their parts, and containing the pathetic picture, trite but ever thrilling, of the double entry of Bolingbroke and Eichard to London, ends with the duke's pious resignation : But heavea hath a hand in these events, To whose high will we bow our calm contents ; To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, Whose state and honor I for aye allow.' The frantic efforts of York to impound his own son for treason, in order to prove his own loyalty and " calm content," has something revolting in it. Yet it is dramatically in harmony with all that precedes, to indicate the germs of rebellion already beginning to swell in the souls of Englishmen, before the usurper was well settled in his royal chair. And perhaps our lack of sympathy with York is gratified, at having the stalk of revolt push itself above the surface of " calm contents " in the unstable Duke's own family. Otherwise, next to the scenes in which Isabel is in- troduced, those concerning Auraerle's discovered trea- son add least to the play, whether it be viewed as poem or drama. The close student of our great poet will be interested 'Act v., Scene 3. 84 FATE OF BIGSAED. in comparing the 4th and 6th scenes of the 5th Act of this play, with scene 3d of Act III., and scene 2d of Act IV. of King John. In both cases a king inspires his follower to murder. In both he repudiates the murder once accomplished. King Henry and Exton are cut from the same pattern as King John and Hubert. It is disputed by historians whether Bichard died by violence or at the command of Bolingbroke. It is certain that he did not die as shown in the play, where Exton is represented as striking him down while he is struggling with the servants who are com- missioned to kill him ; for some years ago Richard's body was exhumed and no signs of a blow upon the skull were discoverable. He might have been stabbed to the heart, or starved to death, however, and on the whole we may believe the latter was his fate. Boling- broke would not have the stain of actual blood upon him. He would not kill Bichard outright, but would let him die, a more quiet and king-like way of reach- ing the desired end. For death was inevitable. There is no room on earth for a king uncrowned by force. He is a constant source of danger to the reigning monarch, a centre around which will gather those discontented and daring spirits to whom peace has no prizes, and upon whom established order has no claim. There was a story with which our Shakespeare seems to have been unacquainted, that Bichard escaped from prison and lived for many years in hiding in the Scottish marches. If this had been so, he would un- doubtedly have been summoned from his obscurity by Northumberland, Percy, and the Scotch in the rebel- BIGHARD'S PROPHECT. 85 lion of Henry IV. 's reign, and willy-nilly have be- come a contestant for his own throne. But there is no smack of truth to the story. Bichard died and Henry of Lancaster reigned in his stead. The am- bition of perhaps a lifetime was achieved, but to what a bitter end ! When we come to consider the events of Boling- broke's reign as treated by Shakespeare in the first and second parts of Henry IV., it will be seen that the sceptre even of England might be too dearly bought. We will discover that Bolingbroke was per- fectly conscious of the treachery of his course, and that he accepted the many sorrows of his life as a well- earned retribution. We will find also the nobles, who raised him one round on the ladder of power and dignity above themselves, recalling Eichard's prophecy to Northumberland. Nortbumbei'land, thou ladder wherewithal The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne The time shall not be many hours of age More than it is, e'er foul sin, gathering head Shall break into corruption : thou shalt think, Though he divide the realm and give thee half. It is too little, helping him to all. And he shall think that thou which know'st the way To plant unrightful kings, will know again. Being ne'er so little urged, another way To pluck him headlong from the usuiped throne.* If all is granted concerning the alleged evils of Rich- ard's mismanaged government, and the parliamentary decree to depose him from the throne for cause is ad- > ActV., Scene 1. 8C niOHARV'S LEGAL 8U00B880R. judged fair, still Boliiigbroke may not bo relieved of the crime of usurpution. He claimed the throne in right of descent from Edward III., of whom it is true he was the grandson. But Eichard failing' for wliatever reason, the crowji belonged to Edmund Mortimer, Earl of Munih, lineal descendant of Clarence, third son of Edward III. ; while John of Gaunt, Bolingbroko'H father, was fourth son, and out of the line of Huocession. This Edward was but ten years of age. Of his claim could be said, as was said of the unfortunate lUohard by Lang- land, "Woe to thee, O land, when thy king is a child." Again, we must consider that, granting Eichard's in- competency, the nobles and parliament had precedent (in the case of King John over Arthur of Brittany) for preferring to place the sceptre in tho strong liimds of a man rather than in the weak grasp of a child. It was not his usurpation to the throne that disturbed Henry of Lancaster, usurpation though it was ; it waw remorse for the steps he took to mount ho higli. "Heaven knows," says Henry the Fourth, with his very latest counsel to the son he loved : Heaven knows, my son, By what by-paths and indirect crooked ways I met this crown : and I myself know well How troublesome it sat upon my head : To thee it shall descend with bettor quiet, Better opinion, better confirmation. For all the soil of the achievement goes With me into the earth.' ' II. Henry IV,, Act IV., Scene 4. OHARAOTER OP RICHARD. 87 It has been akeady noted that the play covers but a short two years of Richard's reign. This is in dra- matic keeping with the idea hitherto thrown out, that the decline and fall of the House of Plantagenet is the theme of these eight dramas between king John and Henry VIII., in relation to which continued story, the former stands as prologue and the latter as epi- logue. It is in these last two years that the seeds of the final dissolution of that House are sown, in those his- toric events which brought about the internecine ri- valry of the families of York and Lancaster. This will be more clearly developed as the story of succeed- ing reigns unrolls before us on the superb canvas of our great poet. The character of Eichard is the tour deforce of the drama. So large a space is devoted to the develop- ment of his personality that the play is better regarded as a poem than as an acting drama. As Coleridge says : " But in itself, and for the closet, I feel no hesi- tation in placing it as the first and most admirable of all Shakespeare's purely historical plays." The student will note how clearly the chief ele- ments in Eichard's education, circumstances, and char- acter are indicated in the first scenes of the play : whereby the attention of the reader is attracted, and his mind prepared for all that follows. He is in the midst of treasons and plots and conspiracies. He deals with them not with a masterful hand, but with a sort of shifty, cunning policy, which must o'erreach itself in the end. We cannot agree with those historians who give to Eichard any deep or 88 BOLINGBROKE'8 ANXIETIES. large sense of the royal dignity. While patriotism and love of country is one of the themes of the play (as of all of the English histories), Eichard himself seems to value his crown for its glitter ; his realm as a source of revenue ; and his anointment as the " deputy elected of the Lord " as a matter of course, requiring no stewardship on the one hand, or accounting for on the other. In his day of humiliation he sees more clearly than before, but it stirs no kingly fire, and arouses no princely courage. While to the last he resents the ille- gality of his deposition, in his heart of hearts he ac- cepts its moral fitness. There would be more to say of the character of Bol- ingbroke if his story ended here. Over him also comes a change when once the cares as well as the glories of kingship are upon him. In the last Act (V., sc. 4) we note that anxiety over his son's courses which shows a father's yearning love creeping from beneath a noble's o'erweening ambition, and his gentle treatment of the rebellious Aumerle is not such as would be naturally expected of high-mounting Boling- broke. By these signs of a finer realization of noblesse oblige, we are prepared for the wide difference between usurping Bolingbroke and the reigning monarch Henry IV., a contrast which the poet sets forth in the suc- ceeding play. As to the historic period in which the drama finds its setting, as already briefly noted, it was an important epoch of England's internal life. Bichard coming to the throne upheld on the shield of powerful barons, saw not the cloud arising in the sky little larger than a man's hand, the growing power and influence of HI8T0RI0 SETTIMQ OF THE PLAT. 89 the people. The Commons had no hand in Magna Gharta, but they had benefited by it. In the reigns of Henry III. and the great Edward, mutterings of im- easiness and dissatisfaction began to be heard. In this last year of the fouiteenth century the old feudal tyranny was beginning to give way. The revolt which placed Eolingbroke in Kichard's seat was not of the nobles only, but of the Commons also. This was the political situation and environment, a stage of transi- tion, with which Bichard, a product of the old feudal life, had to deal. But there was another, a religious phase, which dif- ferentiated Eichard's England from that of his prede- cessors. This phase is marked by the name of Wyck- liffe, " the rising sun of the Beformation," and the spread of his doctrines. We cannot fail to note that, as we trace the weaken- ing of feudalism to the Magna Charta of King John, although it was gained by the feudal power, so we find the germs of the later Reformation in the famous inter- dict which the Pope laid upon the England of King John. Kings and popes did well in those days to join hands in the suppression of heretics, for heretics hi re- ligion were the stuff of which rebels in state affairs were made. Wyckliffe died in 1384, but his Bible in the English tongue remained a charter of spiritual, as the Magna Charta was of political, freedom. Civil freedom gained a step, and a great one, in the deposition of Eichard II. For in that event, while it seemed that the bad ambition of one man used the deep yearnings of the people to accomplish his own plans, in reality Boling- 90 LITERATURE AND PRINTING. broke was the unconscious instrument of that power, greater than baron, priest, or king, the power slowly gathering force and corn-age and hope under the rude homespun of the yeomanry of England. Literature, too, was trimming her lamps and filling her vessels with oil. Chaucer and Gower by birth, and Froissart by adoption, uttered the first real notes of that Anglo-Saxon strain which has moulded the feel- ings, broadened the miud, made glad the heart, and strengthened the soul, of the whole human race. The art of printing was yet to come, but when Gut- tenberg drew the first proof-sheet damp from his imper- fect press, he drew a veil over the world's real infancy and darkness, and turned the face of the whole earth toward the promise of manhood and light ; a promise that has since been gloriously fulfilled, and never in so large a way, or by a more transcendent genius, than in the method and by the works of Shakespeare, poet and prophet, historian and seer. HENET IV. TWO PARTS. The original of these plays, apart from Hall's Chron- icle, is the first half of an anonymous play entitled " The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth : Contain- ing the Honorable Battell of Agincourt: as it was plaide by the Queenes Maiesties Players." London. Printed by Thomas Creede, 1598, 4o. Blackletter. In this original are suggestions of several scenes in Shakespeare's play, and the character of Falstaff is re- motely hinted at in the person of Sir John Oldcastle. It covers the historical ground of both Henry IV. and V. The date of these two parts is 1597. The play is mentioned by Meres and included ia the First Folio. CHEONOLOGY OF HENEY IV. 1399. Henry Bolingbroke begins to reign as Henry IV. The parliament in choosing him passed over the claims of the lin- eal heir, who was Edmund Mortimer, great-grandson of the third son of Edward III. Bolingbroke was grandson of the fourth son. 1400. Revolt of Owen Glendower of Wales. Edmund Mor- timer (uncle of the slighted heir), sent against Glendower by Henry, is taken captive and marries his captor's daughter. 1402. Battle of Holmedon Hill (September). Defeat of Douglas and the Scotch by the English under the Percys. 1403. Eevolt of the Percys against Henry. They form an al- liance with the Welsh under Glendower, and the Scotch un- der Douglas. Battle of Shrewsbury (July). Allies defeated and Harry Percy slain. 1405. Eenewed revolt of Northumberland (father of Harry Per- cy), Archbishop Sorope, and the Earl of Nottingham. A truce made for the King with the insurgent leaders is base- ly broken by the King's representatives, and among others Archbishop Scrope is executed. 1407. Northumberland makes a final effort against Henry, is defeated and slain. 1410. Final conquest of the Welsh, and end of the domestic broils which afflicted the whole reign of Henry IV. 1413. Death of Henry. CHAPTER IV. HENEY IV. — THE PASSING OP PEUDAIISM. Sources of this play. — Trials of the usurping King. — Discontent of the great Nobles. — Welsh revolt. — Scotch troubles, — Mortimer's alliance with Glendower. — The menace of Henry's conscienoe. — Three princi- pal historical events in the two parts. — (I.) The defeat of the rebel- lion at Shrewsbury. — (II.) The broken compact on the King's part. — (m.) Henry's death and accession of "Prince Hal." — Events leading up to the first revolt. — Victory of Holmedon and Percy's triumph over the Scotch. — Hotspur's refusal to give up his prisoners. — His plea for the ransom of Mortimer.- — ^Rebellion invoked. — Three uncon- genial factors of the conspiracy. — Its inherent weakness. — Northum- berland " Crafty sick." — Glendower's delay. — Shrewsbury. — Defeat of the rebellion and death of "Hotspur." — Contrasted characters of Monmouth and "Hotspur." — The huddling of events for dramatic effect. — Northumberland's policy. — Plans of the rebels after Shrews- bury. — An honorable treaty proposed by the King, agreed to by the Nobles, dishonorably broken. — The poet's historic faithfulness at large, but inaccuracy as to details. — Henry's last illness. — Incident of the crown. — Henry's character. — Statesmanship. — Remorse. — Death- blow to feudalism. — The crusades and the Jerusalem chamber. — Prince Hal upon the throne. — Agreeable disappointment of the people. — Re- jection of his former mode of life. — His true character, — Falstaff, a travesty of chivalry. When, in the last scene of Richard II., Bolingbroke declares his intention of making a pilgrimage : — I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land To wash this blood off from my guilty hand, ' the poet is doubtless true to the momentary attitude of the usurper's mind. Guilty or not of the blood of the ' Richard II., Act V., Scene 6. 94 EABLT CAMPAIGNS. deposed monarcli, Henry IV. was giiilty enough of tortuous and devious devices in mounting the throne of England. It was in harmony with the strange moral sense of his age, that he should have deter- mined to efface his guilt in a campaign against the en- emies of the Cross. But the opportunity did not oc- cur. " High-mounting BoHngbroke " became a melan- choly king. His reign was troubled and feverish. Consummate statesman that he was, he could not enjoy the fruits of his own victories, although by the strong hand he succeeded in passing them on to his son. Shakespeare in a single stroke tells the story of Bolingbroke between the death of Richard, and news of the battle of Holmedon, with which the first part of Henry IV. opens : " So shaken as we are, so wan with care." ' Two years have elapsed siace the ambitious subject forced his sovereign from the throne, and seized a crown. They were trying and harassing years, marked by campaigns in Scotland and in Wales, as well as " in the intestine shock And furious close of civil butchery." ^ The Scotch were chronic disturbers of the border peace, and the "Welsh had been strong adherents of Eiichard's cause, Glendower having been a squii-e of his household. The nobles were discontented for a variety of reasons. Henry was obliged to inaugurate ' Henry IV. , Part I, Act I.,- Scene 1. » Ibid. GERMS OF BEBELLION. 95 some reforms which bore hardly On the aristocracy. The confederate leaders who had paved the way for one of their own number to tlie dizzy height of royalty, were especially aggrieved at his evident determination to reign independently, and even to curb the influence and crop the comb of feudalism. Many circumstances conspired to trouble the peace of the House of Lancaster, but at their head and front was this civil discontent. Shakespeare paints the death throes of feudalism with a master hand. The shadow of its passing en- shrouded the whole reign of the first Lancastrian. It was plainly inevitable in the nature of things, that the prophecy of the Bishop of Carlisle should be lite- rally fulfilled : And if you crown Mm let me prophesy The blood of English shall manure the ground And future ages groan for this foul act.' Richard's own warning to Northumberland : Thou ladder wherewithal The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my thrqne ! '' must inevitably be established. The peers, of whom Northumberland was chief, felt them^v^s strong enough, if good reason should appear, t6 pull down whom they had set up. In those turbulent times good reasons were always within the reach of mailed hands. It was inevitable also that the plain people of Eng- land should stand by the new king for the same rea- sons that had caused them to espouse his cause. He 'Richard II., Act IV., Scene 1. = Richard II., Act V., Scene 1. 96 PASaiNG OF FEUDALISM. was as nearly a democrat as the first part of the fif- teenth century could produce. If not in heart, he was one in policy. The people, slow to change, were stead- fast in their likes and dislikes, and they formed the real strength of the Lancastrian dynasty established by Henry IV., deepened and secured by Henry V. The break with his chief nobles thus threw Henry back upon the Commons and made way for the break- ing down of the feudal system, which is the chief his- toric event writ large and illustrated in the two parts of this play. We see the process of disintegration in its first and most important stages. The real death- blow was struck when Henry defeated the combined force of the great nobility at Shrewsbury. After this the feudal system dragged on an impotent existence until, when the last of the Plantagenet kings died like a wild boar on Bosworth field, and Henry, first of the Tudors, came to the throne, there were but twenty-nine lay nobles to take their places in his first Parliament. It will be noticed later on, how this passing of feu- dalism harmonizes with the introduction of Falstaff, and how the whole comedy movement of the play of which he is the centre, illustrates, not broad farce, but scathing satire. Leaving the comedy for further consideration in its appropriate place, we notice that there are again three centres of historical importance about which the poet weaves the illustrations of his genius. These are in order: I. The battle of Shrewsbury. II. The broken compact. III. Death of Henry IV., and accession of Prince Hal. I. The events that led up to the battle of Shrews- CLAIM OF THE MORTIMERS. 97 bury, in which the royal forces were victorious, and the power of the gi'eat nobles well-nigh crushed, are vividly illustrated in the beginning of the play. It opens with news of the defeat and capture of Mortimer by the Welsh rebels under the " irregular and wild Glendower," and a grea,t victory in the north over tha Scotch by the king's men under the powerful North- umberland and his son, Harry Hotspur. In regard to the former event Shakespeare commits the anachron- ism of identifjdng Mortimer with his nephew, the Earl of March, who was the legitimate heir to the throne after Bichard, by his descent from an older branch of the royal family than could be claimed for Henry IV.^ The heirship to the throne would lie in young Mor- timer, and Shakespeare is thus justified in treating one of the family name as an opponent whose influence the king had to fear, especially in alliance with the Northumberland party, owing to the fact that Hot- spur's wife was the uncle Mortimer's sister. It was even reported that Richard had declared the Earl of March next heir to the throne. The usurper may have been led by these dangers to the security of his own claims, to see too readily in Mortimer's defeat and marriage with Glendower's daughter a treasonable plot. For Hotspur, risiug in wrath at Henry's refusal ' The claim of Mortimer was through Lionel, Duke of Clarence, third son of Edwaid III. The claim of Bolingbroke, Henry IV., was through his father, John of Gaunt, fourth sou of Edward HI. Mortimer was the legal heir after Richard, who died without children. Misled by his chronicle authority, Shakespeare confuses the uncle and nephew Mortimer (vide Act II., Scene 3), where Hotspur's wife calls the Mortimer of the play her brother, as he was, and Act III., Scene 1, where Mortimer calls Hot- spur's wife aunt, which of course she was not. See table of kings in Ap- pendix. 7 98 PRESTIGE OF THE PEROTS. to ransom Mortimer, having heard the report of Bich- ard's declaration, cries out : Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin-king That •wished him on the barren mountain starve.' But that Henry had some excuse for looking askance upon his possible rival to the throne apart from per- sonal considerations, is seen in the fact that Mortimer settled back so comfortably into his captivity as to marry his captor's daughter. The battle of Holmedon, on the other hand, gave Northumberland and his family great prestige, and ex- alted still more that independence among the feudal lords, in which lay the sharpest thorn of Henry's crown. The play well illustrates this. Flushed with these vic- tories, the old Duke, his brother Worcester, and his son Hotspur, hold themselves haughtily enough in the king's presence when he demands the prisoners taken in battle, which Hotspur declined with lame excuses, but finally consented to yield, on condition that Mor- timer, his brother-in-law, be ransomed from the Welsh. Henry's refusal to ransom one whom he chooses to es- teem a traitor, widens the breach with his once devoted ally, and here we have all the conditions for rebellion. It is necessary to glance forward over the whole play to extract the reasons, as set forth in their dra- matic order, which were deemed sufficient for the re- bellion of the great lords, so soon after placing Henry on the throne. The personal animus of the Percys is on the surface, and probably influenced the course of events to a con- 1 Part I. , Act I. , Scenes. THE KING'S REFORMS. 99 siderable extent. Feudal pride was touched by the en- actions of Henry's first Parliament, which sought, as has been already noted, to curb the power of the great vassals of the crown. Cries Hotspur indignantly, retailing the favors his father had done Henry, when he was but A poor nnminded outlaw sneaking home, And now forsooth takes on him to reform Some certain edicts and some straight decrees That lay too heavy on the commonwealth, Cries out upon abuses : seems to weep Over his country's wrongs :■ — ' These petulant sarcasms of Hotspur were levelled at acts of the king " which tended," as Knight says, " to lead the people to think that the reign of justice had come back." The innovations were chiefly on the side of parliament and people. Among others were those narrowing the scope of treasonable offences, and giving parliament authority to declare them. They, forbade the star-chamber process of governing by packed com- mittees instead of in open assembly. Notably, they " tried to restrain the quarrels of the great nobles, by forbidding any person except the king to give liveries to his retainers." This was the crucial point. It tended to build up a king's party, and to disintegrate the vassalage by which the feudal barons were kings and laws unto themselves. It is probable, also, that Shakespeare is historically correct in attributing some of the discontent to a feel- 1 Part I., Act IV., Scene 3. 100 THE BROKEN OAl'H. iug on the part of the nobility that they had been tricked into seating BoUngbroke upon the throne. "You swore," says Worcester, And you did swear the oath at Doncaster, That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state. Nor claim no further than your new fall'n right,' The seat of Gaunt, Dukedom of Lancaster. Whereby we stand opposed by such means, As yon yourself have forged against yourself. By unkind usage, dangerous countenance, And violation of all faith and troth, Sworn to us in your younger enterprise. ' All that Henry has to offer are fair words and gra- cious promises. But the logic of the situation was terribly against him. When, later on, the king con- fides in Warwick the prophecy of Richard (already quoted), Warwick, in the endeavor to soothe his fears by removing the warning from the field of prophecy to that of clever guess-work, says, with keen philosophic insight that could scarcely, however, have been reas- suring : There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the times deceased : The which observed, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, which in their seeds And weak beginnings lie intreasured. Such things become the hatch and brood of time ; And by the necessary form of this King Richard might create a perfect guess > Part I., Act V. , Scene 1. WEAKNESS OV THE REBELS. 101 That great Northumberland, then false to him, Would of that seed grow to a gi'eater falseness, Which should not find a ground to root upon, Unless on you.' In other words, as Henry's crown was the gift of dis- content on the part of the nobles, the discontent of the nobles might place it somewhere else. So the rebel- lion was invoked, and the tactics of Bolingbroke turned against Henry IV. But notwithstanding the griev- ances of the nobles, the justice of their charges against the king, and the added strength of Welsh and Scotch alliances, their cause was weak, and the seed of its disastrous failure sprouted long before Shrewsbury battle-field. Northumberland and his immediate Mends could assemble armies of their vassals, but the people as a whole were for the king. It will be re- membered that he courted them successfully at the time of his banishment, and he had never lost their favor. They saw in this new rebellion, not resistance to tyranny and weakness and oppression, but the envy and jealousy of an aristocracy that blew hot or cold ac- cording to its own prosperity. If it had been right and necessary to depose Richard and seat Henry, it was treason and criminal to undo that work. They re- membered how the appeals of Richard had been con- temptuously flaunted by the Northumberland faction, and were not to be deceived now by such demagogic appeals as that of York's With the blood . Of fair King Eichard, scraped from Pomfret stones.* ' Part II., Act III., Scene 1. ' Part II., Act I., Scene 1. lOa I'AtiTIKS TO tins HKJiKUJUA'. s-Uvilitv of rt st^ovvjul revolt upon tht> slumUUw of tlw |HH>ivl*v »s whoM h» atkibuttxl to t.ht> OomuumH tho voiy tittitxulo of the i«aUH,«vtont nol>i»v^ The oommonweaWh is s^iok ol llioic own oholo*, Th^iir ovov gi'«e*ly low has surftutod. O thow tou^l man^ t Witii vrhAl loiut Api4ik\vi« DiiVsti tlkon b«^t heftv^u witit bloasing Bn nwvutit I Past Anct to oome wemabest : tlilnfa preseut, woi'ot.* Aaothov 8o\nvt> of \vo!iUut\>*s waa tlio l»>tt3w>jst>iu)0«» iiHtmv oi tlio tilUiiuoo agttiaat tlu> kuig. Tlio I'lHglish fHotuMi hotultid hy N(xi-tliuiulu\rlaiul, but iuHpiitHl tuul nniuiiktod by his wm, bravo iUwvy Wnvy, whm tlu> t'hiof faotor, 'with whom W(Ut» tvssooiiittHl Owtvu (Hoiulo\v»>r w» tlie put of WaUia, tuul tlio I'Jail of OoiiglaH mi tlw luut (xf SootlftJftd. row'v H\ul l)o\iglaH had but w- ooutly spout " a wwl aud bloo(\y hour" togt)tht>i' ai^ Ibvluunlou, in whioh tlio "S>vor valiftut aud ajipixivtHl Soot" had uu>t witli aovt>«) dt>foat. Kuoli woiukIk mx* not aoou hoalod, (}U^ud^)wov waa a rouiautio half^bac- baritai, although ho had btnui " traiutnl up h» tl»« I'^ug- lisli ooui't," Ah tho tHhioatt>d Ha\agt< fi-«Hiutu>tl,v falln back into haibario wnyn, iu wpito of tht> iioliHluiig of gvaiuujai' and vhotorio, so it iw to bo feawd that (llou- dow»H" was but a voiumuhhI (umi'tioi-, aftor all. Ho \va« tluMiatuvaV product of tlie haiMj lifo aiidd Wokh fast- nessea ; tho superatitioiia of a pooplt^ whoso juioentom ■rwUI,, Act I., Soone a, OLENJiOWMli. 108 had i)erhap« boon tho pupik of tho Druicl priestliood ; and tm implicit beliol that he held bo important a place in the oreativo Hohemo that at hie nativity, not only but Tho goat* ran fi'om tho mountolniii and tihe herds Were itrangely olamoroui to tho Mghtod iUlds, The front of heaven wai full of Aery ahapei Of burning oromnotw : . , , Tho frame and hugo foundation of the earth Bhak'd like a coward.' Glondowor was a poet, and a chieftain of man who | wore ©qually at homo with the harp and chant, with the mixing of mn.;^i(t putiuiiH, with oleyer deviooM in the torture of priHoiuu'H, and in the wild irregulav Bailies and roti'oats which made up their idoa of warfare. Glondowor was ii gentleman also, tw will bo observod in hiei intoi'ooni'Ho with the brutal wit of Hotspur, and luN tender thouglitlulnesiei and care for women. But ho wa« not a Hoklior noi' a diplomat. Ho could and did defend hln mountain oavoiiiH for many years, but he could not direct or command armies. For a timo tho rebellion throvo apace. The English party woro buoyed up by hopes of cutting tho royal ofOHt; tho Scotch by desire for revengo) tho Welsh, with the idoa that they were not as common mon, luid could not bodefeated. Mortimer, tho husband of (llou- dower'n daughter, and the brother of 1 iotHpur's wilo, was the moyablo pawn of all the combinations, and it is not improbable that, had i lenry I V. been defeated, the Earl of March miglit liavo aHoondod the throne. 'Pnvlil., A(i|. Iir,, Siienol, 104 THE KING'S TROUBLES. The conspirators throve apace and even parcelled out the land they expected to win by their sword-blades. Of course, over this partition they quarrelled. One of the cleverest, and best worth reading scenes of the First Part of Henry IV. is Sc. 1 of Act III., ia which. Hotspur, Glendower, and Mortimer are set forth as not only counting their chickens before they are hatched, but parcelling out the mother hen and her nest. While his malcontent subjects are thus occupied, Henry is not altogether sure of the outcome of these affairs. In the armed hosts of his enemies, to whom These promises are fair, the parties sure, And our induction full of prosperous hope, ' he saw the hand of a melancholy fate. The king's name was a tower of strength, but the king's soul was faint within him. He was not a mere demagogue this man who played sometimes the demagogue's part. "When we have allowed for the sympathy which Shakespeare conjures up about the last scenes of the life of Richard II., and are out from under the wizard's spell cast over the failing and pathetic fortunes of the deposed king, we can see that Bolingbroke has some noble characteristics which intensify as he looks with sad eyes from the gilded throne he sought with such a vain and fond ambition. As the troubles thickened about him, no one was quicker than himself to see their origin. He had planted the seed, and shock of battle at Shrewsbury was the harvest. Henry's greatest weakness lay in his guilty conscience. If not the blood, at least the unhappy fate, of Richard lay heavy 1 Part I,, Act III., Scene 1. PRINCE HAL. 105 on his soul. In his last words to the son who was to lift England to a higher pitch of glory and renown than she had ever known, the careworn, remorseful king confesses : Heaven kuows, my sod, By what' by-paths and indirect, crooked ways, I met this crown, and I myself know well How troublesome it sat upon my head. How came I by the crown, O Heaven forgive ! And grant it may with thee in true peace live.' Henry's conscience was thus a perpetual menace to the success of his efforts. Along with this was the shadow flung upon the future fortunes of his house by the careless life of Prince Hal, his oldest son and heir.^ The historic truth of this domestic trouble between the king and his son is undoubted. That the wild Prince was not quite the gentlemanly scoundrel of Shakespeare's portrait, is quite true, but that there was quite enough in his conduct to warrant the gravest fears on Henry's part, we. may be assured. The king likened his heir to The skipping king who ambled up and down With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits,' 1 Part n., Act IV., Scene 4. ^ There is a touching line in one of the king's speeoheB, that conveys with vividness an image of the lonely heart he bore beneath the majesty of royalty. For thou hast lost thy princely privilege with vile participations : not an eye But is a' weary of the common sight Save mine, which hath desired to see thee more. —Part I., Act III., Scene 2. s Part I., Act III, Scene 1. 106 TEE BATTLE OF SHREWSBURY. And until the need appeared the king had cause for fear. But Hal was at Shrewsbury, and before that had assured his father's heart. Prince H. This, in the name of God I promise here, The which if he be pleased, I shall perform. I do beseech your majesty may salve The long grown wounds of my intemperance : If not, the end of life cancels all bands : And I will die a hundred thousand deaths E'er break the smallest parcel of this vow. King H. A hundred thousand rebels die in this Thou shalt have charge, and sovereign trust in this.' And now the battle of Shrewsbury is fought. Hot- spur leads the malcontent nobles, and Henry IV., with his sons and faithful peers, after a vain attempt at con- ciliation, defends the crown. Hotspur is defeated and slain — not as in the play at the hands of Hal, for dramatic proprieties are not always as artistically ob- served in battle as on paper. The power of the great nobles received a shock from which it never en- tirely recovered. The grandson of Bolingbroke met it, or rather was dominated by it, in the person of "War- wick the King Maker. But in the case of Warwick the feudal power was largely personal and not of a class. Warwick was sui generis. Feudalism as a system in England never lifted its head to more than hiss defiantly after Henry IV.; its blows were feeble and its sting drawn. But in addition to that slow development of the English people of which Shrewsbury was a logical link, there were some natural reasons for the defeat of 'Part I, Act III., Scenes, CAUSES OF THE DEFEAT. 107 the rebellion which Shakespeare indicates with historic Mehty and poetic charm. Hotspur and the Douglas engaged the king's forces before the Welsh under Glendower, and the army under Northumberland, could join them. Some have attributed this to Hotspur's impatience and headlong zeal to fight wherever he saw an enemy, without looking to the consequences. This was partly the case, and Glendower's failure to arrive in time was another element of disaster. But this was unavoidable, owing to the surprising speed with which King Henry and Priace Hal united their forces and forced a battle. The king's army had been orig- inally levied to aid Northumberland against the Scotch. Hal had been making a campaign against Wales. The news of the open revolt caused the two national armies to speedily join forces, and Shrewsbury was thus al-* most an accident, as Agincourt was in the next reign. Northumberland, whose name more than his vassals was the tower of the rebels' strength, was " crafty sick." He marched but slowly southward after his impetuous son, sending messages of his inability to proceed faster. If there were but this single cam- paign by which to judge the elder Percy, there might be said much in extenuation of his failure to appear at Shrewsbury. But unfortunately for his reputation, his whole career was marked by the same sort of loud pro- fession and little performance. He accomplished most in helping to seat Bolingbroke. But the times were with him then; before and after Shrewsbury they were against him. His name was a great power in that he was practically king of northern England through the working of the feudal system. In his 108 NORTHUMBERLAND'S VACILLATION. name the revolt was planned, under his fostering boast and promises it took shape. Doubtless he hoped, by virtue of his former success, to draw the English no- bility about his standard, and place Henry back as naked of influence and power, as when first he landed, a returned outlaw, at Eavenspurg. He was only par- tially successful in this attempt, not having taken into account the growth of a king's party, loyal first of all to the throne, not with a loyalty primarily subsei-vient to the will of the feudal chiefs. Hotspur realized how fatal this vacillation of his father's was : Sick now ? droop now ? this sickness doth infect The very life blood of our enterprise, 'Tis catching hither even to our camp.' His endeavor to take courage from the fact that North- umberland's army, not being on hand, would be a good refuge in case of defeat, is cautiously overthrown by his uncle Worcester : But yet, I would your father had been here. It will be thought By some that know not why he is away That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike Of our proceedings, kept the Earl from hence.'' Hotspur tries to comfort himself in vain. The battle was fought and lost, and Northumberland hearing the news, dispersed his forces and retired to his castle at Warkworth. Henry did not force his submission too far, and for a time the revolted nobles and their dough- ' Part I., Act IV. , Scene I. a n,i|j_ PRINCE HAL AND HOTSPUR. 109 ty chief lay quiet. With this battle the first part of Henry IV. concludes, and before discussing the desul- tory warfare of the next period we may profitably con- sider one or two of the characters already engaged, especially the contrasted types of Prince Hal and Harry Percy, called Hotspur. It is too early yet to dwell upon the wild Prince Hal, save in those points wherein his father and others were prone to compare him with Hotspur, and usually to the heir apparent's disfavor. Shakespeare invaria- bly links together the five dramatic epochs of his great national epic, from Eichard II. to Eichard III., by causing the titular hero to share our interest with his successor. In this way the figure of Bolingbroke casts a shadow forward from Eichard II., Prince Hal from Henry IV., and Eichard Gloster from Henry VI. It is as if to remind kings that in the evolution of affairs they must pass, while their kingdoms remain. This is one of the great and noble lessons which the poet-his- torian sought to teach. England was greater than any personage who might for the time rule or misrule from her throne. The royal policy of this or that sovereign might seem at any stage of national progress to be the one policy. But underneath the ripples of change, the surface commotions of man's passions and greed, the calm tide of nationalism rose and fell, obeying higher laws than the edicts of kings or parliaments. From Canute downward, this tide has been controlled for men and not by men. The delineation of the young Prince Hal in the first part of this play is thus not only a following out of the poetic and dramatic habit of Shakespeare, but is 110 HOTSPUR. a logical necessity of the historical situation. The Prince is as important a figure on the stage where his father plays the chief part, as was his father ia Bichard II.'s time. We must keep our summing up of his char- acter for the next chapter, where he appears in the full glory of his noble manhood, but a few words are neces- sary here as to the comparison usually instituted be- tween him and Harry Hotspur. Shakespeare is re- sponsible for these comparisons, since he leaves the inference to be drawn that they were of about equal age. Cries Henry lY., in the first part of this play : O, that it could be proved That some night tripping fairy had exchanged In cradle clothes, our children where they lay, And called mine Percy — his Plantagenet.' Now, Harry Hotspur was contemporary with Boling- broke himself, and old enough to be Prince Hal's father. This is ignored by the poet, but the drama gains by the poetic license. We have the king and his powerful noble, Northumberland, opposed to each other in the persons of their respective sons, who are drawn as types of the young manhood of those days. The one, a gay young gallant ; fond of taverns and low company ; careless of dignities ; apparently care- less of honor. The other a warrior pure and sim- ple, trained in camps instead of courts, despising the amusements and life of his rival, whom he at first scorns as : " The nimble-footed, mad cap, Prince of Wales," 'Part I., Act I., Scene 1. PBINOE HAL. Ill but whom he learns to respect for his deeds of valor "when : Harry to Harry shall— hot horse to horse Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a corse.' For the Prince of Wales, even in the play, is not the careless pleasure - seeker he seems on the surface. Presently we will discuss him more at length, but as contrasted with Hotspur he shows not unfavorably. The latter thinks scorn of his rival on idle report. Hal uses a nobler measure wherewith to gauge his father's foe. Addressing Worcester, the Percy's uncle, he says : Tell your nephew. The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world In praise of Henry Percy. I do not think a braver gentleman More active valiant, or more valiant young, More daring or more bold, is now alive. To grace this latter age with noble deeds. Hal confesses that : For my part, I may speak it to my shame, I have a truant been to chivalry." But even here a woman's judgment would decide for the wild boy, rather than for the steady, cold-natured man, as we must judge Hotspur to be in his domestic relations, however merry, ardent, and impulsive as a soldier. In the interviews given between Hotspur and his wife, the Lady Percy chides him for his ab- sence of mind, his carelessness of her feelings, his utter absorption in affairs with which she is unac- I Part I, Act IV., Scene 1. = Part I., Act V., Scene 1. 112 HOTSPUR AND SIS WIFE. quainted. The soldier in him speaks first to his servants, ordering them to saddle his horse, and as she continues her tender, anxious questioning, finally responds : Away, Away you trifler. Love ? I love tliee not. I care not for thee, Kate : this is no world To play with mammets and to tilt with lips. We must have bloody noses and cracked crowns, And pass them current too. God's me, my horse. What say'st thou, Kate ? what would'st thou have with me? Lady. Do you not love me ? do you not indeed ? Well, do not then, for since you love me not, I will not love myself. Do you not love me ? Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no. Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride ? And when I am on horseback I will swear I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate : I must not have you henceforth question me Whether I go, nor reason whereabout. _ Whether I must I must ; and to conclude. This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate. I know you wise, but yet no further wise Than Harry Percy's wife. Constant you are But yet a woman : And for secrecy No lady closer : For I will believe Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know. And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate. Not an inch further.' Hotspur is a good deal idealized. He has fine and generous emotions. He is of heroic mould. His sar- casm is tremendous, as in the scene where he recounts I Part I., Act 11., Scene 3. GLENDOWEB. 113 the -visit of the fop to the battle-field of Holmedon, demanding prisoners. In anger he is magnificent, as ia his outbreak at Henry IV. who refused to ransom Mortimer. In brutal jestiag he is facile princeps, as in his interviews with Glendower, who deserved coiu'tesy from a soldier and comrade-in-arms, not the sneer- ing mockery and jibing to which his ally treated him. To sum up. Hotspur is a magnificent animal. He is not a leader among animals even. He is a sol- dier, not a captain. His heady temper brought about the defeat at Shrewsbury. He was a perfect type of the titled bravado. He fought valiantly, and died on the field of battle honorably, but not all the glamour of poetry thrown over him by the power of genius, can make him an ideal man. Of Glendower we have already treated in a few strokes briefly indicating his character. Born in the caves of Wales ; educated in the courts of kings ; re- signing his easy and luxurious life in London for the manlier and harder career of chieftain among his own race ; he carried on a long warfare after the battle of Shrewsbury and died among his beloved hills, the idol of his rough retainers. He believed in all the superstitions of his times ; saw visions and dreamed dreams ; was often hunted from shelter to shelter ; lay on barren mountains by night, and lifted his chant of defiance by day. A hard life; yet an easier one than that of Henry Bolingbroke vainly wooing sleep on his silken couch, with the uneasy head upon which lay a golden crown. The second point of history marked by these two parts of Henry IV. is that already noted as the Brokeh 8 114 THE OOMPAGT MADE. I Compact. Although it occupies some space in the second part of Shakespeare's play, it needs here, for purposes of the story, to be barely mentioned. The poet huddles together his events for dramatic effect. , The purpose seen in the two parts of the play is the ! Passing of Feudalism, and with the battle of Shrewsbury the first and most decisive blow at the system is struck. The events that follow it, until the final and com- plete victory over the rebellious nobles, in the breaking of Northumberland and Bardolph's power, were as fol- lows: Shrewsbury's date is 1403. Shakespeare con- tinues his story as though the nobles were entrapped by the broken compact at once. But it was after a turbulent two years, in 1405, that Priace John, of Lancaster, brother of the Prince of Wales, together with some of his leading captains, made a treaty with Worcester on the part of the Northumberland party Avhich the poet touches on as follows : Westmorland, who has conducted the King's side and presented to John of Lancaster the articles of complaint for which the nobles asked redress, says : Pleaseth your grace, to answer then directly How far forth you do like their articles ? P. John. I like them all, and do allow them well, And swear here by the honor of my blood, My father's purposes have been mistook ; And some about him have too lavishly Wrested his meaning and authority. My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redressed. Upon my life they shall. Arch. I take your princely word for these Redresses. P. John. I give it to you and will maintain my word. ' 1 Paxt II., Act IV., Scene 3. NORTHUMBERLAND'S REMORSE. 115 So the compact was made; but the moment the no- bles' army was disbanded, the leaders were arrested for high treason ; the pledges annulled, and those who had relied upon the princely word were executed as traitors. But not yet Northumberland. A curious contrast may be drawn between him and the wavering Duke of York, in Eichard's reign. After the death of his son, the elder Percy had withdrawn from active life. The new revolts had his sanction, but again at criti- cal moments he failed to come to the front. That he realized his own baseness the poet finely indicates. When his wife would restrain him from action he cries: Alas, sw.eet wife, my honor is at pawn And but my going, nothing could redeem it. Hotspur's widow bitterly reminds him : The time was, father, when you broke your word, When you were more endeared to it than now. Never, oh never, do his ghost the wrong To hold your honor more precise and nice With others, than with him.' Northumberland's response is indicative of the re- morse that must have filled his breast when he re- flected, that but for his " crafty sickness," Hotspur might be alive, and the Earl of March upon the throne : Beshrew your heart, Fair daughter. You do draw my spirits from me 'Part II., Act II., Scene 8. 116 END OF THE REBELLION. With new lamenting ancient oversights. But I must go and meet with danger there, Or it will seek me in another place, And find me worse provided. ' This proved to be true. He dawdled with fate and was overwhelmed at last. He did not join the nobles who were tricked by the broken compact, and for the time escaped, but afterwards was up in arms with some of his friends, comrades-in-arms, chiefly Lord Bardolph, and was overthrown in the battle near Tadcaster in 1407, dying on the field. In the play news of this is brought to the king up- »" on the heels of that of the execution of the nobles with whom the truce was broken, although two years had elapsed : — Harcourt. From enemies heaven keep your majesty. And when they stand against you may they fall As those that I have come to tell you of. The Earl of Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph With a great power of English and of Scots Are by the sherif of Yorkshire overthrown.'' The poet links this happy news of the final suppres- r sion of rebeUion with the last hours of the king,_al- though six years elapsed before his death in 1413. The last half of the last scene of Act IV. is a perfect V picture of these closing years of the king's reign, al- though it dramatically comprises but a few hours be- fore his death. In this part of the play, we have to do with the third historic event of our analysis — Henry's ^ death' and the accession of Prince Hal. ■ Part II. , Act II. , Scene 2. = Part II. , Act IV. , Scene 4. ILLNESS OF THE KINa. 117 The king feels that his hour has come and desires to be led into his chamber to die. History recounts that after the rebelhons were crushed, the king desired to make his oft-intended journey as a Crusader to the Holy Land, as a sort of compensation for the sins of his royal policy. At the shrine of Edward the Confessor in "Westminster Ab- bey, when he went to take his tows, he was taken ill and conveyed to an apartment near at hand called the Jerusalem chamber. A reference to this will be made presently. The king speaks upon recovering from his swoon : I pray you take me up and bear me hence Into some other chamber, softly, there." He asks for the crown to be placed upon his pillow near at hand, as though to lay to heart the vanity of that for which he had entered such torturous and devi- ous ways. The Prince of Wales entering, finds his father asleep and alone, and fascinated by the appear- ance of the golden bauble, apostrophizes it : O, polished perturbation, golden care ! " Then follows that much misunderstood scene where, as he soliloquizes, the prince lifts the crown from the pillow and puts it on his own head. A noise occurring he quickly leaves the room. His father awakes, and being told that only the Prince had been with him while he slept, cries out bitterly : The prince hath ta'en it hence, go seek him out. Is he so hasty that he doth suppose > Part II., Act IV., Scene 4. ^ Ibid. 118 PRINCE HAL AND THE CROWN. My sleep, my death ? Find him, my lord of Warwick, chide him hither.' Now, it has been top superficially argued tliat Prince Henry was so eager to secure the crown that he could not wait until he had assurance of his father's death ; so indeed the kiag argued : Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair?'' But read the scene carefully. Note how careful a psy- chologist the poet is. The emotions that stir the Prince, contemplating the wasted face of his dying sire, and the gleaming sign of royalty close to the head it had uneasily adorned, are natural to the finest shade of thought. He has no vulgar lust for what it symbolizes : Sleep with it now. Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet As he whose brow'with homely biggin bound, Snores out the watch of night. He thinks his father dead : This sleep is sound indeed, this is a sleep That from this golden rigol hath divorced So many English kings.' He knows, too, how much more than Eichard, his father valued the royalty for which the crown was sign and seal. He knew the plottings and contriviags that would ensue to challenge his own right to it. Surely > Fart II., Act IV., Scene 4. = Ibid. a ibjd. THE KINGS LAST WORDS. 119 he was no hasty bauble-loving roisterer, but his own father's son, who, as it were, with mechanical thought- fulness, putting the crown on his head, says : Lo, here it sets Which heaven shall guard. And put the world's whole strength Into one giant arm, it shall not force This lineal honor from me.' These musings are entirely in the vein of his father's last charges to him, when once reassured that the son is not vulgarly anxious to put on the " polished per- turbation." Henry's final words to the heir apparent throw light upon his life, and usurpation of the crown. In the hot zeal of youth, spurred on by acknowledged wrongs, touched also by an ambition for which the times were as responsible as his own temperament, Henry had reached for the chiefest thing in the world for a strong and masterful Englishman of that day. He had some grounds of right, the strongest of which was least acknowledged by his age, but after all the most powerful, namely, the will of the common people. It was in lack of this factor, that Northum- berland and those with him failed to snatch the crown from the head of him whom they believed themselves to have made. Literally, too, in those days successful force made a legal title. Bolingbroke ascended the throne an actual usurper : he died a legitimate king ; as he says : For what in me was purchased Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort." 1 Part II., Act IV., Scene 4. = Ibid. 120 THE KING'S REMORSE. And yet he knows too well the power of the old feudal nobihty which he had fatally scotched, and with the breadth of statesmanship and grasp of policy, that always characterized his public career, laid out the best course for his son to pursue, in order to prevent or discourage the rebellion, which had embittered so large a part of his own reign. Yet though thou staiidest more sure than I could do Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green, And all my friends, whom thou must make thy friends, Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out : By whose fell working I was first advanced, And by whose power, I well might lodge a fear To be again displaced. Which to avoid I cut them off; and had a purpose now To lead out many to the Holy Land Lest rest, and lying still, might make them look Too near unto my state. Therefore my Harry Be it thy course to busy giddy minds With foreign quarrels.' How thoroughly the prince entered into this mind of his father's, how admirably he appreciated its wisdom and statesmanship, and how successfully he carried out its suggestion, the next reign will give us ample ilhistration. That Henry cherished remorse for his course toward Richard is clearly evident throughout this play. Re- morse, it must be noted, however, not for the act, but for the nfiethod of usurpation. His confessions of the inmost secrets of his soul to the Prince of Wales, have no word of regret for the seizure of the crown. 1 Part II., Act IV., Scene 4. THE ORUSABES. 121 As times went there was no room for regret. But for the hard cruelty to his kinsman Eiichard, and for the "violent death of that discrowned monarch, for which he was morally if not legally responsible, re- morse and regret manifest themselves plainly. One last reference to Henry's carder, already briefly alluded to, is to be noted in the lines : K. Henry. Doth any name particularly belong Unto the lodging where I first did swoon ? War. 'Tis called Jerusalem, my noble lord. K. Henry. Laud be to heaven ! Even there my life must end. It hath been prophesied to me many years I should not die but in Jerusalem, Which, vainly, I supposed the Holy Land. But bear me to that chamber, there I'll lie In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.' We remember that the crusades had been a bright ideal always before Henry Bolingbroke. With such a pilgrimage he proposed to wash the stains of usur- pation from his guilty hands, and after his conquest of the revolts, the crusades again occurred to him as a useful means of employing the activity of the barons, who might otherwise annoy him with further rebellions at home. The crusades of the fourteenth century, and thereabouts, were an escape-valve for all sorts of humours. Kings took the cross to win distinction against the Turk ; nobles to gain added laurels for their pennons ; soldiers to push their fortunes ; bank- rupts to fill their purses ; even beggars drove a good- lier trade with the palmer's stafi'. After the first freshness of the holy wars wore off, 1 Part II., Act IV., Scene 4. 122 DEATH OF HENBT. the cMef object of their beginnings was lost sight of. The sepulchre of the world's Redeemer was forgotten, or made the pawn of worldly knights and bishops. All sorts of quarrels were given the dignity of crusades and the privileges of crusaders were awarded to cut- throat swash-bucklers of noble or common name. That Henry was reaUy stirred to intended service under the Cross, we know from the fact that in the last years of the Greek Empire, when it was hemmed in by the Mohammedan power, its Emperor Manuel visited England to beseech aid for a Christian empire against the enemies of the Cross. He was received and feasted by Henry, who had but just ascended the throne, and under this inspiration the Lancastrian assumed the Cross, although he put off the actual campaign untH better times. Gibbon, in his " Decline and Fall of the Eoman Empire," dismisses the event as of no importance, say- ing that " if the English monarch assumed the Cross, it was only to appease his people, and perhaps his conscience, by the merit or semblance of this pious intention." ' Gibbon is not infallible authority on details of the religious motives, and we may give Henry the benefit of the doubt, it being certain that the chroniclers credited him with the intention declared in the be- ginning, and repeated at the end, of Shakespeare's play, that, had the times permitted he would have fought against Turk and Saracen in the Holy Land. So passed from life one of the strong men who have held the sceptre of England. ' Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Vol. V., Chap. 66, p. 300. BEOLINE OF FEUDALISM. 123 Whatever his faults of personal ambition, he saw the evil that lay curled about the root of England's noblest development — the feudal system— and struck it such a deadly blow as finally destroyed it. The people first in his reign grew to look upon their king as their natural leader, rather than upon their feudal lords. It was a great step in advance, as transforming England from an aggregation of small camps each clustered about the pennon of some noted baron, into a powerful host under a common commander, to whom was owed supreme homage. One great blot upon this reign is unnoted in the play. Henry IV. was the first English king to put a subject to death for his religious opinions. His father had protected Wyckliffe and the incipient re- formers. The son was first of Englishmen to light the torch of religious persecution. From a contemplation of the decline of feudalism under Henry, we turn to consider one important element in these two plays concerning which, in an historical study, we might seem to have little to say. I have abstained from touching upon the comedy of the drama for two reasons : First, save in one par- ticular, it has nothing to do with English history ; second, it deserves a chapter entirely devoted to it, as the richest vein of Shakespeare's humour. In one particular, however, Falstaff and his ragged crew have a very vital connection with the phase of Bnghsli history marked by the passing of feudalism. What Shakespeare always intended to accomplish by the introduction of specific characters, and the grouping of them, we may not be sure. Wliat he did ac- 124 FAL8TAFF A TYPE OF PSEUDO-CHIVALBT. complish he that runs may read. There are many theories for the introduction of the comedy of Henry IV. centering about that richest and most unctuous of rogues, Jack Falstaff. "With these, except two, the student need not be troubled. First, the dramatic materials for two plays were very slender, and as in the foundation play, Falstaff and his friends are used for what is vulgarly called " padding," to extend the plays to the regulation length, while at the same time offering the necessary dramatic contrast of comedy to the blood and brutality of the tragedy — so Shakespeare used them in the two parts of Henry IV. Second, which is equally obvious, although not so generally received : namaly, that Falstaff, Pistol, Bardolph, and aU their horde of petty followers with loud braggadocio and easily pricked cowardice, are set forth as a travesty upon the highborn but pseudo- chiv- alry, then on its last legs, and destined soon to pass away entirely. Chivalry had lived its noblest long be- fore. The thing that masqueraded under its name is roughly typified in Falstaff with his shrewd knavery, his animal appetite, his gross trading on the name and title of gentleman ; above all, his self-admitted knowl- edge that he was in certain important ways a humbug. Hear him, for example, soliloquize on honor.' But he is not the arrant coward and time server he would have us believe. He speaks here very much in the spirit of Falconbridge, quoted in the chapter on King John, when he determines to make the "vile com- modity " his god. In these words we may read a ' Part II., Act v., Scene 1. FRINGE HAL'S REAL GHARAOTER. 125 commentary on the boasted cMvalry of the fourteenth century. It was a painted simulacrum of the fair original.* Observe too the attitude of Prince Hal toward these " lewd fellows of the baser sort," with whom he found his lot cast for a while. The careful reader of these plays will readily note that while the wild Prince was often in Eastcheap Tavern, he was never of it. He is banished by his own restlessness from the solemn ceremonies of his father's court. He has no part nor lot with his eminently proper and respectable brothers. He seeks in dissipation, which it will be noted is never more than reckless and indifferent, never vile, the change such natures amidst such surroundings have ever sought ; more's the pity. But he looks on the antics of his pot-room companions with a heavy heart and forced smile, valuing them, and through them the shams they represent in higher quarters, at their true worth. In proof of this attitude of the Prince the whole of Act Y. might be quoted. Great are the misgivings with which his accession to the throne is greeted. The poet cleverly adds to 1 While Shakespeare was thus occupied in satirizing the English chivalry of this period, Cervantes was putting forth his immortal travesty of middle- age knight-errantry in the adventures of Don Quixote. And Franoia Sao- chetti, the Italian, quoted by Dr. Burckhardt in the Renaissance in Italy, wrote toward the end of the fourteenth century, " Every one saw how all the work people, down to the bakers, how all the woolcarders, usurers, money-changers, and blackguards of all descriptions, became knights. . . . How art thou sunken, unhappy dignity ! Of all the long list of knightly duties, what single ones do these knights of ours discharge ? I wish to speak of these things, that the reader may see that knighthood is dead." 126 APPREHENSIONS AT COURT. this apprehension by picturing the puffed-up joy of Falstaif, as he contemplates the elevation of his tavern companion to a throne : What, is the old king dead? . . . Away, Bardolph: saddle my horse : Master Robert Shallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land, it is thine. Pistol, I will double charge thee with dignities. ... I know the young king is sick for me. Let me take any man's horse : the laws of England are at my commandment. Happy are they which have been my friends, and woe unto my Lord Chief Justice.' This same Lord Chief Justice, so the tradition runs, had committed the young Prince for some fault, and had been assaulted by him. Certainly Falstaff and his cronies were joyous in the hope that their enemy, the law of the land, impersonated in its chief administrator, would suffer by the changing of kings. '•' Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also," is the comment of Poins. Meanwhile at court there are long faces and heavy sighs. Doubtless for his own purposes, Shakespeare has painted in the dark shadows of the young Prince's character with a free hand, and there is warrant in all the chronicles for a certain degree of wildness and profligacy. The old play hints at this, and Shake- speare enlarges upon it for two reasons : first, to lay in a background for the artistic working out of a finer character for his chief hero — chief of all his heroes — and second, to give a more delicate shading to his com- edy scenes. But wild. Prince Hal was, and the Lord Chief Justice "Part II., Act v., Scene 3. HAL-a ALTERED CMABAOTElt. 127 was quite justified, from what he knew of his future king, in saying to the sympathetic Warwick : I would his majesty had called me ■with him, The service that I truly did his life, Hath left me open to all injuries.' The general feeling that Henry V. will be ruled by tavern ministers, is voiced in the spiteful speech of his brother Clarence : Well, you must now speak. Sir John Falstaff fair. Which swims against your stream of quality." The new king, upon whom the " gorgeous garment majesty sits not so easy," is well aware of this feeling against him, and speedily answers it in a way that sends joy chasing the care from noble cheeks and brows. Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear. This is the English, not the Turkish court. Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds. But Harry, Harry.' This^ was good news, for Amurath the Turk signal- ized his accession to the throne by butchering the friends and relations of the preceding monarch and all who could be possible successors of himself. One by one the young king addresses and wins his court. His brothers, his barons, even the chief justice, whom he mischievously keeps upon the rack a moment, only to 'Part II., Act v., Scene 3. ' Ibid. ' Ibid. 128 REJBOTION OF FAL8TAFF. release him with higher honors than he had yet worn, all are made to see the truth of the wild heir's words : Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares. I survive To mock the expectation of the world, To frustrate prophecies.' To the astonishment of the realm, nobles, and people, the wild Prince Hal is transformed into the buoyant, hopeful, splendid king, under whose rule England sang her supremest song of triumph as a nation for many a day. Even Falstaff fell, and in his fall lies the one stain, or apparent stain, upon the dramatic character of Henry V. The scene seems cruel in which he re- nounces and exiles the man who had been his resource for wit and sympathy in the arid days of banishment from court. It is pathetic, the eager, turbulent, boast- ful haste with which the fat old knight scrambled to throw himself in Henry's way. My king ! my jove ! I speak to thee, my heart.' The king's scornful reply even did not penetrate the thick crust of his well-grounded conceit : I know thee not, old man : fall to thy prayers. How ill white hairs become a fool and jester. I have long dreamed of such a kind of man. So surfeit swelled, so old and so profane : But being awake I do despise my dream. ' Part II. , Act v., Scene 3. ' Part II., Act V., Scene 5. FATE OF FALSTAFF. 129 Reply not to me with a fool born jest, Presume not that I am the thing I was. For competence of life I will allow you, That lack of means enforce you not to evil, And, as we hear you do reform yourselves, We will, according to your strength and qualities, Give you advancement. ' The trembling old discarded scamp will have it in his heart that these words are for effect. He whispers to Shallow, " Do not you grieve at this ; I shall be sent for in private to him ; but look you, he must seem thus to the world." And goes off mumbling in senile assur- ance, " I shall be sent for soon, at night." ' But the time was never to be. This casting off is cruel as we read it, but it was the poetic way of marking a point in the evolution of Hal's character, which the careful reader perceives is taking place all along. Falstaff is not a real character, but a personification i of the reckless youth of the Prince, under which lay j ripening the splendid potency of his manhood. No one of all Shakespeare's heroes grows under our eye as this one of Henry V. One stage marking the changing of the old order, is the banishment of Falstaff and his fel- lows from court. And yet there is a side to Falstaff which inevitably draws us to him. We see that the Prince must have cast him off, and that he considered his old age enough to provide a comfortable resting- place for the gi-ay head. We hear of him but once again. It is this scene, probably, which causes sen- timent to enter so deeply into our reading of the ■ Part II., Act v., Scene 5. ' Ibid. 9 130 THE NEW ENGLAND. pseudo-knight's character. It is among roughs, and the message is borne by an outcast, but it is the death of Jack Falstaff, who " fumbled wi' the sheets, and played with flowers, and smiled upon his fingers' ends, and babbled o' green fields," and they said the " king has killed his heart." ' So died the shadow of that once proud knighthood which was dying all about him ; with now and then a flickering gleam of its old splendid spirit, and now and then a flaming up in the socket of its former glo- , rious power, but passing because its time was past. New figures were on the stage. New scenes occu- pied them. England was rousing herself from the old lair of feudal tyranny, and shaking the mighty spears of her serried yeomanry, led as of old by the barons, loyal as not of old, first to the nation, and not to men whose quarrel might any time turn them against their king. And so came Henry of that name the Fifth to rale the sceptred isle of England, and to extend her sway again across the seas, bringing back from Prance a new kingdom at his girdle and a noble wife at his side. 1 Henry V,, Act II., Scene 3, HENEY V. The Famous Victories of Henry V., Containing the Hon- orable Battell of Agincourt, last half, afforded Shake- speare a slight groundwork for this play as for the pre- ceding. Hall's Chronicle is the principal source of its history, however, and for the comedy Shakespeare is entirely responsible. The date of this play is (probably) the middle of the year 1599. The only copy of it printed in the author's lifetime was a miserably imperfect and garbled one, which was surreptitiously published, made up from notes taken in the theatre during a performance. It was first published, complete and unmarred, in the First Folio. CHRONOLOGY OF HENRY V. 1413. Henry crowned upon the death of his father. He alkys still further the domestic troubles of the kingdom by recon- ciling to his cause the young Earl of March, and the Percy family. 1414-15. Prance distracted by internal feuds. Charles VI., the king, subject to fits of insanity. Government earned on by his brother, Louis of Orleans, and his cousin, John of Bur- gundy, who were bitter rivals. Heniy V. takes advantage of this state of affairs to make extravagant demands upon France, embracing certain provinces, the hand of the Princess Katharine, a large sum of money — finally the crown itself, in right of his descent from Edward III. 1415. These terms rejected, Henry determines to invade France. A domestic conspiracy is discovered between the Earl of Cambridge, Lord Scrope, and Sir Thomas Grey, in behalf of the claims of the young Earl of March, to the throne (although probably without his knowledge). Conspirators arrested and executed. Heniy and his army lay siege to Harfleur, which capitulates September 22d. Henry moves toward Calais, October 8th. Battle of Agincourt, October 25th. Henry returns in triumph to London, November 23d. 1416. France still distracted. Burgundy allies himself with Henry. Desultory warfare. 1417. Henry again lands in France, meeting with small suc- cesses. 1418. Burgundy allies himself with the queen-regnant against the Dauphin and tlie Orleans faction. 1419. Henry and the Burgundy faction have a meeting, but negotiations fail on account of the foi'mer's excessive de- mands. Burgundy makes overtures to theDauphiu, who dur- ing a meeting causes the duke to be assassinated. The new OHRONOLOGT OF HBNIiT V. 133 Duke of Burgundy breaks off negotiations with the Dauphin, and brings his party (including the queen and Princess Katharine) to Henry V.'s allegiance. 1420. Treaty of Troyes (May 21), by which the King of Eng- land was to receive the hand of the Princess Katharine ; to be immediate regent of the kingdom ; and to be recognized as successor to the crown on the death of Charles VI. Henry marries Katharine, June 2. 1422. Henry V. dies. CHAPTEE V. HENBY Y. — ENGLiND's SONG OF TEIUMPH. Sources of the play. — ^Ita epic character.. — The use of the chorus. — One great historical event its theme. — The battle of Agincourt. — Events leading up to this triumph of English arms. — The long Franco-English duel. — Internal broils of Prance at Henry's accession. — Restlessness of the Englioh nobles. — Attitude of the clergy. — Henry's pretentious to the French crown. — The Salic law. — Defiance of the "tennis-balls." — Misinterpretation of the frivolous youth of Henry. — Use made of the comedy element. — Conspiracy of the nobles, "gilt with French gold." — Divided French opinions as to Henry's ability. — The siege and fall of Harfleur. — Catholic make up of the English army. — Henry's with- drawal toward Calais. — The eve of Agincourt. — Hopes and fears of England. — Night scenes before the battle. — Henry among his troops. — The battle of Agincourt and total defeat of the French. — Henry's re- turn to England. — Interregnum of war. — Alliance of Burgundy and England. — Treaty of Troyes. — Henry acknowledged heir of the French crown. — The Dauphin continues desultory war. — Marriage of Henry and Katharine. — ^Character of Henry as further developed. — A type of England's ideal of royalty — The fallacious glory of foreign conquest. In the epilogue to Henry IV. we have an indication of the scope of this play. We are promised a cam- paign in France, an introduction to the fair Princess Katharine, and perhaps further escapades with Fal- staff. The poet fulfils his promises to the letter, save in the latter particular. Of Falstaff we read only con- cerning his death. It is a di-amatic touch. The king's old life is dead iu the person of his former boon com- panion. The Henry who fares forth with gallant armies to strike at the ancient foe of England is no EPICAL GHABAOTEB OF THE PLAY. 135 longer the Hal who consorted with the amateur high- waymen of Eastoheap. The close-fitting crown of his father, subdued and solemnized, as well as exalted, the one time roisterer in taverns. The character of the prince formerly "neighbored by fruit of baser quality " growing " like the summer grass, fastest by night " had been perfected. With Falstaff passed the shadow from his career. We now behold him as the central figure of a great epic, for epical in its character the play of Henry V. is, as taken altogether as one production the whole series is. We have war now on a grand scale. No little contention is this between barons, no spear- thrusting of civil factions ; but war in its most glorious aspect, if war can ever be glorious. In the chorus which speaks between the acts of the play, the story of this war is epitomized and explained. It is the first use in these plays of this literary form patterned after the classic model. It is used as an interpreter and illustration of what precedes and follows it. Chorus paints broadly what the acts and scenes depict in detail. It served to whet the appetite of an Eng- lish audience for the feast of victory and triumph to be spread before it. One great and shining historical event is the central motif of this play— the battle of Agincourt — fit succes- ■ sor to English arms, of Cressy and Poitiers. The play summarizes in dramatic clearness, and with much historic faithfulness, both the events that led up to this point, and the results which flowed from it. England and France had long been rivals. The duello between the two great powers was perennially 136 TREATY OF BRETIONT. taking active form. By the treaty of Edward III., after Oressy, a truce had been patched up, unsatisfac- tory because insincere. The fatal persistence of Eng- lish kings in claiming foreign provinces since the time of King John, kept hot and feverish the terms of peace between the two countries. When Henry V. came to his throne in 1413, France was rent asunder by internal broils. Two great parties strove for the mastery, the king's party and that of the Duke of Burgundy. The king was insane ; his wife not quite capable of dealing with great affairs ; the Dauphin, or heir-apparent, a young man, liable to be influenced by the factions which divided his future heritage, and held in check by a partisan, the Count Armagnac. As if this were not enough for the unhappy people of Erance to face and deal with, a claim is put forth by Henry V. of England for the throne, in right of inheritance from Edward III. Shakespeare discusses the question of Henry's right to the French crown in a very learned and appai'ently satisfactory manner : His true title to some certain dukedoms, And generally to the crown and seat of France, Derived from Edward his great grandfather.' But the claim seems really to have been a shallow one. By the treaty of Edward III. England was entitled to certain possessions in France, notably the duchy of Normandy, and Touraine, the earldoms of Anjou and Maine, and the duchy of Brittany ; but the treaty had never been fulfilled ; England had been actually de- ' Aotl., Scene 1. HENRY'S CLAIMS. 137 frauded of the spoils of war granted under that treaty, and these were the provinces to which Henry V. had some show of right to lay claim. But these did not constitute a shadow of a right to the crown itself. In- deed Henry did not at first — before the campaign pre- ceding Agincourt — pretend to the throne, although he made a vague renewal of the old claim of Edward III., which was scouted. He then demanded these prov- inces only. But with them he made some extra ter- - ritorial requests which were sure to arouse the ire of the French, namely, the hand of Katharine in marriage and two millions of crowns hard cash. We quote here the careful historian. Knight : " The French Government consented to give up all the an- cient territories of Aquitaine and to marry the daugh- ter of Charles VI. to Henry, with a dowry of six hun- dred thousand crowns, afterwards increased to eight hundred thousand, . . . and the demand of Henry for the cession of Normandy, Maine, and Anjou was rejected. The French then sent an embassy to Eng- land, when Henry demanded Normandy, and all the territories ceded by the peace of Bretigny, under the threat that he would otherwise take arms to en- force his claim to the crown of France." ' This was the state of affairs when the play opens, early in the year 1414. France was broken in two by factional broils. The hated English were looking on with greedy and am- bitious eyes. Henry V. was the centre of interest. Wliat would he do ? To understand the king's posi- tion Ave may revert to the previous play, and quote » Knight's History of England, Vol. II., Ch. ]., p. 17. 138 UNREST OF THE ENGLISH NOBLES. again the wise words of Bolingbroke on his dieath-bed, to the son who was to succeed him : Yet though thou standest more sure than I could do, Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green. And all my friends, -whom thou must make thy friends, Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'eu out, By whose fell working I was first advanced, And by whose power I well might lodge a fear To be again displaced. Which to avoid I cut them off; and had a purpose now To lead out many to the Holy Land, Lest rest, and lying still, might make them look Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry, Be it thy course to busy giddy minds With foreign quarrels.' The nobles about Henry's court were, as ever, restless. War was their chief delight, their prime occupation. The playful description of Hotspur's appetite for strife in the previous play is hardly exaggerated from the real attitude of the English soldier, noble, and man-at-arms of the times. " I am not of Percy's mind," cries Hal, who was so like to Percy afterward in the craving for battle, " I am not of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north ; he that kills me some six- or seven dozen Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands and says to his wife, ' Fie upon this quiet life, I want work.' 'O, my sweet Harry,' says she, 'how many hast thou killed to-day?' 'Give my roan horse a drench,' says he, and answers an hour after, 'some fourteen; a trifle, a trifle.'"^ The characteristic of ■ Henry IV.. Part II., Act IV., Scene i. " Heury IV., Part I, Act II., Scene 4. ATTITUDE OF THE OLEBar. 139 the brawny Englishman, whose idea of amusement is said to be to go out and kill something, has a bit of historic truth in it. Certainly the lords who were gathered about the young King Henry were pining for the smell of blood and the clash of arms. Failing in this as against their foreign enemies, they were sure to find some cause for buckling on the sword at home. Bolingbroke's advice was in the line of broad states- manship, and Henry the Fifth was fully aware of its value. The failure of France, due, perhaps, largely to her own internal trouble, to keep the truce of Bretigny, was reason, or at least occasion, for the busying of giddy minds with foreign quarrels. Already treason was hatching, centering in the pretension of the young Earl of March to the throne, although Henry had re- leased him from prison, and he himself was not mov- ing in the matter. And now the king found an miexpected spur given to his warlike plans. The attitude of the clergy of his realm was in his favor. It must be remembered that we are reading of the days of John Huss (1415) and the Council of Constance (1414). The stirrings of Reformation were troubling the peace of the Church. The state, its stout ally, and often obedient servant, was looking curiously and enviously into the enormous and well-filled treasuries of bishop and abbot. In the previous reign a bill had been proposed in Parliament which would have passed. But that the scambling and unquiet time Did push it out of further question.' 'Act I., Scene 1. 140 THE KINO'S MOTIVES. And this bill, the Archbishop of Canterbury com- plains to the Bishop of Ely in the opening scene of this play. If it pass against 113, We lose the better half of our possession. For all the temporal lands which men devout By testament have given to the Church, Would they strip from us.' This was not only drinking deep, but drinking cup and all, as Canterbury puts it. There must be some- thing done, for this self -same bill is now proposed again. It was to the interest of the Churchmen that Henry and his restless nobles should be occupied abroad. Anything seemed a noble quest that would seek quarry elsewhere than in the Church. The one thing lacking to, and needed by, Henry in his foreign wars was money. It were better to give a greater sum, Than over at one time, the clergy yet Did to his predecessors part ■n'ithal,* than to lose forever half their estates. But more than this did the clever Churchmen do for the foreign wars. They succeeded in making them not only respectable ■ but obligatory upon the conscience of the king. It is not at all certain that Henry was over-con- scientious in the matter of pushing pike and exchang- ing shots with his insane royal brother across the Channel. Hudson's eulogy of Henry's motives and scruples here is altogether strained.' It is the fault of ■Act I., Scene 1. 2 Ibid. 3 Hudson's Life Art and Characters, Vol. II. , p. X24. TBE SALIO LAW. 141 even the best of critics, and Hudson ranks as one of the best, to see no faults in their heroes. That Henry was glad to have the voice of the Church on his side goes without saying ; that he would have stayed his purpose without it, we may doubt. The argument of the chorus in Scene 2 of Act I. is appropriately used by the dramatist to mark the fact that Henry must have presented his claims to France in a formal and legal document. It reads in the play like the result of a lawyer's struggle to embalm his brief in blank verse. The stumbling-block is the Salic law, which barred inheritance through the female line, and Henry's claim, if any just claim he had, was through Isabella, Queen of Edward II., daughter of the French Philip the Fair, from whom he was fourth in direct descent. Isabella's two brothers both died. The crown fell, under the provisions of the Salic law, to Charles, the younger brother of Philip, and his descendant was now upon the throne. The apostrophe to the Archbishop of Canterbury to beware of wresting the truth in order to establish the English claim to French sovereignty, is one of those fine bursts of eloquence with which the whole play is charged, and which Shakespeare delighted to put in the mouth of the favorite hero. And God forbid, my good and faithful lord, That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading, Or nicely charge your understanding soul With opening title misoreate, whose right Suits not in native colors with the truth : For God doth know how many now in health 142 THE KING'S POLICY. Shall drop their blood in apiDrobation - Of what your reverence shall incite us to. Therefore take heed how you impawn Our person How you awake our sleeping sword of war.' It must be noted here, in behalf of the truth of history, that those who take their history from Shakespeare should have before them in this and like passages the large and broad conception the poet had of poetic - license. There is nothing on record to cause us to think that Henry V. was more conscientious in his international policy than other rulers before and after him. All that Hudson draws his inference from, such as this and similar speeches ; his thanksgiving to God for victory ; his Non nobis and Te Deum after Agincourt ; might be paralleled in the career of most monarchs of those days. Religious phrases were very current, not as cant but as familiar daily speech. The Church of the pre-Eeformation period was the most real of all institutions to an Englishman. A man was a Chris- tian as he was a citizen. The king in this play is no more conspicuously pious than the majority of people. There is a grace and tenderness about the poet's favor- ite conception of the kingly character, and a glamour upon the page which portrays him to us. But history is one thing and poetry another. Henry was a manly prince, noble and generous, and after the fashion of his age pious ; but we need not be called upon to believe that he was endowed with any supernatural qualities. The Salic law is reasoned away by- the learned Archbishop in a clever manner.^ The argument is a 'Act!., Scenes. "Ibid. THE a ALIO LAW NO BAB. 143 puzzling one. Even Courtenay, the most painstaking of delvers, gives up its solution. We need not at- tempt to unravel it, briefly quoting a few lines of the ingenious Churchman's explanation : The land Salique is in Germany, ;Between the floods of Sala and the Elbe ; Where Charles the Great, having subdued the Saxons, There left behind and settled certain French, Who, holding in disdain the German women -- ' ' For some dishonest manners of their life. Established then this law : to wit, no female Should be Inheritrix in Salique land ; Which Salique, as I said, 'twixt Elbe and Sala, Is at this day in German called Meisen.' Henry is easily convinced by all this array of facts and inferences that the Salic law was not a bar to his just claims. The conviction was borne in upon him with the sanction and express commission of the Church. The Old Testament is quoted in behalf of " unwinding the bloody flag."^ There is another ob- stacle, however, an obstacle often in England's way, the fear of a Scotch invasion. Says the king : For you shall read that my great-grandfather Never went with his forces into France But the Soot on his unfurnished kingdom Came pouring like the tide into a breach. With ample and brimfulness of his force, Galling the gleaned land with hot essays, Girding with grievous siege castles and towns. ' Act I, Scene 8. ' Numbers xxvii. 8. 14i FEAR QF SCOTOH INVASION. Westmoreland drops into ancient and poetical tradi- tion : But there's a, saying, very old and true : " If that you will France win, Then with Scotland first begin." ' The ingenious archbishop once more comes to the res- cue in these puzzled counsels, and in one of the fa- mous passages of the play delivers his parable of the bees, the moral of which is that the state is divided, like a swarm of bees, into different classes with divers functions, therefore : Divide you happy England into four. Whereof you take one quarter into France, And you withal shall make all Gallia shake. If we, with thrice such powers left at home, Cannot defend our own doors from the dog, Let us be worried." The king now resolves upon the war, and having pre- pared himself by argument, and what was of more importance, with the sinews of war furnished by the large gift of the clergy, he receives an embassy from the French court. In all this was Henry more ambitious than consci- entious ? Shakespeare hints at the former while de- claring the latter : France being ours, we'll bend it to our awe, Or break it all to pieces : . . . Either our history shall with full mouth Sjjeak freely of our acts : or our grave 'Aotl., Scenes. =Ibid. THE TENNIS-BALLS. 145 Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, Not worshipped with a waxen epitaph.' Here speaks the proud ambitious monarch. So far, and not to his discredit relatively, he was a product of his times. He meets the French embassy, and in this meeting the poet cleverly pictures how the Nemesis of Henry, in the shape of ghosts from his wild youth, rise up now to check his pride. At home and among his own people these ghosts had faded away. The wild prince was forgotten in the gallant king. But his reputa- tion abroad had yet to be cleansed of the stains that marked the Falstaffian period. In answer to his claims upon the French crown, the ambassador of Charles VI. says bluntly and somewhat indiscreetly : The prince our master Says that you savor too much of your youth, And bids you be advised there's naught in France That can be with a nimble galliard won : Yon cannot revel into dukedoms there.' And forthwith presents the astonished and offended king with a set of tennis-balls as a more appropriate occupation for his talents. This episode of the tennis- balls is taken from the old play, whence it was adopted from the Chronicles. Henry acknowledges the bitter mockery and returns a manly reply : And we understand him well. How he comes o'er us with our wilder days Not measuring what use we made of them. 'Act I., Scene 2. 'Ibid. 10 146 AN ENGLISH 00N8PIRACT. But tell the daupliin I will keep my state, Be like a kii)g and show my sail of greatness When I do louse me in my throne of France. And tell the pleasant prince this mock of his Huth turned his balls to gun-stones : and his soul Sliall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance That shall fly with them. His jest shall savor but of shallow wit When thousands weep more than do laugh at it?' With Act II., warned by the clioms, we are brought now to look upon the seamy side of the English court. A conspiracy is brooding, and although Shakespeare imikes no mention of the actual cause, sufficiently in- dicating his idea that the conspirators were " gilt with French gold " — the real occasion for it doubtless was some attempt to unseat Harry in favor of the Earl of March, who, whether knowing to the scheme or not, was now a trusted officer in the royal army. On the threshold of his French campaign the king is thus reminded of the words of his dying father, that the wounds of his own usurpation were yet green, and the stings but newly taken out. Scene 2 of Act II., reveals the unravelling of the conspiracy against the king's life, showing that French intrigue had much to do with it, but personal ambition more. Henry's ad- dress to the guilty nobles, especially to Lord Scroop, is most affecting : Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels. That knewest the very bottom of my soul, That almost mightst have coined me into gold, ' Act I. , Scene 'i. HISMtr SETS FOltTH. 147 Wouldat thou laave pvaetised on me for tliy use-? May it be possible that foreign hire Could out of thee extract one spark of evil That might annoy my finger? ' But tlie whole evil of this transaction lay not in the single fact of a conspiracy, discovered in time and its purpose headed off. It must have to an extent unset- tled the minds of those who were loyal and faithful and devoted to their king's interest, making them sus- picious even of each other and fearful of what treason might fall out. The poet intimates this in the sad words of Henry, in this same address : Such, and so finely bolted didst thou seem, And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot. To mark the full-fraught man and best indued, With some suspicion." However, the conspiracy once exposed and its mem- bers executed, the king drops all thought of domestic troubles, trusting in a large way to the general good faith in his people, the exciting pleasures of a popular war, and the high hopes of a great victory to settle all internal broUs. Now : Cheerily to sea the signs of war advance. No King of England, if not King of France.' With this watchword Henry set forth from South- ampton in the midsummer of 1415. We may pause here to notice the use of the comedy element in this play, in so far as it illustrates the his- ' Act II., Scene 2. ' Ibid. ' Ibid. 148 OOMEDT OF THE PLAT. toric situation. It is distinctly lower comedy in one set of characters and higher in another, than that which centred about Falstaff in Henry IV. The old knight's companions are all in these wars, and repre- sent the attitude of the rascal element of England's population toward the warlike spirit of England's king. Now all the youth of England are on fire, And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies.' But what of Nym, Pistol, and Bardolph ? They, too, are all on fire. There is a stir in the tavern parlor. There is a bringing out of rusty swords, a shaking out of stained armor. " We'll be all three sworn brothers in France,"" in spite of quarrels and grudges at home. But not I fancy because " honor's thought reigns solely in the breast of every man."' Pistol will go so far as to pay his debts, though he is of the opinion " Base is the slave that pays." For I shall sutler be Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.* And cries again : Let us to France, like horse-leeches, my boys. To suck, . . . the very blood to suck.' The war was thus approved by the stained brava- does. There was nothing to lose, and possibly much to gain. They could afford to dissolve ancient grudges, knowing each other's rascal nature, and the advantage of union in a common cause. We may not ' Chorus to Act II. " Act II., Scene 1. » Chorus to Act H. ■< Act II., Scene 1. » Act n., Scene 3. QOWEIVS COMMENT. 149 say there was not some lagging sense of loyalty to the king. Many have the finer feelings deeply encrusted with sordid actions. Perhaps, on the whole, the philo- sophic Gower sums up this phase of English life as aptly as could be, in discom-sing of ancient Pistol with his friend Fluellan : Wliy, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue, that now and then goes to the wars to grace himself at his return into London under the form of a soldier. And such fellows are perfect in the great commanders' names. And they will learn you by rote where great services were done : at such and such a sconce, at such a breach, at such a convoy : who came off bravely, who was shot, who disgraced, what terms the enemy stood on : and this they can perfectly in the phrase of war, which they trick up with new-tuned oaths : and what a beard of the general's cut and a horrid suit of the camji will do among foaming bottles and ale- washed wits, is wonderful to be thought on.' Meanwhile in France there are searchings of heart, but under the influence of an impression that Henry is to be lightly esteemed on account of his wild days, there is no movement to heal internal divisions. Shakespeare does not attempt to follow accurately the real embassies that passed between the two king- doms any more than he professes to give the actual words that were spoken. And there is no need, for purposes of gathering the true spirit of the history of those times, that we should seek to identify occasions. In the scene in the French king's palace,* Burgundy is represented as being present. But he was at this very time hostile to the king, and the active enemy of the Orleans party, of which the king was nominal head. > Act III., Scone 6. ' Act U. , Scene 4. 150 DIVIDED COUNCILS IN FRANCE. The duke did, however, send troops to the aid of his king, at first, to repel English invasion. He considered it patriotic and politic. Afterward, as we shall see, he withdrew his aid, and even joined forces with the Eng- lish. This scene is valuable as noting the existence of two parties among the French, the one despising, the other estimating at their full value, the worth of Eng- lish armies. The old king in one of his fits of sanity urges : To line and new repair our towns of war With men of courage and witli means defendant : For England Lis approaches makes, as fierce As waters to the sucking of a gulf.' The Dauphin barely grants that " the sick and feeble parts of France " should be looked to, and scorns any serious show of fear : No, with no more than if we heard that England Were busied with a Whitsnn morris-dance, For, my good liege, she is so idly kinged Her sceptre so fantastically borne By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth. That fear attends lier not." The king is mindful of the past, as well he might be. He knows the strain of blood in Henry is the same That haunted us in our familiar paths. Witness our too much memorable shame. When Cressy battle fatally was struck. This is a stem of that victorious stock.-* ' Act II. Scene 4. « Ibid. " Ibid. WALL OF HARFLEUB. 151 But the Dauphin's mind was the mind of all young France, and fatally young France paid for it. We are next before Hariieur. The chorus that in- troduces the third act is a rare example of poetic genius dealuig with otherwise dry details. Dr. John- son could see nothing in this introduction of the cho- rus but a clumsy device. We wonder how he could have failed to perceive both its use and beauty, espe- cially this one and that in Act IV. We are now greeted by the noble strain : Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more. Or close the wall up with our English dead ; ' a strain unworn by constant quotation, unhackneyed by trite allusions. Like the splendid harmonies of a master-musician it throbs and thrills us as we read, in spite of the declamations of the school-room and the parsing exercises of childhood. Harfleur was not won offhand. For more than a month the English army battered at its walls, under- mined its towers, lay leech-like in its trenches, sucking its life-blood. In vain the besieged looked for relief. It never came. France was distracted in her head and members. Factions were warring with each other, while a populous city begged in vain for help against the common foe. Harfleur fell, and Henry gave thanks for the victory in the church of St. Martin, which he entered barefoot and in humility. His position was a curious one. By his own profession he appeared to the French people not as a destroying conqueror who sought their dis- ' Act III., Scene 1. 152 THE KING'S PERPLEXITY. tress, but as a faithful sovereign, shudderiug at the civil dissensions of Burgundians and Orleanists. He pre- sented himself as the savior of France, her rightful king, protecting her from her erring and quarrelsome sons. But with the conquest of Harfleur Henry found him- self in desperate straits. His army had wasted away by fevers, by wounds, by death. It was a costly vic- tory he had won. He might hold the city for a time, but to what advantage ? It seemed as though he must go back to England with his reduced army, with little booty and no glory, save that of storming and carrying a town he could not hold. He was urged by the faint- hearted to return at once by sea. A few days would restore the army to its home. A few hours' journey by sea would take them out of the toils into which they had so gallantly plunged, and place them again in the silken dalliance they loved. But Henry saw not affairs so. He was urged to another course, both by personal pride and the sure and certain knowledge of how frail a hold upon the throne his would be, did he fail now to satisfy the English thirst for glory and foreign con- quest. He would not yield to the cry of his council to return. He determined to march to Calais. Just what the king expected to gain by this march, history does not tell. It was not that he expected or wanted the pitched battle which was the actual result of this cam- paign. Probably it was a leap in the dark, a trusting to Providence, and, as the old chronicler writes, " re- lying upon the divine grace and the righteousness of his cause, piously considering that victory does not consist in multitudes." Action of some sort was de- manded of him, and whether his course was prudeptly AGINOOUBT. 153 taken, it was justified in its result. Like the charge at Balaklava its rashness was forgotten in its success, and its tentative foolishness in its practical wisdom, as events fell out. So Harfleur is left behind, and the weakened and at times discouraged army set forth amid clouds of dark- ness. They saw nothing before them but a dangerous journey with an uncertain end. But before them was a glory that paled not before any after-achievement of English arms. Shakespeare is here again the inter- preter of that thought with wliich all these English plays are charged ; that kings are but pawns and knights but common men, in the great sweep of na- tional movements. As none could look forward from Harfleur to Agincourt, so none from the bright glories of Henry's triumphant fields could perceive the clouds hanging low over England in the reign of his son. We may examine here the other and different side of the comedy element of this play, which we have noted as being of a higher character than that in the two parts of Henry IV. The Nym, Pistol, and Bardolph coterie is contrasted with that of Fluellen, Macmorris, and Jamy, petty officers in the royal army. These add a lighter vein to the story while not dropping to the vulgar level of Eastcheap. But as dramatis per- sonce they have an historical significance also, in in- dicating the catholic make-up of the English ranks. Fluellen is a "Welshman, and perhaps had fought against the king's father under the irregular and wild Glendower. Macmorris is an Irishman, one of those " rug-headed kerns," possibly, against whom the Eng- lish sovereigns were perpetually making campaigns, as 154 ON TO CALAIS. in Eichard II.'s time. Jamy is a canny Scotchman, and the Scotch, as the beginning of this play suffi- ciently indicates, were always in a state of revolt. And yet here they were together, weaving the feather, the shamrock, and the thistle into one common em- blem against the common foe. It was significant of the growing solidarity of the English people emerging from the petty statecraft of feudalism. It was signifi- cant of the growing homogeneousness of the English people, by whatever local name they might be called. It was a fulfilment of the prophecy of Bolingbroke's last words, that occupation for a common glorious cause abroad must" tend more than anything else to prevent the breaking out of small revolts against the house of Lancaster at home. It is true that the most savage of civil wars was yet to come, but the catholic comprehension of Henry V.'s army before Harfleur and at Agincourt were symbolic of that oneness of national purpose which was to close the wounds of civil war with the death of the last Plantagenet, never again to be reopened for reasons of state. For piter Bosworth field the internal feuds of England were theo- logical and ecclesiastical in their inception, not civil. On the march now toward Calais ; the poet noting from time to time by alternate scenes from the French and English head-quarters, the state of feeling, the hopes and fears, the boastings and brave words of both. "God of battles," cries the Constable of France, "Where have they this mettle? Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull ? On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale,' ' Act III. , Scene 5. THE LAST OF BARDOLPII. 155 And yet he accurately estimates the bedraggled con- dition of the English troops : Sony am I lus numbers are so few, His soldiers sick and famished in the march ; For I am sure when he shall see our aimy He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear.' And to speak truth, the French brag and bluster had a strong basis whereon to flourish. Henry's army was in a desperate strait. Still it marched on as soldiers march who believe in their leader. And Harry's troops believed in him, although he lacked no discipline, and punished offences among his own men iu a way that boded ill for his enemies. Anent which we come once more, and for the last time, across the rogue Bardolph. Fluellen addresses the king, who has asked him what the losses were among his soldiers : " Marry, for my part I think the Duke hath lost never a man but one that is like to be executed for robbing a church, one Bardolph, if your majesty know the man: his face is all bubukles and welks and knobs and flames of fire: and his lips plough at his nose." ^ So the poet used the historic fact of a man's steal- ing a pyx, recorded by the chroniclers, to speed the prince's former companion to a fitting end. With the chorus to the Fourth Act we join the rival camps on the eve of Agincourt. Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe. ' Act UI. , Scene 5. " Act III , Scene G. 156 PREPARATION FOR BATTLE. From camp to camp, tbrongli the foul womb of niglit, The hum of either army stilly sounds.' In the English camp there is realization of great iiu- pending danger : " The greater therefore should our courage be," cries the king. There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distil it out, For our bad neighbor makes us early stirrers. Which is both healthful and good husbandly.'^ But Henry does not confine himself to encouraging the leaders : For forth he goes and visits all his hosts. Bids them good-morrow with a modest smile, And calls them brothers, friends, and countrymen.' And as he talks now to this one, now that, the brag- ging Pistol, the sententious Muellen, the king uncovers in a modest, noble way that which must be the giief of great men, on whom lesser men depend: "I think the king is but a man as I am : the violet smells to him as it doth to me ; the element shows to him as it doth to me; all his senses have but human conditions; his ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; and though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet when they stoop they stoop with the like wing." * Again, in protest against the common habit of lay- ing all sins at the king's door, especially the death of ' Chorus to Act IV. » Act IV., Scene 1. = Chorus to Act IV. * Act IV., Scene 1. NIGHT BEFORE BATTLE. 157 soldiers in battle, he protests, unknown to the common soldier with whom he holds the conversation : The king is not bound to answer the particular endings of his soldiers ; the father of his son ; nor the master of his ser- vant ; for they purpose not their death when they purpose their But while he makes the protest he realizes of how little weight it is : Upon the king, let us our lives, our souls. Our debts, our careful wives, Our children and our sins, lay on the king. We must bear all. O hard condition. Twin-born with greatness. What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect That private men enjoy.'' So with preparations in prayer, and masses, and rest- less sleep, and reliance upon God and king, the Eng- lish camp awaits the dawn soberly, quietly, grimly, in patience and with hope. The Frenchmen, on the other hand, are not like- minded. They infallibly believe in their success on the morrow. They even grieved that the English were so few, as it would tend to taint the glory of their arms. There is not work enough for all our hands. Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins, To give each naked curtle-axe a stain.' The night is passed in revelry, dice-throwing for the morrow's ransoms, boastful longings for the rising ' Act IV. , Scene 1. ' Ibid. ' Act IV., Scone 3. 158 AGINOOUBT. sun. The truth is somewhat distorted here, although the spirit of the scene is well preserved. The French were confident and full of braggadocio. They had a genuine contempt for their adversary, based perhaps upon a knowledge of how weak the Harfleur campaign had left him. But Shakespeare, in his whole treatment of the French side here, as afterward in Henry VI., shows a too strong patriotic bias to be entirely fair. It was the cue of the Elizabethan playwright to belittle and besmirch both France and Spain. The shillings of the groundlings roRed in more merrily to such tunes. But this provincial spirit is fatal to art. True, our poet but copied the chronicles. But as poet and artist he should here, as elsewhere, notably in King John and Henry VIII., have decanted the spirit and left the old wine bottles out of sight. We must decide that in his handling of the French attitude in this play he was the Englishman before he was the artist — a grave fault, yet forced upon him to an extent by the limitation of his age. The shock of arms and Agincourt is over. An acci- dental meeting, not a preordained pitched battle, it re- flected the highest glory on the English arms, and, in its effects, pitched the highest note of England's great- est song of warlike triumph in any age. The march was resumed to Calais, and late in October Henry landed in England, the idolized mon- arch of a great people, every man of whom who had remained at home regretted it bitterly; while every soldier who returned found free quarters on aU sides and a welcome on all lips. The humility of the king's Non nobis and Tc Dcum AJV INTEBREONUM. 159 found slight echo in the towns and villages of Eng- land. Unto Henry and themselves was the chief glory and the great renown. " His bruised helmet and his bended swoi'd " Avere far more thought of than his humble " Not unto us but unto God." There is an interregnum now of two years, during which affairs in France go from bad to worse. The Emperor Sigismund occupied himself in making an empty effort to secure terms of advantageous peace between his royal brothers of England and France. Burgundy carried on a desultory war with the Or- leans or Armagnao faction. Brigandage, on a greater or less scale, ravaged the fair country of France from end to end. Charles VI. was crazy most of the time, of which advantage is taken by the hostile duke. Henry V. lands once more on foreign soil and proceeds to the final conquest of his ancient enemy. Burgundy turns traitor to his king and makes alliance with the English. Henry, pushing on from one success to another, occu- pies a large slice of French territory. The Count of Armagnao has in his control the young Dauphin : but Burgundy seizes the French queen, and wrests from her an appointmeint as governor-general of the realm. Burgundy, forgetting his alliance with Henry, was setting up, as ruler of France, his court at Paris ; the Dauphia's was at Poitiers. Henry besieges and reduces the great city of Eouen, whose inhabitants vainly looked for help from both the French leaders, who assumed to be the legitimate heads of government. Events now marched with rapid step. Burgundy and the queen seek an alliance with Henry. It was broken 160 TREATY OP TROTES. off. Then the Dauphin seeks a reconciliation with Burgundy. It is proceeding favorably, when suddenly the young prince treacherously kills the duke. All hope of alliance between the French parties is now at an end. Philip the Good, son of the slain Duke of Burgundy, at once assumes his father's place and seeks out Henry of England. He ultimately brings the king and queen of unhappy France, and their chief supporters to a meeting with Henry V. and his nobles. This is at Troyes in Champagne. The Dauphin and his claims are disregarded. It is here, and after these stirring events, that Shakespeare, in Scene 2 of Act V., brings us face to face with his dramatic puppets. It will be noticed that he passes over all allusion to the death of the elder Burgundy and carries on the story as though he were dealing with the personage of that name who figures in previous acts. It is, how- ever, with his son Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy we have now to do. There is a marriage in the air and peace in prospect. Henry demands his terms like a merchant, and insists upon them like a usurer. He listens to Burgundy's pathetic picture of poor France "losing both beauty and utility," and replies with the assurance of one who holds the cards of fate : If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace Whose want gives growth to the imperfections Which you have cited, you must buy that peace With full accord to all our just demands.' With these terms and just demands we are already familiar. Henry abates no jot or tittle of the claims for 'Act v., SoenoS. OHARAOTEB OF HENRY. 161 which, he had " let loose the dogs of war." First, he will have Katharine to his wife. Second, he will be regent of the kingdom of France during the king's life ; and third, he will receive the crown as his own upon the king's decease. This was the famous treaty of Troyes. The legal heir to the throne is entirely ignored. Henry is espoused to the fair Princess Kath- arine after a soldierly wooing, and the play ends with Henry's " prepare we for our marriage." Surely Shakespeare, in his devotion to the character of Henry V., could not have selected a more brilliant ending for the Ufe with which he has dealt in three successive plays. With all France his heritage, and aU England his own, with a patriotic people who saw in him a fitting successor to the Black Prince, whose Cressy had been fairly outdone by Agincourt; with the gratified ambition of a soldier's life on his head as a crown, and a beautiful wife by his side as a helpmeet, the poet leaves, we cannot but believe regretfully, this chiefest and best beloved of all the children of his brain. This character of Henry, now dramatically com- pleted, deserves close study. Both as an artistic con- ception and as an interesting personality it must re- ceive the palm over all the purely historic characters, and rank well up with those notable personages of tragedy to whom the genius of Shakespeare has lent their most transcendent lustre. We have noted, stage by stage, the gradual steps in the evolution of Henry's remarkable character. It is often observed that he was Shakespeare's favorite, and frequently claimed that the poet makes the gallant king the mouth-piece 11 162 WOOING OF KATHARINE. of his own sours meditation. That there is a general likeness is manifest. Both poet and prince spent an idle youth, at the same time noimshing the germs of a nobler manhood. Both were acquainted with taverns, and it is quite probable that wild Prince Hal borrowed his inns and roisterings, and acquaintance with low and wild phases of town life from the actor-author whose genius thus coined even his hours of idleness into gold. But here all likeness ends. One may read into the speeches of a great many of the poet's creations the sentiments of his own heart. Why Henry should be selected as their especial channel it is hard to see. I believe it may arise from a desire to feel better ac- quainted with Shakespeare himself. The details of his personal life are so meagre that anything which can possibly throw light upon it is eagerly welcomed. The wish is father to the thought both in this char- acter, and in the ever-recurring discussion of the auto- biographical character of the Sonnets. We have seen Henry V. in all guises. He runs the gamut of all phases of a lad bred to fortune and to place. In all these manifestations we see something to admire, and from stage to stage of his development we trace the origin of each succeeding step. It is as a lover only that, upon cool examination, he disappoints. He woos as Hotspur would have wooed. There is a lack of coherency in the character here. He is rough and uncouth. He rides rough-shod over a road he knows must lead to victory, because Katha- rine is one of the terms of his truce and treaty with her father. Although he asks, and even begs for con- sideration, there is a subtle laugh back of his pleading SEASOWS FOB HENRY'S OAMPAIQN. 163 wHch he seems to enjoy as a huge jest. Katharine, from what little we see of her, is worth knowing better. She is charming, with her quaint old French and her broken and sometimes wilfully mistaken English. Her mother is a dignified figure-head, who plays her daughter's charms against a lover's supposed distrac- tion, in order to gain a point in statecraft. To return to the king and the question involved in his prosecution of the claims for the French crown. The high moral tone which Shakespeare adopts in set- ting forth this claim ; the assumption of Henry that it was for France's sake that he made these campaigns, is not borne out by the history, nor does Shakespeare, who is in the main faithful to the historic facts, suc- ceed in maintaining it. It is on the very surface of this play that the young king, in order to prevent discussions over what some great nobles contended was his dubious title to his own crown, sets up a pre- posterous claim to the crown of a neighboring king- dom. For the greater glory of the English name an army is readily assembled for the purpose of maintain- ing this claim, in which the king is assisted by a clergy who fear too close an investigation into their own af- fairs. An accidental battle occurring, during what was practically a retreat from a costly victory, throws the game entirely inte^ his hands. With Agincourt back of him he dictates his own terms to a kingdom torn by internal dissension and ruled by a lunatic. He names his price for peace. Katharine as a bride, and the reversion of the French crown as an heritage. This is all well done for the times, and Henry is 164: ENGLAND'S IDEAL KINO. ' even conspicuously in advance of the semi-barbaric habits of his day in many of the customs of warfare, as noticeably in the order to his troops to abstain from pillage on the enemy's soil. But, after all, the French campaign was bad poHcy. Henry was a type of the prevailing English idea of glory, far more than if, in that day, he had won Ireland and Scotland and made them integral portions of an homogeneous empire. The English were but slowly to learn that their real strength lay not in foreign conquest, but in domestic prosperity. These wars were costly, although they made trade active and commerce thrive. Heine's bitter criticism we cannot accept entirely, although we may see the grain of truth under the cynic critic's chaff : " In truth," he says, " in those wars the Eng- lish had neither justice nor poetry. For they partly concealed the coarsest spirit of robbery under worth- less claims of succession ; and in part made war as mean mercenaries, in the vulgar interests of mean merchants or shopmen." But whatever the view of the modern student the English people rejoiced in Henry V. They went wild with enthusiasm over Agincourt. The gay prince, for whom in his wildest days the peo- ple had a fondness, had justified himself, and spoiled the expectations of his enemies. And Shakespeare ends his play at just that point in his hero's career when there could be no regrets for his past, and the brightest hopes of greater glory for his future. England had had her days of gloom, and was des- tined, as the result of these very famous victories, to have days of still deeper misery ; but over the mar- CONCLUSION. 165 riage of Henry and Katharine, there were no shadows. No birds of evil omen perched above the broad pennon of the warrior king. All voices joined in shouts of Te Deum Laudamws, and the poet sings his song of triumph clear and brilliantly, without a false note or jarring harmony, to the last bar, and, in spite of his own words, with no "rough and all unable pen," Our bending author hath pursued the story. In little room confining mighty men.' 1 Choius ending Act V. HENEY VI. THREE PARTS. There is no known " foundation play " for Part I., the material for which is gathered from Hall's Chronicle. For Parts II. and III. there are alleged to be origi- nals, viz.: The First part of the Contention betwixt the two famous Houses of York and Lancaster, with the death of the good Duke Humphrey ; and the Banishment and death of the Duke of Suffolk, and the Tragicall end of the proud Cardinal of Winchester, with the notable Rebellion of Jacke Cade, and the Duke of York's first claim unto the Crowne. London 1594. And, the True Tragedy of Eichard, Duke of York, and the deathe of good King Henrie the Sixt, with the whole Contention of the two houses, Lancaster and Yorke, as it was sundrie times acted, etc. Some of the critics hold (a) that Shakespeare wrote these original plays and afterward rewrote them in the form preserved to us through the First Folio, (b) That Shakespeare had nothing to do with them except to use them as he used other plays, for raw material, (c) That the two plays are surreptitious and therefore imperfect copies of the Shakespeare originals. Either theory is plausible ; neither is certain. Dates of Shakespeare's plays 1592-94. They are not mentioned by Meres, and first appear in their present form in the First Folio. CHRONOLOGY OF HENEY VI. 1422. Henry V. buried in Westminster Abbey. Henry VI. an infant. Duke of Gloucester (king's uncle) made Protector. Charles VI. of Prance dies (October) . Duke of Bedford made regent (for Henry) over Trance. Duke of Burgundy main- tains the English alliance. The son of Charles VI. crowned King of France at Poitiers, as Charles VII., in defiance of the treaty of Troyes. 1423. Battles of Crevant and Vermueil. French defeated. 1428-29. English siege of Orleans raised by Joan of Arc. 1429. Battle of Patay. Great defeat of the English. Charles VII. crowned King of France at Eheims. 1430. Henry VI. crowned King of France at Paris. 1430-31. Joan of Arc taken prisoner, tried and executed for sorcery. 1432. Burgundy deserts the English alliance. 1435. Death of the regent Bedford. Decline of English power in France. 1440. Arraignment of Eleanor Cobham (wife of the Protector Gloucester) for sorcery. 1445. Truce with France. Marriage of Henry VI. with Mar- garet of Anjou. Cession of French provinces to Charles VII., causes dissatisfaction in England. 1447. Murder of Duke of Gloucester. Death of Cardinal Beaufort. Henry VI. under the influence of Queen Margaret and her favorite the Duke of Suffolk. 1450. English practically lose all foothold in France. Inter- nal dissensions in England. Banishment and violent death of Suffolk, the queen's favorite. Insurrection throughout England. Jack Cade's rebellion. His rise, temporary suc- cesses, defeat and death. 1452. Overt beginning of the wars of the Koses in the fac- 168 OHBONOLOGY OF HENRY VI. tional strifes between the Duke of York and the Lancastrian Duke of Somerset. 1454. During King Henry's serious illness York made Pro- tector. 1455. First battle of St. Albans. Not an act ostensibly against the crown on the part of the Duke of York, but factional between the interests of York and Somerset. York victori- ous. York makes pretensions to the crown, by right of descent from the third son of Edward III. 1460. An act of Parliament declares York the true heir to the crown after Henry VT., ignoring the claim of Henry's son by Margaret of Anjou. Battle of Wakefield (December). Defeat and death of York, whose son Edward (afterward Edward IV.) succeeds to his claim. 1461. Victory of Yorkists at Mortimer's Cross (January). Battle of St. Albans, defeat of Yorkists (February). In spite of this Edward proceeds to London, is welcomed by the people, and assumes the crown as Edward IV. (March). Battle of Towton (March 30). Great victory for the York- ists. Henry VI. flies to Scotland, and Margaret to France. 1464. Alliance between Margaret and France. Battle of Hex- ham. Lancastrians again defeated. Henry imprisoned in the Tower. Marriage of Edward IV. with Lady Elizabeth Grey. Estrangement of Warwick from the Yorkist cause. 1469. Marriage of George, Duke of Clarence, the king's brother, with Isabel, daughter of Warwick. 1470. Warwick and Clarence, driven out of England by the king's jealousy, ally themselves with Margaret of Anjou and the Lancastrians. 1470. October 6, Edward IV. driven from the throne, and Henry VI. restored as the result of this alliance. 1471. Edward IV. returns to England. Battle of Barnet and death of Warwick. Battle of Tewkesbury and final defeat of the Lancastrians. Death of Henry VI. CHAPTEE VI. HENRY VI.— THE WARS OF THE ROSES. Authenticity of this play, especially Part I. — "Vital connection between the three Parts. — Historic centres of action as noted in the three divisions. — Part I. : French wars and episode of Joan of Arc. — Part U. : Civil dissensions and Jack Cade's rebellion.— Part HI. : Warwick, the "King-maker," and triumph of House of York.— Confusion of de- tails in the play as in the chronicles.- England's song of triumph turned into a wail of woe. — The dauphin crowned, and Prance, sans Burgundy, renounces English rule. — Siege of Orleans, and Joan of Arc's marvellous career. — Faction of the red and white roses. — Burgundy deserts the English and joins his king. — Capture of the Maid. — Her trial and execution. — Character and position of the Maid in romance and history. — Treaty of peace. — Margaret of Anjou betrothed to Henry of England — Division and parties among the English nobles. — (a) King's party, with Suffolk as prime favorite. — (b) Gloucester, the Protector, a patriot, resenting the French treaty.— (c) Somerset, and Buckingham, representing the selfish opposition to the king. — (d) The Yorkist party, and Warwick's ambition. — ^Warwick holds the key to the situation. — Cabals of Gloucester's enemies. — His wife's am- bition. — Her arrest for sorcery, and penance — York's title to the throne advanced. — Jack Cade's rebellion. — Fifteenth-century socialism. — Cade's progress and defeat. — The Wars of the Roses in full fury . — The first agreement.— Henry to be succeeded by York. — Margaret goes to war for her son, ignoring Henry, who becomes a shuttlecock be- tween two or three parties. — Margaret's victory. — The horrors of civil war. — ^York dies and his claims taken up by Edward, his son (after- ward Edward IV.). — Edward on the throne — Margaret a suppliant at the French court. — Warwick appears for Edward. — -News out of Eng- land — Warwick's wrath at Edward's slight treatment.— Margaret and Warwick strike a treaty, and with help from Louis set forth to de- pose Edward. — The combined forces defeat Edward temporarily and restore Henry. — Battle of Bametand death of the "King-maker." — Tewkesbury and the downfall of the Lancastrian cause. — Imprison- ment and exile of Margaret. — Edward IV. reigns undisputed. — The anti-French spirit of Shakespeare. The reign of Henry YI. forms the most confused part of English history after the days of legend and tradition that mark Anglo-Saxondom. All writers are 170 AUTHENTIOITT OF PART I. uncertain and all students puzzled. Shakespeare, both as writer and student, appears to have shared in these historical perplexities, and his contribution to a knowledge of the times is as far from accuracj^ as to details, as it is faithful, on the whole, to the general character of the age. The first part of the play has few friends for its Shakespearean authorship. But if he is not the author of this as well as of Parts II. and III., there are reasons for inferring that he is at least the editor or adapter, to as great an extent as may be claimed for him in the play of King John. These reasons are : First, The significance of the last Chorus of Henry v., in which the events of this Part I. are indicated after the same fashion as the Chorus is employed throughout that play. Second, The introduction of the dead King Henry at its beginning, and the historical and dramatic connec- tion thus established with the preceding play. Third, The anti-French spirit of this Part, in har- mony with Shakespeare's method and custom through- out the play. Fourth, The fact that these three Parts were alike attributed to Shakespeare by the editors of the First Folio, who were in better position to judge of the mat- ter, not only than the critics of our own day, but of the critics of their own day. They were Shakespeare's friends, managers, and business associates. Better than any one else in England they must have known what came from the poet's pen. There is a vital con- nection, too, between the three Parts. The foreign affairs of England treated in Part I., are necessary to HISTOBIG CENTRES OF ACTION. 171 an understanding of the domestic troubles with which Parts II. and lit. are occupied. We conclude, there- fore, that for purposes of liistorical study, at all events, this Part I. is necessary to Parts II. and III., and that in all probabiUty the hand that penned the latter had a large share, at least, in the composition of the former. The play as a whole covers the whole reign of Henry "VI., from the death of his father, in 1422, to his own death, in 1471, and includes also a portion of the reign of Edward IV., first king of the rival house of York. The three pivots around which the discordant order of events revolve, are marked by three names : I. Joan of Arc, and the loss of the French conquests of Henry V. ; II. Jack Cade, as one of the moving springs of civil dissension ; and III. Wariuich the King- maker, the last of the great barons, who in his own powerful person revived for a time the fading glory of Feudalism, and with whose death at Barnet it expired forever. It is in vain that we attempt to unravel the anachron- isms in these plays. For dates and accurate notation any English history may be read. It is our place and purpose only to show how brilliantly the poet illus- trates the spirit of the age he treats, although often at the expense of the letter of history. One should not read Shakespeare for the history, but having read the history Shakespeare seems to make us understand it the better. The author of the popular history of the English people pays this tribute to the poet anent the period we have now in hand : " It is a story well known to the English people, for it has been told in the dra- matic farm by a great historical teacher. History, 172 EARLY TEARS OF HENRY VI. strictly so called, the history derived from Rolls and Statutes, must ' pale its ineffectual fire ' in the sunlight of the poet." In the opening scene of the play we catch the mufHed sound of a dead march rolling through the aisles, and rising in moaning melody to the vaulted roof of Westminster Abbey. The body of the hero of Agincourt, the conqueror of the French, lies in state. His son, a babe but nine months old, holds in his weak hands the heavy sceptre of two kingdoms. Shake- speare, the artist and hero-worshipper, is at his best in the conception, if not in the execution, of this dra- matic touch. England's song of triumph is turned into a wail of woe. Hung be the heavens with black, . . . England ne'er lost a king of so much worth.' Two short years only of undimmed glory abroad and at home after the treaty of Troyes, did Henry V. en- joy. In these he completed the practical conquest of France in alliance with the Duke of Burgundy. Shortly after his death the feeble Charles of France also passed away, and under the treaty of Troyes, which we saw signed in the last chapter, the infant Henry VI. suc- ceeded, not to the regency, but to the actual crown of France. For a time the Duke of Bedford as regent easily maintained the English claim, but it was an unnatural state of affairs that could not last. The Dauphin proclaimed himself as Charles VII., and be- > Part I., Act I., Scene 1. DISCONTENT OF FRANCE. 173 gau that struggle for his hereditary throne to which the name of Joan of Arc lends such romance. The first act of Henry VI. is a forecast of the whole play. In the very lamentations of churchmen and nobles over the body of their late king, and growing out of the death of him who alive had bound all together by a strong hand, we hear the notes of mutual suspicion, and anon the clashing of factions. While Exeter and Gloucester boast of the glory of arms, lamenting the king's " brandished sword," and " arms spread wider than a dragon's wings," the Bishop of Winchester de- clares : " The church's prayers made him so prosper- ous." To which the soldier returns a cutting retort. Bedford, who was regent of France, as the proper dra- matic mouth-piece, is forced to cry : " Cease, cease these jars and rest your mind in peace." Then follows mes- senger after messenger from France bringing the intel- ligence which for the first few years of Henry VI. 's minority was wafted with every wind across the Chan- nel from French fields to English ears. The Dauphin was proving himself the worthy descendant of a long line of kings. The people of France who had yielded to the prowess of a great soldier and gallant prince, the husband, moreover, of their own fair princess, Kath- arine, irked under a foreign yoke when held in place by a babe in arms. They began to renounce the Enghsh domination and to return to their natural allegiance. Burgundy could not control all France for England, although for a time he fought alongside of the succes- sors-in-arms of the English prince to whom he had sworn fealty. And Bedford had been at fi^st successful. He had 174 ENGLISH RULE. pushed the English pennon into many a comer of France where the fleur-de-lis alone had waved for sovereignty. He was hampered in his movements at first by a quarrel between the Duke of Gloucester and the Duke of Burgundy. But this settled, and with Burgundy once more to aid him, he pursued his ag- gressive policy, and sat down with ten thousand troops before Orleans. Charles VII. was at his wit's end to retain the city. He was so weakened that he could not move. France, from gradually beginning to take heart of hope, was almost in despair for means to combat the English and Burgundian allies. What should be done ? The an- swer came from a quarter as remote as unexpected. The peasantry of France suffered as no other class from the unnatural divisions of her great nobles and the strides of horrid war. Within the heart of the common people lay shame and sorrow over the English rule and the Burgundian alhance. The words of the Maid of Orleans to the duke, when persuading him to forsake the enemies of his country and cast in his lot where both patriotism and piety beckoned him, fairly, and with no exaggeration, expressed the mind of the people upon whom lay the burden, and in whose sides were the wounds of war, while they had none of the glory that attended cami3S and courts. Look on thy country, look on fertile France, And see the cities and the towns defaced By wasting ruin of the cruel foe ; As looks the mother on her lovely babe When death doth close her tender dying eyes. See, see, the pining malady of France, JOAN OF ABO. 175 Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds Which thou thyself hath given her woeful breast. O, turn thy edged sword another way, Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help.' So thought and felt, doubtless, the mass of the French people. In the countryside lived a simple maid who " saw Yisions and dreamed dreams." She felt the shock and saw the miseries of war. Her soul was in arms for her country. What could she do, a child, the daughter of a shepherd, without credit, without inter- est. What she did do is one of the marvels of history. It is the greatest of all pities that Shakespeare read his chronicles too closely, and in this instance especially, transferred from their naturally biased pages, a picture of Joan of Arc, so grossly untrue and unfair, that one is reconciled to the theory that he did not conceive the Joan of his drama, and perhaps even softened down the ruder strokes of another brush. The genius which could analyze the grief of Constance, open the infinite depths of a woman's heart as in Katharine of Aragon, and exploit the shining tenderness of Portia, could ap- parently see nothing in the mission of Joan of Arc, save what he caught through the narrow and distorted view of insular prejudice and the hateful anger of a people against a despised but victorious foe. In the whole treatment of Joan there is little to indicate her true historic character. She came up from her village and sought her king. Despised at first, the supersti- tions of the age finally gained her a hearing. At the head of an army she relieves Orleans. At the head of another she leads the Dauphin to Eheims where he is ■ Part I., Act III, Scene 3. 176 DEATH OF JOAN. crowned and anointed King of France. Then she would withdraw, but her name had become an inspira- tion to the army, and the king holds her to his service. The haps of war varied now. The Duke of Burgundy pursued some small successes against Charles, but Joan had revealed to the king and people of France their own strength. The contest is a stubborn one. In the midst of it, and while on the whole favorable to France, the Maid of Orleans is taken prisoner by a band of partisans ; is sold to Burgundy ; is sold by him in turn to the English, and by the English, after a year's im- prisonment, tried and condemned for sorcery, is burned at the stake, while an English cardinal stands by con- senting to the shameful act. History has crowned her with the crown of martyrdom. " We have burned a saint," cried out one of the soldiers who stood about the burning stake. And still her place in history is not a settled one.^ Note now, as worth study, the character-drawing of the English poet. In her introduction to Charles of France, she is made to assume an arrogant and boastful tone, even as re- gards her personal appearance, totally at variance with the modest faith of one who believed herself inspired of God to do her country service. Of the vision of the Virgin, Joan says : In complete glory she revealed herself, And whereas I was black and swart before, With those clear rays which she infused on me, That beauty am I blessed with which you see. Ask me what question thou canst possible And I will answer unpremeditated : ' The Ohuroh of Borne has but recently canonized her. ENGLISH JUDGMENT OF JOAN. 177 My courage try by combat, if thou dar'st, And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex. Eesolve on this, thou shalt be fortunate If thou receive me for thy warlike mate.' And again she is made to boast : Now am I like that proud insulting ship Which Csesar and his fortunes bare at once.'' The English were taught to look upon the maid as a witch ; no difficult matter in those times, and for some generations later. Shakespeare expresses this feeling, which undoubtedly laid fast hold upon the imagination of the soldiery, officers and men alike, in Talbot's sav- age apostrophe : Here, here she comes, I'll have a bout with thee. Devil, or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee ! Blood will I diaw on thee, thou art a witch, And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv'st.' And the Duke of Bedford, regent and general in chief of the English troops, thus speaks concerning Charles, the French prince, whom Joan crowned at Rheims : Coward of France, how much he wrongs his fame. Despising his own arms' fortitude, To join with witches, and the help of hell.* There is a contemptible assumption all through the play, also, that the Maid was not pure in her honor. Scene Fourth of the Fifth Act, in which she is made to confess the shamefullest of all shameful things for ' Part I. , Act I. , Scene 3. » Ibid. ' Part I. , Act I., Scene 5. * Part I. , Act II., Scene 1. 12 178 SHAKESFMABE'S PARTISANSHIP. woman's lips, is a brazen violation both of decency and of historic truth. But we can fancy the pit of an Elizabethan theatre ringing with applause at the atrocious falsehoods. The scene ^ in which the Maid has an interview with fiends, in which even they, familiar spirits of darkness, forsake her, is a fitting prelude to the language she is made to use concerning both her alhes and her ene- mies, after she is taken prisoner. The Duke of York makes an insulting speech con- cerning her and the French prince which would have turned the real Maid speechless with shame and pale with horror ; the poet's Joan answers in kind : Puc. A plaguing mischief liglit on Charles and thee, And may ye both be suddenly surprised By bloody hands in sleeping on your beds. York. Fell, banning hag. Enchantress hold thy tongue. Puc. I prithee give me leave to curse awhile.^ Now this is not the Joan of Arc of history nor of poetry. It is an Enghsh tradition above which apparently the dramatist could not rise on account of his audience. "We must not suppose, however, that Shakespeare is without apologists for his treatment of the Maid of Orleans. Charles Knight, who speaks with authority, declares that the poet idealizes the character from what is found in the chronicles concerning her. And up to the scene already alluded to, when she makes the inconsistent and contradictory assertions about her honor. Knight calmly alleges, "But in all previous scenes Shakespeare has 1 Part I., Act v., Scene 3. ^ Part I., Act V., Scene 3. KNIGHT'S APOLOGY. 179 drawn the character of the Maid with an undisguised sympathy for her courage, her patriotism, her high in- tellect, and her enthusiasm. If she had been the de- fender of England and not of France, the poet could not have invested her with higher attributes." ' Knight's rapturous admiration is buttressed by one argument as follows : " Neither the patriotism nor the superstition of Shakespeare's age would have endured that the Pucelle should have been dismissed from the scene, without vengeance taken on imagined crimes, or that confession should not be made by her which should exculpate the authors of her death. Shakespeare has conducted her history up to the point where she is handed over to the stake. Other writers would have burned her upon the scene." ^ This is a refinement of distinction without difference which seems to me to have few equals as a bit of spe- cial pleading. Her honor is stabbed, her modesty ti:a- vestied, her humility veneered, her firm faith in God as her inspiration turned into an incantation scene with fiends, and because to this is not added that she is Ut- erally burnt at the stake on the scenic stage, we are to believe that the EngHsh poet was above and beyond the harsh spirit of his age in the delicacy with which he treats her dramatic career. Again Mr. Knight says, in extenuation of his adora- tion of Shakespeare, " It is in her mouth (Joan's) that he puts his choicest thoughts and most musical verse. "^ But surely this is not a legitimate deduction. He puts • Knight's Studies of Shakespeare, Bk. IV., Ch. 4, on Henry VI. 2 Ibid. ' Ibid. 180 HENBT VI. CROWNED. in the mouth of one of the basest of English kings that fine outburst against the usurped authority of Eome, beginning : "What earthly name to interrogatories Can task the free breath of a sacred king ? The same king gave away the crown and honor of Eng- land to the pope, and received it back as a fief of the Holy See. Shakespeare's estimate of Joan's character must be found in her own words concerning herself, her mission, and her deeds. And judged by that standard we fail to find a basis for Knight's laudatory comment. The real reason was, as we have already noted, the state of the English mind, the demands of the patrons of the theatre, and the evident purpose of Shakespeare to put upon the stage, plays that would fire the English heart with enthusiasm, and draw shil- lings from the English purse. This is not a hard view to take if we look upon Shakespeare as a man ; if we conceive of him as a demigod who could do no weak or faulty thing, the criticism, of course, falls to the ground. We pass over hastily the other poiuts treated in this section of the three-part drama of Henry VI. Burgundy finally deserted his English allies, al- though not as in the play, at the interposition of Joan of Arc. The infant Henry "VT. was crowned in Paris, but it was an empty ceremony. France had risen in her mighty wrath, and shook the invaders one by one from her soil. The glory of Agincourt faded away. The English possessions were reduced to Normandy, a por- ENGLAND'S HUMILIATION. 181 tion of Anjou, and Maine. Fourteen years after Joan of Arc was burned at the stake, her work was all but accomplished. Eene, Duke of Anjou, gays his daughter Margaret in marriage to the young Henry VI., and in return received a cession of the two provinces, Anjou and Maine, which were, as is said in the play, the keys to Normandy. This was with the advice and consent of Charles VII. A sortie now and then, after this, was made upon French soil by English troops ; but in 1453, of the brilliant conquests of Edward III. and the Black Prince, and of the " famous victories " that followed Henry V., and the " honorable battle of Agin- court," there was but one remnant left to grace English arms, and the little town and fortress of Calais was the sole reward for all those costly wars. England was humiliated and felt her humiliation. But she was slowly learning the lesson, which one of the chief events of the despised King John's reign should have taught her, the lesson Shakespeare was patiently teach- ing that Elizabethan England, which had its dreams of foreign conquest too. With the dimming of the fleur-de-lis on the fair pattern of England's royal robe arose civil dissensions, due partly to the popular rage against the administra- tion of affairs which had lost France ; partly to the mutterings of socialism against Church and State, and partly to the quarrel, now coming to a head, of the rival houses of York and Lancaster for the throne. In our treatment of the French wars we have dealt mainly with the course of English policy abroad. That, as we have seen, ended in the loss of all that had been won to the greater glory of the English name by 182 DI8SE]fr8I0]!f8 IN ENGLAND. Henry V. This was not due wholly to the inspired bravery of a village maiden, the valor of French arms, or the weakness of the English generals. Bedford and Talbot, especially the latter, were names to conjure with as warriors in England and France for many years. "With reference to the First Part of Henry YI.,' possibly the poet Nash wrote in his " Pierce Penni- less," date of 1592, " How it would have joyed brave Talbot, terror of the French, to think that after he had lain two hundred years in his tomb, he should tri- umph again on the stage, and have his bones new em- balmed with the tears of ten thousand spectators at least (at several times) who in the tragedian that rep- resents his person, imagine they behold him fresh bleeding." If Talbot and his companions - ill - arms had been properly supported at home, it is possible that the song of triumph and the wail of woe had not been so close together. But there were dissensions within the English court resulting from the straggle for posses- sion of the young king, and the prestige of power that went with his person. At the outset of the play one of the messengers who brings bad tidings from France, says: Amongst the soldiers there is muttered That here you maintain several factions, And whilst a field should be despatched and fought, You are disputing of your generals.* This was too true. Passing over for the most part the internal history of England during the progress of the French disasters, above recorded, we note one ' Act IV., Scene 7. ' Part I., Act I., Scene 1. THE TEMPLE GARDEN. 183 phase of these home disputes, before taking up the. state of affairs at the opening of Part II. "WTiile "cropped are the flower-de-luces in their arms," the buds of the white and red roses, are open- ing among the nobility into the blossoms of ciyLl war. For that scene ^ in the Temple Garden, where over "some nice sharp quillet of the law," the cause of the Yorkist branch of the house of Plantagenet is espoused by the farseeing and ambitious Warwick, there is no known historic basis. How, when, or where the roses were assumed as party badges is not known. Probably it was an accident. The causes of the roses lay in English history. When Eichard II. threw his warder down, first banished, and then seized the estates of Bolingbroke, making a clear way for that usurping sovereign, the possibility of civil strife over the title lay in the existence of a child, the legal heir before Bolingbroke, to the throne. It was prophesied then, and Warwick, in the spirit of that prophecy, de- clares in the Temple Garden : This brawl to-day, Grown to this faction in the Temple Garden, Shall send between the red rose and the white, A thousand souls to death and deadly night.' In Act II., Scene 2, the scene between Mortimer and his nephew Plantagenet (soon to be made Duke of York) is contained the historical argument which we have been tracing in these chapters.^ In a few words, we may indicate exactly the position of the hostile families. The Eichard Plantagenet, afterward > Part I., Act II. , Scene 4. ^ Ibid. " See Appendix, p. 307. 184 0LAIM8 OF RIVAL HOUSES. Duke of York, of this play, is the liaeal Yorkist heir to the English throne, through the third son of Edward III. Henry VI. is the Lancastrian occupant of the throne, tracing his lineage to the fourth son of Edward III. Lancaster has three unbroken reigns in succes- sion, and the strong claim of possession. York has un- doubted right to the title by strict law of primogeni- ture. Warwick throws himself now upon the side of the Yorkist family and wears the white rose. To fight this brawl out means more than to continue a quarrel over some quillet of the law begun ia the Temple Garden. The great mass of the people who took part in these civil wars were not learned in questions of primogeniture and what constituted a legal title to the crown of England. They fought for the red rose or the white. They looked for fighting orders to their captains. A whole generation grew up while the hideous wars were in progress. Act II. of Part II. of the play gives a vivid picture of what the fancifully named strife actually meant in the homes of those who supported this or that king on the throne. But the nobles knew for what they were fighting. The house of York was making a desperate effort for a great crown ; the Yorkists were for the spoils of the crown. The house of Lancaster, after a brilliant career of three reigns, was on the wane, and was putting forth every effort, not so much to revive its former glory as to maintain its present place secure. There were good and bad on both sides. Humble men and ambitious men faced each other on the battle- field and lay down together in the camp; But all the time the sun of Lancaster was setting, and that of FOUR COURT FACTIONS. 185 York rising. Warwick, who was the English states- man of his day, sagaciously cast in his fortunes with the Yorkist house. To return now to the opening of the Second Part, and the state of aiFairs in England at the time it marked. Out of the mystifications and confusions of the chronicles we draw the threads of at least four distinct factions. The king's party, of which Suffolk was head and prime favorite with Henry, owing to the successful issue of his efforts for the union of the king with Margaret of Anjou. Cardinal Beaufort's interest lies here also. Gloucester, the good Duke Humphrey, who was pro- tector of the realm during Henry's minority, a genuine patriot, head of the war party, and deeply resenting the treaty with France, of which Margaret had been the price. Somerset arid BuGhingham, representing the selfish opposition to Gloucester and the king, enyious and hot against the protector, and fearing Cardinal Beaufort, as deep schemers fear those who riyal them in craft. Somerset says : Cousin of Buckingham, though Humphi-ey's pride, And greatness of his place, be grief to us, Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal ; His insolence is more intolerable Than all the princes in the land beside ; If Gloucester be displaced he'll be protector.' The fourth faction was that of the DuJce of York, with whom was allied Warwick, whose policy it was to fo- ment disturbances, and fire the embers of discontent 1 Part II., Act I., Scene 1. 186 WEAKJYESS OF HENRY VI. already heaped up in great quantity, in order that every advantage might be taken against the Lancastrian occupant of the throne. All these parties, Avith perhaps the exception of Gloucester, the good Duke Humphrey, were seeking their own advancement in the name, but with little reference to the rights of, the king. And Henry VI. was not the man for such rude times. A parallel is often traced between him and Eichard II. There is a certain weakness, effeminacy in its least pleasant sense, in both characters. But in Bichard it came from moral cowardice. He could not bear to face trouble. In Henry it resulted from overstrained piety. He could not bear the sight or knowledge of any wrong going on about him. Evil unmanned him. Simple- minded as a child, he trusted those about him without a shadow of doubt as to their perfect faith and honor. He had not a drop of the soldier blood in his veins, nor a spark of the warlike spirit in his soul. He was a strange son of such a pair as Henry V. and Katharine. Yet this was the prince in whose hand was borne the pennon of a falling house. Even about his marriage he does not seem to care deeply. " I shall be well content," he says, " with any choice Tends to God's glory and my country's weal." ' But it was this marriage which saved his crown for many years. Margaret of Anjou was the complement of Henry VI. Had she possessed his sweet sincerity and humble piety she would have been a model queen ; Had he possessed her virile and resolute courage he ' Part I„ Act v., Scene 1. OLOUGESTER'S LOYALTY. 187 ■would have been a model king. As it was, Margaret of Anjou supplied the place of a mau at the head of the house of Lancaster ; and to her alone was due the prolonged struggle between the white rose and the red. When a victory for Henry's army is spoken of, it is always Margaret who is in the j&eld ; and it is Margaret who again and again, in spite of Warwick at first, and afterward in alliance with him, lifts Henry from a state of humiliation in which he meekly and contentedly rests, to an uncertain triumph, for which he does not care. Gloucester, as protector of the realm, and the least selfish of all the nobles, is the chief object of attacks and cabals on the part of these court factions. War- wick, as the most powerful and richest among the aris- tocracy, with the reputation of feeding thirty thou- sand people daily at his board in times of revelry, holds the key of the situation. That is, men and money were the forces that carried most weight in the fifteenth cen- tury, and Warwick had both in excess of his fellows. Gloucester is the centre of attack, because his posi- tive influence at court is for the prosecution of the French war, and the reviving of the glory of English arms. Moreover, he is loyal to the king, and, to an ex- tent, influential with him. As he reads over the French treaty, in which the conquests of the idolized Henry V. are ceded one by one to the Duke of Anjou, his fal- tering accent echoes a good portion of the national feel- ing outside of the court circle. Pardon me, gracious lord, Some sudden qualm has struck me at the heart, And dimmed mine eyes that I can read no further. 188 ELEANOR OOBHAM. " Shall Henry's conquest," he cries to the nobles, Bedford's vigilance, Tour deeds of war, and all our counsel die ? O peers of England, shameful is this league. Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame. Blotting your names from books of memory.' But the good Duke's words were of no aTail. The ma- jority seem to agree in his sentiments, but thii-st for his removal. The first three Acts of Part II. are taken up with the plots and scheming against the protector, of which plots and schemes Beaufort and Somerset are chief movers. He was first struck through his wife, known in history as Eleanor Oobham, of doubtful memory. That she was ambitious, a good hater, and determined to secure and maintain a lofty position at court we know from history, and her husband's warning to her indicates the part she had in his downfall : O NeU, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts ; And may that thought, when I imagine ill Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry, Be my last breathing in this mortal world.* For Eleanor Cobham would have had him put forth his hand and reach at the glorious gold of Henry's diadem. She seeks the aid of witch and conjurer, not out of keeping with her age, and is finally by these means en- trapped. To imagine the death of the king was trea- son, and to conjiu'e evil spirits for information concern- 1 Part II., Act I., Scene 1. 2 Part II., Act I., Scene 2. PENANCE OF ELEANOR. 189 ing such a thing was worthy of death. The king pronounces by poetical license the sentence : Stand forth, Dame Eleanor Cobham, Gloucester's wife, In sight of God, and us, your fault is great, Beceive the sentence of the law for sins Such as by God's book are adjudged to death. You four [addressing her confederates] from hence to prison back again ; Prom thence unto the place of execution : The witch in Smithfield shall be burned to ashes. And you three shall be strangled on the gallows. You, madam, for you are more nobly born. Shall, after three days' open penance done. Live, in your country here, in banishment. With Sir John Stanley in the Isle of Man.' Scene 4th of Act II. gives the pathetic picture of the penance. From a certain horror against the vain, cold woman, we grow under the spell of poetic genius to have a feeling of deepest pity and sorrow for her. It is one of the most touching scenes in all these plays. Eobed in a white sheet, her feet bare, and a taper burning in her hand, she performs her penance through the open streets of London, to whom her husband comes : Come you, my lord, to see my open shame ? Now dost thou penance too. Look how they gaze. See how the giddy multitude do point And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee. Ah, Gloucester, hide thee from their hateful looks And in thy closet, pent up, rue thy shame, And ban thine enemies, both thine and mine. 1 Part II., Act II., Scene 3. 190 DEATH OF GLOUOESTEB. But Gloucester's time soon comes, Eleanor's last words to the good Duke Humphrey prove true. For Suffolk . . . And York, and impious Beaufort, that false priest Have all limed bushes to betray thy wings.' He will not believe it. Innocent of all charges save that of loyalty, in a court honeycombed with self-seek- ing and shrewd treason, how should he believe it? He is soon deprived of his honors, summoned before Parliament to answer charges which are best under- stood by his answer to them : I never robbed the soldiers of their pay, Nor ever had one penny bribe from France, So help me God, as I have watched the night. Ay, night by night, in studying good for England. No ; many a pound of mine own proper store, Because I would not tax the needy commons. Have I dispersed to the garrisons And never asked for restitution." But proofs of innocence were not sought for on the part of the powerful cabal which must have the good Duke Humphrey out of the way. He was condemned for treason, and died by violence. A cloud of suspi- cion rests upon Suffolk, Beaufort, and Margaret. Warwick and his faction, holding aloof from these practices against Humphrey Gloucester, stand ready to make capital for the Yorkist cause out of them. Henry protests against the crime. Yet Suifolk, under 1 Part II., Act II., Scene i. ' Part 11., Act UI., Scene 1. POPULAR HATRED OF SUFFOLK. 191 the protection of Queen Margaret, resents the charge and keeps a high hand over his fellow and rival nobles, until that great force, long suffering, but mighty when aroused, the common people, clamors at the palace- gates for vengeance. Gloucester had been the people's friend, and they knew it. Suffolk had been their enemy, and they knew that. Doubtless they were subtly stirred up to the clamor point, and in this lay the connection of the people with the civil wars. For while Gloucester is the person against whom the court cabals must work, the Duke of Suffolk becomes the object of popular hatred. He and Queen Margaret were close allies. He had been proxy for the king in the royal marriage, and there were dark whispers, to which scenes in the play give credence, of then* more intimate relations. The speech of Salisbury marks what was the feeling of the English masses against the noble whom they believed had dishonored their king : Dread lord, the commons send you word by me Unless Lord Suffolk straight be done to death Or banished fair England's territories, They will by violence tear him from your palace, And torture him by grievous lingering death. They say by him the good Duke Humphrey died. They say in him they fear your Highness' death.' So Suffolk was banished, and in Scene 1 of Act lY. his strange fate is told. Leaving England for exile, doubt- less dreaming of a return through Margaret's influence, ' Part II., Act III., Scene 3. 192 JACK OADE'S REBELLION. he was taken prisoner by an English war-ship, and dis- appeared forever. The poet deals with him more savagely, and at the hands of the people, to indicate apparently that the people were the real cause of the powerful favorite's overthrow. And we are at once led by this incident to one of the great preliminary movements and active agents in promoting the strife of Lancaster and York, in the person of Jack Cade, and the socialism of the fifteenth century. Jack Cade is one of the strange figures of romantic history, whose cause after this lapse of time cannot be accurately judged. By some he was looked upon as a patriot; by others as a rebel; by many as a hero; by many as a rogue. The move- ment which he headed had for its object political re- form. The closest investigation leads us to the con- clusion that the religious ferment of Lollardry at the same time had nothing to do with Cade's rebellion. It was a rising of the peasants, under the leadership of a shrewd soldier, who called himself Mortimer, for the purpose of exciting feeling against the House of Lan- caster, and perhaps at the instigation of the Yorkist 'action, to prepare the way for the Duke of York's claim upon the throne, as heir of the Mortimers. The Kentishmen were dwellers in the manufacturing dis- trict, and the sudden cessation of the French wars had wrought them harm. The complaint of the commons of Kent, according to the chronicles, called for " admin- istrative and economical reforms ; a change of ministry, a more careful expenditure of the royal revenue, and the restoration of the freedom of election." These were not excessive claims surely. A victory FATE OF CADE. 193 over the royal troops, a quick march upon Loudon, and the execution of Lord Say, gave Cade and his in- surgents prestige. The Eoyal Council yielded in form to their demands, and against Cade's advice the mal- contents disbanded. He still carried on the war, and opened jails for his soldiers, but the undisciplined host quarrelled among themselves, and deserted in numbers. Cade was finally killed by a civil officer, and the revolt came to an end with no advantage to the commons of Kent or of England. Shakespeare touches upon but one side of this re- bellion, its absurd and illogical side. He was sorely in need of comedy for the tragic drama of Henry VI. and pitched upon the social and political heresies of fif- teenth century socialism to provide it. Flippantly as he thus seems to treat a movement of respectable proportions and for desirable ends, we cannot fail to read in the speeches of these lath-carry- ing heroes, a good deal of the bathos and lurid rhetoric with which our own times are more or less familiar. We need not find in this use of the Cade revolt an argument, as many do, to buttress the position that Shakespeare was an aiistocrat, despising the people. It is too large a subject to more than advert to here. But while in this instance he does not even state Cade's side fairly, he does, what he doubtless intended as an artist, relieve the gloom of his drama ; and as an his- torian, presents one true, if absurd, side of the move- ment. Jack Cade's preposterous claim to a royal pedigree, descendant of the Plantagenets and Mortimers, did not deceive his allies ; the very making of it w Part III., Act v., Scene 5. ' Part II. , Act II., Scene 3. 'Part II., Act II., Scene 1. 202 RICHARD GLOSTER. the Jack Cade incident they pour floods of light upon the social life of the England of this period. With the close of Part III. we begin to have glimpses revealing the nature, ambitions, and evil heart of Eiehard Gloster, afterwards Eichard III. and last of the House of Plantagenet. The interview with patient old King Henry, which ends in his violent death at the hands of his nephew, gives us the key to that character which, next to that of Hamlet, seems the least resolvable of all Shakespeare's work. Over the dead body of his former king and kinsman, the wild beast in Eichard growls : If any spark of life is yet remaining Down, down to hell and say I sent thee thither, I, that have neither pity, love nor feai'. Clarence, beware, thou keep'st me from the light, But I will sort a pitcliy day for thee, For I will buzz abroad such prophecies That Edward shall be fearful of his life, And then to purge the fear, I'll be thy death. King Henry and the prince his son are gone. Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest.' And while these dark clouds and steaming mists of bloody plots are thus rising over the soul of the king's youngest brother, that king is in the midst of his loyal friends, with his family about him, resting from the toils of war. Once more we sit in England's royal throne. Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss thy boy. Young Ned, for thee thine uncles and myself ' Part III., Act v., Scene 6. THE PBINGES OP THE TOWER. 203 Have in our armor watched the winter's night, Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat, That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace ; And of our labors thou shalt reap the gain.' Poor young prince, the Tower looms up before thee, though thou sgest it not ; and the shadow of it falls upon thy young life, lying in thy mother's lap, cast by the baleful eyes of him who cries in affected loyalty : And that I love the tree from whence thou sprangest Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit.'' » Part III. , Act V. , Scene 7. » Part III. , Act V. , Scene 7. EICHAED III. The source of fhis play is Sir Thomas More's " Life of Kichard III." More was a member of the house- hold of the Bishop of Ely of the play, and must have had the best of opportunities for getting at the real facts. His history was incorporated into Hall and Ho- linshed's " Chronicle." Shakespeare follows him with great faithfulness, particularly in his description of Richard's person, and acts upon the hints of More in charging Eichard's several crimes upon him. Two other plays on the Same subject were in exist- ence, having only few things in common with Shake- speare, and these mainly of such a nature as could be secured by any biographer. One of these, in Latin, by Dr. Thomas Legge, was said to have been acted at Cambridge in 1579. The other was in English (anonymous) : Tlie True Tragedy of Richard III., Wherein is shown tJie death of Edward IV., and the smothering of the two young prin- ces in the Tower. Shakepeare's " Eichard " is mentioned by Meres, having been published in 1597, and was issued in five quarto editions, besides the First Folio. CHEONOLOGY OF EDWAED IV. (FROM 1471), EDWARD v., AND RICHARD III. (ShaJcespeare includes these all under the title-play of "Richard III.") 1471. Edward IV. reigning in peace. 1473. Richard Gloster marries Anne Neville, daughter of War- wick, who had been either married or betrothed to the son of Henry VI. , slain at Tewkesbury. 1475. Invasion of France under Edward IV., which results in the treaty of Picquiney. Under this treaty Edward was given a large sum of money ; a marriage was ari-anged between his daughter and the son of Louis XI.; and Margaret of Aujou was released from her confinement to find a home with her father. King Rene. 1478. The Duke of Clarence arraigned and executed for trea- son. His family attainted. 1483. Death of Edward IV. (April 9). Edward V. (his son, aged 12^ years) enters London (May 4). The peers swear fealty. Richard Gloster chosen Protector. The queen moth- er seeks sanctuary through fear of the Protector. Ritrhard denounces the queen's relations as traitors. The Duke of York (younger brother of Edward V.) removed from "sanc- tuary," under promise of life and good treatment. June 22, Dr. Shaw's sermon at Paul's Cross, declaring the illegitimacy of Edward V. and the Duke of York. June 25, an assem- bly of prelates and nobles (not a parliament) declared the fact of illegitimacy. June 26, Richard acknowledged by the peers as King of England. July 26, Richard and Anne crowned. The young princes disappear from English his- tory, the public rumor being that they were murdered. Oct.- Nov., revolt of the Duke of Buckingham. Earl of Rich- mond (last of the Lancastrian family) driven off by a storm from an attempted descent upon England. 1485. Henry, Earl of Richmond, sails from Harfleur to lay claim to the throne of England. Richard III. meets him and is defeated and slain at Bosworth Field (Aug. 21). Rich- mond crowned as Henry VII. on the battle-fleld. CHAPTER VII. RICHARD III. — THE LAST OF THE PLANTAGENETS. EBsential difference between "Richard III." and the other historical plays. .—Why Richard ia treated with more severity than other historical characters equally depraved. — The political situation at the beginning of the play. — The queen's party versus the nobles with Buckingham at their head. — Three great historical events marked in the drama. — (I.) The death of Edward IV. — (11.) Richard's successful usurpation of the throne. — (IIL) Bosworth Field and Richmond. — Events between the death of Henry VI. and that of Edward. — The clearing of the field for Richard's ambitions plan. — The seizure of Clarence. — The unspeakable wooing of Anne by Richard. — The clashing of rival court factions. — Underplay of Margaret's fury. — Her artistic introduction in the drama. — Edward IV. effects a hollow reconciliation between the queen's fac- tion and the nobles. — Edward's death. — Struggle of the rival factions to gain control of the young king. — Richard and Buckingham vrin. — Fall of the queen's kindred. — The princes lodged in the Tower Buckingham saps the popular loyalty by hinting at the illegitimacy of both Edward IV. and his sons. — Gloster's "scruples" overcome. — Gloster's ambition attained and he is crowned with Anne as queen. — The thorn in Richard's crown. — The falling away of Buckingham. — Death of the young princes. — Richmond's star begins to rise. — First revolt against Richard is crushed. — Richmond unable to land, and Buckingham defeated. — Anne dies, and Richard schemes for the hand of his niece Elizabeth. — This princess is pledged to Richmond by the faction opposed to Richard. — Gathering of the discontented nobles. — Night before the battle of Bosworth. — Visions of the rival command- ers. — Their moral raison d'etre. — The day of battle ; defeat of Rich- ard and crowning of Richmond as Henry VII. — End of the Wars of the Roses. — Encouragement to literature under Edward and Richard. — Progress of the commons. The curtain rises now upon the last act of the epic drama depicting the rise and fall of the House of Plan- tagenet and, incidentally, the decay of the feudal sys- THE PLAT A GHARACTEB STUDY. 207 tern which had been the backbone of English life from the days of William the Conqueror. There is a very great difference between the hand- ling of the incidents in " Richard III." and the method followed in the other historical plays. It is a charac- ter portrait. One figure dominates the movement of every scene and moulds the arrangement of every detail. From King John to Henry VI. we have a series of panoramic views. The stage is crowded with figures of considerable importance. There are currents of movement apart from the titular hero. But in Kiiehard III., from the moment of his intro- duction in the famous sarcastic soliloquy : Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York,' until he dies fighting against fate on Bosworth Field, the subtle devil in the hunchback's heart plays with the other persons of the drama, and dominates their every movement. " I am myself alone," these words of the man self-exiled from sympathetic intercourse with his fellows express his character, and form the key-note of the whole bloody tragedy. All readers approach this play with preconceived ideas, for which Shakespeare himself is largely respon- sible. There have been other historical personages as bloody and villainous as Eichard, but few have been treated mth such critical severity. The reason is that Eichard is made the mouth-piece of his own depravity. 'Act I,, Scene 1, 208 BWHABD'S OHABAGTEB. Ordinary villains have an excuse, however poor, for their villainy, which is their mask to the outer world, and which not unfrequently deceives themselves. We are able to trace this in the case of Henry VIH., who argues himself learnedly and conscientiously into the loathsome act of divorcing Katharine of Aragon that he may marry Anne Boleyn. But Bichard makes no excuses. To the woman he seeks to marry for the great property she has, he declares that he did kill her husband and her father. To his criminal intimates, for he had no others, he is quite barefaced in his pro- posals of new crimes. He bargains bluntly for the death of his brother, and treats the murder of his nephews as an ordinary commercial transaction. Whatever Richard was in his life, this is the verdict of history ujion him : that he was a villain so unnat- ural as to be almost supernatural, and Shakespeare, taking this portraiture directly from the chronicles, exaggerated it upon the screen of his tragedy. So long as men put forth extenuatiag circumstances for their crimes, so long it is always possible to drop the mantle of charity over their misdeeds. But when they glory in guilt, this cannot be done. Richard glories in his deviltry, and takes posterity into his confidence through those soliloquies of the poet which are psychological studies in shamelessness. The soliloquies in "Richard III." are a dramatic necessity. We could not get at the real man without them. But in the mouth of Rich- ard the soliloquies are far more than instruments of dramatic art ; they are in keeping with the character Shakespeare seeks to lay before us. There was abso- lutely no soul in whom Richard could confide. To THE SOLILOQUIES. 2J39 first this one, then that, of his subordinate allies, he divulges certain acts to be performed, and in so far as Buckingham, for instance, is necessary to the working out of a scheme, he allows him to know that Little cor- ner of his mind. But confidant he has none. " I am myself alone " expressed his relation or lack of rela- tion with his suiToundings. He loves no one, trusts no one, strange to say, hates no one, but uses all. Now such a man must, as it were, think aloud ; that is, he must crystallize his thoughts, emotions, instincts into concrete words, and confide in himself at all events. He must arrange and clarify his thoughts in order to proceed upon the orderly lines that lead to success in whatever undertakiag. Here we have, then, a self -revelation, not only as a rhetorical ornament and dramatic necessity, but as a psychological truth. Hence we have the naked villain, with nothing held back or shaded off, as it would be were he conversing with another. The political situation at the beginning of the play is faintly indicated in the opening speech of Richard, who thus throws his baleful shadow forward over the future, in sarcastic jeering at his brother Edward's peaceful disposition, reflected, it will be remembered, in the last scene of "Henry VI. : " Gi'im-visaged War hath smoothed his wrinkled front : And now instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.' ' Act I., Scene 1. 14 210 THE GOUBT FACTIONS. Aifairs of state do not now engage the thoughts of Eichard, but only his own irelations to these " piping times of peace." ' I that am curtailed of this fair propoi-tion. Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them, I am determined to prove a villain.' Edward reigned in peace, after the exhausting and bloody war of succession. A mock campaign into France, which began with claiming the throne, and ended in receiving a pension to keep away from France, was the only semblance of war, if we omit the ever- recurring border troubles between England and Scot- land. From the wreckage of civil strife, a single waif tossed for awhile upon its troubled waters, and then washed upon the shores of Brittany, there to bide his time, the Earl of Richmond, was tlae only possible con- testant with the House of York for the throne. There were two parties grouped about the throne of Edward IV. The queen's, comprised mainly of her own family and their adherents lately taken from the untitled gentry, as she herself had been, and made over into earls and dukes — Bivers, Dorset, Grey. The old nobles' faction was headed by Buckingham, and quietly sympathized with by Richard Gloster. ' Act I., Scone 1. MURDER OF CLARENCE. 211 The three events around which the action of the piay centres are : (I.) the death of Edward IV.; (II.) the successful usurpation of Eichard Gloster ; (III.) Bos- worth Field and the coming of Earl Eichmond. After Jha-dgathrf^ Henrj_yi^ Edward JY. reigned twelve years, years of peace and exhaustion. All Eng- land lay bleeding and gasping for the life that liad been well-nigh drained from her system in the long duel of thtf White and Eed Eoses. This play covers a period of fourteen years from 1471 to 1485. One-half of the period is treated, in its essential points, in the first act, closing with the death of Clarence, which happened in 1478. The first historical event which comes to our notice is the seizure of the Duke of Clarence, which is here somewhat advanced in point of time.* The poet took a hint of the chronicle, and upon it based this direct murder of Clarence by Gloster. Although the latter was certainly to benefit by Clarence's death, and we may readily suppose that he was not averse to it, still the simple truth is that Edward himself was afraid of his brother Clarence, and had him arrested on charges of sorcery similar to those alleged against the Duchess of Gloucester in the preceding reign. But before the death of Clarence, Eichard Gloster, marrying Anne NeviUe, became his brother-in-law. Monstrous as this marriage seems, Shakespeare has made it almost plau- sible. Anne was the daughter of Warwick, the King- maker, the widow of Henry YI.'s son, who, if the battle of Tewkesbm'y had had another termination, would have succeeded his father upon the throne. To 1 Act I., Scene I. 212 THE WOOINQ OF ANNE. woo the widow of one and daughter of another of his victims within two years after their death wonld seem the height of hateful audacity. Shakespeare makes the contrast sharper by beginning and ending the gris- ly courtship over the very coffin of Henry VI., as it is borne to its place of burial accompanied by the weep- ing Anne. This wresting of the historic fact has its meaning, however. Two years had not passed when the marriage was accomplished. The poet indicates the judgment of mankind upon such an unnatural union by declaring in fact that lapse of time could not suffi- ciently excuse it on Anne's part. If she consented after two years she would have said yes over the murdered body of her father-in-law. It is the most unspeakable wooing of history or fic- tion, as Richard even was fain to confide to himself : Was ever woman in this humor woo'd ? Was ever woman in this humor won ? What! I, that killed her husband and her father, To take her in her heart's extremest hate ; With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, The bleeding witness of her hatred by ; Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me. And I no friends to back my suit withal, But the plain devil and dissembling looks. And yet to win her, all the world to nothing.' Now to understand the mental and moral attitude of the Lady Anne under such circumstances we should have the benefit of a woman's criticism. We search in vain among the characters touched by the pen of Mrs. 'Act I., Scene 8. ANJfB'S MOTIVES. 213 Jameson and Lady Helen Faacit Martin. Airne is passed over. The masculine mind fails to plumb the depths of this feminine mystery. Courtenay decides offhand that Anne's complacency is proof that Eichard was not actually guilty of that double murder at least, which is an admirable petitio prindpii. Hudson simply remarks that her " seeming levity in yielding is readily forgiven in the sore burden of grief it entails upon her," and that her nature is " all too soft to stand against the crafty and merciless tormentor into whose hand she has given herself." To my mind there is one explanation and one only. Eicliard was the strong man of his times. Ugly, de- formed. Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass, still he was a powerful individuality. By sheer force of intellectual strength he dominated, and fascinated men as well as women. If by any chance Anne had come under the speU of Richard's magic winning power, she could easily proceed step by step, from hatred of his crimes and contempt for his person, to ad- miring his genius, and exulting that, even in seeming, the strong man was at her feet. She might not have really believed that her "beauty was the cause of that effect," but she must have been moved to hear it so al- leged. In other words, Anne was in love with Richard, and all that sparring of the courtship scene is the resist- ance of one who expects to be captured and desires to be. It must be remembered of course that even with such a dissembler as Eichard one interview would not accomplish all he achieved. Nearly two years' 214 RIOHARD'S OBJECT. romantic pursuit, baffled again and again by the jeal- ousy of Clarence, is crowded within the compass of these Unes. Clarence had married Anne's sister, and did not wish to share the gr.eat King-maker's wealth with his brother. Eichard's object in the marriage was two-fold : first, to get Anne's enormous property, and second, perhaps, to unite himself ever so slenderly with the Lancaster family, in preparation for his future assault upon the throne. Clarence is now haled to his death. In the play Bichard is made the head and front of his sudden taking off, while Edward the king holds back, and is only with difficulty induced to sign the death- warrant, which he laments in a beautiful passage in answer to an appeal to save the life of a courtier's servant : Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death, And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave ? My brother killed no man, his fault was thought. And yet his punishment was bitter death. Who sued to me for him ? ' There is no doubt that Eichard saw Clarence's death with complacency, and perhaps helped the king to its commission, but because Gloster has the bad name, we may not excuse Edward from the darkest stigma of his brother's execution. Intermingled with the plottings weaving about the doomed, " false, fleeting, perjured Clarence " are indi- cations of a growing restlessness in the royal house- hold and in the court. ' Act II., Scene 1. DOMESTIC QUARRELS. 215 The factions of, respectively, the queen and the old noble families are clashing hotly. It will be re- membered that Edward's love-match with the Lady Elizabeth Grey had not been pleasing to the court, any more than to Warwick. In " Henry VI." the king argues with his nobles, endeavoring to placate them, but incidentally is shown his secret misgivings and their scarce repressed disgust. The speedy exaltation of the new queen's sons and relatives, the intermarriage of her family with some of the old aristocracy of the realm, perhaps her own indiscretions, natural to newly created royalty, all had weight in intensifying this feeling. Gloster made use of it. He hints to Clarence on that unfortunate's ar- rest: Why, this it is when men are ruled by women. 'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower ; My Lady Grey, his wife, Clarence, 'tis she That tempers him to this extremity. The jealous o'erworn widow and herself, Since that our brother dubbed them gentlewomen, Are mighty gossips in our monarchy.' The quarrels between these factions at court, out of which Gloster makes his capital by assuming that he has been injured in the king's eye by Elizabeth's repre- sentations, are made an occasion for the strangest historical anachronism, and yet most faithful inter- pretation of that stormy period. The queen, smarting under unjust accusations and insults, replies after a long, quarrelsome discussion, in ' Act I, , Scene 1. 216 APPEARANCE OF MARGARET. ■which the different characters are set forth, revolving still about Richard and his schemes : My lord of Gloster, I have too long bonie Your blunt npbraidings and your bitter scoffs. By Heaven, I will acquaint his majesty Of those gross taunts that oft I have endured. I'd rather be a country servant-maid ' Than a great queen with this condition, To be so baited, scorned, and stormed at : Small joy have I in being England's queen.' And now appears, first in asides, unseen by the per- sons of the drama, and then openly, Margaret of An- jou. Actually she had at this time retired to her exile^ on the Continent, and was nursing her sad memories far from the shores where she had played a man's part battling for her rights. But potentially she was pres- ent at the factional quarrels of the English court, in a real and sensible manner. In one way she had been one of the occasions of the Wars of the Eoses. Her marriage with Henry VI. had been accomplished at the cost of French provinces, won in glorious battle. She opposed the power of those English nobles who sought to hold her husband in tutelage. She had pinned the Lancastrian rose to her proud bosom in loyalty, and nourished its failing petals while others were falling away from the losing cause. She had kept the embers of civil strife alive, and to her indom- itable perseverance in behalf of her husband and son England owed much of the miseries of the last days of Henry VI. But she had been fighting for a principle, 'Act I., Scenes. MAMGARET'S OURSE. 217 honorable and noble, against injustice, perjury, and wrong. She was defeated, her husband slain, her son deprived of his heritage. By poetic license she now comes back to the scene of her former triumphs and defeats, to gloat over the factional struggles of her ene- mies. One after another, in asides, she characterizes the quarrelling courtiers, the queen, Gloster, the mem- ory of Clarence, " who did forsake his father, War- wick, and forswear himself," and finally breaks forth in their faces : Hear me, you wrangling pirates that fall out In sharing that which you have pill'ed from me. But at once the chorus is turned upon the person of their common enemy. Their own quarrels are forgot- ten in the meed of cursing due this foreign interloper. " What," she cries, " Were you snarling all before I came, Beady to catch each other by the throat, And turn you all your hatred now on me ? Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven ? Why, then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses. Though not by wars, by surfeit die your king. As ours by murder to make him a king. Edward, thy son, that now is Prince of Wales, For Edward, my son, which was Prince of Wales, Die in his youth by like untimely violence. Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self. Long mayst thou live to wail thy children's death And see another, as I see thee now. Decked in thy rights, as I am stalled in mine. 218 DRAMATIC USB OF MARaARET. Rivers and Dorset, you were standers by — And so wast thou, Lord Hastings — -when my son Was stabbed with bloody daggers. God, I pray him That none of you may live your natural age, But by some unlooked accident cut off.' We forbear to quote her aAvful curse upon Bichard, whom she instinctively recognizes as the real " troub- ler of this poor world's peace." But it will be observed that Margaret is introduced much after the fashion of Chorus, a combination of prediction and commentary upon the persons and events with whom her influence is still powerful. This vindictive shade of Margaret in the play is one of the great artistic and dramatic triumphs of the poet. Absent in body, she is literally still present in English intrigue and politics. As these very factional quarrels proceeded from the victory of the York faction over the Lancastrian, whose virile chieftain Margaret had been, and whose wrongs had been mainly involved, so the dramatic use of her rest- less ghost as the mouthpiece of vengeance is justified. Her invocation was to be sorely and literally fulfilled. At the end of tliis scene Gloster's soliloquy upon his own hypocrisy is worth re-reading as the poet's conception of his historic character : I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. Clarence, whom I indeed have cast in darkness I do beweep to many simple gulls, Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham, And tell them 'tis the queen and her allies That stir the king against the duke my brother, 'Act!., Scenes. A HOLLOW PEACE. 219 Now they believe me, and withal whet me To be revenged on Eivers, Dorset, Grey, But then I sigh, and with a piece of Scripture Tell them that God bids us do good for evil ; And thus I clothe my naked villany With old odd ends, stolen forth of holy writ, And seem a saint when most I play the devil.' Most evil men seek to cast a decent veil of excuse over their real and inner life. But Eichard drew no veils whatsoever. He simply played hypocrite, acted as a hypocrite might act, but only used hypocrisy as he used demagogism, to accomplish his personal ends for the moment. The act ends with the actual murder of Clarence at Richard's instigation. We are now introduced to the bedside of the dying Edward, who had the end, somewhat unusual in his house, of dying in his bed. This scene of the appar- ent reconciliation of the two opposing parties of the realm is historic. Well did Edward know the probabilities of a renewal of internecine strife. Well did he know Gloster's am- bitious soul. Well, also, he must have known the rival- ries between the newly made nobles and those of the old regime. To patch up a peace, and make them swear fealty to each other and to the yoimg prince who was to succeed to the throne, was the only thing Edward could do, as, when brought face to face with death, he says : I every day expect an embassage From my Eedeemer, to redeem me hence, 1 Act I. , Scene 3. 220 CHARACTER OF EDWARD TV. And now in peace my soul shall part in Leaven, Since I have made my friends at peace on earth.' So died Edward IV., as strange a compound of king as ever sat upon a throne. Bulwer-Lytton's novel, " The Last of the Barons," gives a very fair if not iiattering portrait of him. At once soldier and voluptuary, with a good mind and a weak will ; haughtily iadependent to the point of break- ing his word with the King of France and the powerful Warwick, in order that he might marry a simple gen- tlewoman for love, yet easily led by his favorites ; a patron of learning, yet loose of life. He had the weakness of Henry VI. without the gentle sweetness of soul that redeemed it. He will occupy a fair place in history, mainly because of a somewhat neutral reign sandwiched between the helplessness of his predeces- sor and the cruelty and ferocity of his virtual successor, for his son, Edward V., reigned but thirteen weeks. And now begins that struggle for a throne, none the less bitter and blighting because it did not appear upon the surface of events. Richard Gloster was in the north on some warUke errand for the crown, when he learned that Edward IV. had passed away. The hollow truce patched up by the dead king dissolves at once. Outwardly there is no opposition to the coro- nation of young Edward V. But his mother knows the perils of the way to a secure seat upon that throne where she had sat so fearfully, though held there by a royal hand. The queen's relations and friends feel instinctively that their fate is bound up with that of the child-king. The people have their thoughts, too, which 'Act II., Scene 1. GLOSTER SEIZES THE PRINCE. 221 they express with bated breath. Says one citizen greet- ing another : Doth the news hold of good King Edward's death ? Ay, sir, it is too true ; God help the while. Then, masters, look to see a troublous world. Woe to that land that's governed by a child. ' They knew, perhaps, of Eichard II. 's childish grasp upon the sceptre, and they had felt the evils of Henry VI.'s babe-royalty. There was no time lost by either side. The two young princes, Edward, now the Fifth, and Eichard, Duke of Yoi-k, were with their mother, guarded by Eivers, Dorset, Grey, upstarts in the eyes of Buck- ingham and his fellows. Eichard Gloster moves to London to assist in his nephew's coronation, which was set for April 4th. Edward, surrounded by his mother's clan — Eivers, Vaughan, and Grey notably — proceeds from Ludlow Castle toward London. Eivers, on the part of the boy -king, meets Gloster at North- ampton and is there arrested. The young king and his fiiends are joined at Stony Stratford the next morning by the ambitious duke with Buckingham at his heels to carry out his behests. The friends of the queen are arrested, and the boy-king surrounded by his enemies, who profess friendship and fealty, as well as thanksgiving at having rescued him from those who sought, as they said, to gain control of his person only to subvert the realm. This is the beginning of the ■ Act II., Scene 3. 222 OL08TER MADE PROTECTOR. end. The party of Gloster proceed, ostensibly yet for the purpose of celebrating the coronation, to London. But meanwhile news of these rough measures had flown to the queen's ears. " Ah, me," she cries, " I see the ruin of my house ; The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind, Insulting tyranny begins to jet Upon the innocent and aweless throne." ' She seizes upon what she believes is the last chance of safety for herself, and with the young Duke of Tork flies to the sanctuary of Westminster. Now follows the swearing of loyalty to Edward V. by the nobility, with Eichard, Duke of Gloster, as Protector of the realm. The ambitious schemer has nearly reached the top round of his plotting. He is in a position to reward his allies, which he does with a liberal hand, using his semi-royal prerogative to bind them closer to his interests. Hastings was still with Eichard and Buckingham, believing that in the arrest of the queen's friends he Avas but securing the best interests of the realm. The young king is lodged in the Tower, awaiting the still delayed coronation. The next move in the tragedy is set down by Shakespeare with unsparing fidelity. It is a meeting of the Council : Hastings speaks : Now, noble peers, the cause why we are met Is to determine of the coronation. In God's name, speak. When is the royal day ? Bvxik. Who knows the Lord Protector's mind herein ?' ' Act II., Scene 4. ' Act III., Scene 4. GLOSTEB'8 C0N8PIRA07. 223 Enters now Gloster, who after some light compli- ment to Hastings and a request that the Bishop of Ely should send for some notable strawberries, takes Buckingham aside : Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business, And iinds the testy gentleman so hot That he will lose his head ere give consent His master's child, as worshipfuUy he terms it, Shall lose the royalty of England's throne.' The conspirators withdraw for consultation, but to speedily return for the acting out of their drama. Hastings, representing the loyal nobility, faithful to the throne and blood royal, rather than to this or that faction, stands in the way of their plot. Gloster bursts out wrathfuUy, addressing the Council : I pray you all, tell me what they deserve That do conspire my death with devilish plots Of damned witchcraft, and that have prevailed Upon my body with their hellish charms ? ° With well - simulated rage lie levels his malicious charges against Hastings, and exhibits his withered arm (which had been so from his birth) as though it were the result of sorcery. Slowly that innocent victim, who had been warned by Stanley of the ap- proaching storm, realizes his doom and England's woe : Woe, woe for England, not a whit for me, For I, too fond, might have prevented this •Act III., Scene! » IbiU. 224: BASENESS OF OLOSTER. Oil, Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head. ' And this is the end of almost the only amiable and virtuous man who plays a man's part in this tragedy. The pitiful subterfuges of Gloster and Buckingham, that they had been suddenly attacked, the peace of the realm threatened, and the king imperilled by a plot against the Lord Protector, were all too success- ful, and the citizens of London were infected with the subtle poison of doubt concerning the legitimacy of Edward IV. and consequently of his sons. The reputation of Edward as a loose gallant was a well-chosen basis of attack against his character. The mass of people are, on the whole, trae to the domestic instincts, and resent their betrayal, especially by those who are set over them in authority. The homes of England have ever been the source of her real strength in courts and on battle-fields. Singularly enough, too, the most hated of vices is easiest of belief by those who detest it most. It was no difficult matter for Buckingham and his paid subordinates so to blacken the name of Edward that it reflected upon his sons. But that Richard stood by willing to defame his mother, in order to have the crown by a show of legitimacy revert to himself, would pass belief did we not know that like perversions of nature are of fre- quent enough recurrence in history to warrant the probable truth of this one. Kiehard's partial betrayal of sentiment as he whis- pers his atrocious lies to Buckingham does not redeem him in our eyes. ' Act III., Scene 4. DR. SHAW'S SERMON. 225 Yet touoli this sparingly, as 'twere far off, Because you know, my lord, my mother lives.' One line here of Eichard's as he dismisses his hench- men to their several tasks of preparing the people to greet him as their king, brings up a point of much historic interest. Go, Lovell, with all speed to Doctor Shaw.' On June 22d was delivered at St. Paul's Cross, by the Eev. Balph Shaw, a sermon on a text from the Book of "Wisdom, " The multiplying brood of the ungodly shall not thrive." A report of this sermon was made at the time by Fabyan, the chronicler, as follows : By the mouth of the Eev. Balph Shaw in the time of his sermon was there showed openly that the children of King Edward IV. were not legitimate, nor rightful inheritors of the crown, wifh many dis-slanderous words, in preferring of the title of the said Lord Protector, and of disannulling of the other. This was based upon the story which was industriously circulated and believed, that Edward had been secretly married, before his union with Lady Grey, and that this first wife, undivorced, was alive. Shakespeare in- timates in the line just quoted that Dr. Shaw's sermon was instigated by Richard, with how much truth is not known. The course of events is now indicated in the dia- logue between Eichard and Buckingham, and in the famous scene where the former permits his scruples to be overcome, and to assume the crown. > Act III. , Scene 5. " Ibid. 15 226 BUOKINQIIAM'8 GRAFT. Olos. How now, liow now, what say the citizens ? Duck. The citizens are mum, say not a word, But like dumb statues or breathing stones Stared each on other and looked deadly pale, Which when I saw, I reprehended them, And asked the mayor what meant this wilful silence. The mayor, evidently without relish, addressed the mob, and Buckingham continues : When he had done, some followers of mine own, At lower end o' the hall, hurled up their caps, And some ten voices cried, " God save King Bichard ! " And thus I took advantage of those few : "Thanks, gentle citizens and friends," quoth I. ' ' This general applause and cheerful shout Argues your wisdom, and your love to Richard." Glos. What tongueless blocks were they. Would they not speak ? Will not the mayor, then, and his brethren come ? Buck. The mayor is near at hand ; intend some fear ; Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit ; And look you, get a prayer book in your hand. And stand between two churchmen, good my lord. For on that ground, I'll make a holy descant ; And be not easily won to our requests. Play the maid's part. Still answer nay, and take it.' Now in these passages are indicated two historical facts. The people were slow to give up the cause of the yoimg princes, and Bichard's assumed austerity and pious demeanor, as well as his apparent reluctance to take the crown offered by his own claquers, were played off against the passions skilfully excited among 'Act III., Scene?. OLOSTEB'8 80BUPLES OVERCOME. 227 the people by tales of the late Edward's gallantry and looseness. " Alas ! " cries Eichard, pressed to take the crown, Alas ! Why should you heap this care on me ? I am unfit for state and majesty ; I do beseech you, take it not amiss, I cannot, nor I will not yield to you. Bviclc. If you refuse it, as in love and zeal Loath to depose the child, your brother's son, Yet know whether you accept our suit or no. Your brother's son shall never reign our king, But we will plant some other on the throne, To the disgrace and downfall of your house, And in this resolution here we leave you. Oome, citizens, we will entreat no more. Glos. Will you enforce me to a world of cares ? Call them again. I am not made of stone. But penetrable to your kind entreaties, Albeit against my conscience and my soul. But if black scandal or foul-faced reproach Attend the sequel of your imposition, Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me From all the impure blots and stains thereof ; For God doth know and you may partly see How far I am from the desire of this.' Kichard Gloster is now crowned King of England. " In the first parliament thereafter," according to Knight, "a statute was passed reciting that in a bill presented by many lords spiritual and temporal, and others of the commons in great multitude, the crown was claimed by Bichard as his » Act ni., Scene 7. 228 POPULAR AOqUIESOENOE. father's heir, in consequence of a pre-contract of matrimony having been made by Edward. IV. with dame Eleanor Butler, . . . by which his children became illegitimate, and that the line of the Duke of Clarence had been attainted." ' These were the legal groimds whereby Eichard III. came into possession of the throne of England. We have noted how slowly, and as it were against their better judgment, the commons accepted this usurpa- tion. Two reasons led them, doubtless, to acquiesce in it, once accomplished. One was a loathing of the bare idea of another civil war. A generation had grown up while the Koses were tossing above the pikes of St. Albans, Towton, Barnet, and Tewkesbury. Men were weary of drawing blood from their brethren. Peace at any price seemed honorable and the wisest patriotism. This is the first reason. It might not have held had there been a competent leader on the ground to dis- pute Richard's crown. The princes were boys. Their mother was deprived of the services of her family, all the leading spirits among them having been cast into prison. There was no Bolingbroke, no Hotspur, no Warwick, no Margaret of Anjou. True that far away in Brittany was the young Eichmond of the House of Lancaster, grandson of Henry V.'s widow, the fair Katharine, of whom Henry YI. had said with the pre- science of poetry : This pretty lad will prove our country's bliss. His looks are full of peaceful majesty ; His head by nature framed to wear a crown ; His hand to wield a sceptre ; and himself > Knight's History, Vol. II., Chapter VIII. , page 166. ELIZABETH DENIED HER GHILDBEN. 229 Likely in time to bless a regal throne. Make much of him, my lords, for this is he Must help you more than you are hurt by me.' Eichmond will presently stir into life, but at the criti- cal moment when Eichard mounts the throne of Eng- land he is too far off and perhaps forgotten, to be a factor in the problem. Both young princes are in the Tower, from whence only their bones shall ever emerge after more than two centuries of dispute and mystery as to their fate. Elizabeth, their mother, may not even see them. Eliz. Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave. How doth the prince and my young son of York ? Brak. Eight well, dear madam ; by your patience I may not suffer you to visit them ; The king hath strictly charged the contrary. Eliz. The king, who's that ? Brak. I mean the Lord Protector. Eliz. The Lord protect him from that kingly title. Hath he set bounds between their love and me ? I am their mother. Who shall bar me from them ? Brah. No, madam, no. I may not leave it so. I am bound by oath and therefore pardon me.' Now comes the messenger to Anne, who is with Eliza- beth and sympathizing with her, to summon her to her coronation, and thus Elizabeth feels the full thrall of Margaret's curse. " Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen." ' 1 Henry VI., Part HI., Act III., Scene 7. ■' Act IV., Scene 1. » Ibid. 230 BICHABD AND ANNE CROWNED. Once again this widowed mother, bereft of her chil- dren, who yet live, flies to the house of God for sanc- tuary, pausing but for a moment to utter her pathetic adjuration to the Tower which holds her heart's be- loved : Pity, yon ancient stones, those tender babes Whom envy hath immured within your walls. Bough cradle for such pretty ones. Eude, ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow For tender princes, use my babies well. So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewelL' Gloster's ambition is now attained. He is legally seated on the throne, and Anne, daughter of Warwick, is crowned his queen. It is always unsafe to infer from a man's completed ambition, a life-long scheming to attain it. And to simply read this play, or the bare historic facts upon which it is founded, we are led to suppose that Eichard became a villain almost ofOband, that seeing the opportunity, he seized upon it with a remorseless selfishness that counted no cost of blood or bitter suffering in others. And this is another reason why he appears the monster which he is de- picted upon the stage. We see him in the full maturity of his gnUt. But without going farther than the facts will warrant, we may trace in the previous plays a sort of evolution of the character which blossomed into this evil, tainted, Kose of York. Theorists are reasonably fond of tracing the b^in- ning of his wickedness to the sensitiveness of youth, conscious of great powers of mind, encased in a de- formed and ugly body. > Act IV., Scene 1. (ILOHTKR'S CirAllAOTER. 231 King Henry's speech expresses what Bichard seems to have thought all the world believed : Tlio owl shrieked at thy birth, an evil sign. Tho liight crow cried, aboding luckless time. Dogs howled and hideous temiiests shook down trees. Thy mothi-r felt more than a mother's pain And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope. To wit, an undigest, deformed lump.' And Gloster gradually took this opinion bitterly to heart, and resolved to live accordingly. What men expected of him they should have. Without fault of his he had been made a sort of physical monster. He would be what he seemed. The world should have him at its own valuation. Then since tho heavens have shaped my body so. Let hell make crooked my mind to answer it." At first sensitive and bitterly shy, he broods over it ; loathes every one about him, because he thinks him- self loathsome to them. Then, as he appreciates his own intellectual strength and extraordinary mental capacity, he glories in his deformities as having the potency of unwelcome surprises for thoHo who look d(}wn on him. He is facile princepa, after the death of Warwick, among the men of the court. We see in the play how he twists and turns the strongest of them to his will. It is quite conceivable that the idea of the throne was not at first present in hin wicked schem- ings, that held no one sacred, no life secure, no blood ■ Henry VI. , Part Ifl., Act V,, Boono 0. » Ibid. 232 HIS MASTERFUL POWER. precious. We remember the pleased, almost startled, surprise at his success in the wooing of Anne, and the resolutions it induced : My dukedom to a beggarly denier I do mistake my person all this while. Upon my life she finds, although I cannot, Myself to be a marvellous proper man. I'll be at charges for a looking-glass, And entertain a score or two of tailors, To study fashions to adorn my body. Since I am crept in favor with myself, I will maintain it with some little cost.' Humorously exaggerated as this is, we trace the idea in Eichard's mind and see how he carried it into effect as he mingled in the politics of the times. He finds him- self able to lead, control, master, people. He will do this wherever it leads him, in revenge for nature's deprivation of those physical adornments which aid- ed other men. Others used their natural parts and beauties to advance themselves. He will show ad- vancement in spite of, even by means of, his deformi- ties. (Note that scene in the council chamber at the arrest of Hastings, where he displays his withered arm.) The wooing of Anne is thus a part and parcel of the evolution of Richard's character along these lines. So he surveyed the court, and measured the resources of its factious. In pure malignity, he pushed the dagger of his spite into first this one, then that, imtil he per- ceived the crown glittering before him. It came in his way, and he took it, grimly smiling doubtless at the ' Act I. , Scene 2. BUOKINQHAM'8 BEVEGTION. 233 thoi^ht of what Warwick would have thought, or Henry VI., or Edward IV. But once gained, there is a thorn in this crown. "Ha, am I King? 'Tis so, but Edward lives." That is disposed of without much trouble. The princes are slain and their bodies buried, only to be resurrected in comparatively modern times. But in this incident Shakespeare falls into a mistake concerniag Bucking- ham, and^so often, an historical mistake which becomes a clever dramatic triumph, Buckingham's falUng ] away was not on account of Richard's desire to have i the young princes slain. It is one of the tangled mys- teries of history, why he did fall away so soon, and after being loaded with benefits from the free hand in which he had helped to place the sceptre of England. But he was not the man to have uttered words at Richard's first suggestion of the murder that should cause the wily plotter to exclaim : High reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.' But he was the man, as Shakespeare hints again, when the king grows cold toward him, to resent not having a full share of the spoils of the usurpation. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise. For which your honor and your faith is pawned. I am thus bold to put your grace in mind Of what you promised me.' And the king's dry, cold sneer : I am not in the giving vein to-day, » Act IV., Scene 2. = Ibid. 234 RIOHMOND ON THE SEAS. probably expressed his impatience at the importunities of one for whom he considered he had done enough and rewarded amply. Buckingham probably failed to receive the consider- ation he thought his due. At all events, shortly after the coronation of Bichard and Anne he is up in arms, and in active correspondence with the Earl of Bich- mond, who sets forth from Brittany, but by a storm is beaten back from the coast. The unfortunate Buck- ingham, deprived of his ally, is taken prisoner, and had to his share what he had so often awarded others, and on the scaffold cries : Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck. " When he," quoth she, " shall split thy heart with sorrow, Eemember Margaret was a prophetess." ' And now Richmond is on the seas, and his star begius to rise. He is the last living direct heir of the Lan- castrian line which was set aside when Edward IV. of York came to the throne. Henry, Earl of Richmond, was the son of Edmund, who Avas the son of Owen Tudor and Katherine, the widow of Henry V. He was also the lineal descendant, by Katherine Swyn- ford, of John of Gaunt. He thus inherited in the Lancastrian liue, although this line was debarred by Parliament from the throne. Queen Anne had died and her infant son. Richard was again " him- self alone," not without suspicion, say the Chroni- cles, that he had murdered his wife. Before this he had paid such attention to his niece Elizabeth, Ed- ward's daughter, as to create scandalous talk at court. 1 Act v.. Scene 1. ELIZABETH HOODWINKS RICHARD. 235 The poet represents him truly at this juncture, with a rising cloud in the sky of his prosperity, seeking mar- riage with his niece, in order probably to so unite the house of York upon the throne as to prevent the possibility of being disturbed by the last scion of Lancaster. There is much dispute about Shakespeare's inten- tion in that scene where Eichard woos the young princess through her mother. History assures us both that Edward's Queen consented to this match, and at the same time had pledged her daughter's hand to the Earl of Richmond, which was an ideal political marriage from the standpoint of the nobles who hated Eichard, and wished weU to England. In the play, after a scene of cursing and cajolery very similar to that of the wooing of Anne, Elizabeth ap- pears to yield to Eichard's blandishments. "We need not believe the poet intended it for more than seeming. He here means to indicate how Eichard's intellectual cunning was beginning to o'erreach itself. The snare into which Anne had fallen he spread for Elizabeth, and fell into himself. The Queen hoodwinked him and intended to. " Eelenting fool, and shallow chang- ing woman," as Eichard thought her, she was then in correspondence with Eichmond, and destined once more to see happy days in the reign of her daughter as England's queen. Eichard held a kingdom in his hand ; swayed the councils even of his enemies ; tossed human souls into eternity without effort ; but he did not see into this wronged woman's ruse, nor know that love is stronger than arms and scaffolds. Eichmond is at the gates of his heritage. He has 236 VISIONS IN THE NIOHT. not a large army. A few of the discontented nobles come to greet Mm. The friends of Edward IV. come out of their sorrowful retirement to gather about a Lancastrian who is preferable at last to their own White Rose. The ex-queen's friends flock to him, but the people are comparatively indifferent. There is no great uprising of the commons either for Bichard or for Richmond. The people indeed are curiously and sullenly indifferent, except those who, with remnants of feudal attachment feel they are fighting the battle of their chiefs. Richard gathers his armies, also small in number. He holds his rival but cheaply, and calls him " Shallow Richmond." It is the night before the battle of Bosworth Field.' The handling of this scene of the last act reminds us somewhat of the eve of Agincourt. Now we see Rich- mond confident that he is God's captain, yet alert in preparation against the wiles and stratagems of the " wretched, bloody, and usurping boar.'' Now we be- hold Richard, restless, anxious, " I will not sup to- night," drinking great bowls of wiae, Avithout somehow " that alacrity of spirit and cheer of mind he was wont to have." The busy preparations are all made. The night falls. Richard and Richmond sleep. To both come visions in that night before the day of fate. The poet may not be quarrelled with for introducing ghosts upon the mimic stage. The moral raison d'etre of these spirits, who rise first to one and then to the other of the leaders, is unquestionable. In Richmond's dreams he is comforted and strengthened by assurance that his course is just. In Richard's he is tormented ■ Act v., Scene 3. BOSWOBTH FIELD. 237 and disturbed by the gtdlty deeds of his past, which now rise in judgment upon him. Those ghosts did truly represent the moral attitude of the two leaders in the last struggle between the houses of York and Lan- . caster. God and good angels fight on Eichmond'a side And Bichard falls in aU bis height of pride.' No use of soliloquies could here accomplish the end aimed at, to place the moral strength and weakness of this struggle before us. The feeble outburst of Eichard as he rouses from his crime-haunted sleep, is evidence of this. That speech begianing, " Give me another horse, bind up my wounds," * is wretched as compared with former soliloquies. It seems a poor bit of actor's fustian. The ghosts, on the other hand, may be inartis- tic, as is often objected, but they are powerful drama- tic auxiliaries. Through their wailing moans we hear the last note of cold despair beginning to sweep across the soul of the usurping Eichard. The memory of every crime lies heavy on his soul, as next day he met Eichmond in the shock of battle, unnerving his cour- age and palsyiug his arm. The battle of Bosworth Field ended in the victory of Eichmond, who was triumphantly crowned king as Henry VII. It ended the wars of the Eoses, and the life of the last Plantagenet King. He dies like a soldier, nobler in that moment than when he had reigned over all England. " Then truly," says the old Chronicle, " in a very moment, the residue all fled, and 1 Act v., Scene 3. "Ibid. 238 WOMEN OF THE PLAY. king Eichard, alone, was killed fighting manfully in the thickest press of his enemies." So ended the wars of the Roses. Richmond was crowned king, upon the field of battle. Shortly after he was ratified in his prerogatives and kingdom by Parliament. He mar- ried Elizabeth of York, and the blood of the rival houses mingled in the veins of their son Henry YIII. Shakespeare has not touched with his pen the period between Eichard III. and Henry VIII., but in his last chronicle play with the latter as its titular hero, he completes the story begun with the reign of King John. One cannot turn from the tragedy of Eichard III. with a true regard for its historic importance, without a word as to its women characters. Anne's sorrows and fate redeem in the eyes of sentiment her degrad- ing folly. The old Duchess, mother of Eichard, is well sustained both dramatically and historically. Elizabeth, queen of Edward, mother of the princes of the Tower, is admirable. She may have been a light woman and indiscreet. She may have forwarded too busily the fortunes of her family, but this is a trait of human, not especially of woman, nature, and has its noble side. "We must maintain that she over- reached Eichard in the end, by the keen unscrupulous- ness of a loving woman when those she loves are in peril. For her deception and ruse of acquiescence, we may have great charity. Margaret of Anjou, restless shade of a dissonant andbloody past, remains a heroine. She alone, always and to his face withstands the powerful, dominant hunchback, " hell's black intelligencer." Even Eichard PBOGliESS OF LITERATURE. 239 must have admired her. " Bear with me," she cries uot only to the Queen, but down the centuries it is her frauk appeal to the judgment of history. Bear with me, I am hungry for revenge? And now I cloy me with beholding it.' There are few instances of a passion more detestable in the heart of one more excusable for nursing it. Great progress was making during the easy years of Edward, and the perturbed reign of Richard, in the development of literature. The Woodvilles, fam- ily of Edward's queen, encouraged learning and were patrons of Caxton, the first English printer, who, under an overruling Providence, did more by his art than kings by their swords, to make England great. After the preceding pages, it seems strange to connect the familiar names with peaceful arts. Yet the unfortun- ate Rivers was an accomplished author and translator, and the first English book printed was dedicated to "false fleeting perjm-ed Clarence." Even Richard has made letters his debtor, for in his reign was passed a tariff law expressly excepting from its provisions " any manor of bokes, written or imprynted." With the spread of books, written or printed, went pari passu the intelligence of the commons. The peo- ple turned over the fluttering pages of Bible and Chronicle to learn many lessons for present and future. The minds of England's peasantry and minor gentry had been stagnant, until into the pools of standing water were poured the fresh streams of poet, prophet, chronicler. 1 Act IV., Scene 4. 240 ENGLAND OP THE TUDOBS. Henry Tudor looked out upon a new land as he lifted Ms eyes from Bosworth Field. The Baron was there, the Churchman was there, but there too was a swarming multitude who uttered the voice of a third power, more potent to influence kings than priest or noble, the power of the Common People, tilling the soil as of old, but reading their books as not of old, their Bible chief of all, and learning the lessons of seK-government, self-restraint, and self-respect. HENEY VIII. There is no other known play with this reign as its theme from which Shakespeare seems to have bor- rowed. " The Life of Wolsey," by Cavendish (in- cluded ia HoHnshed), and Fox's "Book of Martyrs," were principal sources of information. Many passages are transcribed almost word for word from these orig- inals. 16 CHEONOLOGY OP THE EEIGN OF HENKY VII. BEING THE INTERVAL BETWEEN SHAKESPEABB'S PLAY OF RICHAED III. AND HBNKT VIII. 1486. Henry VII. marries Elizabeth of York, daugliter of Edward IV., thus uniting the rival claims of the Yorkists and Lancastrians. 1487. Lambert Simnel, pretending to be the young Earl of Warwick, son of George, Duke of Clarence, invades the king- dom and is defeated. 1492. War with France. 1492-99. Perkin Warbeck, pretending to be the Duke of York, who was believed to hav« been murdered in the Tower, carried on a desultory warfare in support of his claims to the throne. He is finally executed. Arthur, son of Henry and Elizabeth, married to Katharine of Aragon. 1502. On the death of Arthur, a contract of marriage is made between his widow and his brother, afterward Henry VIII. 1509. Death of Henry VII. 243 CHEONOLOGY OP HENEY VIII. PROM HIS ACCESSION, 1B09, UNTIL 1B83. 1509. Henry ascends the throne. Marriage between the King, aged eighteen, and Katharine of Aragon, aged twenty-six. 1513. Henry defeats the French in the battle of the Spurs. English defeat the Scotch at Flodden Field. 1514. Peace with France. 1515. Wolsey created Cardinal and Lord Chancellor. 1517. Wolsey made Papal Legate. 1520. Charles V. of Spain, and Emperor, makes a visit of state to Henry. Henry makes a visit of state to Francis I. of France. The Field of the Cloth of Gold. SHAKESPEARE'S PLAY BEGINS. 1521. Impeachment and execution of Buckingham. Henry writes a book against Luther and receives the title of " De- fender of the Faith " from Pope Leo X. 1523. Disagreement between Wolsey and the Commons. 1525. Forced loans resented by the people, and the policy abandoned by Henry. 1527. First doubts raised as to the validity of Henry's mar- riage with Katharine. Henry submits the question of divorce to Pope Clement VII. 1528. Wolsey and Oampeggio appointed commissioners by the Pope to try the cause of the divorce. 1529. Queen Katharine appeals to Eome. Wolsey deprived of his dignities by the King. 1530. Wolsey apprehended for treason. His death. 1531. Katharine withdraws from the court. 1532. Anne Boleyn made Marchioness of Pembroke and privately married to Henry. Act of Parliament forbidding appeals of any sort to be made to Bome. 1533. Oranmer made Archbishop of Canterbury. Cranmer declares the marriage with Katharine null, and that with Anne Boleyn legal. Birth of Elizabeth, afterwards Queen. CHAPTEE VIII. HENEY Vni. — THE ENGLISH EEFOEMATION. Position of this play as epilogue to the series. — Henry VIIL unites the houses of Lancaster and York. — In his reign, civil-political stiife succeeded by civil-ecclesiastical strife. — The significant period covered by the play. — Three tragical events, elaborately interwoven, form the centres of dramatic treatment. — (I.) The execution of the Duke of Buckingham. — (IL) The divorce of Katharine of Aragon — (III.) The disgrace and fall of Cardinal Wolsey.— The Reformation writ large over the whole play. — The Field of the Cloth of Gold. — Contempt for the French.— Growing hatred against Wolsey. — Backing- ham the scapegoat of this feeling. — His apprehension. — His real offence — His execution. — The people see in him a victim of Wolsey's ambition. — Origin of the divorce question still in a haze of historic doubt. — Partisans settle it off-hand. — Students do not. — Henry's three- cornered dilemma in his relations with the Pope, the Emperor (Katha- rine's nephew), and the King of France. — Interwoven with these Wol- sey's ambitious designs on the papal tiara — Henry's alleged scruples as to validity of Ms marriage with Katharine. — His conscience and Anne Boleyn. — Wolsey at first in favor of, then opposed to, the divorce. — Shuffling of all parties in the matter of the divorce. — Henry cuts the knot by breaking with Eome. — Cranmer appears. — Marriage and coro- nation of Anne. — The poet's treatment of Henry and the divorce. — Wolsey's fate grows out of the divorce proceedings, and the shadow of this great man is over the whole play. — His autocratic sway. — His ex- tortions. — Three strands in the cord of his fate. — The rising tide of the reformation had its effects also. — ^Wolsey and Katharine. — Henry dis- graces the once powerful subject. — His submission, repentance, and death. — The dominant note of these stirring times, nationalism, not protestantism. — Cranmer and Gardiner. — Henry's break with Rome more political than religious. — End of the play with the baptism of Elizabeth and a prophecy of England's future glory. The last of the English historical plays, and in many respects the most complete and picturesque in its por- UNION OF YORK AND LANCASTER. 24:5 trayal of the period it covers. It was without doubt the last of the chronicles in order of composition, as well as in historic sequence. Its probable date, from internal evidence, was about 1603, before the death of Elizabeth, which occurred in the last of March that year. Malone dates it in 1601, Skottowe in 1603. And although most modern commentators agree upon a later date, no two fix the same. The reasons for hold- ing to an early date are enlarged upon in the Appen- dix.' As already noted, after the exhausting struggle of York and Lancaster, ending with the battle of Bos- worth Field, Henry VII. came to the throne of Eng- land and united the warring factions by his marriage with Elizabeth of York, daughter of Edward IV. In their son Henry VIII. the people saw the blood of York and Lancaster mingling for the first time. The long duel was over, and England became once more a homogeneous nation, under a king who could be claimed by no faction, the founder of what was prac- tically a new epoch for the English race. As John is shown to have been the first of English rulers to sepa- rate the nation from continental entanglement (barring those after ephemeral conquests which gave only a titular sovereignty over France to English kings), so Henry was the first to unite the English people among themselves, to stop the bloody flux of civil wars, and to lay the foundation, albeit amidst confusion and sor- rows, of a happier and more prosperous national life. These were the bright dreams of nobles and com- mons when Henry came to the throne, a handsome, ' Appendix, p. 399. 246 HENRY'S ALTERED OHARACTER. gallant youth in 1509. But when the play of Shake- speare opens twelve years later, in 1521, we find these hopes disappointed. Times have changed. Henry is no longer a generous lad looking for honest guidance and submitting to wise counsellors, but a headstrong, arrogant man, now swayed by the meanest favorites who would pander to his tastes ; again refusing all interference in his plans whatsoever ; cold-blooded toward his best friends, re- lentless in deahng with his enemies. Such favorites as he has are looked upon with suspicion by the lords of his court, and the abuse of taxation has aroused the masses to protest against exaction. We are introduced at once to an entourage of jealousy, avarice, vaulting ambition, and self-seeking. The air is impure; the surroundings are tawdry ; the motives of most of the dramatis persona are for the great part sordid. The prologue to the play deftly indicates this, and is a keynote to the whole well worth study. It begins with these hues : I come no more to make you laugh : things now That bear a weighty and a serious brow, Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe : Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow We now present. . . . It ends with these : Think ye see The very persons of our noble stoiy, As they were living ; think you see them great And followed with the general throng and sweat Of thousand friends ; then in a moment, see How soon this mightiness meets misery. ' ' Vide Prologue to Henry VIII. CHIEF EVENTS OF THE PLAT. 247 This last line gives a key-note to the play. In the lives of many of the characters " mightiness met mis- ery." So also with the nation at large. The poet has cleverly brought his drama to an end in the bap- tism of Elizabeth, as a prophecy of how in her reign might should conquer misery, and he breaks off not too soon in the march of events ; for the succeeding years of his titular hero's reign would not have borne transference to the stage. There are three events, aU tragic in their nature, around which the action of the play revolves. All are historic, and there is but little deviation, even in de- tails, from the actual history as recorded in Cavendish's " Life of Wolsey," from which the poet took not only his facts, but occasionally his language. The Cranmer incident in Act V. will be found in Fox's " Book of Martyrs," and is an almost literal re- production from its pages. These three historic occur- rences which give vertebrate consistency to the play are (I.) The Execution of Buckingham. (II.) The Divorce of Katharine ; and (111.) The Fall of Wolsey. In addition, although there is very little direct refer- ence to the wide-spread prevalence of the new religi- ous doctrines, we are carried by the action of the play over that important and troubled period which may be called the threshold of the English Reformation. It is a singular coincident fact, that the year 1521, in which the play opens, marked the publication of Hen- ry's celebrated book against Luther and his heresy, which won for him from the Pope the title " Defender of the Faith ; " and that in 1533, the year with whose happenings the play closes, were enacted those acts of 348 FIELD OF THE OLOTH OF OOLV. Parliament which cut off England forever as a spirit- ual fief of the Roman See. The dramatic use made of the accusation and arrest of Buckingham presents in strongly drawn outline the England of the pre-Beformation period. We have first an indication of that semi-barbaric taste of even cultivated monarchs, for such displays as that of the Eield of the Cloth of Gold, when To-day tlie French All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods, Shone down the English ; and, to-morrow they Made Britain India ; every man that stood Showed like a mine,' .... So Norfolk describes this celebrated pageant, and in the conversation which ensues, creeps out the growing hatred of Cardinal Wolsey's despotic policy in state affairs, while it is more than hinted that the glittering display was managed by him to further selfish ends. The sober second sense of England is expressed to the effect that such stupendous shows, however grati- fying to the national pride, were not in the end worth the price paid, but were " purchased at a superfluous rate." The treaty made with France at this time was soon broken, and there were not a few who made bold to charge the " o'er great Cardinal " with the rupture, again for selfish ends, even as the result of a bargain with Charles the Emperor.^ For purposes of the ■ Act I., Scene 1. 2 The introduction of Wolsey's name so early in the play, as influencing the course of events, is a happy dramatic foreshadowing of the influence which this single great character is to have on all the persons and in- cidents involved. Wolsey is as essential a personalty to the drama of Henry VIII. ."s Hamlet to the tragedy which bears his name. BUGKINGHAM'S OONDEMNATIOR. 249 drama the strongest expressions of popular feeling are put in Bnckingliam's mouth, as " This top proud fellow ... I do know to be corrupt and trea- sonous," and He (the emiseror) privily Deals with our cardinal ; and as I trow Which I do well ; for I am sure the emperor Paid e'er he promised ; whereby his suit was granted Ere it was asked.' But this was the sentiment of the majority of the proud lords who clustered about Henry's throne, and Buckingham is the dramatic puppet to give it voice, because he was the one to suffer the vengeance of the Cardinal, as a sort of scapegoat to^ warn the rest that Wolsey was not to be trifled with. Buckingham was arrested for treason, tried, and con- demned to death. The main charge against him was a too free boasting of what he would do on coming to the throne in case of the failure of issue to Henry.^ There were confused allegations of treasonable remarks concerning the King's own person also, based upon the confession of a discharged servant. It is probable that Buckingham was involved in some of the discon- tents of the period, and as the next male heir to the throne, his name would have probably been used in every Cave of Adullam gathering of those discontented times. This would account for much, but it is ques- tionable whether he would ever have been executed, had it not been that he was head and front of the op- 1 Act I., Scene 1. He was the next heir if Henry died without issue, being the lines lacendant of Thomas, Duke of Gloucester, seventh son of Edward III. 250 A VICTIM OF THE OARBINAL. position to Wolsey. Higli bom himself, of royal de- scent, with the possible contingency of the throne be- fore him, he could ill brook the insolence and court influence of the " venom mouthed butcher's cur," who by his rise from lowly surroimdings to the pitch of prime favorite, had made a " beggar's book outworth a noble's blood." Shakespeare correctly represents the popular feel- iag to have been with Buckingham. Perhaps this was partly from the sentimental pity which always accom- panies the sharp misfortunes of a gifted and gallant leader, and partly from the well-known fact that he was convicted on the testimony of his own household, who thus basely betrayed the indiscreet words and actions uttered and expressed in the assumed safety of domestic confidence, " a most unnatural and faithless service." But chiefly the people deplored the Duke's taking off because they saw in him a hapless victim of the great Cardinal, whom they were learning to hate and fear. The two gentlemen who meet and ex- change opinions over the trial, express the common opinion. Id Gent. Certainly, The cardinal is the end of this. 1st Gent. 'Tis likely, By all conjectures ; first Kildare's attainder, Then deputy of Ireland ; who, removed, Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too. Lest he should help his father. . . . This is noted, And generally, whoever the king favors The cardinal will instantly find employment And far enough from court too, KATHARINE'S APPEABANGE. 251 Id Gent. All the commons Hate him perniciously, and o' my conscience Wish him ten fathoms deep.' In Buckingham's farewell speech, a splendid and pathetic outburst, the poet puts in the Duke's mouth words which he would hardly under the circumstances have used, but particularly prophetic of Wolsey's downfall, and finely indicative of the truth. After say- ing he heartily forgives those who sought his death, he continues: 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.' These incidents of the accusation and trial of the Duke of Buckingham are made to foreshadow the course of future events which held in their last analysis the fate of both Katharine and Wolsey. As over the whole play the latter may be seen to throw lAie sombre shadow of his influence, so throughout the greater part of it, Katharine is set forth as a sort of glowing foil to his ambitious schemes. Historically out of place as Katharine's plea ' for the heavily taxed people is, it was probably substanti- ally true, and another evidence that the poet grasped the truth of history whUe not always keeping to its letter. Katharine's appearance as the accuser of Wol- sey here, is evidently made for purposes dramatic. It is a striking picture. The Queen secure yet in her wifely dignity, pure and spotless in her matronly in- tegrity, strong in her position as wife of a great prince ' Act II. , Scene 1. = Ibid. s Act L , Scene 2. 252 0PPBB88I0N OF THE 00MM0N8. who grants her request before it is uttered, making plea for the oppressed commons, and charging the in- iquity of unfair and burdensome exactions upon the iirst subject of the realm, and most powerful minister of state. This is the first indication in the play, and perhaps in point of actual time, where Henry traverses the action of his trusted cardinal. Knight infers that Henry knew of the exactions, but that, after the manner of kings, he threw the blame on his minister, who took it humbly to himself as became a faithful servant. Shakespeare would have us suppose that Wolsey was the real source of . . . The subject's grief . . . Whicla compels from each The sixth part of his substance to be levied Without delay." ' And in furtherance of this he conveys the reasonable idea that kings must be unknowing to a great deal of their minister's transactions. " By my life," exclaims Henry, " this is against our pleasure." ^ The truth probably lies between the two. When Henry wanted money for his wars or his pleasures, he notified Wol- sey, and so long as no complaints reached his royal ears, was careless of how his purse was filled. We must, however, bear in mind that Shakespeare's de- lineation of Henry's character was softened down as to its worst side by the fact that it was probably written for Ehzabeth's eye ; and Ehzabeth had quite too much of her father's blood in her veins, to allow one of her Majesty's Players to make too free with the Teputa- tion of her Majesty's father. > Act I., Scene 2. "Ibid. TREATMENT OF THE DIVORCE. 253 Henry VIII. was a great king and Wolsey a great minister, but of the two Wolsey was the better man even before his downfall. Shakespeare makes him the worse, although he redeems at once the Cardinal's character and the truth of history, in the scenes de- picting the last days of Wolsey's life. The central point of the play, and perhaps the tour deforce of Shakespeare's genius, is his treatment of the divorce of Katharine of Aragon, for twenty years " true and loyal wife " of England's king. Let the historic setting of Shakespeare's time be recalled, the better to demonstrate this opinion. The reigning sovereign was Henry's daughter Elizabeth, by Anne Boleyn, for whose sake he had divorced his first wife. Elizabeth Tudor was an object of popular love and admiration. Mary, her predecessor, daughter of Henry by the divorced Katharine, was as eagerly de- tested. The state of religious parties was by no means conducive to partisanship in a stage play performed upon the public boards. The old faith was still the fond memory and passionate belief of many. The Established Church was the bulwark of national de- fence against Spain and France, and the majority of Englishmen were as loyal to it as to the state, in many cases doubtless for the same reason. The Puritan movement was deepening and strengthening, frowning alike on missal and prayer-book. For a public composed of these elements Shake- speare wrote on the most delicate of all subjects — the revolt of England from the papal supremacy, the oc- casion of which, although not the cause, was Henry's quarrel with the Pope in the matter of the divorce of 254 DOMESTIC LIFE OF HENRY VIII. Katharine. To say that Shakespeare accomplished his task without giving offence in any quarter, is much. But he did more, in. that, with one possible exception, he so used the materials at his hand as to depart in no essential point from the truth of history. The excep- tion is in his treatment of the character of Henry. In spite of Mr. Fronde's learned and brilliant special plea, the student of history, unbiassed by religious prej- udice or national pride, can have but one judgment on the life of Henry YIII. That dastard domestic life beginning with the divorce of Katharine, is marked by the sad names of Anne Boleyn, beheaded ; Jane Sey- mour, dying in child-birth ; Anne of Cleves, divorced ; Catharine Howard, beheaded ; and Catharine Parr, who survived him. This is a heavy record. But added to it must be the cruelty of heart which suffered him to discard without remorse one by one his most trusted and faithful servants, and the savagery of disposition which made his last breath a death-warrant. By the farthest stretch of charity, we may only give Shake- speare the credit of trying to reflect the spirit of his age regarding Henry, and that the subversion of the pa- pal power in England was considered by Englishmen sufficient to wipe away all scores against the moral abasement of the king who was instrumental, what- ever his motives, in establishing the church and nation on the strong foundation of autonomous government.' Through the tortuous web of these delicate facts the ^ It is only fair to the poet also, to observe that the course of his drama does not touch upon the period of Henry's most conspicuous villainy. There is room for the apologist of Henry up to the birth of Elizabeth. There is none after the beheading of Anne. THE POLITICAL SITUATION. 255 poet deftly picked his way. No resentment could rise in Elizabeth's heart against the treatment of Anne Boleyn or Katharine. They are not pitted against each other in the play. The one is a picture of joyous and happy youth, drinking the first drop of a delicious cup ; the other is presented in the dignity of conscious innocence and nobly borne grief. Ehzabeth's legiti- macy remains unquestioned, while Katharine's request to be buried as a queen obtains. When I am dead, good wench, Let me be used with honor : strew me over With maiden flowers, that all the world may know I was a chaste wife to my grave : embalm me ; Then lay me forth, although unqueened, yet like A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me. I can no more.' The great question of the divorce, although bruited in 1527, was not completed until after Wolsey's death. Yet it was so intertwined with his fall from power and the king's grace, that it must be considered next now in order of events. The origin of it is still, after three centuries and a half, wrapped in mystery. The political situation, and Henry's relation with the pope, and Charles of Spain, also emperor, must first be noted, and imderlying all these, the ambitious plans of Wolsey, which affected them all. The Pope Clement was bound to Henry for the latter's services as Defender of the Faith, and a strong arm to be re- lied upon to help put down the new doctrines, which were fast spreading over Europe. But Wolsey had been a candidate for the papal tiara, which Clement 'Act IV., Scene 3. 256 RUMORS OF THE DIVOROE. had secured, and his personal feelings were not friendly toward his successful rival. Charles of Spain, who was the nephew of Henry's wife, had assisted Clement to the papal chair, and had failed to make some (perhaps promised) recompense to Wolsey for his disappointment. The first reference of the play to the matter is given in a conversation be- tween two gentlemen anent the arrest of the Duke of Buckingham, referring to certain public rumors. \st Gentleman. . . . Did you not of late days hear A buzzing of a separation between the king and Katharine ? Id Qentleman. . . . Yes, but it held not : For when the king once heard it, out of anger He sent command to the Lord Mayor straight To stop the rumor.' Wolsey is at once connected with the matter (which connection is given more prominence than it deserved because of Shakespeare's desire to shield Henry so far as possible). 'Tis the cardinal, And merely to revenge him on the emperor For not bestowing on him at his asking The Archbishopric of Toledo.^ Now as an historical fact the first known suggestion of the divorce arose in the alleged conscientious scruples of Henry over the legitimacy of his marriage with Katharine, because she had been previously mar- ried to his brother Arthur, who died. It was a point brought forth by the Bishop of » Act II., Scene 1. ■'VaiA. HENBT'S CONSGIENOE. 257 Tarbes, early in 1527, in the course of negotiations touching the marriage of Mary (Henry's daugliter by Katharine) to the son of the French king. This envoy " questioned the validity of the pope's dispensation, and therefore of the marriage, and consequently Mary's legitimacy." This may well have touched Henry's pride, and we are called upon to believe his statement that it also touched his conscience : My conscience first received a tenderness, Scruple and prick, on certain speeclies uttered By the Bisliop of Bayonne, then French ambassador, Who had been hither sent on the debating A marriage, twixt the Duke of Orleans and Our daughter Mary.' This whole speech of Henry's, too long to be here quoted, is singularly true in detail of what actually happened. Illuminated by the genius of the dramatist the dry facts present a striking picture of what Henry may have passed through in what he claims to have been a mental struggle that gave to him " many a groan- ing throe." The popular judgment, however, as to the origin of Henry's " mazed considerings," which with a deference to the well-known facts Shakespeare has allowed himself to indicate here and there through- out the play, and which has been practically accepted as the judgment of history, barring Mr. Fronde, is summed up as follows : Lm-d Cham. It seems the marriage with his brother's wife Has crept too near his conscience. Suffolk. No, his conscience Has crept too near another lady.'' > Act II., Scene 4. = Act II., Scene a. 17 258 POPULAR IMPRESSION OF HENRY. After Wolsey began to fight sliy of bringing the di- vorce to a consummation, the cause of his zeal to pre- vent, and Henry's to proceed, was plain to all eyes. For if It [the divorce] does take place "I do," quoth he, "perceive My king is tangled in affections to A creature of the queen's, Anne BuUen." ' Among the throng who witness the coronation of Anne is one sturdy gentleman who declares : Sir, as I have a soul she is an angel ; Our king has all the Indes in his arms, And more, and richer, when he strains that lady. I cannot blame his conscience.^ Mild, gentle, and womanly as Katharine is, in her in- terview with Wolsey and Campeiiis (Campeggio), when they endeavor to move her to consent to the divorce procedings, she exclaims : Can you think, lords. That any Englishman dare give me counsel. Or be a known friend 'gainst his highness' pleasure (Though he be grown so desperate to be honest) ? * The fine scorn of this thrust at the king's troubled conscience is a touch of genius. But in the light of the king's own action of marrying Anne before the decree of divorce was pronounced, what more can be said in support of the conscientious twinge. The mar- riage took place about St. Paul's day, January 25, 1533. The divorce was pronounced May 23d, four ' Act III., Scene 3. ^ Act IV., Scene 1. = Act III., Scene 1. WOLSBY'8 AOTIVITY. 259 months later. Elizabeth was born September 7th. These dates are the condemnation of Henry, and per- haps also the condemnation of Anne. About the time of the first whisperiag of the divorce Wolsey, as already noted, was the enemy of Katha- rine's nephew, Charles of Spain, and was seeking close alliance with the King of France. Whatever his rea- son was — probably he had his eye upon the papal suc- cession again — the humbling of Charles through Katha- rine was a sweet morsel to him, and his hoped-for marriage of the divorced king to the Duchess of Alen- §on (Francis's sister) would strengthen his influence at the French court. Norfolk and the Lord Chamberlain sum up the public estimate of Wolsey's activity in the matter of the divorce as follows : Nor. How holily he works in- all this business, And with what zeal ; for now he has cracked the league Between us and the emperor, the queen's great nephew. He dives into the king's soul, and there scatters Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience, Fears and despairs, and all these for his maiiiage. Cham. 'Tis most true. These news are everywhere ; every tongue speaks them. And every tme heart weeps for't. All that dare Look into this affair see this main end, The French king's sister.' There is no doubt that Wolsey knew of Henry's at- tachment for Anne Boleyn before the divorce was spoken of. He gave many entertainments in honor of 'Act II., Scenes. 260 WOLSEY AND ANNE BOLEYN. the pair, one of wliich is exploited in Act I., Scene 4, an anachronism here, but an actual occurrence so fa- mous as to have been noted in the chronicles. It is not to be supposed, however, that Wolsey contemplat- ed Anne as anything more than the temporary diver- sion of the king. There was no reason in Wolsey's schemes for divorcing Katharine to replace her with Anne. Anne was known to be infected with the Re- formed doctrines. As a favorite wife of the King of England she would have been a power for that spread- ing infection of Lutheranism Avhich Wolsey hated with his whole soul. Listen to his soliloquy when he realizes Henry's purpose to be marriage : It shall be the Duchess of Alenpou, The French king's sister ; he shall many her. Anne BuUen. No, I'll no Anne BuUens for him. There is more in it than fair visage. Bullen, No, we'll no BuUens. The late queen's gentlewoman ; a knight's daughter, To be her mistress' mistress, the queen's queen. What though I know her virtuous And well deserving. Yet I know her for A spleeny Lutheran, and not wholesome to Our cause, that she should lie i' the bosom of Our hard-ruled king.' Now it is certain that when once Wolsey knew the mind of the king concerning Anne, he cooled visibly in the matter of the divorce. He dragged out the pro- ceedings interminably, and was disgraced and died be- fore they came to effect. ' Act III., Scene 3. WOLSET'S SEORET DESIGNS. 261 Shakespeare, for purposes of dramatic unity, groups these events ■without much regard to the actual se- quence of their happenings, but by so doing focussed more accurately the reader's eyes upon the salient truth. Schlegel says : " I undertake to prove that Shake- speare's anachronisms are for the most part committed purposely and after great consideration." Tliis is surely a truism. A student of the Reformation in England will get more real light as to the moving oc- casion of that event from this play of Henry VIII. than from any history, whether ecclesiastical or secular. And this not only in spite of, but because of, the ana- chronisms which were the work of a master-painter, who knew by intuition the effect of foreground and perspective, and proceeded by no formal rules. This may be illustrated by comparing the words of the Chronicle in this affair of Wolsey's delay of the divorce with what has been ah-eady quoted from the poet's pen : While things were thus in hand, the Cardinal of York was advised that the king had set his afifeotions upon a young gentlewoman named Anne . . . which did wait upon the queen. This was a great grief unto the cardinal, as he that perceived aforehand, that the king would marrie the said gentle- woman if the divorce took place. Wherefore he began with all diligence to disappoint that match, which by reason of the misliking which he had to the woman, he judged ought to be avoided more than present death. While the matter stood in this state, and the cause of the queen was to be heard and judged at Eome, by reason of the appeal which by her was put in; the cardinal required the pope by letter and secrot messengers, that in any wise he should defer the judgment of 262 HENBT-a POLICY. the divorce, till he might frame the king's mind to his pur- pose.' These are the bald facts. Compare them with the car- dinal's formerly quoted words concerning Anne Boleyn, and with that other nobler and pathetic utterence to Cromwell, when the king discovers by an accident his minister's treacherous course. The long and difficult path through which Henry was obliged to travel for his cherished end is sufficiently indicated, but not too tediously dealt with, in the play. It was a series of moves on the political chess-board of Europe as well as within the palace of England's king, alike shuffling and disingenuous on the part of all concerned. No stone was left unturned by Henry. The appeal to the universities : All the clerks, I mean the learned ones in Christian kingdoms, Have their free voices. The appeal to Kome : Eome, the nurse of judgment, Invited by your noble self, hath sent One general tongue unto us, this good man. This just and learned priest. Cardinal Campeius, Whom once more I present unto your highness.' The final disgust of the king and his determination to go on with the business in spite of pope, legates, or emperor, the break with Bome, and the beginning of the new regime are set forth in a paragraph : ' Chronicle quoted in Hazlitt's Shakespeare^ s Library, Part I., Vol. IV., pp. 95, 96. » Act II., Scenes. RISE OF ORANMBR. 263 King Henry. I may perceive These cardinals will trifle with me. I abhor This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Eome. My learned and well-beloved servant Cranmer, Prithee, return : with thy approach I know My comfort comes along.' Previous to being called into the king's service, where he was rapidly advanced to the Archbishopric of Can- terbury, Oranmer had expressed an opinion publicly that the divorce might be legally and morally settled by decisions of learned men and universities.^ Henry is said to have sent for Cranmer upon hearing that he had made such a statement, and from that moment the first Protestant archbishop's star was in ascendency. The old regime headed by Gardiner began to weaken in power, and the autonomy of the English Church be- gan to rise from the wreck of the old feudal depend- ence upon Rome. Once the break with Eome is assured there is no further obstacle ia. Henry's path. The highest au- thority of the national Church dissolves the marriage with Katharine, who is given the title of Princess Dowager, which she steadfastly refuses to accept. Anne Boleyn is crowned in great state in Westminster Abbey, and enters upon her few years of royal prog- ress. A paragraph or two may be quoted here illus- trating Shakespeare's inimitable manner of catching the spirit of a scene and making it glow with life and ■Act II., Scene 4. " Bishop Burnett makes this statement, History of the Reformation, Vol. I., p. 138. Courtenay makes the strange mistake of quoting Cranmer'a opinion, " the question of the marriage might be decided by native author- ities," referring to Burnett I., 144, where it does not appear. 264 OOBONATION OV ANNE. color. One gentleman describes the coronation cere- monies to another : \si Oent. God save you, sir, where have you been broiling ? 3d Oent. Among the crowd i' the Abbey, where a finger Could not be wedged in more. I am stifled With the mere rankness of their joy. The rich stream Of lords and ladies, having brought the queen To a prepared place in the choir, fell off A distance from her ; while her grace sat down To rest awhile, some half an hoiir or so, In a rich chair of state, opposing freely The beauty of her person to the people. Which when the people Had a full view of, such a noise arose As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, As loud and to as many tunes : hats, cloaks. Doublets, I think, flew up ; and had their faces Been loose, this day they had been lost.' What was the real position of Anne now in the midst of all these stirring events? Shakespeare's portrait of her in the two scenes (aside from the coronation) in which she is introduced has all the delicacy of a rare water-color, daintily washed in. Before the subject of Katharine's divorce is touched upon, the poet with his dramatic instinct presents Anne to his audience at one of the fashionable masques of the time, in Wolsey's house, where she meets the king by poetic license for the first time. The meaning is to convey, subtly and without offence to Henry's memory, the well-kno^vn 'Act IV., Scene 1. " NBW GUarOMS." 265 fact that the king had long known and paid his royal attention to Anne. Perhaps there was here a delicate reference to the often-referred-to fact, that although Anne accepted favors from the royal hand in the shape of titles and estates, she bestowed none in return un- til as a lawful wife' she could with honor. Such an inference could not fail to be gratefully received by Anne's daughter, and Shakespeare among his other talents possessed those of an accomplished courtier. The masque party where we first meet with Anne was a type of the entertainment then most affected by the English nobility.' The appearance of the king and some of his nobles in the fanciful garb of foreign shepherds, who " because they speak no English " send in a request to Wolsey by the Lord Chamberlain that they may be permitted to " share an hour of revels with them," was one of those freaks permitted to royalty. It was one of the causes of muttered discon- tent in Henry's early and middle reign that he encour- aged too much the importation of foreign fads and fashions. A fresh treaty with France, as that of the Field of the Cloth of Gold, was sure to be followed by a fresh outbreak. New customs, Though they be never so ridiculous, Nay, let tliem be unmanly, yet are followed, As far as I see, all the good our English Have got by the late voyage is but merely A fit or two of the face. Their clothes are after such a pagan cut, too. That sure they have worn out Christendom.' > Act I., Scene 4. " Act I., Scene 3. 266 ANNE BOLETN. That there were jealousies and discontent among the untravelled courtiers appears, also, as is most natural : Sir T. Lovell. ■ Faith, my lord, I hear of none but the new proclamation That's clapped upon the court gate. Cham. What is 't for ? Lov. The reformation of our travelled gallants That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. Gham. I am glad 'tis there : now I would pray our monsieurs To think an English courtier may be wise And never see the Louvre.' The picture of Anne at these revels is that of any fair and blithesome maiden of the court circles in those days. The favor of the king does not overwhelm her. She gives and takes her little share in the light talk and jesting of such a merrymaking with ease and quick- ness of tongue. If one is expected to find some special trait of character here it must be that of light-hearted- ness. The scene calls for no emotion, but such de- mands as it makes upon the social powers of a young girl among her equals of fortune and birth, in the bare dozen words she utters, Anne fuUy meets neither better nor worse than a thousand English girls would have done under like circumstances. The same must be said of that other scene, in her conversation with the old court lady, one of those charmingly carved Shakespearean pawns which he ever puts to such good use as material with which to work out his plans. Here Anne shows more of the woman's nature. But it is stUl on the surface. Mrs. Jameson remarks, as a 'Act I., Scenes. ANNE AND KATHARINE. 267 woman would, " How nobly has Shakespeare done jus- tice to the two women, and heightened our interest in both by placing the praises of Katharine in the mouth of Anne Bullen. And how characteristic of the latter, that she should first express unbounded pity for her mistress, insisting chiefly, however, on her fall from her regal state and worldly pomps, thus betraying her own disposition. That she could call the loss of tem- poral pomp once enjoyed ' a sufferance equal to soul and body severing "... how natural." ' Shakespeare will allow himself to give us no un- pleasant impressions of Anne, and I must say that a study of the whole story warrants the poet's lightness of touch. He was true to history ia leaving his hearers with tender and gentle thoughts of the mother of Elizabeth, as he was true to his art in, as Mrs. Jame- son points out, "constantly avoiding all personal col- lision between " her and Katharine. Anne was sincere in her pity for Katharine's fate : Here's the pang that pinches : His highness having lived so long with her, and she So good a lady that no tongue could ever Pronounce dishonor of her . . . It is a pity Would move a monster. She was sincere in her own first feeling : I swear 'tis better to be lowly bom, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perked up in a glistering gi-ief And wear a golden sorrow. ' Mrs. Jameson's Characteristics of Women, art. Katharine of Aragon. 268 ANNE'S OHABAOTISR. She is sincere in her avowal that she " would not be queen, no, not for all the world ; " and when almost im- mediately after, being informed that she is raised to the dignity of Marchioness of Pembroke, To which title A thousand pound a year, annual support. Out of his grace he adds, she is also sincere in her joyous thanks : Beseech your lordship. Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience, As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness, Whose health and royalty I pray for.' In all these various stages of feeling Anne was equally sincere, because she was, albeit at this time a sweet woman, not a very deep-natured one. The impression of the moment was vivid, but readily, if not effaced, essentially dimmed by that of the next. Oould Shake- speare's purpose have embraced the last years of Anne Boleyn's life, he might have left on record a character quite as touching and pathetic in its way as that of Katharine. Anne's letter to Henry, when accused of the crime for which she was condemned to die, is iden- tical in spirit and dignity with the speech of Katha- rine before the divorce tribunal at Blackfriars. Katharine's part in the tragedy of her divorce has become a classic of grievous wrong and undeserved sorrow nobly borne. Dr. Johnson declares that the genius of Shakespeare goes in and out of the play with this character. His admiration of her character 1 Act II., Scenes. Dli. JOHNSON AND HEINE. 269 worked up Heine to the point of declaring that but for the Englishman's praise he would be tempted to give Katharine her just deserts.' Johnson's remark is in support of the critical posi- tion that Shakespeare had very little to do with the composition of " Henry VIII." Hudson, following a number of the orthodox critics, takes the same view, and gives the Stratford poet credit for about one-half the play. For purposes of historical study, it makes no difference if Thomas Fletcher wrote the whole of it. But as Skottowe says, " While there may be truth in the supposition, it is impossible to assume it as a fact without better evidence than mere conjecture." Certainly the genius of Shakespeare cannot be mis- taken in the whole story of the play, the unity of its theme, and especially in its treatment of Wolsey as well as Katharine. But Katharine is superbly drawn. From the mo- ment of her introduction, pleading for the oppressed people of her husband's realm, until the last scene in which she dies unqueened, yet never more a queen, there is a sustained harmony in the delineation of her character which makes her one of the most perfectly chiselled cameos of the Shakespearean casket. Her voice is raised in behalf not only of the despised com- mons, but of the noble Buckingham. She links Wol- > I cherish an insuperable prejudice against this queen, to whom, how- ever, I must ascribe every virtue. As a wife she was a pattern of domes- tic fidelity. As a queen she bore her part with the highest dignity and majesty. Asa Christian she was piety itself. . . . Shakespeare has employed all the might of his genius to glorify her, but all this is in vain, when we see that Dr. Johnson, that great pot of porter, falls into sweet rapture at her sight, and foams with eulogy.— /SAoie- apeare's Maidens ami Women. 270 KATHARINE sey instinctively with both events, and when she finds that the web of casuistry he has wound about his af- fairs is too stout for her woman's lance to pierce, ex- presses the hope or hopelessness of the great mass of England's every-day people — confused by the jangling sophistries of the court circles whose centre was the cardinal, and utterly helpless to prove what was in- stinctively believed to be true — in the sad ejaculation which must have risen to the lips of many of Eng- land's noblest citizens, " God mend all." When she is finally brought to face the stunning catastrophe of her own life, and pleads her queenly rights and dignity in that pathetic speech which Shake- speare has redeemed with the alchemy of his genius from the blunt chronicle of Holinshed, the unfortunate Katharine, again by instinct, lays the charge of her heavy sorrow at Wolsey's door, and rightly. I do believe, Induced by potent circumstances, that You are my enemy ; and make my challenge Yo\i shall not be my judge, for it is you Hath blown this coal betwixt my lord and me.' Even Henry is touched by the nobility of her nature and the hot grief of her insulted soul. He cries as she is led away : Go thy ways, Kate. The man i' the world who shall report he has A better wife, let him in naught be trusted, For speaking false in that. Thou art alone The queen of earthly queens.' ' Act II., Scene 4. » Ibid. REFUSES TO RENOUNCE HER RIGHTS. 271 We next meet Katharine in the scene where she is visited by Wolsey and Campeius, who endeavor to win her over to the king's wish that she renounce her wifely rights, and accept the title of Princess Dowager. Grief and misery have softened her proud temper, and as she sits sorrowful iu the midst of her women, so she meets with more resignation the advances of the le- gates, although not to be stirred from her resolution to live and die a queen. Let me have time and counsel for my cause, Alas, I am a woman, friendless, hopeless.' but her final decision is : My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty To give up willingly that noble title Your master wed me to ; nothing but death Shall e'er divorce my dignity.' This was not a yearning desire to hold to the rank and honors of her queenship. These were little to her, divorced already from her husband's heart. But the honor of her wifehood, the stainless birth of her child were at stake. Perhaps, who will say, there was that yet left in her heart for the man who for twenty years she had called husband, which was not even a pardon- able jealousy of one who had supplanted her in his affections, but a noble shame for him, her lord and king, to be so self-exposed a villain in the eyes of men. But it is in the last scene of this pathetic tragedy, at Kimbolton, whence the queen had retired to die. where 1 Act III., Scene 1. • = Ibid. 272 LAST MESSAGES. are shown the noblest traits of her fine character — for- giveness of Wolsey who had so wronged her, and an anxious care for the men and women servants who had clung to her through all her misfortunes, with a last appeal to Henry on behalf of their daughter Mary. Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me, That the great child of honor. Cardinal Wolsey, Was dead? So may he rest, his faults lie gently on him. Peace be with him.' To Capucius, the ambassador of the emperor, she gives a letter for the king : In which I have commended to his goodness The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter, The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her ; Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding (She is young and of a noble modest nature ; I hope she will deserve well) and a little To love her for her mother's sake that loved him. Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition Is that his noble grace would have some pity Upon my wretched women, that so long Have followed both my fortunes faithfully. The last is for my men ; they are the poorest ; But poverty could never draw them from me. That they may have their wages duly paid them. And something over to remember me by." There are many affecting passages in the works of the great dramatist, but these last messages to Henry, es- ' Act IV., Scene 3. sibid. DEATH OF KATHARINE. 273 pecially the final words from the deserted and dying wife to the husband who had already taken another in her place, are perhaps the most touching : Eemember me In all humility unto his highness. Say his long trouble now is passing Out of this world ; tell him in death I blessed him, For so I will. My eyes grow dim. Farewell.' When we remember what was back of this — neglect, suspicion, calumny, and finally an unjust divorce — and contrast these with the pride of the queen, the dignity of the wife, the love and honor of the woman : the poet will be seen to have painted one of the most exquis- ite portraits of his rare collection in the character of Katharine of Aragon.' The historic fidelity of Shakespeare's portrayals of these two women can hardly be questioned. It must be remembered of Anne that he leaves her at her coronation before the faintest suspicion against her purity had been whispered. What she became after the birth of Elizabeth will always be a fiercely disputed question. It is quite possible that her lightness of mind, and shallowness of spiritual culture, acted upon by what she too well knew to be the fickleness of the king, developed into indiscretions, and hardened into selfishness. Contemporary accounts are confusing, and neutralize each other. If the burden of testimony is, as Mr. Froude claims, against Anne, it must be re- membered that contemporary testimony is apt to be 'Act IV., Scenes. » Katharine did not die, however, until"1536, three years after the birth of Elizabeth. 18 274 SHAKESPEARE'S TREATMENT OF ANNE. swayed by undue influences. The politics of the Eng- lish and continental powers in the middle of the six- teenth century were too tortuous, too honeycombed by the self-seeking and ambitious plots of individuals, to throw much real light upon the private indiscretions of the wife of Henry VIII. She might well have been the victim of circumstances over which she, no more than Buckingham or Katharine, had control. But as to Shakespeare's etching of her character there can be little criticism save that his lines are too few, and the general profile somewhat indistinct. He could not have done otherwise in a play to be witnessed perhaps by Anne's daughter. He could not have done other- wise, historically, up to the point of time where she disappears from the stage, the happy mother of that " — royal infant (Heaven still move about ber) Though in her cradle, yet now promises Upon this land a thousand, thousand blessings Which time shall bring to ripeness.' The affair of the divorce cannot be fully estimated without one or two words concerning him who was the virtual author of it, Henry himself. "We have suffi- ciently indicated already what must be the judgment of posterity upon the whole career of this second, and, next to Elizabeth, greatest of Tudor sovereigns. It will be noted by the careful reader of the play that Henry is not set forth as an object of condem- nation. His character is very gently touched upon. We have already suggested how far this may have been the result of the poet's delicate situation, patronized ■ Act v., Scene 4. EXTENUATION OF HENRY. 275 by the court of Elizabeth. But there is another reason also, and one which again makes clear the claim of Shakespeare's general fidelity to historic truth. There is an alternative -view to the one most modern histo- rians have taken, of Henry's motives both in seeking the divorce and in marrying again. If we shut out the after career of the king, as Shakespeare was bound to do by the limitations of his dramatic purpose, there is much to support a far more favorable view than that we have here taken. The poet gives Henry the bene- fit of this doubt, and allows himself no partisanship for one side or the other. He illuminates the facts, and allows each witness of his mask to go away with what picture he will in his mind. It is but fair to Henry, as it is necessary to an understanding of Shake- speare's neutrality, to state this other side. It is well known that at first Henry was opposed, as a youth, to his marriage with Katharine because she had been his brother's wife. The then pope, Julius, had granted a dispensation ; but it was the validity of this dispensa- tion, and therefore the validity of the marriage itself, which was brought into question by Henry and his advisers. The question having been brought up once, whether instigated by Wolsey or Henry, forced the latter to face the prospect of a disputed succession to his throne, in case any party after his death should be interested to present the early marriage as null and void. All England was interested to prevent another devastating war of succession, like that of the Wars of the Eoses, which brought Henry's father to the throne. Henry may have been troubled in conscience. His superstitious fears may have been aroused by the fate 276 THE KING'S GONSGIENOE. of Katharine's children dying one after another, leav- ing only Mary alive. He longed for a son to take up his work after him. All this is in extenuation. All this may have, and to an extent probably did have, an influence with the king at the time of the divorce. And all this is subtly indicated ia Shakespeare's gen- tle treatment of the king's relations to Katharine and Anne, in that affair which became the tragedy of both their lives : Hence I took a thought, This was a judgment on me ; that my kingdom Well worthy the best heir o' the world, should not Be gladdened in it by me ; then follows that I weighed the danger which my realm stood in By this my issue's fail ; and that gave to me Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer Toward this remedy, whereupon we are Now present here together.' That the king's mind was afterward altered, perhaps by " many a groaning throe " of remorse, we have evi- dence, for by his wiU he left the throne, first, after his infant son Edward, to Mary the daughter of Katha- rine, before it should faU to Elizabeth, the daughter of Anne, and they succeeded in that order. Much as we find to despise ia Henry "VIII., we may be justified in thinking that he thus answered the prayer of a dis- crowned queen, in placing her daughter first in succes- sion over the daughter of her immediate successor to the royal couch. Out of the divorce in the drama, if not quite directly, > Aot II., Scene 4. aABDlNAL WOLSET. 277 is evolved the fall of Cardinal Wolsey. Tlie crafty and delaying policy of Rome became evident in the actions of the king's great minister, and without doubt the sus- picions thus first aroused, aggravated by his opposition to the marriage with Anne Boleyn, caused Henry to open his eyes to the fact that Wolsey had grown too great a subject for a sovereign's entire safety. Thomas Wolsey was of humble origin, but of suffi- cient family means to have been educated for the Church at one of the universities. Tradition called his father's trade that of butcher ; an honest enough business, and no shame to Wolsey were it true. But the high- born nobles of Henry's court could not perceive with equanimity the rise of such an one to the place of Car- dinal Archbishop of York, and first favorite of the king. Buckingham expresses the popular view of one who for fifteen years "outworthed a noble's blood: " This butcher's cur is venom-mouthed, and I Have not the power to muzzle him. Therefore best Not wake hi!n in his slumber. His abilities were admitted : There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends, For being not propped by ancestry, The force of his own merit makes his way.' But at the time the play opens this "butcher's cur" holds all the noble hounds of England in short leash. Shakespeare represents him truly as at this time gen- erally unpopular with both nobles and commons. He 'Act I., Scene 1. 278 WOLBEY'8 GROWTH IN POWER. had taught Henry to govern with the least interfer- ence of Parliament, and carried matters of state with a high hand. Burnett says "the king liked him well, which he so managed that he quickly engrossed the king's favor to himself, and for fifteen years together was the most absolute favorite that has ever been seen in England. All foreign treaties and places of trust at home were at his ordering. He did what he pleased, and his ascendant over the king was such that there never appeared any party against him all that Avhile." ' This Shakespeare puts into the mouth of Buckingham anent the treaty of the Field of the Cloth of Gold : Wliy the devil Upon this French going-out took he upon him Without the privity o' the king to appoint Who should attend on him ? He makes up the file Of all the gentry : for the most part such To whom as great a charge as little honor He meant to lay upon, and his own letter (The honorable board of council out) Must fetch him in, he papers.- The nobles were thus touched in their vanity and pride, but the people felt more heavily the power of Wolsey's usurping hand. The well-filled treasury which Henry VII. had bequeathed to his son was soon exhausted, and Wolsey was expected to replenish it. The exposure of some of his extortionate measures made by Katharine to the king, already noted, received the royal censure, but gave Wolsey a double oppor- tunity to strengthen his position, first in that fine plea ■ Burnett ; History of the Reformation, vol. i. , p. 11. 2 Act I., Scene 1. BIS CUNNING. 279 against public detraction which, as Courtenay observes, "is generally just, though not applicable to the pai'ti- cular case." If I am Traduced by ignorant tongues, which neither know My faculties nor person, yet will be The chroniclers of my doings, let me say 'Tis the fate of place, and the rough brake That virtue must go through.' and so on in a passage bristling with acute philosophy. The second point made by Wolsey out of his tempo- rary discomfiture is indicated thus : (To the Secretary.) A word with you. Let there be letters writ to every shire. Of the king's grace and pardon. The grieved commons Hardly conceive of me : let it be noised That through our intercession this revokement And pardon comes.' So cunningly he endeavored to turn the king's mercy into his oivn, and to pose as the friend of the "grieved commons." But the commons of England, even in those days before the daily newspapers, were not easily hoodwinked, although mightily fickle with their favor. They cried aloud for Wolsey's fall and mourned at the touching spectacle of Wolsey fallen. The lighter side of Wolsey's character, brought out in the mask festi- val given at York Palace for the king's pleasure, is equally true with the stronger phases of his political and ecclesiastical ambition. That a cardinal arch- > Act I, Scene 8. = Ibid. 280 THE MASQUE AT WOLSET'S HOUSE. bishop should be, in a sense, the pander of the king's appetites, was one of the relics of a morally barbarous age, fast passing even in that time, and Katharine's characterization of it would be the estimate of people not over-pious in their own lives : His promises were, as he then was, mighty. But his performance, as he is now, nothing. Of his own body, he was ill, and gave The clergy ill example.' The story of these times would scarce have been com- plete, however, without some such scene as that in which Anne is introduced to the king, and the connec- tion of the cardinal with it. The setting of that feast has all the local color of the day. Gathered there were high birth, riches, fame, and pleasure. There was feast- ing and mirth and witty badinage ; king, bishop, nobles, commons, and fair women; and jostling these were treasons, plottings, conspiracies, detractions. The pal- ace was lighted for revelry, while great aifairs of Church and State were seething to the boiling-point in the caldron of destiny. Shakespeare causes Henry to disclaim Wolsey's pri- mal influence in the affair of the divorce : My lord cardinal, I do excuse you : yea, upon mine honor, I free you from it. — you ever Have wished the sleeping of this business, never Desired it to be stirred. ° ' Act IV., Scene 2. > Act II., Scene 4. WOLSEY AND EATHABINE. 281 But Shakespeare indicates plainly enough, leaving the original stirring of the business an open question so far as Wolsey is concerned, that the cardinal eagerly seized and used it as an occasion to further his own ambitious designs, which had as their object the papal chair. Wolsey's relations to Katharine are set forth as they really appeared to the actors in the tragedy. No hu- man eye could pierce the motives of Wolsey in his treatment of Katharine, or estimate the actual truth of his opinion of the queen, who was his victim. His intercourse with her, even in the face of her sharp accusations of his treachery toward the king, the people, and herself, is marked by that suave cour- tesy and diplomatic reserve which characterized his public career. He does not retort. He knows his power and waits. In his schemes Katharine was a pawn only, to be used in a larger game than her do- mestic relations with the king. He was personally more bitter against Anne than against her. To him, as to the great ministers of state before and after him, a woman's happiness was nothing in the balance against the consummation of a statesman's purposes. After his fall from power he showed symptoms of a warmer humanity than his mightiness had allowed him to dis- play. One may think that he had some pity for this woman who fathomed his designs, and fought desper- ately against his ambitious plots, because she had a brave heart and a high courage, two elements which he, who possessed them both, must have admired. There were three strands twisted in the cord of fate that strangled Wolsey's life, for the fa,ilure of his 282 0AU8E8 OF WOLSBT'8 DOWNFALL. schemes was the end of his life. One was his open opposition to Anne Boleyn, as the wife of his king, at a time when her influence was stronger than his own. The weak point in Wolsey's strategy was in not al- lowing for the obstinate nature of Henry in matters of love, as in matters of state. History is full of exam- ples, which Wolsey must have known, where the silken thread held in a woman's hand is stronger than the ^stoutest cable held by another. The opposition of the man who had been his pander in all things else, irri- tated Henry. There were not lacking those who in- flamed him by hinting that Wolsey treated him too much as a tool and too little as a master, and Anne's personal influence must surely have been used against him whom her woman's instinct would have taught was her enemy. Another element in the downfall of the cardinal was the muttering of the storm which preceded the Refor- mation. Wolsey, as papal legate, had again and again broken the law of England in the matter of its rela- tions with the papal see. So long as this was not counter to Henry's interest, Henry was undisturbed. But when he discovered that his divorce must be gained without the pope's bull, and probably against the papal decree, the political and ecclesiastical rela- tions of England and Eome were violently ruptured. In this web Wolsey, a loyal churchman, was caught. The truth of history compels us to state that the list of charges preferred against Wolsey, and catalogued by Suffolk and Surrey in the play, while all true, were one and all accusations which came with ill grace from the king's majesty. Almost without exception he had the SUMMARY OF WOLSEJY'S LIFE. 283 royal sanction for them. Well migM he exclaim in hope of the king's interference : So mucli fairer And spotless shall mine innocence arise When the king knows my truth. And again : Speak on, sir : I dare your worst objections. If I blush It is to see a nobleman want manners.' Wolsey had sinned, but Henry was the craven, in that he punished what he permitted. But the chief cause at the root of Wolsey's fall lay in himself, apart from king, nobles, and commons. Shakespeare brings this fully out in the treatment of Wolsey's reception of the news that he is deposed and that the sun of the royal favor for him had passed be- hind a cloud. We would be glad to believe that the poet's portrait in its last touches is accurate. For the final view we have of Wolsey, both by means of his own words, and the spoken epitaph of Griffith to Katharine, is of a man who, once proud, arrogant, un- scrupulous, false to his own vows of priesthood, over- ambitious in his loyalty to his prince, has become through misfortune, humble, gentle, single-minded, re- pentant, and restored to the simplicity of his youth, when, without thought of greatness, he studied to be a useful and unambitious priest. We do not feel in this tremendous transition that Wolsey is anything else than sincere. It may be the poet's art, but the art must have been colored from the ■Act III, Scene 2. "284 WOLSEY AT LEIOESTER. life. In evidence of tliis is the eloquent speecli wHch Shakespeare puts in his mouth, as addressed to Crom- well, ending with the famous words : O Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but served' my God witli half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.' This speech is based upon an interview of the dying cardinal with one Master Kingston, who attended him in his last hours at Leicester Abbey, where he died, which interview and incident are faithfully transcribed by the dramatist from Holinshed's Chronicle : " Sir, quoth Maister Kingston, you be in much pensiveness, doubting that thing, that in good faith ye need not. Well, well, Maister Kingston, quoth the cardinal, I see the matter how it is framed, but if I had served God, as diligently as I have doone the king, he would not have given me over in my greie haires : but it is the just reward that I must receive for the diligent pains and study that I had to do him service, not regarding my service to God, but only to do his pleasure." Ambition, the "vaulting ambition that o'erleaps itself and falls on the other side," was the great man's sin. When the king by accident discovers of what enormous wealth he is possessed Wolsey's horror lies not in the fear of losing money, but of losing the means to that end his very soul sighed for : This paper has undone me: 'Tis the account Of all that world of wealth I've drawn together With mine own hands ; indeed to gain the Popedom, And fee my friends in Eome." ' Act III., Scene 3. 2 Ibid. WOLSEY'8 BEATS. 285 Ambition of this same exaltation was. it that caused his shuffling policy with Eome and Henry in the mat- ter of the divorce. It was nothiag to him whether Katharine, or Anne, or the Duchess of Alen§on were queen. It was much to him that he should so shuffle the cards of statfe as that Henry should draw the one best fitted for the furtherance of his plans on the triple tiara of Home, and Wolsey, once the scales had fallen from his eyes, and he saw clearly that the game was not his, perceived as clearly as any outsider wherein he had failed : Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me. Cromwell, I charge thee fling away ambition ; By that sin fell the angels : how can man then. The image of his Maker,' hope to win by it. Liove thyself last, cherish those hearts that hate thee. Corruption wins not more than honesty.' Shakespeare draws out the character of Wolsey at length in the interview between Katharine and Grif- fith. The man conveys to her the story of the cardi- nal's death, and ia gentle language draws a picture of the scene ia Leicester (historically accurate and taken from Holinshed almost word for word) : Where the reverend abbot With all his convent honorably 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." ' 'Act m., Scene 2. We may compare this confession of WoUey's with the warning of the king at the time of the cardinal's plea for consideration, in the matter of the oppression of the king's subjects, Act I., Scene 3. » Act rV., Scene 3. 286 THE ENGLISH REFORMATION. Alternately picturing tlie lights and shadows of his character in the dialogue of that scene, we have a fair and accurate resume of his life and influence. And in spite of the detraction which gathered about him from the friends of the Eeformation, which in his soul he hated, the truth of history is summed up in GriflSth's words, concludiag, His overtlirow heaped happiness upon him, For then, and not till then, he felt himself. And found the blessedness of being little. And, to add greater honors to his age Than man could give him, he died fearing God.' As the influence of Wolsey is seen to be cast over the drama, " no man's pie being free from his ambi- tious finger," so the careful reader will perceive the dawn of the English Eeformation slowly shining through its clouds of social, political, and religious confusion. I have already noted how significantly begins and ends the play. It must be noted further that the change of national religious faith is so handled by the poet that no reproach is visited upon the cen- tral figures of one or other of the great ecclesiastical jiarties. The dominant note of Shakespeare's England was not so much Protestantism as Nationalism. The people were slowly, very slowly, but surely, crystalliz- ing their faith apart from the spiritual headship of the pope. It had been a good thing for England to have done, had she never gone farther in what her 'Act IV., Scene 2. REFORMATION IN THE PLAY. 287 divines insisted was a real reformation of religious doctrine. Henry was an uncouth instrument of Christian prog- ress, and yet he was essentially the master - mind to guide the outward and necessarily political part of the English revolt from Rome. It must always be insisted by the fair historian that Henry YIII. and his domes- tic affairs were not the causes of the English Reforma- tion, but the occasions. He himself, without doubt, died in the old faith. That was a part of his charac- ter. And it must be further noted by the historian and reader of histories, that not the moral leprosy of Henry, the feeble and inefficient energy of Edward, nor the nipping and. eager frost of Mary's persecution, could prevent the religious movement, which, for good or ill, according to the personal bias of this or that critic, came to the full flower of its development under Elizabeth the superb. This Reformation is writ large over the play. There are very few direct references to it, which makes the skill of the dramatist all the more pronounced. Here and there a sentence indicates the working of the leaven. That these are so few is a marvel indeed when we recall the popular feeling of the epoch when it was placed upon the stage. A faint reference is made in Lord Sands's speech to the Chamberlain as they set forth to attend the masque at Wolsey's house. They are commending the cardinal for his bounteousness : In him Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine.' 'Act I., Scene 3. 288 CBANMBB AND GABDINER. Wolsey knows Anne for a " spleeny Lutheran," ' and again : There is spmng up An heretic, an arch one, Oranmer ; one Hath crawled into the favor of the king. And is his oracle.' The mob discuss the relations of Bishop Gardiner and Cranmer, at that time standing types of the old faith passing away and the new faith coming forward : 'id Gent. He of Winchester Is held, no great good lover of the archbishop's. The virtuous Cranmer. id Gent. All the land knows that : However, yet there's no great breach, when it comes Cranmer will find a friend will not shiink from him. The last act of the play is occupied almost wholly with such scenes as shall leave the impression that the Reformation is an accomplished fact. Cranmer, who, as has been said, may be taken as a sort of allegorical figure representing the English Church separated from Rome, is brought in direct conflict with Gardiner, who is the incarnation of the old faith, which in hiTin dies hard. The stock from which the expected heir of Henry springs, Anne, he wishes it were " grubbed up now." Cranmer is "a most archheretic, a pestilence that doth infect the land." With a dramatic license allowable for the effect he desires to produce, the poet places Cranmer's arraignment before the Council for heresy, in the hfetime of Anne, while it did not occur until the time of Catherine Parr, Henry's sixth wife. ■ Act III., Scene 2. = Ibid. » Act IV., Scene 1. DAPTIBM OF ELIZABETH, From this persecution, wliich Shakespeare transcribes from Fox's "Book of Martyrs," wellnigh word for word, the archbishop is rescued by the king's friendship. That Oranmer is a " favorer of this new sect " weighs not with the stubborn foe of Eome. In the face of the accusing Council the king says : My lord of Canterbury, I have a suit which you must not deny me, That is a fair young maid, that yet wants baptism- Yon must be godfather and answer for her.' And so ends the play with the baptism of Elizabeth, in the dawn of a new epoch for England and the world. Well might the Virgin Queen be flattered by the refer- ences to her royal person with which the last scenes are strewn. At Anne's coronation one says : And who knows yet But from this lady may proceed a gem To lighten all this isle. And Suffolk, courtier-Hke : She is a gallant creature and complete In mind and feature. I persuade me, from her Shall fall some blessing to this land, which shall In it be nieraoriz'd." The final speech of Oranmer, which some critics will have is an interpolation, may be or not. It seems to me to be in Shakespeare's vein, and the reference to James to have been inserted after the death of Eliza- beth. It does not go harshly, but rather supplements 'Act v., Soonc 3. • Aot III,, Scene 3, 10 290 ELIZABETHAN ENGLAND. smoothly wliat precedes. The student of history gains by it, whether Shakespeare or Fletcher wrote it ; whether Elizabeth herself ever read it or not. It is a literal statement in poetical language of the splendid work the Virgin Priacess had brought to such perfec- tion and handed on to her successor James, whose praise is also prophetically sounded in it. And so the play ends fittingly, a glowing, seer-like vision of the glorious future of England. It ends under the vaulted roof, in the soft dim light of the palace chapel ; with high altar blazing from myriad twinkling points ; the sound of rich harmonies rising and falling through its fretted arches and adown its majestic aisles. About the altar and font is clus- tered a striking group. Cranmer's is a typical voice, the richly dowered babe christened Elizabeth a con- gruous personage, with which to bring to an end that series of splendid chronicles which then stirred the English heart, and since has broadened the English mind. We may truly reflect that it was because Shakespeare was so essentially the prophet of his own, that he has become the poet of all ages. CHAPTER IX. SUMMAEY. In summing up the results of this study of English History in Shakespeare's plays the object must be to set forth not what Shakespeare may have intended to do, but what he actually accomplished, as a contribu- tion to the understanding of English History. With whatever intention and on whatever model constructed, the ten Chronicle plays teU a definite story from which may be drawn a clear moral. The literal historical event which forms a framework for the series is, as has been already noted in the body of this work, the DecUne and Fall of the House of Plantagenet. Working through this, and at times seen to be hastening its consummation, are discerned certain movements of English thought, and certain marked stages in the development of the English peo- ple, -which were elements in the making of modern England. From Eichard II. to Richard III., inclusive, every reign is touched upon in the eight plays of Shake- speare. The story begins with a dramatic recital of the occasion of the usurpation of the Lancastrian family in the person of Henry Bolingbroke, son of John of Gaunt, "time-honored Lancaster," and cousin to the reigning monarch. Richard II. is the victim of his own weak unkingliness, as well as of the semi-bondage 292 highaud ii. to henbt vi. in which his youth was passed. He resigned his crown and sceptre to the man whom he had wronged and persecuted, and in so doing sowed the seeds of an internecine strife that blossomed finally in the Wars of the Eoses. Henry IV. was not innocent of " devious ways" in forcing the abdication of his cousin. His punishment came swiftly upon him in the uprising and revolts among his nobles which made his reign a mel- ancholy and barren bauble of royalty. His personal necessities, however, forced him to strike a deadly blow at the feudal power of the English nobility, and with the decay of that institution the commons began to as- sert themselves, blindly and feebly enough at first, but with an ever-growing self-knowledge, self-poise, and self-respect. Henry V. was driven, by the uncertain tenure of his paternal heritage, to pursue once more those " foreign quarrels," which, while they have ever reflected glory on the English name, have never done aught to in- crease the domestic harmony and strength of the Eng- lish people. The brightness of great victories quickly paled ; and the territories won were speedily lost. All that Henry V. had gained was dissipated in the time of his son and successor, Henry VI. ; and the miseries of this reign, culminating in the tragedy of civil war, are di- rectly traceable to the use and abuse of the French conquests of Henry V. They provoked rivalries among the barons, which took overt shape in the for- mation of parties at court, each intent upon control- ling the policy of the king. The marriage of Henry VI. with Margaret of Anjou was brought about at the EDWARD IV. TO RICHARD III. 293 cost of many of the French proTinces won in bloody wars. The contentions of the rival nobles penetrated to the commons. AU England became an armed camp. The disinherited house of York craftily enough con- spired to snatch back what Henry IV. had taken by an act of usui^ation. Edward IV. seized the throne while Henry was yet alive, inheriting from his father the claim which had lain in the person of Edmimd Mor- timer, great grandson of Lionel, third son of Edward III., when Bolingbroke succeeded Eichard II. Ex- hausted by war, and at the bottom indifferent to the claims of the rival families, the nation, through its Parliament, settled down under Edward, and he reigned in undisputed security. English historians count the thirteen troubled weeks between the death of Edward IV. and the accession of Eichard III. as the " reign " of Edward V. The time was occupied by Eichard Gloster in disposing of all obstacles in his own pathway to the throne. When Eichard III. accomplished his ambition and became by parliamentary title King of England, the cup of the Plantagenets was full. The usurping Duke of Gloster, confirmed though he was in his royal dignity by the obsequious voice of the commons, was not to reign unchallenged. The Duke of Eichmond, last of the Lancastrians, was summoned by a handful of barons, who stiU hoped better things for England than that she should be the plaything of a bloody tyrant, and the final struggle of the Eoses was made on Bosworth Field, where Eichard III. died, and with him the dynasty which, for good and ill, had ruled England for many generations. 294 HENBT Vn. The manner of Henry VII. 's accession to the throne marks the epoch toward which all previous reigns in English history had been contributing, viz., the voice of the people in the choice of a king. For Richmond was seated upon the throne, and reigned, neither by hereditary right, by right of conquest, nor by being lifted on the shields of a few barons, but through the voice of a free Parliament. In that act we perceive a denial of the extreme doctrine of hereditary right, the death of feudalism, and the voice of the commonalty. The commons were often thereafter to be oppressed, deluded, beaten back and silenced, but generation after generation found them lifting their heads higher and making their voices more distinctly heard. The monarchy remained, and stOl remains, but so limited and conditioned as to make England to-day one of the most soundly democratic of all earthly governments. The dull quiet of Henry VII. was succeeded by the lusty vigor and revolutionary movements of Henry VIII. Shakespeare ends his Epopee with the baptism of Elizabeth, not merely as a compliment to that vain but glorious virgin, but with dramatic point and his- toric truth. The whole movement of the Shakespea- rean epic, from the prologue of King John and Magna Charta, to the epilogue of Henry VIII. and the Eefor- mation, is toward that England which is best described and illuminated by the adjective Elizabethan. We trace the gradual separation of England from the continental complications which were inevitable vdth a family of half-foreign kings upon the throne ; the revolt of the barons against the tyranny and oppres- sion of absolute kingcraft ; the rejection of papal in- MORAL OF SHAKESPEARE'S PLAYS. 295 terference with the autonomy of the English Church ; and through these more conspicuous movements, the ever growing self-consciousness of the commons — until in the England of Elizabeth we find all these strands woven together in the imperishable fabric of a people fitted for, and destined to become the mother of new nations, to give law, language, and literature to a large part of the civilized world. England thus had a destiny — and this is the moral we draw from Shakespeare's noble histories — with which was bound up the larger freedom, more liberal culture, more refined development of the human race. The Anglo-Saxon shut up in his " sea-girt isle," must first fight out the battle with himself before he could become a dominant force in the afiiairs of others. The feudal baron must become the loyal integer of the cen- tral government ; the feudal serf must become the free man ; the feudal state must become the government of, for, and by the people. All these changes would have been evils if suddenly grafted upon the stock of Eng- land's mediaeval life. They had their reasons for ex- istence pro tempore. They were not monuments, how- ever, but stepping-stones. They marked not points of complete development, but were merely registers of local and temporary accomplishment. In few and ad- mirable words the philosophic historian, John Henry Green, sums up the process, which Shakespeare in the ten Chronicle plays has so brilliantly set forth : " The structure of a feudal society fitted a feudal king with two great rival powers in the Baronage and the Church, . . . but at the close of the Wars of the Eoses these checks no longer served as restraints upon the action 296 THE ENGLAND OF DESTINY. of the crown. With the growth of the ParKament the might of the Baronage as a separate constitutional ele- ment of the realm, even the separate influence of the Church, had fallen more and more into decay." The restraints upon the action of the crown were henceforth to be more powerful, more influential, more constitutional, because they lay not with this or that class, but deep rooted in the life of the people. Parlia- ment was to be the reflection not only of the views of members but of constituencies. It was to be in touch with not only the political, but with the social, the re- ligious — with all phases of the people's expanding consciousness. Modern England is among nations not what its hereditary rulers choose, but what its people declare it must be. APPENDIX I. BIBLIOGEAPHY. SOUEOES OF SHAKESPEAEE'S HISTOKY. Edward Hall's Chronicle, 1577 ; reprinted 1809. Raphael Holinshed's Ghronicle, 1577 ; reprinted 1807. In Holinshed is included Sir Thomas More's Life of RicJiard III. (1557) and George Cavendish's Life of Wolsey, written between 1554-57. Eobert Fabyan's Chronicle, 1516 ; reprinted 1801. John Foxe's Ads and Monuments, commonly called the " Book of Martyrs," 1563 ; reprinted frequently, in part. E. de Monstrelet's Chronicle, about 1450 ; reprinted 1846. The Paston Letters, 1422-1509 ; reprinted in Bohn Library. MODEEN HISTOEIES EEFEKEED TO. Bishop Burnett's History of the Refoi-ination. Hallam's History of the Middle Ages. Hume's History cf England. Charles Knight's Popular History of England. J. H. Green's History of the English People. Lingard's History of England. J. A. Froude's History of England (for Henry VIII.). J. A. Froude's Katharine of Aragon. SHAKESPEAEEANA. T. P. Courtenay's Commentaries on the Historical Plays, 2 vols. London, 1840. 298 BIBLIOGRAPHY. Bishop Words-worth's Notes on the Histm-ical Plays. 3 vols. London and Edinburgh, 1883. (These Notes are seldom ori- ginal, but compiled from various sources.) Professor Henry Eeod's Lectures on English History/. Philadel- phia, 1856. Wm. J. Bolfe's Historical Plays. 10 vols. New York, 1892. Shakespeare's Library, six volumes, containing various plays, romances, novels, poems, and histories employed by Shakespeare. The second edition, edited by Wm. Carew Hazlitt. London, 1875. Augustine Skottowe's Life and Enquiries into the originality of the dramatic plots. London, 1824. Jos.e^h.'S.ymiey^a New Illustratiqns of Shakespeare. 2 vols. Lon- don, 1845. Mrs. Jameson's Characteristics of Women. Bohn Library. Helen Faucit Martin's Some of Shakespeare's Female Characters. London, 1888. UJrici's Shakespeare's Dramatic Art. Bohn Library. Geiviuus's Commentaries on Shakespeare, translated by F. Bun- nett. New York, 1883. A. W. Sohlegel's Dramatic Literature. J3ohn Library. Coleridge's Notes and Lectures on Shakespeare. Bohn Library. Wm. Hazlitt's Characters of Shakespeare. Bohn Library. Hudson's Life, Art, and Characters of Shakespeare. 2 vols. New York, 1888. Richard Grant White's Studies in Shakespeare. Boston, 1886. Charles Knight's Shakespeare Studies. London, 1851. H. Heine's Shakespeare's Maidens and Women, translated by C. G. Leland. New York, 1891. SPECIAL HISTOEIES. GaivdneT' a Life of Richard III., supports, in the main, Shake- speare's view of Eichard's character, and Miss Caroline F. Halstead's Life of Richard III. seeks to combat the tradi- tional view. APPENDIX II. ON THE DATE OE THE AUTHOESHIP OE HENRY VIII. The date of Shakespeare's workmansliip on the " masque or show play," as Coleridge calls it, of Henry VIII., has an important influence on our reading of the play, and the period of history which it illuminates. And this date is in dispute. Charles Knight, who be- lieves in the later authorship (1612 or 1613), frankly confesses that the majority of commentators hold to the earlier composition (1600-1603) during the reign of Elizabeth. Malone, one of the most accurate and painstaking of the earlier Shakespearean critics, fol- lowed by such authorities as Skottowe and Drake, place it no later than 1603. This is my opinion, and as it has something to do with our view of the play as a side-light on the Eeformation, I shall take the reader over the path which leads to this conclusion. Malone and those who think with him base their belief on the internal evidence offered in the play itself, together with what knowledge we possess of Shakespeare, his times, and his manner of compo- sition. The opposition, holding to a date after Elizabeth's death, as late even as 1613, justify their argument by one internal and one external bit of evidence. The internal evidence is that apostrophe to James I., which 300 GBANMER'8 PBOPHEOY. is put into the mouth of Oranmer at the baptism of Elizabeth: Nor shall this peace sleep with her : But as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, Her ashes new create another heir, As great in admiration as herself ; So shall she leave her blessedness to one (When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness) Who from the sacred ashes of her honor Shall star-like rise as great in fame as she was. And so stand fixed : 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 heaven shall shine, His honor 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 heaven.' Now here is a very certain reference, not only to James, the successor of Elizabeth, but to those famous colonies to which he gave the impetus, -and which in his time throve mightily. It was certainly not written before James came to the throne, for Elizabeth was the last of sovereigns to hear her successor greeted in such glowing terms. The passage is manifestly an in- terpolation. It was inserted in the speech of Cranmer when the play was first produced after James began to reign. It may have been the work of Shakespeare or of Fletcher, a question which may be left to the verbal critics, who trace the progress of Shakespeare's genius by "verse-tests," "stopped lines," "weak endings," » ActV., Scene 4. INTERNAL EVIDENOE OF THE PLAT. 301 etc. Neither are the advocates of an Elizabethan au- thorship alone in claiming this passage as a late emen- dation. Ulrici, one of the most earnest in behalf of the 1613 date, admits it, following Hertzberg, another competent German critic (see Ulrici's " Dramatic Art," vol. ii., book vi., ch. xi., note). As opposed to this internal evidence adduced from one doubtful scene, we submit the internal evidence aiforded by the whole play, and the external circum- stances which must have had an important influence ia shaping its construction. There are a number of laudatory allusions to Eliza- beth in the play, such as that of the Lord Chamber- lain's apostrophe of Anne Boleyn : And who knows yet, But from this lady may proceed a gem To lighten all this isle.' And Suffolk, again, speaking of Anne's approaching coronation, says : She is a gallant creature, and complete In mind and feature : I persuade me from her Will fall some blessing to his land, which shall In it be memoriz'd.'' The pleasant things said of Anne Bullen (as the play hath the name) are all indirect incense to the Virgin Queen. The speech of Cranmer, so well known and quoted ia part above, is fulsome in its prophecies of the royal infant. Now I maintain that these allusions to his predecessor on the throne could not have been > Act II. , Scene 3. » Act III. , Scene 3. 302 KING JAMES AND ELIZABETH. written for the ears of James, nor is it conceivable that they could have been written for public recitation after, and so near, the day of her death. Elizabeth had not only cut off the head of James's most unfortunate mother, but she had held himself iq a sort of tutelage {vide their published correspondence) which must have been galling to a man so vain, irritable, weak, and con- scious of the scorn in which he was held. She scolded him like a virago. A man may stand such things per- force, but he does not forget them. James was a friend of the players. One of his first royal acts was in their favor and for their benefit. He was glad enough to escape from the gloom of the Scottish court, with its environment of sad-faced Puritanism, into the warm life and brilliant color of London. He set up as a theologian and was the foe of tobacco, but he did encourage the drama. Shakespeare was too much of a courtier to make the mistake of courting a dead sovereign. Ulrici fuddles over this difficulty of the later author- ship as follows : "However, the flattery to Elizabeth is also inter- woven with compliments to James." Now there is but one allusion or "compliment" to James in the whole play (quoted above), and Ulrici himself admits this to be an interpolation. So much for the internal evidence. We have to deal now with a single fact of external evidence, which is the real ground of belief in a late origin of the play. The Globe Theatre was burned on June 29, 1613. Three references to the play being performed on that occasion lead critics to infer that it CONTEMPOBABT DOCUMENTS. 303 was Shakespeare's Henry VIII. Howes, the chroni- cler, describing the fire, says : " The house being filled with people to behold the play of Henry VIII." A letter of Sir Henry Wotton to his nephew also records the event and refers to what may have been the masque in Wolsey's house as the point at which the fire broke out : " The King's Players had a new play called ' All is True,' representing some principle pieces in the reign of Henry VIII., which was set forth," etc. In a letter from Thomas Lorkin to Sir Thomas Puckering we read : " While Burbage's company were acting at the Globe the play of Henry VIII. . . . the fire catched . . . consumed the whole house." ' There is nothing in all this testimony to disprove the Elizabethan authorship, except the words "new play " in the Wotton letter. It is argued that this was a first production, and, therefore, that it was newly written. This seems a very slender basis as against the internal evidence already noted. Many of Shake- speare's works were written long before they were pub- lished. It is merely an assumption also that this burned-out play was Shakespeare's. There was another on the general theme of Henry VIII., well known at the time. Sir Henry Wotton's name for the play, " All is True," gives color to the suggestion that it was not the Shakespearean work at all. But the chief reliance of the late-date argument is on the alleged fact that this is the first mention of the play, and that it does not appear again until incorporated in the first folio. And yet we have the record (all thanks to the labors of Mr. Fleay, whose .zealous and monumental toil is a fair set-off for some fantasticisms of criticism) of the 304 EARLY AUTHORSHIP PREFERRED. Stationer's Eegister, answering to our copyright entry, for, among other years, that of 1604-5, in which, under date of February 12th, is the record of " King Henry VIII., an interlude." This seems to the ordinary reader, and even to a modest student of the times of Elizabeth, to offer at least a fair ground of presumption that Shakespeare's Henry VIII. is noted previous to the fire of 1613. The critics who are wedded to their idols of metrical tests, and will allow no facts to interfere with their theories, say practically, as Hudson says literally: " There is no good reason for ascribing this piece to Shakespeare : on the contrary, there is ample reason for supposing it to have been a play by Samuel Kowley, entitled, ' When you See Me You KJQOW Me ; or. The Famous Chronicle History of King Henry VIII.' " On the contrary, there is ample reason — save the fact that the adjective " new " is used in familiar correspon- dence, as it might be nowadays concerning a revival of the same play, which would be new to this generation — why this entry should refer to Shakespeare's play. On the whole, therefore, we must concede the earlier iuthorship, as admitted by the greater number of Shakespearean critics. My own theory of the history of this often-disputed play is as follows : It was constructed, as Knight says, "an historical drama to complete his great series," in the last years, perhaps the last year, of Elizabeth's reign. At just this date (1603-4) broke out the Great Plague, where- of more than thirty thousand people died in Lon- don alone. The theatres were closed for a time, and when they reopened James was King of England. The HISTORY OF THE PLAY. 305 play of Henry VEQ. was therefore laid aside, or per- haps forgotten, save for its possible entry in the Sta- tioner's Register. In the course of a few years it was revived (possibly, according to many writers, for the festival attendant upon the marriage of Elizabeth, daughter of James, to the Elector Palatine), and called a new play because it was practically new to the. stage of that period. The passage concerning James was inserted to throw a sop to the vanity of the reigning monarch, and to temper the laudation of the Virgin Queen, his predecessor. The references to "new na- tions " were evidently to commend the play to the pit and galleries, crowded with people who were all more or less touched with an enthusiasm for colonization, and had ventures on the seas. This seems to me, without unduly straining or over- looking any important point of the evidence, to include and account for all divergent views. If Elizabeth did not see the play acted, she heard it read, as I believe, and it was written for this destiny. Otherwise there would have been no such gentle handling of Henry "VIII. and Anne Boleyn, and we should have missed the clever workmanship which places the divorced Katharine in such a tender and touching relief, with- out reflecting upon the legitimacy of England's Virgin Queen. c- a a M ft § a. a s -■S-5-e-g.- [I-l M M I- O M ^ ,^ r^ •a -a h — » z > > -w ■ ■ > -c- z III X >- > g - -C- -K o5 z u X z u X d ™ ^B ■s -^ 2 o '< I O o a •£ o a I ^ K ^ S ■ c r ^- ^ c S*__ — '__ o a •_, "^ 'fd a) ■ 1^ « a -tc_ < Q APPENDIX IV. ON THE GENEALOGY AND CONNECTIONS OV THE HOUSES OV YOBK AND LANCASTEE. Foe tlie better guidance of the student I have ap- pended a list of the kings of England whose reigns are touched upon in Shakespeare's play, together with their immediate ancestry.' It has been convenient to condense this list somewhat, and I did not think it necessary to give the whole table of descendants from Edward III. Only those sons' names are mentioned with whom Shakespeare directly or indirectly deals. The " seven phials of his sacred blood," in order of seniority, are as follow : Edward the Black Prince, Williain of Hatfield (who died in childhood), Lionel, Duke of Clarence ; John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster ; Edward of Langley, William of Windsor, and Tho- mas of Gloucester. From the last mentioned were descended the Dukes of Buckingham, who figure in " Henry VI.," " Eich- ard m.," and " Heniy VIII." A complete and detailed list of all the kings, their ancestry and posterity, may be found in Professor Wm. Francis Allen's little Reader's Guide to English History, to which I acknowledge indebtedness. The following extract from " Henry VI." is a verbal statement, with one or two iuaccuracies only, of what ' Appendix III. 308 SHAKESPEARE'S GENEALOGT. the above table contains. It is from a conversation between Eichard (Earl of Cambridge and afterward Duke of York), Salisbury, and Warwick, in which the former sets forth his title, " which is infallible, to Eng- land's crown." ■ York. Edward the Third, my lord, had seven sons. The first, Edward the Black Prince, Prince of Wales. The second, William of Hatfield, and the third, Lionel, Dnke of Clarence ; next to whom Was John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster j The fifth was Edward Langley, Duke of York ; The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester ; '' William of Windsor was the seventh and last. Edward, the Black Prince, died before his father. And left behind him Eichard, his only son. Who after Edward the Third's death reigned as king. Till Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster, The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt, Crowned by the name of Henry the Fourth, Seized on the realm, deposed the rightful king, Sent his poor queen to France, from whence she came. And him to Pomfret, where, as all you know, Harmless Bichard was murdered traitorously. Warwick. Father, the duke has told the truth ; Thus got the House of Lancaster the crown. York. Which now they hold by force and not by right ; For Eichard the First's son's heir being dead The issue of the next son should have reigned. Sal. But William of Hatfield died without an heir. York. The third son, Duke of Clarence (from whose line I claim the crown), had issue, Philippe, a daughter, 1 Henry VI., Part II., Act II., Scene 3. ^ The poet reverses the actual order of the last two names. BIVAL CLAIMS OP THE HOUSES. 309 Who married Edmund Mortimer, Ear] of March. Edmund had issue, Roger, Earl of March ; Roger had issue, Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor. Sal. This Edmund in the reign of Bolingbroke, As I have read, laid claim unto the crown ; And but for Owen Glendower had been king,' Who kept him in captivity till he died.' But to the rest. Vork. His eldest sister, Anne, My mother, being heir unto the crown, Mamed Richard, Earl of Cambridge, who was son To Edmund Langley, Edward the Third's fifth son. By her I claim the kingdom. She was heir To Roger, Earl of March, who was the son Of Edmund Mortimer, who married Philippe Sole daughter unto Lionel, Duke of Clarence ; So if the issue of the elder son Succeed before the younger, I am king. War. What plain proceeding is more plain than this ? Hemy doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt, The fourth son. York claims it from the third. Till Lionel's issue fails, his should not reign. It fails not yet, but flourishes in thee. And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock. This passage sets fortli the rival claims of the Yorkists and Lancastrians, in the settling of which the Wars of the Koses were invoked. 1 As noted in the Chapter on Henry IV. , the poet, misled by the chron- icler, confuses Edmund Mortimer, who was a captive to Glendower, with his nephew (the heir), the young Earl of March, who does not appear in the play. ^ Another error of the poet. It was not Mortimer who died a captive to Glendower, but another son-in-law of the Welsh chieftain, Lord Grey of Buthven. INDEX. AGlNCOmtT, battle of, the central incident of Henry V., 135 ; scenes before the battle, 156 ; an accident, 158. Anachronisms of Shakespeare, 4, 12, 33, 43, 201, 361. Anglo Saxon, Identity of, with Nor- man conquerors, 30, SI, 395; the race of destiny, 4, 21. Anne, the Lady Neville, courted by Gloster, 313, 883; explanation of consent to marriage with Gloster, 213; coronation, 339, 230; death, 234 ; sorrows of, 238. Appendix I., bibliography, 397-8. Appendix II., on the date of the authorship of Henry VIII., 299- 305. Appendix III., table of Shakespeare's English kings, 306. Appendix IV., on the genealogy and connections of the Houses of York and Lancaster, 307-9. Armada, Spanish, 19. Arthur, Plantagenet, claims of, to the English throne, 35, 37 ; captiv- ity and death, 29; misconception of his political importance, 30; kept alive in the drama by poetic license, 30, 45 ; Grant White's comment on his character draw- ing, 46. Bacon's, Loud, definition of the his- torical drama, S. Bamet, battle of, 200. Beaufort, Cardinal, 185, 188, 190. Berkeley, Sir William, on schools and printing, 195. Bibliography, 297. Black Prince, death of, 59. Blanche of Castile, marriage with Lewis, 29, 33 ; sorrows of, 39. Boleyn, Anne, vide Bullen. Bolingbroke, 9, 10 ; events leading to banishment of, 64 ; powerful con- nections, 66; estates confiscated, 68 ; returns from exile, 70 ; allies flock to, 71 ; reasons for rebellion of, 71 ; usurpation of, 80, 86 ; com- parison with King John, 86 ; al- tered character, 88 ; vide also Henry IV. Bosworth field, 11; battle of, 336, 287. Buckingham, Duke of (in Henry VI.), opposed to the king's party, 185. Buckingham, Duke of (in Richard m.), conspiracy with Gloster, 233 ; assists Gloster to the throne, 226 ; defection from Gloster, 233 ; capt- ure and execution, 234. Buckingham, Duke of (in Henry VIII.), spokesman of feeling against Wolsey, 247 ; arrested for treason, 249 ; charges against, 349 ; popular feeling with, 250 ; a vic- tim of Wolsey, 250; farewell speech and prophecy, 251. 312 INDEX. BuUen, Anne, a believer in the reformed doctrines, 360, 388 ; crowned at Westminster, 358, 364 ; Shakespeare's portrait of, 364; at the masque in Wolsey's house, 365, 380 ; Mrs. Jameson's comment on, 366 ; sincerity of, 367 ; character of, 366 ; after guilt or innocence of, 373. Bulwer Lyttou's novel. Last of the Barons, on Edward IV., 230. Burnet, Bishop, History of the Ee- formation, quoted on Wolsey's in- fluence with the king, 363. Bushy, Bagot, etc., 63. Cade, Jack, character of, in dispute, 193 ; connection with Wars of the Roses, 193 ; temporary success of the rebellion of, 19.5 ; defeat and death, 193 ; claims to royal pedi- gree, 193 ; contempt for grammar schools, 195. Carlisle's Bishop of, prophecy on the deposition of Richard II., 68, 83, 9.5. Carlyle, Thomas, on the England of 1300, 13. Cavendish, George, author of a Ijife of Wolsey, 341, 347. Cavendish, Thomas, 4. Cervantes, travesty of chivalry in Don Quixote, 135. Charles of Spain, connection with the divorce of Katharine, 355, 256. Charles VII. of France, proclaims himself king, 173; begins to drive out the English, 173 ; crowned by Joan of Arc at Eheims, 176. Chatillon.the French ambassador, 35. Chaucer, Geoffrey, 60, 89. Chivalry, decay of, in 14th century, 134 ; Franco-; Sacchetti on, 135 ; Falstaff, a type of pseudo-, 134. Chorus, Shakespeare's use of, 135 ; Dr. Johnson's criticism on the employment of, 151. Chronology of King John, 17 ; be- tween John and Richard II., 55; of Richard II., 56 ; of Henry IV., 92; of Henry V., 133; of Henry VI., 167; of Edward IV., Edward v., and Richard III., 205 ; of Hen- ry VII., 343 ; of Henry VIH., 343. Church of England, autonomy of, as- serted by King John, 35; in Henry V.'s reign, 139, 140, 143 ; in Shake- speare's day, 253. , Clarence, Duke of, death and attain- der, 311 ; first English book dedi- cated to, 239. Clergy, English, attitude of, toward French wars of Henry V. , 1 39, 144. Cobham, Eleanor, ambition of, 188 ; accused of sorcery, 188 ; does pen- ance in London streets, 1 89. Coleridge's comment on Shakespeare and Milton, 1; on Richard II. , 79, 87. Colonization of the new world in Elizabeth's day, 4, 300, 305. Comedy of Henry IV. , its function in the play, 96, 133 ; of Henry V., 147, 148, 153. Commons, English, growing power of, 89 ; assist Henry IV. against the nobles, 96; in Henry IV.'s reign, 101 ; of Kent, complaints in Cade's rebellion, 193; increas- ing intelligence through the spread of literature, 240 ; in Henry VII.'s reign, 394. Compact, the broken, of Henry IV. with the rebels, 114. Constance, the Lady, denounces the treaty of John and Philip, 33 ; character of, 53 ; rivalry with Elinor, 53. INDEX. 313 Constance, council of, 139. Courtenay's, Thos., Peregrine Com- mentaries, 3, 52, 143, 213, 263, 379. Cranmer, Archbishop, prophecy of the England of Elizabeth and James, 5, 300; opinion of, that the divorce might be granted apart from Rome, 263 ; dissolves Kath- arine's marriage with Hemy, 263 ; typical representative of the new faith, 288; arraigned for heresy, 388 ; godfather of Elizabeth, 289. Cromwell, Oliver, 36. Crusades in the 14th century, 121 ; Gibbon's estimate of Henry IV. 's sincerity, 133. DivoKCE of Katharine of Aragon, first bruited, 255; political com- plications of, 255, 262 ; Wolsey sus- pected of contriving, 256, 280 ; origin of the action for, 356 ; popular judgment of Henry's sin- cerity, 257 ; Wolsey's real policy concerning, 359, 281 ; Henry's share in it, 263 ; pronounced by Cranmer, 263. Douglass, Earl of, alliance with the Percys, 103. Drake, Sir Francis, 4. Edward I. , events in reign of, 58. Edward II., events in reign of, 58. Edward III. , events in reign of, 59. Edward IV. , 10 ; crowned king, 198 i character of, 198, 220 ; marriage of, 199; dethroned by Warwick, 300 ; regains the crown, 200 ; reigns in peace after the civil wars, 211 ; parties at the court of, 315 ; grief over the death of his brother Clarence, 314 ; reconciles court factions at his death-bed, 319 ; at- tacks upon the character of, 224, 225 ; summary of reign, 393. Edward V., 10 ; chronology of, 205 ; preparations for coronation of, 220 ; peers swear loyalty to, 333 ; lodged in the Tower awaiting coronation, 223 ; imprisoned, 229 ; disappears from history, 233; summary of reign, 10, 393. Elizabeth, Queen of Edward IV.; nobles resent her marriage, 315 ; ad- vance of her family to power, 215 ; resents the taunts of her enemies, 316 ; friends of, arrested, 231 ; flies to sanctuary, 222; plea for the young princes, 230; hoodwinks Richard III., 235 ; summary of character, 338, Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen, her struggle with the papacy, 36; baptism of, 247, 389; the golden age of, 4, 5, 6, 19, 36 ; references to, in play of Henry VIII. , 289, 301 . England, in Shakespeare's day, 4, 19, 36, 2,')3 ; of King John, 8, 19 ; Elizabethan, described by Motley, 4 ; intellectual soil of, 6, 290 ; Nor- man conquest of, 20; John of Gaunt's apostrophe to, 14 ; rivalry with Prance, 135 ; desire of, for war (in time of Henry V.), 138, 148, 149 ; Catholic make up of the armies of, 154 ; social life in Henry VI.'s reign, 201; the new nation of the Tudors, 240 ; of the pre-Reformation period, 6, 248; relation of, to the Papal See, 36 ; dominant note of, in the time of Shakespeare, 286. English language, becomes the na- tional tongue, 20, 60. Fabtan, the chronicler, quoted, 63, 225. 314 INDEX. Falconbridge, Philip, estimate of the faith of Isings, 31 ; type of Eng- lish manhood, 50. Falstaff, original of the character, 91 ; a type of pseudo-chivalry, 124 ; connection with the story of feudalism, 123 ; on the accession of Prince Hal, 1S6 ; reproved by Henry V. , 138 ; death of, 130, 134 ; type of the youth of Henry V., 139. Feudalism, the passing of, 93, 95; death-blow of, 96, 106, 123. Field of the Cloth of Gold, 248, 278. Folio first, 1, 16, 91, 131, 166, 304. Fox, Book of Martyrs, 241, 247, 289. France, rivalry with England, 135 ; internal condition previous to Agincourt, 149 ; failure to esti- mate English strength and prow- ess, 150, 157 ; suffering of the peasantry of, 174. French wars (of Henry VI.), Bed- ford at first successful, 173; alli- ance of Burgundy with English, 173 ; alliiince broken, 180 ; loss of the French conquests, 181 ; Heine's estimate of the, 164; harm of, to England, 181. Fronde's apology for Henry VIH. commented upon, 254, 273. Gaunt, John of, apostrophe to England, 14. Ghosts, in Richard IH., 836. Gibbon's estimate of Henry IV.'s sincerity, 132. Gilbert, Humphrey, 4. Glendower, Owen, 94 ; character of, 102, 113. Gloster (Richard), Shakespeare's portrait of, 10; genesis of ambi- tious schemes of, 302 ; vide also Richard III. Gloucester, Duke of (in Richard II.), 61, 62, 65. Gloucester, Duke of (in Henry VI.), head of the war party, 185 ; at- tacked by the nobles for patriot- ism, 187 ; punishment of, through his wife, 188 ; accusation and death, 190. Green, John Henry, comment on the Wars of the Roses, 395. Hal, Prince, relations with his father, 105; at Shrewsbury, 106; contrasted with Hotspur, 109, 110 ; incident of the crown, 117 ; thoughts at his father's death- bed, 118; extenuation of his youthful wildness, 125; dread of the nobles upon his accession, 136, 127 ; transfoiTuation of character, 138, 139 ; vide also Henry V. Harfleur, siege of, 151. Harold, last of the Saxon kings, 19. Hastings, Lord. Deceived by Rich- ard Gloster, 222; stands in the way of Gloster's conspiracy, 333 ; executed, 234. Hawkins, Francis, 4. Heine's criticism of Dr. Johnson, 369 ; on the historical plays, 3 ; on the English motive in the French wars, 164. Henry H., father of King John, at the tomb of Becket, 33. Henry III., reign of, 9, 58. Henry IV. , origin and sources of the play, 91 ; chronology of, 93 ; in- tention of making a pilgrimage, 93, 117, 131 ; troubled reign of, 94 attempted reforms of, 9.5, 99 strength with the people, 96, 101 chief events of the reign of, 96 accused of trickery in mounting to the throne, 100 ; moral weakness INDEX. 315 of, 104 ; weakness of the ooDBpii- aoy against him, 101, 103, 107; nemesis of the conscience of, 105, 120 ; fears for his son, 105, 111 ; estimate of Richard II. 's character, 105; last hours of, 116, 117; final charge to his son, 119, 138 ; on his own usurpation, ISO ; summary of reign, 9, 123, 293 ; vide also Bol- ingbroke. Henry V., 9 ; sources of the play, 131 ; chronology of, 132 ; altered character of, 135 ; epical quality of the play, 135 ; lays claim to the French crown, 13i) ; shallowness of the claims, 137 ; real purpose in the French wars, 138, 140, 144, 163 ; salic law a stumbling-block, 141 ; fears of a Scotch inyasion, 143 ; insulting treatment of his embassy, 145 ; punishes a conspir- acy against the throne, 147 ; lays siege to Harflenr, 1 51 ; march to Calais, 152 ; courage under disas- trous conditions, 153, 156 ; the ac- cidental battle and victory of Aginconrt, 158 ; forms alliance with Burgundy, 159 ; treaty of Troyes, 161 ; summary of char- acter of, 161 ; wooing of Kath- arine, 162 ; type of the English ideal of royalty, 164 ; marriage, 165 ; death and burial, 172 ; quar- rels at court arising from his death, 173 ; summary of reign, 9, 393. Henry VI. , 9 ; foundation plays for, 166 ; chronology of, 167 ; disputed authorship of, 170 ; confusion of historical events in chronicle and play, 171 ; Henry in infancy be- comes king of Prance, 173 ; crowned at Paris, 180; French conquests gradually narrowed, 181 ; dissensions in the court of, 182 ; marriage with Margaret of Anjou a cause of discontent, 185 ; weak- ness of character, 186, 196; con- trast of, with John, 10; contrast of, with Richard II., 186 ; help- lessness in the York rising, 196; Parliament excludes his son, and recognizes the York claim, 198; flies from defeat, 198 ; restored temporarily to the throne by War- vriek, 200 ; final dethronement of, 200 ; death of, 202 ; summary of reign, 9, 293. Henry VII., 13 ; chronology of, 343 crowned on the battle-field, 337 marries Elizabeth of York, 288 accession of, marks a significant epoch, 245, 294 ; summary of reign, 394 ; vide also Richmond. Henry VIII., importance of date of play as affecting its historical treatment. Appendix, page 299 ; chronology, 243 ; sources of, 241, 247, 269 ; date of, considered, 245 ; Appendix, page 299 ; .character of Henry on his accession, 245 ; change in, when play begins, 346 ; writes book against Luther, 347; repudiates Wolsey's oppression of the commons, 2.52 ; Shakespeare^s refining of his character, 353, 353 ; domestic history of, 254 ; political complications in the divorce of, 355, 262 ; conscientious scruples of, 256, 257; popular judgment of, 257 ; appeals to the universities, 262; makes Anne Boleyn queen, 263 ; appearance at the Masque in Wolsey's house, 265, 280 ; extenu- ation of conduct in the divorce affair, 257, 275 ; aflfected by Kath- arine's nobility of character, 270 ; possible evidence of repentance. 316 INDEX. 276; rescues Cranmer from the council, 289 ; summary of reign, 12, 294. Historical plays, S; Shakespeare's object in writing, S, 6 ; moral of, 7, 295 ; Sohlegel on the unity of, 7 ; contents of, 8, 391 ; patriotic and religious bias of, 13, 158, 175 ; contribution of, to philosophy of history, 31 ; gap between King pohn and Richard II., 57, 58; connection between, 58, 109 ; *' Pierce Penniless " on the value of, 6, 182; value of, summed up, 3 ; framework of the story of, 7 ; movement of, culminating in Elizabeth, 11, 294; Heine on, 3 ; Knight on, 2, 171 ; Coleridge on, 1. History, English, Shakespeare's con- tribution to, 3, 3, 6, 183, 291. Holmeden Hill, battle of, 94, 98. Hotspur slurs on the title of Henry IV., 99; refuses the prisoners to the king, 98 ; defeat and death at Shrewsbury, 106 ; contrasted with Prince Hal, 109 ; contemporary with Bolingbroke, 110 ; domestic relations of, 111 ; character of, 112 ; craving for battle illustrated, 138. Hudson, Henry, the commentator, 27, 140, 142, 313, 369, 304. Hume's description of the Interdict, 38. Huss, John, 139. Innocent III,, Pope. Quarrel with King John, 83 ; lays England un- der an interdict, 37 ; excommuni- cates King John, 38 ; declares a crusade against John, 38. Interdict of Innocent III., one of its indirect results, 89 ; Hume on, 38. Ireland, conquest of, 59 ; war with, in reign of Richard H., 62, 69. Isabel, Queen of Richard II. Mis- taken age of, 60 ; dramatic impor- tance of, 60. James I,, 4, .5, 289, £90, 300, 308. Jameson, Mrs., comment on Anne Boleyn, 266. Joan of Arc marks an historic centre of Henry VI., 171 ; youth of, 175 ; Shakespeare's biassed portrait of, 175, 176 ; joins the camp of Charles VII., 175 ; relieves Orleans and crowns Charles at Rheims, 176; taken prisoner, condemned for sor- cery, and burned, 176; Knight's endorsement of Shakespeare's treatment considered, 178 ; recent canonization of, 176, John, King, the play of, 8 ; prologue to the series, 8, 9, 10 ; England in time of, 8, 13 ; anti-papal spirit of, 13 ; foundation play, 16, 24 ; chronology of, 17 ; influence of its date in its composition, 19 ; a pic- ture of a transition stage in Eng- lish history, 22; three historic centres of, 23; not based on the chronicles, 34; events preceding the reign of, 19-33 ; alleged usur- pation of, 25 ; legal rights to the throne, 26, 27; treaty with Prance, 28 ; accused of Arthur's death, 29 ; quarrel with the Pope, 33 ; origin of the quarrel, 34 ; defies the papal legate, 36 ; clergy and barons arrayed against- him, 40; superstitious fears played upon, 41 ; yields his kingdom as a fief to the Pope, 42 ; hangs Peter of Pom- fret, 48 ; grants and annuls Magna Charta, 43, 44 ; death of, 47 ; bus- INDEX. 317 picion that he was poisoned, 48; moral of the play, 52. Johnson, Dr. Samuel, comment on Katharine of Aragon, 268 ; on Shakespeare's use of the chorus, 151 ; Heine's comment on, 269. Kathakine, Princess of France, wooing of, by Henry V., 162. Katharine of Aragon, pleads for the over-taxed people, 251 ; accuses Wolsey, 251 ; not pitted against Anne in the play, 255; thrust at the king's conscience, 258; actions in the affair of the divorce, 268 ; Dr. Johnson's enthusiasm con- cerning, 26S ; Heine's estimate of, 269 ; fine drawing of her charac- ter, 269 ; lays the tragedy of her life at Wolsey's door, 270 ; rejects title of Princess Dowager, 263, 271 ; divorced by Cranmer, 263 ; forgiveness of her enemies, 272; commends her daughter Mary and her servants to the king, 272 ; re- lations with Wolsey, 331 ; death of. 273. Kings table of Shakespeare's Eng- lish, 306. Knight, Charles, comment on the historical value of the plays, 2, 171; defence of Shakespeare's treat- ment of Joan of Arc, 178 ; quoted as to statutes declaring Bichard Gloster king, 328. Lancaster, house of, 184; fall of, 198 ; Duke of, John of Gaunt, 63 ; Apostrophe of, to England, 14. Langton, Stephen, named Arch- bishop of Canterbury by the Pope, 84 ; nomination of, rejected by King John, 34 ; received as Arch- bishop by John, 43 ; joins the barons to wrest Magna Charta from John, 46 ; joins barons against Pope and King, 46. Lewis, Dauphin of Prance, married to Blanche of Castile, 29, 33 ; sum- moned to . lead English barons against King John, 44 ; suspicions of his good faith, 47 ; forced re- turn to Prance, 47. Literature, dawn of English, 90; progress in Richard IIL's reign, 339. Macbeth, 3. Magna Charta, 8 ; not mentioned in play of King John, 13, 23 ; occasion of, 43 ; granted by King John, 43 ; nullified by the king, 44 ; influence of, in Edward IIL's reign, 59. Manuel, Emperor (Greek), visit to England in Henry IV.'a reign, 122. Margaret of Anjou, 9 ; marriage with Henry VI. , 186 ; her mascu- line vigor, 187 ; relations with Suffolk, 191 ; the real strength of the Lancastrian party, 187, 197 ; defeat of, 198; sues for help of France, 199 ; alliance of, with War- wick, 200 ; alternate victory and de- feat, 200 ; exile of, 201 ; character of, 201, 238; reappearance by poetic license in reign of Richard III., 301, 216 ; this anachronism inter- prets history, 316 ; curses her en- emies, 217 ; appeal of, to the judg- ment of history, 238. Mere's, Francis, Wit's Treasury, 16, 54, 91, 204. Milton, John, Coleridge's reference to Paradise Lost, 2. More, Sir Thomas, 204. Mortimfr, Edmund, rightful heir after Richard II., 86, 97, 309; confusion with uncle of same 318 INDEX. name, 97; Biohard said to have declared him his heir, 97 ; treason- able plots centring in, 103, 139, 146. Mortimer, Edmund (uncle to the above), taken captive by the "Welsh, 97, 309 ; marries Glendow- er's daughter, 97 ; ransom of, re- fused by Henry IV. , 98. Motley, John Lothrop, 4. Mowbray, Earl of, quarrel with Bol- ingbroke, 64 ; connection with Gloucester's death, 64 ; accusation and defence of, 64; exile of, 66; loyalty of, to Bichard II., 66; death of, 67. Wash, Thomas {the poet), quoted on the historical drama, 6, 183. Norman conquest, 19, 20. Northumberland, Earl of, weakness of his rebellion against Henry IV., 101 ; personal animus of, in the re- volt, 98 ; progress of the revolt, 103; "Crafty sick," 107, 108; character of, 107, 115 ; comparison with Duke of York (in Richard II.), 115; final rebellion and death, 116. PANDULPH,the papal legate, launches the curse of Rome, 35 ; is defied by King John, 35 ; political ethics of, 40. Parliament, English, first sum- moned, 58 ; influence on develop- ment of the people, 89. Percy, family allied with Boling- broke, 71 ; vide Northumberland and Hotspur. Peter of Pomf cat, prophesy of, that John should lose his crown, 41 ; hung by order of John, 43. Philip (of France), espouses cause of Arthur Plantagenet, 25 ; treats with John without regard to Arthur's claim, 28; prepares to invade England, 38 ; forbidden to make the campaign after John's submission, 43. Fierce, Penniless, quotations from, on the value of the historical plays, 6, 182. Plantagenet, House of, 7; decline and fall of the, the framework of Shakespeare's plays, 7, 391 ; de- cline of, 58, 206 ; seeds of dissolu- tion sown, 9, 87, 392. Primogeniture, no strict law of, in England, 26. Printing, influence of, in England's renaissance, 90 ; Caxton encouraged by the Woodvilles, 339 ; the art of, encouraged by Richard III., 239. Raleigh, Sib Walter, 4. Reed, Professor Henry, 3. Reformation, English, 13 ; pulpit ut- terances, 6 ; indication of, in King John, 49, 89 ; in the early days of Henry V., 139; in the play of Henry VIII., 12, 347, 353, 282, 286, 388 ; value of the play of Henry VIII. in studying the history of, 361 ; connection of, with downfall of Wolsey, 283 ; dawn of, 286 ; Henry VIII. 's afikirs, an occasion not a cause of the, 287. Richard II., 9; sources of the play, 54, 60 ; chronology of, 56 ; early days of the reign of, 61 ; education of, 61 ; anachronisms of the play, 60, 61 ; political situation at be- ginning of reign, 61, 63; grows despotic, 63 ; farms out the realm, 63 ; analysis of the play, 64 ; bus- INDEX. 319 peoted of Gloucester's murder, 64 ; refuses to allow the duel at Coven- try to proceed, 66 ; relations with Mowbray and BoUngbroke, 66 ; connection of these events with the Wars of the Boses, 67 ; confis- cates BoUngbroke' s estate, 68 ; in- decision in the presence of rebel- lion, 73 ; lands in England, 73 ; varying moods, 75 ; betrayed into Bolingbroke's hands, 76 ; humility of, in misfortune, 77, 78 ; charac- ter of, 78 ; Coleridge's comment on, 79, 87 ; articles of his impeach- ment, 81 ; abdication and dethrone- ment, 81 ; death of, 84 ; fable of his escape, 84 ; summary of his character, 87 ; summary of his reign, 891. Richard IIL , 4 ; sources of the play, 304 ; chronology of, 205 ; summary of reign, 10, 11, 293 ; difference in treatment from other chronicle plays, 207 ; reasons for the popu- lar estimate of his character, 307 ; Shakespeare's portrait from the chronicles, 204, 208 ; political situ- ation when the play opens, 209 ; courts Anne Neville, 212, 233 ; ob- ject of the marriage, 214 ; makes capital out of factional quarrels of the court, 315 ; soliloquy on his own hypocrisy, 218; journeys to London ostensibly to crown Ed- ward v., 820; swears loyalty to, and is appointed protector of, the king, 322 ; plots against Hastings and others who stand in his way, 323 ; pretends to refuse the crown, 327 ; his scruples overcome, 237 ; his title affirmed by Parliament, 287 ; crowned with Anne as queen, 230 ; study of his ambitious ca- reer, 230 ; defection and death of Buckingham, 838 ; after Anne's death, woos his niece Elizabeth, 234 ; meets Earl of Richmond at Bosworth Field, 236 ; visions be- fore the day of battle, 236 ; defeat and death, 237. Vide, also, Glos- ter. Richmond, Earl of, a possible rival to Richard HI., 210, 328 ; predic- tions of Henry VI. concerning, 328 ; genealogy, 334 ; driven back from first invasion, 234 ; lands in England, 236 ; defeats Richaid III. at Bosworth Field, 237 ; crowned on the battle-field as Henry VIT., 237 ; title ratified by Parliament, 33S, 294. Vide, also, Henry VII. Rivers, Lord, connection with litera- ture in Richard III., 339. Rowley, Samuel, authorship of " Troublesome Raigne," 24; aath- orship of a chronicle play of Henry VIII., 304. Sacchetti, Fkanco, quoted on the decay of chivalry, 125. Salic Law, 141, 143. Say, Lord, killed in Cade's rebellion, 193, 195. Scblegel's note on the unity of the historical plays, 7 ; on anachron- isms, 361. Scotland, independence won, 59 border troubles with England, 94 fear of invasion from (in Henry v.), 143. Scott, Sir Walter, his delineation of Margaret of Anjou, 201. Shakespeare contributions to Eng- lish history, 3, 6, 7, 31, 391 ; criti- cism, 1 ; as an historical teacher, 13, 291 ; patriotic and religious bias of, 7 ; mob judgment of Joan of Arc, 175, 178 ; mob judgment of 320 INDEX. Margaret of Anjoa, 301 ; tores down character of Henry VIII., 252, 354, 274, 305 ; historical set- ting of his times required delicacy, 253, 305. Shaw, Dr. Ralph, sermon of, inciting the people to disinherit Edward v., 225. Shrewsbury, importance of the bat- tle of, 96, 104, 106, 114. Sigismund, the Emperor, vainly at- tempts to make peace between France and England, 1.59. Skottowe, Augustine, on Richard II., 60; on the authorship of Henry VIII., 369. Socialism of the fifteenth century, 193; absurd side exploited by Shakespeare, 193. Soliloquies, use of, in Richard III., 20S, 337. Somerset, Duke of (in Henry VT.), opposed to king's party, 185, 188. Suffolk, Duke of (in Henry VI.), fa- vorite of Margaret of Anjou, 184 ; head of the king's party, 185 ; hated by the people, 191 ; relations with Margaret of Anjon, 191 ; ban- ished and slain, 193. Tarbes, Bishop of, first raises ques- tion of the validity of Henry's marriage with Katharine, 356. Taxation, abuse of, in reign of Henry VIII., 251 ; Katharine's plea for abatement of, 351 ; Henry dis- avows Wolsey's policy concerning, 253. Tewkesbury, battle of, 300. Towton, battle of, 198. Troublesome Baigne, foundation play of King John, 16, 24, 25, 39, 33, 37, 44, 48 ; anti-papal spirit of, 33, 49. Troyes, treaty of, 161. Tyler, Wat, 60, 75. Uleioi, the commentator, on the date of Henry VIII., 303. Wakefield, battle of, 198. Wales, conquest of, in Edward I. , 58. Wars of the Roses, 9 ; indirect origin of, 68, 183, 293 ; the temple garden story, 183 ; genealogy of the con- testing houses, 183 ; appendix, p. 307 ; parties to the strife, 184, 197 ; final struggle, 237, 338, 393 ; J. H. Green's comment, 295. Warwick, Earl of, the king maker, 9 ; embraces the Yorkist cause, 184 ; great political power of, 1 87 ; visits France on behalf of Edward IV. , 199 ; anger at Edward's slight- ing treatment, 200 ; alliance with Margaret and Henry, 300 ; un- seats Edward and replaces Henry on the throne, 300 ; death at Bar- net, 200. Welsh, army of, desert Richard II. 's cause, 74. White, Richard Grant, 46. William of Orange, 26 ; compared with Lewis of Prance, 44. Wolsey, Cardinal, popular suspicion of, 248 ; importance of dramatic portrait of, 348 ; oppression of the Commons, 353; candidate for the papacy, 355, 356, 359 ; suspected of contriving the divorce, 356 ; real policy concerning the divorce, 250, 285 ; disturbed by king's affection for Anne Boleyn, 260 ; shuffling and disingenuons conduct, 260, 361 , 285 ; humble origin of, 377 ; rapid growth in favor, 277 ; ability and influence with Henry, 378 ; noble plea against detractions, 279 ; INDEX. 321 lighter phases of his character, 279 ; relations with Katharine, 881 ; causes of his downfall, 281 ; charges against him, 283; ambi- tious for the papacy, 255, 256, 259, 284 ; final humility, 284 ; resume of his career, 286. Women, influence of, in history, 51, 52. Wyckliffe, influence on religious and social life of England, 60, 89. York, Duke of (in Richard II.), made regent, 70 ; feeble character, 72 ; denounces the treason of his son, 83. York, Duke of (in Henry VL ),f ounds a faction at court, 185; connec- tions with the Cade rebellion, 196 ; cause of, triumphant, 201 ; recog- nized by Parliamentary title, 198. York, House of, claims to the throne of England, 183. mms