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ENGLISH  HISTORY 
IN  SHAKESPEARE'S  PLAYS 


ENGLISH  HISTOKY 


IN 


SHAKESPEARE'S  PLAYS 


BT 

BEVERLEY  E.   WARNER,  M.A. 


"  We  can  say 

He  shows  a  history  couched  in  a  play. 
A  history  of  noble  mention,  known 
Famous  and  true  :  most  noble,  'cause  our  own  ; 
Not  forged  from  Italy,  from  France,  from  Spain, 
But  chronicled  at  home." 

— Ford's  Prologue  to  Perkin  WarbecK. 


NEW  YORK 
LONGMANS,    GREEN,   AND    CO. 

LONDON  AND  BOMBAY 
1899 


4/3 


COPYRIGHT,  1894,  BY 
LONGMANS,  GREEN,  AND  CO. 


FIRST  EDITIOH,  OCTOBER,  1894. 
BEPBINTED,  OCTOBER,  1896,  AND  JOLY,  1899. 


TI»OW  emee-rowY 

PRINTING  AND  BOOKBINOINO  COMPANY 
MEW  YORK 


SO 
WILLIAM  PRESTON  JOHNSTON,  LL.D. 

IN  APPRECIATION  OP  A  VALUED  FRIENDSHIP 


PKEFACE. 

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  Keformation. 

NEW  ORLEANS,  October,  1894. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

PAGE 

AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  ENGLISH  HISTORICAL  PLAYS,     .     ^T 


CHAPTER  II. 
KING  JOHN.— THE  TRANSITION  PERIOD, 18 

CHAPTER  III. 
RICHARD  II.— THE  LANCASTRIAN  USURPATION, /-  57 


CHAPTER  IV. 
HENRY  IV.— THE  PASSING  OP  FEUDALISM, ~*WLJ 

CHAPTER  V. 
HENRY  V.— ENGLAND'S  SONG  OF  TRIUMPH, i,x  184 


CHAPTER  VI. 
HENRY  VI.— THE  WARS  OF  THE  ROSES, 169 

CHAPTER  VII. 
RICHARD  III.— THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANT AGENETS,      .    .    .    206 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAGE 

HENRY  VIII.— THE  ENGLISH  REFORMATION, 244 

CHAPTER  IX. 
SUMMARY, .' 291 

APPENDIX    I. 
BIBLIOGRAPHY, 297 

APPENDIX  II. 
ON  THE  DATE  OF  THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  HENRY  VIII.,    .    .    299 

APPENDIX  III. 
TABLE  OF. SHAKESPEARE' a  ENGLISH  KINGS, 306 

APPENDIX  IV. 

ON  THE  GENEALOGY  AND  CONNECTIONS  OF  THE  HOUSES  OF 

YORK  AND  LANCASTER, 307 

INDEX.  .    311 


ENGLISH  HISTORY 
IN  SHAKESPEARE'S  PLAYS. 

CHAPTEE  I. 

AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  ENGLISH  HISTORICAL  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  Plantagenet. — 
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.  Thomas  Peregrine  Courtnay  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 
Eeed  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 
1  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  authbr'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  still  sharper  stylus  of  Clio.  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  Kichard  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  full  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. 

The  great  captains — Raleigh,  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. 


j 


GRANMERS  PROPHECY.  5 

Shakespeare  was  impregnated  with  the  Zeit-geist.  In 
almost  the  final  passage  of  the  last  chronicle  play 
("  Henry  VIII.")  Archbishop  Cranmer  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  fixed.     Peace,  plenty,  love,  truth,  terror, 

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  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.1 

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  VHT.,  Act  V.,  Scene.  4. 


6  THE  ENGLISH  ZEIT-GEIST. 

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  Reforma- 
tion period,  the  stage  was  best  adapted  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  playhouses, 
where  they  would  hear  the  story  of  their  ancestors  told 
:in  swelling  words  and  their  glory  sung  in  martial 
strains :  "  Wherein,"  says  Thomas  Nash,  "  our  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  PLAYS.  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  English  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  Bichard  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,  \m\  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  would  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,  speaking,  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. 


I 


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 of  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  Roses.  The  melancholy 
end  of  Eichard  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  reign  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  CHARACTER  CONTRASTS. 

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  unless  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.  Each  earned  his  defeat,  though  in  a 
different  way. 

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  Richard  to  the  disgraceful  niche  he  occupies 
iu  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  Bichard  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  all.  There  were  problems  of  large  calibre 
involved. 

In  Eichard  III.,  while  we  see  the  same  things  ac- 
complished, it  is  in  ignoble  ways.  The  court  and  the 
council -room  smell  of  chicanery,  demagogisin,  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  VEIL 
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  ANA  GHHONISMS. 

eign  wars  and  the  miseries  of  civil  arms,  with  which 
her  people  had  been  afflicted  for  three  hundred  years. 

This  is  the  story  of  the  English  plays.  They  are 
fibres  of  England's  life. 

To  object  that  the  historical  student  finds  them  full  of 
anachronisms  is  nothing  to  the  purpose.  That  the  poet 
is  biassed  by  his  own  consuming  patriotism  is  still  less  so. 

We  know  that  in  his  "  King  John  "  no  record  is  made 
of  the  Great  Charter  of  English  liberties,  yet  through- 
out the  play  breathes  the  very  spirit  of  which  Magna 
Charta  was  but  an  outward  sign. 

Henry  VIII.  barely  mentions  the  English  Reforma- 
tion,  yet  it  is  the  very  story  of  the  Reformation  with 
every  alternating  shade  of  progress  and  retrogression 
set  down  ;  every  broad  and  narrow  motive  indicated ; 
every  occasion,  political,  social,  and  religious,  subtly 
woven  throughout  its  scenes.  "  Henry  VI."  is  as  con- 
fused in  its  dramatic  conceptions  as  the  actual  historic 
events  were  in  fact,  yet  the  Wars  of  the  Eoses  are 
therein  better  understood  as  to  their  causes  and  in  the 
way  they  sorrowfully  touched  the  great  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  more  attenuated  in  the  hands 
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  Fantasms,  Kymer's 


SHAKESPEARE'S  ILLUMINATING  PEN.  13 

Foedora,  and  Doctrines  of  the  Constitution ;  but  a 
green  solid  place  that  grew  corn  and  several  other 
things.  The  sun  shone  on  it,  the  vicissitudes  of  sea- 
sons and  human  fortunes.  Cloth  was  woven  and  worn, 
ditches  were  dug,  furrow  fields  ploughed,  and  houses 
built.  Day  by  day  all  men  and  cattle  rose  to  labor, 
and  night  by  night  returned  home  to  their  several 
lairs.  In  wondrous  Dualism,  then  as  now,  lived 
nations  of  breathing  men,  alternating  in  all  ways  be- 
tween life  and  death,  between  joy  and  sorrow,  between 
rest  and  toil,  between  hope,  hope  reaching  high  as 
heaven,  and  fear  deep  as  very  hell."1 

What  Carlyle  thus  says  of  the  year  1200  is  still  true 
of  the  centuries  that  followed.  Shakespeare  makes  us 
realize  this.  No  periods  of  English  history  are  so 
well  known  to  the  average  reader  as  those  illuminated 
by  his  pen.  Henry  VII.,  with  many  points  of  ex- 
traordinary dramatic  interest,  is  comparatively  un- 
known ;  while  Henry  VI.,  one  of  the  most  unspeakably 
dreary  of  reigns,  with  little  or  nothing  in  its  confused 
and  bloody  revolutions  to  attract  the  reader,  is  a  well- 
articulated  bit  of  the  known  historical  framework  of 
England,  because  the  poet  philosopher  has  supplied 
us  with  "  the  inner  life  of  the  people  in  all  things." 

As  to  the  poet's  patriotic  bias,  the  critic  must  admit 
it  to  be  a  blemish  upon  his  work.  Under  their  proper 
headings  instances  of  this  are  noted  in  the  following 
pages.  It  is  sufficient  here  to  point  out  the  fact,  as,  for 
example,  in  the  anti-papal  spirit  of  "  King  John,"  the 
partisan  unfairness  of  "Henry  V.,"  and  the  brutal  mis- 

1  Carlyle's  Past  and  Present,  Book  II.,  The  Ancient  Monk,  Chap.  L 


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  lines.  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  Rich- 
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,  tkis  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, 

Renowned  for  their  deeds  as  far  from  home 

(For  Christian  service  and  true  chivalry) 

As  is  the  sepulchre  in  stubborn  Jewry 

Of  the  world's  ransom,  blessed  Mary's  son.1 

'Rich,  n.,  Act II,  Scene  1. 


CONCLUSION.  15 

Shakespeare  loved  his  England  and  so  sounded  her 
praises.  The  imagination  of  the  poet  seized  upon  the 
skeleton  of  the  chroniclers  and  clothed  them  with  flesh 
and  blood. 

From  King  John  to  Henry  VIII.,  from  Magna  Char- 
ta  to  the  Reformation,  whether  conscious  or  not  of 
the  splendid  scope  of  his  achievement,  the  poet  his- 
torian has  sung  an  immortal  epic  of  the  English  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,  pf  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  Richard  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  Boyall  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." 


CHKONOLOGY  OF  KING  JOHN. 

1199.  John  crowned  at  Westminster,  May  27.    Arthur  Plan- 
tagenet  (lineal  heir),  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  Rouen. 

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. 

2 


CHAPTEE  II. 

KING  JOHN.— THE  TRANSITION  PEEIOD. 

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  crown  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. — Tho 
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  John'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.  For  it  was  in  the  reign  of  that 
most  sordid  and  despicable  monarch  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  still  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  Eichard  Cceur  de  Lion. 

Four  generations  before  this,  in  1066,  on  the  field  of 
Hastings,  died  Harold,  last  of  the  Saxon  kings,  and 
William  Duke  of  Normandy  came  by  right  of  con- 


20  WAVES  OF  CONQUEST. 

quest  to  the  English  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  RAGES.  21 

cause.  Even  the  Saxon  thanes  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 hills.  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  rival- 
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, 


THR&E  CENTRES  OF  ACTION.  23 

which  are,  however,  more  or  less  confused  with  each 
other  for  dramatic  purposes  : 

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 
Rowley),  entitled  "  The  Troublesome  Eaigne  of  King 
John."  This  was  written  or  at  least  published  some 
twenty  years  before  Shakespeare's  performance,  and 
was  plainly  a  tractate  against  Rome,  one  of  the  swarm 
that  sprang  into  life  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 


CHATILLON' 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.1 

The  "  Troublesome  Raigne  "  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.2 

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- 

»  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  Bichard  L,  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  Bichard,  quoted  by 
contemporary  chroniclers,  setting  aside  a  former  be- 


FRINGE  ARTHUR'S  CLAIMS.  27 

stowal  of  the  crown  upon  Arthur,  because  of  his  youth 
and  weakness,  and  bestowing  it  upon  John,  (c)  And 
most  important  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          TRVGE  BETWEEN  PHILIP  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  five  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 election.  In  the  strict  order  of  inheritance 
all  these  possessions,  be  it  observed,  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  affairs  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  with 
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  policy,  in  the  completion 
of  a  truce  between  Philip  and  John,  in  which  the  cause 
of  Arthur  is  entirely  set  aside  as  of  slight  importance 
in  the  larger  affairs  of  kings.  John  retains  a  portion 
of  the  disputed  territory,  and  another  portion  is  set 


DEATH  OF  ARTHUR.  29 

aside  as  a  marriage  dower  for  the  Lady  Blanche,  of 
Castile,  John's  niece,  on  her  union  with  Prince  Lewis, 
Philip's  son  and  heir.  Arthur  was  confirmed  in  his 
dukedom  of  Brittany. 

During  the  course  of  these  two  acts,  while  very  few 
of  the  recorded  incidents  are  historically  accurate,  the 
spirit  of  the  times  is  admirably  preserved,  and  the  rela- 
tions of  personages  and  events  are  set  forth  with  faith- 
fulness. If  we  should  attempt  to  trace  every  poetic 
statement  to  its  historical  source,  we  should  find  our- 
selves in  a  preposterous  entanglement.  But  having 
concern  only  with  the  broad  movements  of  English 
life,  Shakespeare  is  a  vivid  and  lucid  interpreter. 

John  maintained  his  authority  in  the  transmarine 
provinces,  with  now  and  then  a  rebellion  on  the  part 
of  the  French  nobles,  until  he  was  mortally  crippled 
by  the  refusal  of  his  English  knights  to  aid  him  in 
quelling  these  revolts,  which  sometimes  assumed  seri- 
ous shape.  During  these  conflicts,  John  took  Arthur 
prisoner,  who  afterward  died  mysteriously,  some  say 
by  the  hand  of  John  himself.  All  historians  attribute 
truth  to  the  public  fame  that  the  unnatural  king  was 
directly  or  indirectly  responsible  for  his  nephew's 
death.  Shakespeare,  following  the  scheme  of  the 
"  Troublesome  Eaigne,"  shows  that,  while  John  made 
his  plot  with  Hubert  de  Burg  for  Arthur's  sudden 
taking  off,  he  was  so  frightened  at  the  public  storm 
the  report  of  violence  created,  that  he  repented  and 
bitterly  reproached  his  Chamberlain  for  taking  him 
too  literally  at  his  word.  Arthur,  in  both  plays,  is 
spared  by  Hubert,  and  is  accidentally  killed  in  an 
attempt  to  escape  from  prison. 


30  DRAMATIC  USE  OF  ARTHUR. 

Shakespeare  keeps  Arthur  alive,  after  the  fashion  of 
the  old  play,  for  some  years  after  the  real  date  of  his 
death,  and  uses  him  as  a  dramatic  puppet  in  events 
which  had  no  relation  whatever  with  him  or  his  claims 
upon  the  English  throne.  Indeed  this  use  of  Arthur 
Plantagenet  is  the  great  puzzle  in  any  effort  to  discrim- 
inate between  what  is  historical  in  the  play  and  what  is 
purely  dramatic  license.  The  reader  of  the  play  must 
infer  that  this  twelve-year  old  boy  was  the  central  fig- 
ure of  human  and  political  interest  in  the  England  of 
that  day.  He  was  nothing  of  the  kind.  He  was  of 
very  small  importance  in  the  actual  shuffling  of  the 
cards.  But  he  offered  dramatic  material  of  consid- 
erable value,  and  Shakespeare  used  him,  as  the  older 
dramatist  did,  without  reference  to  the  chronicles 
and  with  no  attempt  at  preserving  the  real  perspective 
of  history. 

Thus  the  assumed  position  of  Arthur,  as  an  abused 
and  oppressed  rightful  claimant  to  the  throne,  is  con- 
nected, on  no  legitimate  grounds  whatever,  with  the 
quarrel  between  the  Pope  and  King  John ;  and  also 
with  the  revolts  of  the  Barons.  All  the  critics  note  the 
importance  attributed  by  the  play  to  Arthur's  move- 
ments, but  not  all  of  them  point  out  the  gross  anach- 
ronism thus  involved. 

To  illustrate  the  tortuous  politics  of  those  times — 
which,  with  many  a  misdate,  overdate,  and  prolepsis, 
Shakespeare  still  preserves  in  their  essential  spirit, 
presenting  withal  a  tolerable  estimate  of  how  life  in 
camps  and  courts  was  carried  on — the  speech  of  Fal- 
conbridge  at  the  end  of  the  second  act  may  be  quoted. 
It  is  a  summing  up  of  what  had  been  accomplished  as 


THE  FAITH  OF  KINGS.  31 

well  as  attempted  in  the  royal  quarrels  over  Arthur, 
and  a  most  just  estimate  of  the  reliance  to  be  placed 
upon  the  sworn  faith  of  king  and  noble  in  the  twelfth 
and  thirteenth  centuries. 

Mad  world,  mad  kings,  mad  composition. 
John,  to  stop  Arthur's  title  to  the  whole, 
Hath  willingly  departed  with  a  part ; 
And  France  (whose  armor  conscience  buckled  on, 
Whom  zeal  and  charity  brought  to  the  field 
As  God's  own  soldier),  rounded  in  the  ear 
"With  that  same  purpose-changer,  that  sly  devil, 
That  broker  that  still  breaks  the  pate  of  faith, 
That  daily  break-vow,  he  that  wins  of  all, 

That  smooth-faced  gentleman,  tickling  commodity — 
Commodity,  the  bias  of  the  world  ; 

And  this  same  bias,  this  commodity, 

This  bawd,  this  broker,  this  all-changing  word, 

Clapp'd  on  the  outward  eye  of  fickle  France, 

Hath  drawn  him  from  his  own  determined  aid, 

From  a  resolved  and  honorable  war, 

To  a  most  base  and  vile  concluded  peace. 

Since  kings  break  faith  upon  commodity, 
Gain,  be  my  lord,  for  I  will  worship  thee.1 

In  such  a  passage  as  this  we  are  able  to  weigh  and 
estimate  the  value  of  Shakespeare's  contribution  to  the 
philosophy  of  history.  We  are  often  bewildered  in 
his  pages  by  a  confusion  of  dates  and  events,  but  his- 
tory rightly  studied  is  something  more  than  mere  an- 
nals or  chronicles.  These  are  the  raw  materials  which 


'  Act  II.,  Scene k      |  , 


32  "CHARGES  OF  WARRE." 

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  shall  pay 
This  expedition's  charge.1 

In  the  "Troublesome  Baigne"  the  corresponding 
passage  is : 

And  toward  the  maine  charges  of  my  warres, 

He  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- 

»ActI.,  Scene  1. 


THE   WAIL   OF  CONSTANCE.  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  Rome,  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 
Constance,  mother  of  Arthur,  for  the  shameful  way 
in  which  his  claim  had  been  forgotten,  in  the  selfish 
arrangement  of  the  two  kings  and  the  marriage  of 
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  misspoke,  misheard ; 

Believe  me,  I  do  not  believe  thee,  man ; 
I  have  a  king's  oath  to  the  contrary.1 

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  ? J 

1  Act  III.,  Scene  1.  "Ibid. 

3 


34  PANDULPH' S  MISSION. 

The  grief  of  Constance  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  Reformation  of  the  sixteenth  century.  England 
had  always  protested,  sometimes  with  success,  some- 


THE  CURSE  OF  ROME.  35 

times  in  vain,  against  the  idea  of  a  universal  bishop 
as  accented  in  the  see  of  Home.  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 
grew  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  Borne"  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  answer,  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.1 

These  words  were  like  sweet  honey  to  the  Virgin 
Queen,  Elizabeth,  to  whom  undoubtedly  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  MEASURES  OF  THE  POPE.  37 

We  find  the  basis  of  this  fine  speech  in  the  "  Trouble- 
some Raigne,"  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  peculiarly  his 
own. 

K.  John.  And  what  hast  thou,  or  the  Pope,  thy  maister,  to 
doo,  to  demand  of  me,  how  I  employ  mine  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.1 

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 


1  Act  III.,  Scene 


V- 


38  PHILIP  EMPLOYED  AGAINST  JOHN. 

which  all  bishops  and  clergy  were  forbidden  to  say  the 
religious  offices  of  the  Church  throughout  the  king- 
dom.1 

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.  We 
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. 

1  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.,  Chap.  11. 


CONFUSION  OF  THE  HISTORY.  39 

"  What,"  cries  poor  tortured  Blanche  ; 

' '  Shall  our  feast  be  kept  with  slaughtered  men  ? 
Shall  braying  trumpets  and  loud  churlish  drums, 
Clamours  of  hell,  be  measures  to  our  pomp  ? 

0  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.1 

But  the  love  sorrows  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 
young  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  ENGLISH. 

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  Roman  See  of  that  day  in  dealing 
with  its  enemies : 

Pandulph.    You,  in  the  right  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  old  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.1 

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.8 

Unquestionably  John's  superstitious  nature  was  so 
wrought  upon  by  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  2. 


42  JOHN'S  SUBMISSION  TO  ROME. 

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  Borne  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 


MAONA   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 ; 
I  did  suppose  it  should  be  on  constraint ; 
But,  heaven  be  thanked,  it  is  but  voluntary.1 

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 

1  Act  V.,  Scene  1. 


44:  REVOLT  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 
Raigne,"  all  throughout  those  portions  of  the  play 


UNHISTORIO  USE  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  not  well ; 
And  well  shall  you  perceive  how  willingly 
I  will  both  hear  and  grant  you  your  requests, 


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  Arthur ;  whose  restraint 
Doth  move  the  murmuring  lips  of  discontent 
To  break  into  this  dangerous  argument.1 

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 

1  Act  IV.  Scene  2. 


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  Richard  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. 
*ihe  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  Pv,oman  see.  As  we  know,  however,  this  interfer- 
ence of  the  Pope  had  been  against  the  army  of  Philip. 


DEATH  OF  JOHN.  47 

While  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.  Rumors  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  the  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  SWINSTEAD  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 
inidst,  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  friar  ? 
Is  this  the  man  that  doth  contemn  the  Pope  ? 
Is  this  the  man  that  robbed  the  holy  Church  ? 
And  yet  will  fly  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  off.1 

1  Act  V.,  Scene  7. 


ANTI-PAPAL  SPIRIT  OF  THE  AGE.  49 

And  yet  the  poisoning  is  pronounced  apocryphal,  and 
modern  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  Continental  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  Roman 
obedience.  The  words  are  put  by  the  author  of  the 
"Troublesome  Raigne"  in  the  mouth  of  John  while 
writhing  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  salve 
To  cure  the  hurt,  else  quite  incurable. 
Thy  sinnes  are  far  too  great  to  be  the  man 
4 


50       CHARACTER  OF  FALCONBRIDGE. 

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  Ref- 
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  Rome  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 
ploughing  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  which  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  long,  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  PLAT.  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  Raigne  "  and  the  parallel  passage  from 
Shakespeare's  play. 

Falconbridge.     (After  the  crowning  of  Prince  Henry.) 
Thus  England's  peace  begins  in  Heuryes  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. 


KICHAEP  H. 

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. 

"  Richard  II."  is  mentioned  by  Meres,  and  its  date 
is  1597. 


CHRONOLOGY  BETWEEN  KING  JOHN  AND 
RICHARD  II. 

1216-72.  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  his  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  OF  EICHAED  II. 

1377.  Kichard  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  (Henry  Bolingbroke,  son  of  the  Duke  of  Lancaster) 
and  Norfolk.     Eichard  prevents  a  duel  and  banishes  both 
cpntestants. 

1399.  Eichard  interferes  with  the  marriage  between  Boling- 
broke and  the  daughter  of  the  Duke  de  Berri.    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.     Hemy  Bolingbroke  claims 
the  throne,  and  is  elected  by  the  Parliament  under  the  name 
of  Henry  IV. 


CHAPTER  in. 

RICHARD   H. — THE  LANCASTRIAN  USURPATION. 

Connecting  historical  links  between  John  and  Richard  IL — 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.)  Bolingbroke's  return  anoT  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  liats  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 under  compulsion. — Ajmlysis  of  the  king's  jltered_jcharacter. — 
The  king  signs  his  abd icationl— HenrylV^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  "Richard  II."  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  PLANTAOENETS. 

spent  in  weakness  and  folly  foreshadows  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  Richard  III.  its  conclusion. 

The  play  of  "  Richard  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 
Charta  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  RICHARD  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  rankling  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  modern 
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  Kichard  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  PLAT. 

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,  the  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  popular  dissatisfac- 
tion which  came  to  a  head  in  his  deposition.  Isabel  is 
the  only  female  character  of  any  importance  in  the  play, 
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 

i 

The  scenes  grouped  about  the  deposition  of  the  king  J 
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  "Richard  II."  is  one 
of  the  best  of  the  chronicle  plays. 

To  sketch  in  brief  the  main  thread  of  Richard's 
reign  up  to  the  point  where  the  play  opens,  we  must  in 
imagination  see  Richard  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  rude  sea 
Can  wash  the  balm  from  an  anointed  king. 
The  breath  of  worldly  men  cannot  depose 
The  deputy  elected  by  the  Lord.  ' 

1  Act  III.,    Scene  2. 


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.  Richard 
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. 

The  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  onr  coffers  with  too  great  a  court 
And  liberal  largess  are  grown  somewhat  light, 
We  are  enforced  to  farm  our  royal  realm  ; 


JOHN  OF  G AUNTS  LAMENT.  63 

The  revenue  whereof  shall  furnish  us 
For  our  affairs  in  hand.1 

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  ; 2 

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  Scrope,  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  Richard'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 
and  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. 

i  Act  I. ,  Scene  4.  a  Act  II. ,  Scene  1. 


64  THREE  CENTRES  OF  ACTION. 

NflM**, 

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  was  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  Gloucester's  death. 


MOWBRAY  AND  BOLINGBROKE.  65 

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.1 

As  a  matter  of  fact  there  was  no  noble  of  Bichard'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 
had  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 
*S|£ath  caused  his  death.2 

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 

i  Act  I.,  Scene  1.  a  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, 
j  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. l 

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 

Jhim  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, 
Bolingbroke'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 

1  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  bis  punishment  were  merely 
nominal  after  all.  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.1 

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.  Eichard'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, 

1  Act  IV.,  Scene  1. 


68  GERMS  OF  CIVIL   WAR. 

And  for  our  eyes  do  hate  the  dire  aspect 

Of  civil  wounds  plowed  up  with  neighbor's  swords.1 

He  would  avoid  civil  wars,  but  the  banishment  of  the 
two  nobles  was  the  opening  skirmish  of  the  severest 
and  bloodiest  fratricidal  strife  in  England's  history,  the 
"Wars  of  the  Eoses."  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. 
Eebellion  and  the  deposition  of  Eichard  followed; 
Bolingbroke  challenged  the  throne  and  secured  it. 
"  Plume-plucked  Eichard  "  died  by  force  or  otherwise, 

%l\in  prison.     The  Bishop  of  Carlisle  needed  no  more 

J  than  ordinary  inspiration  to  prophesy  : 

The  blood  of  English  shall  manure  the  ground. 

O  !  If  you  rear  this  house  against  this  house 

It  will  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.2 

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  Eichard  my  life's  counsel  would  not  hear, 
My  death's  sad  tale  may  yet  undeaf  his  ear.3 

1  Act  I. ,  Scene  3.  «  A  ct  I V. ,  Scene  1. 

3  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  literalists.  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  Richard'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.1 

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.,  Scene  1. 


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  Richard 
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.1 

1  Act  II.,  Scene  2. 


PRETEXT  OF  THE  REBELLION.  \  , 

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  Richard.  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  Boling- 
broke, implies  that  rebellion  against  the  crown  and 
not  the  restoration  of  a  brother  noble's  lands,  was  his 
leading  motive. 

If  then  wo  shall  shake  off  our  slavish  yoke, 
Imp  out  our  drooping  country's  broken  wing, 
Kedeem  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  Ravenspurg.1 

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  from  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.2 

1  Act  II,,  Scene  1.  2  Act  I.,  Scene  3. 


THE  REGENT'S  WEAKNESS. 

On  the  other  hand  Shakespeare  is  historically  correct 
in  making  Bolingbroke'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  hath  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.1 

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  will  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, 

1  Act  II.,  Scene  3. 


RICHARD'S  DALLIANCE.  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.1 

Bolingbroke  was  very  well  satisfied  to  have  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  Richard  was  acting  out  the  character  he 
had  been  accreting  for  a  score  of  troubled  years.  He 
first  heard  of  the  rebellion  in  Ireland.  Knight2  quotes 
the  contemporary  account  of  a  Frenchman,  in  the  suite 
of  Richard,  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  Richard  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. 

>  Act  II.,  Scene  3.  a  History  of  England,  Vol.  I.,  Chap.  33. 


74  THE  WELSH  ARMY  MELTS  AW  AT. 

These  signs  forerun  the  death  or  fall  of  kings ; 
Farewell :  our  countrymen  are  gone  and  fled 
As  well  assured  Kichard  their  king  is  dead.1 

Richard,  not  aware  of  this  defection,  lands  in  the  spirit 
of  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 
To  lift  shrewd  steel  against  our  golden  crown 
Heaven,  for  his  Richard,  hath  in  heavenly  pay 
A  glorious  angel.2 

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  un  wieldly  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.3 

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 — York, 

1  Act  II.,  Scene  4.  -  Act  III.,  Scene  2.  s  Act  III.,  Sceoe  2. 


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  J 
that  his  grievance  was  only  the  common  grievance  of 
all  English  subjects, — Kichard  weakly,  pitiably,  suc- 
cumbs. But  not  all  at  once. 

There  were  yet  sparks  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  paper,  and  with  raining  eyes 
Write  sorrow  on  the  bosom  of  the  earth.1 

Brought  face  to  face  with  Bolingbroke  at  last,  the 
king's  temper  shifts  and  veers  in  the  same  uncertain 
way.  But  although  his  moods  thus  express  them- 
selves, it  is  not  now  from  sudden  bravery  or  sheer 
affright.  The  whole  of  scene  third,  act  third,  in  which 
the  first  interview  takes  place,  and  which  ends  with  the 
setting  forth  of  the  chief  personages  in  company  to 
London,  marks  a  notable  transition  in  the  character  of 
Richard. 

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  bondage 
to  his  uncles,  while  yet  wearing  the  splendid  pomp  of 
a  heaven-anointed  sovereign,  had  seemed  to  confuse 
his  moral  sense.  His  reliance  was  not  so  much  upon 

\  God  as  that  he  believed  even  God  could  not  but  es- 
pouse the  cause  of  "  his  elected  deputy." 

r"^  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  Con  way  Cas- 
f  tie  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  2. 


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  Richard'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 
the  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. 

i  Knight's  History  of  England,  Vol.  I.,  p.  584,  quoted  from  a  contem- 
porary MS. 


78  CHARACTER  OF  RICHARD. 

Cousin,  I  am  too  young  to  be  your  father, 
Though  you  are  old  enough  to  be  my  heir. 
What  you  will  have,  I'll  give,  and  willing  too ; 
For  do  we  must  what  force  will  have  us  do.1 

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. 

Eichard  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 
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  grave, 

A  little,  little  grave,  an  obscure  grave  : 

Or  I'll  be  buried  on  the  king's  highway, 

1  Act  III,  SceneS. 


DETHRONEMENT  OF  RICHARD.  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  ? 1 

Coleridge  would    have  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  Richard.     If    / 
he  had  yielded  earlier  he  would  have  been  a  stronger  v 
king ;  that  he  did  so  eventually  made  him  a  better  man.  /"" 

The  third  and  last  historic  centre  of  action  in  thia  ^ 
drama  is  the  deposition  and  death  of  Richard,  and  ib4 
cidentally  the  crowning  of  Henry  Bolingbroke  as  Henry  x 
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  Richard's  resignation  of  the  crown  was 
voluntary,  and  that  he  designated  Bolingbroke  as  a  fit-  \j, 
ting  successor. 

Yorki    Great  Duke  of  Lancaster,  I  come  to  thee 

I    From  plume-plucked  Eichard ;  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.2 

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  throne3 
1  Act  III.,  Scene  3.  "  Act  IV.,  Scene  1.  3  Ibid. 


80  USURPATION  OF  LANCASTER. 

before  the  formal  resignation  of  Kichard.  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 : 

Which  tired  majesty  did  make  thee  offer, 
The  resignation  of  thy  state  and  crown,1 

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  Eichard's  subject  ? 2 

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  Richard 
is  not  being  treated  fairly  by  being  deposed  in  his 
absence. 


Thieves  are  not  judged  but  they  are  by  to  hear.8 


e  dramatic  and  historic  unity  of  the  play  is  main- 
by  the  prophecy  already  quoted  of  civil  war, 
which  is  sure  to  result  if  Bolingbroke  is  crowned. 

The  effort  is  made  to  commit  Richard  to  his  own 
deposition,  and  Northumberland  addresses  him  : 

>  Act  IV.,  Scene  1.  '  Ibid.  •  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.1 

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  offences  were  upon  record, 

Would  it  not  shame  thee,  in  so  fair  a  troop 

To  read  a  lecture  of  them  ? 2 

The  bill  of  particulars  referred  to  here,  and  contained 
in  the  impeachment  of  Richard  before  the  Commons, 
had  thirty-three  charges,  the  most  important  of  which) 
were  those  laying  the  death  of  Gloucester  at  his  door,  X 
the  seizure  of  Bolingbroke's  estates,  and  general  accu-  J 
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  Richard  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  RICHARD. 

3? 


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  here  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  : 
Come  home  with  me  to  supper :  I  will  lay 
A  plot  shall  show  us  all  a  merry  clay. l 

Two  points  of  interest  remain  ;  the  death  of  Richard, 
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  Richard  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  a,t 
all  after  their  parting  when  Richard  set  out  for  Ire- 

1  Act  IV.,  Scene  1. 


AUMERLE'S  TREASON.  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  duchess,  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  Bichard  to  London, 
ends  with  the  duke's  pious  resignation  : 

But  heaven  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.1 

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  Aumerle'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 

1  Act  V.,  Scene  2. 


84  FATE  OF  RICHARD. 

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  Eichard  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  Eichard'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  Eichard  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  Eichard  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- 


RICHARD'S  PROPHECY.  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.  m  We  will  find  also  the  nobles,  who 
raised  him  one  round  on  the  ladder  of  power  and 
dignity  above  themselves,  recalling  Bichard's  prophecy 
to  Northumberland. 

Northumberland,  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  usurped  throne." 

If  all  is  granted  concerning  the  alleged  evils  of  Bich- 
ard's mismanaged  government,  and  the  parliamentary 
decree  to  depose  him  from  the  throne  for  cause  is  ad- 

Vct  V.,  Scene  1. 


86  RICHARD'S  LEGAL  SUCCESSOR. 

judged  fair,  still  Bolingbroke  may  not  be  relieved  of 
the  crime  of  usurpation. 

He  claimed  the  throne  in  right   of  descent  from 
(  Edward  III.,  of  whom  it  is  true  he  was  the  grandson. 
)  But  Eichard  failing  for  whatever  reason,  the  crown 
^  belonged  to  Edmund  Mortimer,  Earl  of  March,  lineal 
I  descendant  of   Clarence,  third  son  of  Edward  III.  ; 
/    while  John  of  Gaunt,  Bolingbroke's  father,  was  fourth 
'     son,  and  out  of  the  line  of  succession.     This  Edward 
was  but  ten  years  of   age.     Of  his   claim  could   be 
said,  as  was  said  of  the  unfortunate  Richard  by  Lang- 
land,   "Woe  to  thee,   O  land,  when  thy  king  is  a 
child." 

Again,  we  must  consider  that,  granting  Richard's  in- 
competency,  the  nobles  and  parliament  had  prece,dent 
(in  the  case  of  King  John  over  Arthur  of  Brittany) 
for  preferring  to  place  the  sceptre  in  the  strong  hands 
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  was 
remorse  for  the  steps  he  took  to  mount  so  high. 
"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  better  quiet, 
Better  opinion,  better  confirmation. 
For  all  the  soil  of  the  achievement  goes 
With  me  into  the  earth.1 

i  II.  Henry  IV.,  Act  IV.,  Scene \S*.  /£tj-" 


CHARACTER  OF  RICHARD.  87 

It  has  been  already  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  de  force  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  Richard'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  Richard  any  deep  or 


88  BOLINGBROKE'3  ANXIETIES. 

large  sense  of  the  royal  dignity.  _While  patriotism 
\  /^and  love  of  country  is  one  of  the  tnemes^oT~tfag-play 
(as  of  all  of  the  English  histories),  Kichard  himself 
seems  to  value  his  crown. jQr.itk.g1it.tfi.r4.Jiis  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.  Eichard  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 


HISTORIG  SETTING  OF  THE  PLAY.  89 

the  people.  The  Commons  had  no  hand  in  Magna 
Charta,  but  they  had  benefited  by  it.  In  the  reigns  of 
Henry  III.  and  the  great  Edward,  mutterings  of  un- 
easiness and  dissatisfaction  began  to  be  heard.  In  this 
last  year  of  the  fourteenth  century  the  old  feudal 
tyranny  was  beginning  to  give  way.  The  revolt  which 
placed  Bolingbroke  in  Richard'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  Richard,  a  product  of  the  old  feudal 
life,  had  to  deal. 

But  there  was  another,  a  religious  phase,  which  dif- 
ferentiated Richard's  England  from  that  of  his  prede- 
cessors. This  phase  is  marked  by  the  name  of  Wyck- 
liffe,  "  the  rising  sun  of  the  Reformation,"  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  in  re- 
ligion were  the  stuff  of  which  rebels  in  state  affairs 
were  made. 

Wyckliffe  died  in  1384,  but  his  Bible  in  the  English  (X 
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  Richard 
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~Tdng,  the  power  slowly 
gathering  force  and  courage  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  mind,  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. 


GERMS  OF  REBELLION. 

some  reforms  which  bore  hardly  on  the  aristocracy. 
The  confederate  leaders  who  had  paved  the  way  for 
one  of  their  own  number  to  the  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 


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  him  let  me  prophesy 

The  blood  of  English  shall  manuse  the  ground       / 

And  future  ages  groan  for  this  foul  act.1 

.  _  J 

Richard's  own  warning  to  Northumberland  : 

TY1{LC/  /-JU^HyThou  ladder  wherewithal 
The  mounting  Bolingbroke  ascends  my  throne  !  fl 

must  inevitably  be  established.  The  peers,  of  whom 
Northumberland  was  chief,  felt  themselves  strong 
enough,  if  good  reason  should  appear,  to  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  pkin  people  of  Eng- 
land should  stand  by  the  new  king  for  the  same  rea- 
sons that  had  caused  them  to  espouse  his  cause.  He 

1  Richard  II.  ,  Act  IV.  ,  Scene  1.       »  Richard  II.  ,  Act  V.  ,  Scene  1  . 


96  PASSING  OF  FEUDALISM. 

was  as  nearly  a  democrat  as  the  first  part  of  the  fif- 
teenth century  could  produce.  If  not  in  heart,  he  was 
QnejnjpgHcy.  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 
I  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  great  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  great  victory  in  the  north  over  the 
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  identifying  Mortimer  with  his  nephew,  the  Earl 
of  March,  who  was  the  legitimate  heir  to  the  throne 
after  Richard,  by  his  descent  from  an  older  branch  of 
the  royal  family  than  could  be  claimed  for  Henry  IV.1 
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,  rising  in  wrath  at  Henry's  refusal 

1  The  claim  of  Mortimer  was  through  Lionel,  Duke  of  Clarence,  third 
son  of  Edward  III.  The  claim  of  Bolingbroke,  Henry  IV. ,  was  through  his 
father,  John  of  Gaunt,  fourth  son  of  Edward  III.  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  PERCYS. 

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.1 

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 
settleji_^ck_sj^coimfprtably  into  his.  cap;&yii^.a&-to 
marry  his  £a£tc^sjda_ughter.. 

/     The  battle  of  Holmedon,  on  the  other  hand,  gave 
/  Northumberland  and  his  family  great  prestige,  and  ex- 
I  altecl  still  more  that  independence  among  the  feudal 
r  lords,  in  which  lay  the  sharpest  thorn  of  Henry's  crown, 
i  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.,  Scene  3. 


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  unminded  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  : — 1 

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- 

'  Part  L,  Act  IV.,  Scene  3. 


I 


100  THE  BROKEN  OATH. 

ing  on  the  part  of  the  nobility  that  they  had  been 
tricked  into  seating  Bolingbroke  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  you  yourself  have  forged  against  yourself, 
By  unkind  usage,  dangerous  countenance, 
And  violation  of  all  faith  and  troth, 
Sworn  to  us  in  your  younger  enterprise. 1 

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  Eichard  (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  Eichard  might  create  a  perfect  guess 

'PartL,  Act  V.,  Scene  1. 


WEAKNESS  OF  THE  REBELS.  101 

That  great  Northumberland,  then  false  to  him, 
Would  of  that  seed  grow  to  a  greater  falseness, 
Which  should  not  find  a  ground  to  root  upon, 
Unless  on  you.1 

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 
friends  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-j/ 
teinptuously  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  Richard,  scraped  from  Pomfret  stones.8 

1  Part  II. ,  Act  III. ,  Scene  1.  *  Part  II. ,  Act  I. ,  Scene  1. 


102  PARTIES  TO  THE  REBELLION. 

Nor  could  the  warrior-like  Archbishop  shift  the  respon- 
sibility of  a  second  revolt  upon  the  shoulders  of  the 
people,  as  when  he  attributed  to  the  Commons  the 
very  attitude  of  the  malcontent  nobles. 

The  commonwealth  is  sick  of  their  own  choice, 
Their  over  greedy  love  has  surfeited. 

O  thou  fond  many  I    With  what  loud  applause 
Did'st  thou  beat  heaven  with  blessing  Bolingbroke, 
Before  he  was,  what  thou  wouldst  have  him  be  ? 

O,  thoughts  of  men  accurst ! 
Past  and  to  come  seems  best :  things  present,  worst.1 

Another  source  of  weakness  was  the  heterogeneous 
nature  of  the  alliance  against  the  king.  The  English 
faction  headed  by  Northumberland,  but  inspired  and 
animated  by  his  son,  brave  Harry  Percy,  was  the  chief 
factor,  with  whom  were  associated  Owen  Glendower 
on  the  part  of  Wales,  and  the  Earl  of  Douglas  on  the 
part  of  Scotland.  Percy  and  Douglas  had  but  re- 
cently spent  "  a  sad  and  bloody  hour "  together  at 
Holmedon,  in  which  the  "ever  valiant  and  approved 
Scot "  had  met  with  severe  defeat.  Such  wounds  are 
not  soon  healed.  Glendower  was  a  romantic  half -bar- 
barian, although  he  had  been  "  trained  up  in  the  Eng- 
lish court."  As  the  educated  savage  frequently  falls 
back  into  barbaric  ways,  in  spite  of  the  polishing  of 
grammar  and  rhetoric,  so  it  is  to  be  feared  that  Glen- 
dower was  but  a  veneered  courtier,  after  all.  He  was 
the  natural  product  of  the  hard  life  amid  Welsh  fast- 
nesses ;  the  superstitions  of  a  people  whose  ancestors 

1  Part  II,  Act  I.,  SceneS. 


GLENDOWER.  103 

had  perhaps  been  the  pupils  of  the  Druid  priesthood ; 
and  an  implicit  belief  that  he  held  so  important  a  place 
in  the  creative  scheme  that  at  his  nativity,  not  only 

The  goats  ran  from  the  mountains  and  the  herds  ^ 

Were  strangely  clamorous  to  the  frighted  fields, 

but 

The  front  of  heaven  was  full  of  fiery  shapes 

Of  burning  cressets  : 

The  frame  and  huge  foundation  of  the  earth 
Shak'd  like  a  coward.1 

Glendower  was  a  poet,  and  a  chieftain  of  men  who 
were  equally  at  home  with  the  harp  and  chant,  with 
the  mixing  of  magic  potions,  with  clever  devices  in  the 
torture  of  prisoners,  and  in  the  wild  irregular  sallies 
and  retreats  which  made  up  their  idea  of  warfare. 
Glendower  was  a  gentleman  also,  as  will  be  observed 
in  his  intercourse  with  the  brutal  wit  of  Hotspur,  and 
his  tender  thoughtfulness  and  care  for  women.  But 
he  was  not  a  soldier  nor  a  diplomat.  He  could  and 
did  defend  his  mountain  caverns  for  many  years,  but 
he  could  not  direct  or  command  armies. 

For  a  time  the  rebellion  throve  apace.  The  English 
party  were  buoyed  up  by  hopes  of  cutting  the  royal 
crest;  the  Scotch  by  desire  for  revenge;  the  Welsh, 
with  the  idea  that  they  were  not  as  common  men,  and 
could  not  be  defeated.  Mortimer,  the  husband  of  Glen- 
dower's  daughter,  and  the  brother  of  Hotspur's  wife, 
was  the  movable  pawn  of  all  the  combinations,  and  it 
is  not  improbable  that,  had  Henry  IV.  been  defeated, 
the  Earl  of  March  might  have  ascended  the  throne. 

i  Part  I.,  Act  III.,  Scene  1. 


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 
le  cleverest,  and  best  worth  reading  scenes  of  the 
First  Part  of  Henry  IV.  is  Sc.  1  of  Act  III.,  in  which 
[otspur,  Glendojgej^jyid  Mortimer,  are  set  forth  as  not 
mly  counting  their  chickens  before  they  are  hatched, 
)ut  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,1 

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. 


FRINGE  HAL.  105 

on  his  soul.  In  his  last  words  to  the  son  who  was  to  f 
lift  England  to  a  higher  pitch  of  glory  and  renown  ( 
than  she  had  ever  known,  the  careworn,  remorseful  I 
king  confesses  : 

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. 

How  came  I  by  the  crown,  O  Heaven  forgive  I 
And  grant  it  may  with  thee  in  true  peace  live.1 

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.2 
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,3 

>  Part  II.,  Act  IV.,  Scene  \  !> 

a  There  is  a  touching  line  in  one  of  the  king's  speeches,  that  conveys  with 
vividness  an  image  of  the  lonely  heart  he  bore  beneath  the  majesty  of 

royalty. 

For  thon  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. 
3  Part  I.,  Act  III,  Scene  1. 


106  THE  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.1 

)     And  now  the  battle  of  Shrewsbury  is  fought.     Hot- 
J  spur  leads  the  malcontent  nobles,  and  Henry  IV.,  with 
his  sons  and  faithful  peers,  after  a  vain  attempt  at  con- 
r   ciliation,  defends  the  crown.     Hotspur  is  defeated  and 
J    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,  ^^"^^r4' 

Feudalism  as  a  system  in  England  n^ver  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 

1  Part  I.,  Act  III.,  Scene  2. 


CAUSES  OF  THE  DEFEAT.  107 

the  rebellion  which  Shakespeare  indicates  with  historic 
fidelity  and  poetic  charm.  Hotspur  and  the  Douglas 
engaged  the  king's  forces  before  the^XVelsh  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  Prince  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  th'e  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  Ravenspurg.  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  subservient  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.1 

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.2 

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- 

i  Part  I.,  Act  IV. ,  Scene  1.  a  ibid. 


PRINCE  HAL  AND  HOTSPUR. 

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. 

Tt~ls^Eoo  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  Richard  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  j 
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  in  Kichard 
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  IV.,  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.1 

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," 
1  Part  L,  Act  I.,  Scene  1. 


PRINCE  HAL.  Ill 

but  whom  lie  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.1 


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  deed",. 

Hal  confesses  that : 

For  my  par*  I  may  speak  it  to  my  shame, 
I  have  a  truant  been  to  chivalry.8 

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- 

1  Part  I,  Act  IV.,  Scene  1.  2  Part  I.,  Act  V.,  Scene  1. 


112  HOTSPUR  AND  HIS  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  thee  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 
"  ""*  thee  infinitely.     But  hark  you,  Kate  : 
^•we  you  henceforth  question  me 
Whc !  t*«r  I  go.          ~-°ason  whereabout. 
."Wi:  ""1  to  conclude, 

evciui&g;v  '^Kate. 

T  know  T.  >r  wise"-^^ 

a  Harry  Percy's  wife.     Co:  »  are 

But  ;yc"     woman  :  And  for  secrecy 
No  lady  closb.        or  I  will  believ 
Thou  wilt  not  utter  what  thou  dost  not  k 
And  so  far  will  I  trust  thee,  fo 

Not  an  inch  further.1 

"*•  is  a  good  deal  idealized.     He  has  fine  and 

':ons.     He  is  of  heroic  mould.     His  sar- 

as  in  the  scene  where  he  recounts 

1  Part  I. .  Act  II.,  Scene  3. 


GLENDOWER.  113 

the  visit  of  the  fop  to  the  battle-field  of  Holmedon, 
demanding  prisoners.  In  anger  he  is  magnificent,  as 
•  •  in  his  outbreak  at  Henry  IV.  who  refused  to  ransom 
fli  Mortimer.  In  brutal  jesting  he  is  facile  princeps,  as  in 
his  interviews  with  Glendower,  who  deserved  courtesy 
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  leadeTamong  animals  "even.""  He  is  a  sol- 
dier, not  a  captain.  His  heady  temper  brought  about 
[j^  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  Broken 
8 


114  THE  COMPACT  MADE. 

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  Prince  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 
which  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 
J  Part,  II.,  Act  IV.,  Scene  2. 


NORTHUMBERLAND'S  REMORSE.  115 

So  the  compact  was  made ;  but  the  moment  the  no-  ^j 
bles'  army  was  disbanded,  the  leaders  were  arrested   / 
for  high  treason ;  the  pledges  annulled,  and  those  who  C 
had  relied  upon  the  princely  word  were  executed  as  1 
traitors. 

But  not  yet  Northumberland.  A  curious  contrast 
may  be  drawn  between  him  and  the  wavering  Duke 
of  York,  in  Richard'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,  sweet  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.1 

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 

1  Part  II.,  Act  II.,  Scene  2. 


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. l 

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  : —  , ;  ^  •••' 

HarcourL    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- 
sion of  rebellion  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  IY.  is  a  perfect 
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. 

1  Part  II. ,  Act  II. ,  Scene  2.  '  Part  II. ,  Act  IV. ,  Scene  4. 


ILLNESS  OF  THE  KINO.  117 

The  king  feels  that  his  hour  has  come  and  desires 
to  be  led  into  his  chamber  to  die. 

History  recounts  that  after  the  rebellions  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  vows,  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.1 

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  ! 9 

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 

i  Part  II.,  Act  IV.,  Scene  4.  « Ibid. 


118  FRINGE  HAL  AND   THE  CROWN. 

My  sleep,  my  death  ? 

Find  him,  my  lord  of  Warwick,  chide  him  hither.1 

Now,  it  lias  been  too  superficially  argued  that  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  king  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?'2 

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.3 

He  knows,  too,  how  much  more  than  Richard,  his 
father  valued  the  royalty  for  which  the  crown  was  sign 
and  seal.  He  knew  the  plottings  and  contrivings  that 
would  ensue  to  challenge  his  own  right  to  it.  Surely 

1  Part  II.,  Act  IV.,  Scene  4.  2  Ibid.  » Ibid. 


THE  KING'S  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.1 

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  chief est  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 
nobility  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  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'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.1 

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 
illustration. 

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  method  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.,  SceneX^  /•» 


THE  ORUSADES.  121 

As  times  went  there  was  no  room  for  regret.  But 
for  the  hard  cruelty  to  his  kinsman  Richard,  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  career,  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  111  lie 
In  that  Jerusalem  shall  Harry  die.1 

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  staff. 

After  the  first  freshness  of  the  holy  wars  wore  off, 

» Part  II,  Act  IV.,  Scene  4. 


122  DEATH  OF  HENRY. 

the  chief  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  really  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  until  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."  l 

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. 

1  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  Vol.  V.,  Chap.  66,  p.  300. 


DECLINE  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  English 
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.  What  he  did  ac- 


124    FALSTAFF  A  TYPE  OF  PSEUDO-CHIVALRY. 

complish  lie  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  :  namely,  that  Falstaff,  Pistol, 
Bardolph,  and  all  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.1  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 

1  Part  II.,   Act  V.,  Scene  1. 


PRINCE  HAL'S  REAL  CHARACTER.  125 

commentary  on  the  boasted  chivalry  of  the  fourteenth 
century.  It  was  a  painted  simulacrum  of  the  fair 
original.1 

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  V.  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  Francia  Sac- 
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 
Falstaff,  as  he  contemplates  the  elevation  of  his  tavern 
companion  to  a  throne  : 

What,  is  the  old  king  dead?  .  .  .  Away,  Bardolph: 
saddle  my  horse  :  Master  Kobert  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.1 

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'S  ALTERED   CHARACTER.  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.1 

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.3 

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.3 

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  2.  »  Ibid.  3  ibid. 


128  REJECTION  OF  FALSTAFF. 

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.1 

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.5 

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. 

1  Part  II. ,  Act  V. ,  Scene  2.  '  Part  II. ,  Act  V. ,  Scene  5. 


HENEY  V. 

The  Famous  Victories  of  Henry  V.t  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  allays 
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.  France  distracted  by  internal  feuds.  Charles  VI., 
the  king,  subject  to  fits  of  insanity.  Government  carried  on 
by  his  brother,  Louis  of  Orleans,  and  his  cousin,  John  of  Bur- 
gundy, who  were  bitter  rivals.  Henry  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.     Henry  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  the  Orleans  faction. 

1419.  Henry  and  the  Burgundy  faction  have  a  meeting,  but 
negotiations   fail  on   account  of  the   former's  excessive  de- 
mands.   Burgundy  makes  overtures  to  the  Dauphin,  who  dur- 
ing a  meeting  causes  the  duke  to  be  assassinated.     The  new 


CHRONOLOGY  OF  HENRY   V.  133 

Duke  of  Burgundy  breaks  off  negotiations  with  the  Dauphin, 
and  brings  his  party  (including  the  queen  and  Princess 
Katharine)  to  Henry  V.'sVillegiance. 

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. 

HENRY  v. — ENGLAND'S  SONG  OF  TRIUMPH. 

Sources  of  the  play.— Its  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  France  at  Henry's  accession. — Restlessness  of 
the  English  nobles. — Attitude  of  the  clergy. — Henry's  pretentions  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  dramatic  touch.  The  king's 
old  life  is  dead  in  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   CHARACTER  OF  THE  PLAT.         135 

longer  the  Hal  who  consorted  with  the  amateur  high- 
waymen of  Eastcheap.  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  Aginc-ourt — tit  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  BRETIGNY. 

taking  active  form.  By  the  treaty  of  Edward  III., 
after  Cressy,  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  France  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  apparently 
satisfactory  manner : 

His  true  title  to  some  certain  dukedoms, 
And  generally  to  the  crown  and  seat  of  France, 
Derived  from  Edward  his  great  grandfather.1 

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- 

1  Act  I.,  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. 
What  would  he  do  ?  To  understand  the  king's  posi- 
tion we  may  revert  to  the  previous  play,  and  quote 

1  Knight's  History  of  England,  Vol.  II.,  Ch.  1.,  p.  17. 


138          UNREST  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOBLES. 

again  the  wise  words  of  Bolingbroke  on  his  death -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'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.1 

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.'"2  The  characteristic  of 

1  Henry  IV..  Part  II.,  Act  IV.,  Scene  4. 

2  Henry  IV.,  Part  I.,  Act  II.,  Scene  4. 


ATTITUDE  OF  THE  CLERGY.  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  unexpected  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.1 

1ActL,  Scene  1. 


*0  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  us, 

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.1 

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  ever  at  one  time,  the  clergy  yet 
Did  to  his  predecessors  part  withal,4 

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.3  It  is  the  fault  of 

1  Act  I.,  Scene  1.  a  ibid. 

s  Hudson's  Life  Art  and  Characters,  Vol.  II,  p.  134. 


THE  SALIG  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  miscreate,  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  approbation 
Of  what  your  reverence  shall  incite  us  to. 
Therefore  take  heed  how  you  impawn  our  person 
How  you  awake  our  sleeping  sword  of  war.1 

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  Heniy  Y.  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  ail 
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.3    The  argument  is  a 

1  Act  I.,  Scene  2.  a  ibid. 


THE  SALIG  LAW  NO  BAR.  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.1 

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."2  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  Scot  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. 

1  Act  I,  Scene  2.  a  Numbers  xxvii.  8. 


144  FEAR  OF  SCOTCH  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."  l 

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.2 

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 
Speak  freely  of  our  acts  :  or  our  grave 

1  Act  L,  SceneS.  a  Ibid. 


THE  TENNIS-BALLS.  145 

Like  Turkish  mute,  shall  have  a  tongueless  mouth, 
Not  worshipped  with  a  waxen  epitaph. 1 

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  : 
You  cannot  revel  into  dukedoms  there.3 

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. 

1  Act!.,  Scene  2.  *  Ibid. 

10 


146  AN  ENGLISH  CONSPIRACY. 

But  tell  the  dauphin  I  will  keep  my  state, 
Be  like  a  king  and  show  my  sail  of  greatness 
When  I  do  rouse  me  in  my  throne  of  France. 

And  tell  the  pleasant  prince  this  mock  of  his 
Hath  turned  his  balls  to  gun-stones  :  and  his  soul 
Shall  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  chorus,  we  are  brought 
now  to  look  upon  the  seamy  side  of  the  English  court. 
A  conspiracy  is  brooding,  and  although  Shakespeare 
makes  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  mights t  have  coined  me  into  gold, 

*  Act  I.,  Scene  2. 


HENRY  SETS  FORTH.  147 

Wouldst  thou  have  practised  on  me  for  thy  use  ? 
May  it  be  possible  that  foreign  hire 
Could  out  of  thee  extract  one  spark  of  evil 
That  might  annoy  my  finger? l 

But  the  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  broils.  Now : 

Cheerily  to  sea  the  signs  of  war  advance, 
No  King  of  England,  if  not  King  of  France.8 

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  COMEDY  OF  THE  PLAY. 

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.1 

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," a  in  spite  of  quarrels  and  grudges  at  home. 
But  not  I  fancy  because  "  honor's  thought  reigns  solely 
in  the  breast  of  every  man." 3  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.8 

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 

1  Chorus  to  Act  II.         *  Act  II. ,  Scene  1.          "  Chorus  to  Act  II. 
4  Act  II.,  Scene  1.  6  Act  II,  Scene  3. 


GOWER'S  COMMENT.  140 

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  discoursing  of  ancient  Pistol  with 
his  friend  Fluellan : 

Why,  '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  camp  will  do  among  foaming  bottles  and  ale- 
washed  wits,  is  wonderful  to  be  thought  on.1 

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,2  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. 

1  Act  III.,  Scene  6.  •  Act  II,  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  with  means  defendant : 
For  England  his  approaches  makes,  as  fierce 
As  waters  to  the  sucking  of  a  gulf.1 

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  Whitsun  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  her  not.8 

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.3 
1  Act  II.  Scene  4.  *  ibid. 


FALL  OF  HARFLEUR.  151 

But  the  Dauphin's  mind  was  the  mind  of  all  young 
France,  and  fatally  young  France  paid  for  it. 

We  are  next  before  Harfleur.  The  chorus  that  in- 
troduces the  third  act  is  a  rare  example  of  poetic 
genius  dealing  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- 

1  Act  III.,  Scene  1. 


152  THE  KING'S  PERPLEXITY. 

tress,  but  as  a  faithful  sovereign,  shuddering  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  prudently 


AGINCOURT.  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  which  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  Richard  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  after 
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.1 

1  Act  III.,  SceneS. 


THE  LAST  OF  BARDOLPH.  155 

And  yet  he  accurately  estimates  the  bedraggled  con- 
dition of  the  English  troops : 

Sony  am  I  his  numbers  are  so  few, 
His  soldiers  sick  and  famished  in  the  march ; 
For  I  am  sure  when  he  shall  see  our  army 
He'll  drop  his  heart  into  the  sink  of  fear.1 

And  to  speak  truth,  the  French  brag  and  bluster  had 
a  strong  basis  whereon  to  nourish.  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  in  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."2 

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. 

No\£  entertain  conjecture  of  a  time 
When  creeping  murmur  and  the  poring  dark 
Fills  the  wide  vessel  of  the  universe. 
>  Act  III. ,  Scene  5.  2  Act  III. ,  Scene  C. 


156  PREPARATION  FOR  BATTLE. 

From  camp  to  camp,  through  the  foul  womb  of  night, 
The  hum  of  either  army  stilly  sounds.1 

In  the  English  camp  there  is  realization  of  great  im- 
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  husbandry.2 

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.3 

And  as  he  talks  now  to  this  one,  now  that,  the  brag- 
ging Pistol,  the  sententious  Fluellen,  the  king  uncovers 
in  a  modest,  noble  way  that  which  must  be  the  grief  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." 4 

Again,  in  protest  against  the  common  habit  of  lay- 
ing all  sins  at  the  king's  door,  especially  the  death  of 

1  Chorus  to  Act  IV.  '  Act  IV.,  Scene  1. 

8  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.'2 

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.8 

The  night  is  passed  in  revelry,  dice-throwing  for  the 
morrow's  ransoms,  boastful  longings  for  the  rising 

i  Act  IV. ,  Scene  1 .  2  Ibid.  •  Act  I VM  Scene  3. 


158  AGINCOURT. 

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  rolled  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  all  sides 
and  a  welcome  on  all  lips. 

The  humility  of  the  king's  Non  nobis  and  Te  Deum 


AN  INTERREGNUM.  159 

found  slight  echo  in  the  towns  and  vilkges  of  Eng- 
land. Unto  Henry  and  themselves  was  the  chief 
glory  and  the  great  renown.  "  His  bruised  helmet 
and  his  bended  sword  "  were  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  Armagnac  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 
Armagnac  has  in  his  control  the  young  Dauphin :  but 
Burgundy  seizes  the  French  queen,  and  wrests  from 
her  an  appointment  as  governor-general  of  the  realm. 
Burgundy,  forgetting  his  alliance  with  Henry,  was 
setting  up,  as  ruler  of  France,  his  court  at  Paris ;  the 
Dauphin's  was  at  Poitiers. 

Henry  besieges  and  reduces  the  great  city  of  Rouen, 
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  OF  TROYE8. 

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  Y.  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  Y., 
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.1 

With  these  terms  and  just  demands  we  are  already 
familiar.  Henry  abates  no  jot  or  tittle  of  the  claims  for 

1  Act  V.,  Scene  2. 


CHARACTER  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 
Troves.  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  life  with  which  he  has  dealt  in  three 
successive  plays.  With  all  France  his  heritage,  and 
all  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  soul's  meditation.  That  there  is  a  general 
likeness  is  manifest.  Both  poet  and  prince  spent  an 
idle  youth,  at  the  same  time  nourishing  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 


REASONS  FOR  HENRY'S  CAMPAIGN.          163 

which  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  into  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  KING. 

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  policy.  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  Y. 

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- 
tioed,  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  Laudamus,  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 

1  Chorus  ending  Act  V. 


HENEY  VI. 

THREE  PAETS. 

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  Richard,  Duke  of  York,  and 
the  deathe  of  good  King  Henrie  the  Sixt,  with  the 
whole  Contention  of  the  two  houses,  Lancaster  aild 
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  HENRY  VI. 

1422.  Henry  V.  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey.      Henry  VI.  an 
infant.     Duke  of  Gloucester  (king's  uncle)  made  Protector. 
Charles  VI.  of  France  dies  (October).    Duke  of  Bedford  made 
regent  (for  Henry)  over  France.     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  Rheirns. 

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.  Trace  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  Roses  in  the  fac- 


168  CHRONOLOGY  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  VI.,  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'a  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  VL 

HENRY   VL— 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  H.  : 
Civil  dissensions  and  Jack  Cade'a  rebellion.— Part  in.  :  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  France,  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,  bis  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  Barnetand  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  VI.  forms  the  most  confused 
part  of  English  history  after  the  days  of  legend  and 
tradition  that  mark  Anglo-Saxondom.  All  writers  are 


170  AUTHENTICITY  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  accuracy  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 


HISTORIC  CENTRES  OF  ACTION,  171 

an  understanding  of  the  domestic  troubles  with  which 
Parts  II.  and  III.  are  occupied.  We  conclude,  there- 
fore, that  for  purposes  of  historical  study,  at  all  events, 
this  Part  I.  is  necessary  to  Parts  II.  and  III.,  and  that 
in  all  probability  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.  Wanviclc,  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 form  by  a  great  historical  teacher.  History, 


172  EARLY  YEARS  OF  HENRY  VI. 

strictly  so  called,  the  history  derived  from  Kolls  and 
Statutes,  must  '  pale  its  ineffectual  fire '  in  the  sunlight 
of  the  poet." 

In  the  opening  scene  of  the  play  we  catch  the 
muffled  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.1 

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 
Franco  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- 

i  Part  I.,  Act  I.,  Scene  1. 


DISCONTENT  OF  FRANCE.  173 

gan  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  English 
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  first  successful.     He  had 


174  ENGLISH  RULE. 

pushed  the  English  pennon  into  many  a  corner  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  Duk;e  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  alliance.  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  camps  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  ARC.  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.1 

So  thought  and  felt,  doubtless,  the  mass  of  the  French 
people.  In  the  countryside  lived  a  simple  maid  who 
"saw  visions  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 

'Parti.,  Act  in.,  SceneS. 


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.1  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  : 

1  The  Church  of  Rome  has  but  recently  canonized  her. 


ENGLISH  JUDGMENT  OF  JOAN.  177 

My  courage  try  by  combat,  if  thou  dar'st, 
And  thou  sbalt  find  that  I  exceed  my  sex. 
Eesolve  on  this,  thou  shalt  be  fortunate 
If  thou  receive  me  for  thy  warlike  mate.1 

And  again  she  is  made  to  boast : 

Now  am  I  like  that  proud  insulting  ship 
Which  Caesar  and  his  fortunes  bare  at  once.3 

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  imfl.giiia.tion 
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  draw  on  thee,  thou  art  a  witch, 
And  straightway  give  thy  soul  to  him  thou  serv'st.3 

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  Bheims : 

Coward  of  France,  how  much  he  wrongs  his  fame, 

DespisiDg  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 

1  Part  I.,  Act  I. ,  Scene  2.  «  Ibid. 

3  Part  I. ,  Act  I.,  Scene  5.  <  Part  L,  Act  II.,  Scene  1. 

12 


178  SHAKESPEARE'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 1  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  allies  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  light  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.2 

Now  this  is  not  the  Joan  of  Arc  of  history  nor  of  poetry. 
It  is  an  English  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  L,  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."  1 

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." 2 

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  tra- 
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  lit- 
erally burnt  at  the  stake  on  the  scenic  stage,  we  are  to 
believe  that  the  English  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."3 
But  surely  this  is  not  a  legitimate  deduction.  He  puts 

1  Knight's  Studies  of  Shakespeare,  Bk.  IV.,  Ch.  4,  on  Henry  VI. 
'  Ibid.  3  Ibid. 


180  HENRY  VI.    GROWN  ED. 

in  the  mouth  of  one  of  the  basest  of  English  kings  that 
fine  outburst  against  the  usurped  authority  of  Kome, 
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  points  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  VI.  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 

tioii  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,  gave  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 
rnutterings  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  DISSENSIONS  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  "VI.,1 
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 


If  Talbot  and  his  companions  -  in  -  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  struggle  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.2 

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 

1  Act  IV.,  Scene  7.  2  part  IPJ  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. 

While  "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  civil  war. 
For  that  scene  l  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  Richard  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.9 

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.3  In  a  few 
words,  we  may  indicate  exactly  the  position  of  the 
hostile  families.  The  Eichard  Plantagenet,  afterward 

'  Part  I. ,  Act  II. ,  Scene  4.  a  Ibid. 

8  See  Appendix,  p.  307. 


184  CLAIMS  OF  RIVAL  HOUSES. 

Duke  of  York,  of  this  play,  is  the  lineal  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  in  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  affairs  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  and  Buckingham,  representing  the  selfish 
opposition  to  Gloucester  and  the  king,  envious  and  hot 
against  the  protector,  and  fearing  Cardinal  Beaufort, 
as  deep  schemers  fear  those  who  rival  them  in  craft. 
Somerset  says : 

Cousin  of  Buckingham,  though  Humphrey'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.1 

The  fourth  faction  was  that  of  the  Duke  of  York,  with 
whom  was  allied  Warwick,  whose  policy  it  was  to  fo- 
ment disturbances,  and  fire  the  embers  of  discontent 

i  Part  IL,  Act  I.,  Scene  1. 


186  WEAKNESS  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,  with  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  Richard  II.  There  is 
a  certain  weakness,  effeminacy  in  its  least  pleasant 
sense,  in  both  characters.  But  in  Richard  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  Y.  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."  l 


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 

1  Part  I.,  Act  V.,  Scene  1. 


GLOUCESTER'S  LOYALTY.  1ST 

would  have  been  a  model  king.  As  it  was,  Margaret 
of  Anjou  supplied  the  place  of  a  man  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  field ;  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  COBHAM. 

11  Shall  Henry's  conquest,"  he  cries  to  the  nobles, 

Bedford's  vigilance, 

Your  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.1 

But  the  good  Duke's  words  were  of  no  avail.  The  ma- 
jority seem  to  agree  in  his  sentiments,  but  thirst  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  Cobham,  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  Nell,  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.2 

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  conjure  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, 
Receive  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  ; 
From  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.1 

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. 
Bobed  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. 

i  Part  II.,  Act  II,  SceneS. 


190  DEATH  OF  GLOUCESTER. 

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.1 

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.2 

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  Suffolk,  under 

1  Part  II.,  Act  II.,  Scene  4.  2  Part  n.,  Act  III.,  Scene  1. 


POPULAR  HATRED  OF  SUFFOLK.  191 

tlie  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  their  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.1 

So  Suffolk  was  banished,  and  in  Scene  1  of  Act  IY.  his 
strange  fate  is  told.  Leaving  England  for  exile,  doubt- 
less dreaming  of  a  return  through  Margaret's  influence, 

i  Part  II.,  Act  IIL,  Scene  3. 


192  JACK  CADE'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 
faction,  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  inarch  upon  London, 
and  the  execution  of  Lord  Say,  gave  Cade  and  his  in- 
surgents prestige.  The  Royal  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  aristocrat,  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  was  a  stul- 
18 


19 i  FIFTEENTH  CENTURY  SOCIALISM. 

tification  of  the  words  of  his  followers  that  "there 
never  was  merry  world  in  England  since  gentlemen 
came  up."  1 

"We  notice  that  as  soon  as  the  rebel  leader  comes  to 
power  he  is  as  arrogant  as  the  bluest  -  blooded  noble, 
and  will  strike  a  man  dead  for  not  addressing  him  as 
Lord  Mortimer.  This  savors  of  modern  times.  Posi- 
tion and  money  make  even  anarchists  conservative  of 
their  own — which  is  anarchistic  heresy.  As  always, 
the  unthinking  people  believe  all  things  of  all  men  if 
only  they  can  have  a  try  at  upsetting  the  standing 
order  of  things.  "Be  brave,  then,"  cries  Cade,  "for 
your  captain  is  brave  and  vows  reformation.  There 
shall  be  in  England  seven  halfpenny  loaves  sold  for  a 
penny,  the  three-hooped  pot  shall  have  ten  hoops,  and 
I  will  make  it  felony  to  drink  small  beer."2 

A  bright  thought  occurs  to  Dick  the  butcher.  "  The 
first  thing  we  do,  let's  kill  all  the  lawyers."  And  Cade's 
answer,  extravagantly  expressed  as  it  is,  does  most 
curiously  indicate  the  mental  attitude  of  the  peasantry 
of  that  day,  and  of  all  people  who  think  little  and 
read  not  at  all,  toward  instruments  and  institutions 
of  whose  origin  or  raison  d'etre  they  are  in  total 
ignorance.  "Is  not  this  a  lamentable  thing,  that  of 
the  skin  of  an  innocent  lamb  should  be  made  parch- 
ment ?  that  parchment,  scribbled  over,  should  undo  a 
man?"3 

The  demagogue  has  the  ignorance  of  his  audience  on 
his  side.  He  has  in  behalf  of  his  appeals  that  sullen 
jealousy  of  the  masses  who  are  conscious  of  classes,  that 

*  Part  II.,  Act  IV.,  Scene  2.  =  part  HM  Act  IV.,  Scene  2. 

« Ibid. 


DEATH  OF  LORD  SAY.  195 

is,  of  a  caste  above  them  and  more  accomplished.  That 
a  man  can  write  and  read  and  cast  accounts  is  mon- 
strous to  the  peasants  who  never  hold  a  book  save  in 
awe,  or  a  pen  without  fear  of  sorcery.  So  Cade's  main 
charge  against  Lord  Say,  who  was  the  chief  noble  sac- 
rificed in  this  uprising,  is  hardly  exaggerated  :  "  Thou 
hast  most  traitorously  corrupted  the  youth  of  the  realm 
in  erecting  a  grammar  school ;  and  whereas,  before,  our 
fathers  had  no  other  book  but  the  score  and  the  tally, 
thou  hast  caused  printing  to  be  used  ;  and  contrary  to 
the  king,  his  crown  and  dignity,  thou  hast  erected  a 
paper  mill.  It  will  be  proved  to  thy  face  that  thou 
hast  men  about  thee  that  usually  talk  of  a  noun,  and  a 
verb,  and  such  abominable  words  as  no  Christian  ear 
can  endure  to  hear." 1 

There  was  no  escape  from  death  when  such  charges 
were  treason,  and  Lord  Say  died.  But  such  revolts 
also  die  of  their  own  fevers  and  wounds.  Cade  moral- 
izes over  the  fickleness  of  his  followers  in  a  strain  with 
which  again  we  are  made  familiar  throughout  these 
chronicle  plays :  "  Was  ever  feather  so  lightly  blown 
to  and  fro  as  this  multitude  ?  The  name  of  Henry  V. 
hales  them  to  a  hundred  mischiefs,  and  leaves  me  des- 
olate."2 

Meanwhile  the  Yorkist  cause  begins  to  lift  its  head 

1  Part  H. ,  Act  IV.,  Scene  7.  *  Part  H. ,  Act  IV.,  Scene  8. 

NOTE.  A  century  later,  in  1671,  Sir  William  Berkeley,  Governor  of 
Virginia,  wrote  home  to  England,  4t  I  thank  God  there  are  no  free  schooli; 
or  printing,  and  I  hope  we  shall  not  have  them  these  hundred  years.  For 
learning  has  brought  heresy  and  disobedience  and  sects  into  the  world,  and 
printing  has  divulged  them  and  libels  against  the  best  government.  God 
keep  us  from  both." — Douglas  Campbell's  "Puritan  in  Holland,  England 
and  America,"  vol.  i.,  p.  32. 


196  RISE  OF  THE  YORK  FACTION. 

above  the  troubled  surface  of  the  nation's  life.  The 
York  faction  was  accused  of  using  Jack  Cade  to  foment 
discontent  and  make  people  familiar  with  the  name  of 
Mortimer,  through  whom  the  Duke  of  York  claimed 
inheritance.  Shakespeare  notices  this  in  Scene  2  of 
Act  IV.,  when  Stafford  says :  "  Jack  Cade,  the  Duke  of 
York  hath  taught  you  this,"  and  although  Cade  answers 
in  an  aside,  "  He  lies,  for  I  invented  it  myself,"  it  is 
not  conclusive.  It  is  altogether  probable  that  as  York 
used  the  death  of  Gloucester,  the  attainder  of  Suffolk, 
and  the  quarrels  of  the  Churchmen  of  the  period,  so  he 
used  these  discontents  of  the  people  to  foment  dissen- 
sion and  further  his  own  schemes. 

Poor  Henry  VI.  is  in  a  constant  state  of  lamentation. 
He  is  no  sooner  well  rid  of  Cade  than  the  dire  news 
comes  of  York's  march  with  the  Irish  troops,  to  osten- 
sibly remove  the  Duke  of  Somerset  from  power,  but 
really  to  assert  his  own  claims  to  the  throne. 

But  now  is  Cade  drawn  back,  his  men  dispersed, 
And  now  is  York  in  arms  to  second  him.1 

Was  never  subject  long'd  to  be  a  king 
As  I  do  long  and  wish  to  be  a  subject.2 

This  was  literally  true.  Henry  has  more  fire  and 
force  in  the  play  than  he  had  in  history.  But  he  was 
not  fit  to  govern  the  England  of  the  fifteenth  century. 
He  would  have  found  his  place  in  the  nineteenth  rather. 
Royalty  for  its  pomp  and  show  and  power  was  never 
dear  to  him.  His  books  and  his  beads  were  more 
precious  than  sceptre  and  crown.  He  realizes  this,  and 

1  Part  II.,  Act  IV.,  Scene  9.  '  Ibid. 


THE  RIVAL  HOUSES.  197 

dimly,  too,  as  Shakespeare  hints,  he  feels  that  his  fee- 
bleness is  hurtful  to  the  realm  : 

Come,  wife,  let's  in  and  learn  to  govern  better, 
For  yet  may  England  curse  my  wretched  reign.1 

We  can  but  briefly  touch  upon  the  details  of  the  furi- 
ous wars  that  culminated  in  these  last  days  of  Henry 
VI.,  although  they  were  brewing  as  far  back  as  Richard 
II.  On  the  one  hand  is  the  House  of  Lancaster  with 
Henry  VI.  and  his  son  Edward,  Prince  of  Wales,  the 
centre  of  a  group  of  nobles,  whose  interest,  ambition, 
and  loyalty  cause  them  to  wear  the  blood  Bed  Eose  of 
the  reigning  house.  The  martial  spirit  of  this  party 
is  Margaret  of  Anjou,  patient,  revengeful,  terrible ;  fas- 
cinating and  attractive  for  her  high  courage  and  splen- 
did hope. 

On  the  other  hand  is  Richard  Plantagenet,  Duke  of 
York,  with  his  sons,  Edward  (afterwards  the  Fourth), 
Edmund  Rutland,  who  dies  early  in  the  strife,  George, 
afterwards  the  "  false,  fleeting,  perjured  Clarence,"  and 
ablest,  most  unscrupulous,  self-contained  of  all,  Richard 
Gloster,  the  hunchback  duke,  afterwards  known  to  in- 
famy as  Richard  III.  The  guiding  spirit  of  this  house, 
among  a  host  of  others  who  wore  the  milk  White  Rose 
of  York,  was  Warwick,  well  named  the  King-maker. 

When  once  the  shock  of  battle  is  joined,  Henry  VI. 
drops  out  of  the  actual  contest,  save  as  he  is  taken  up, 
first  by  one  and  then  the  other  of  these  factions,  who 
shrouded  their  own  ambitions  beneath  his  robe  of  roy- 
alty. He  is  simply  a  shuttlecock.  Margaret  and  War- 
wick are  the  master-hands  in  this  game  of  war.  The 

»  Part  II.,  Act  IV.,  Scene  9. 


198  VICTORY  OF  THE  YORKISTS. 

claims  of  York  are  urged  upon  Henry  and  Parliament, 
after  various  skirmishes  and  battles  in  which  the  pre- 
tender to  the  throne  is  usually  worsted.  The  Parlia- 
ment of  1560  at  length  came  to  a  compromise  as  the 
only  way  of  settling  a  question  that  promised  to  dis- 
tract the  land  interminably.  This  was  that  Henry 
should  reign  for  life,  and  that  York  and  his  heirs  should 
succeed  to  the  crown.  We  can  imagine  the  maternal 
fury  of  Margaret,  who  was  away  from  London  when 
this  grave  matter  was  discussed  and  settled.  By  this 
pact  her  son  was  robbed  cf  his  rights  forever.  She 
loses  no  time,  but  flies  to  arms,  and  in  the  battle  of 
Wakefield  the  Duke  of  York  is  slain,  and  his  son 
Edward  succeeds  to  his  pretensions.  Margaret  let  slip 
the  fruit  of  her  victory  to  indulge  her  revengeful  nature 
in  some  executions,  and  the  young  Edward,  dropping 
the  mask  of  loyalty  to  Henry  VI.,  marches  upon  Lon- 
don, is  proclaimed  rightful  king,  and  once  more  the 
fierce  contention  comes  to  shock  of  battle,  at  Tow  ton. 
Here  Warwick  for  the  Yorkists  won  a  great  battle,  one 
of  the  bloodiest  in  English  history.  Henry  and  Mar- 
garet fled  away.  Edward  IV.  was  crowned  king,  and 
but  for  a  feeble  struggling  moment  or  two  of  seeming 
power  afterwards  under  the  powerful  banner  of  War- 
wick who  now  opposed  them,  the  Lancastrians  passed 
into  obscurity.  The  House  of  Plantagenet  was  still 
upon  the  throne,  but  the  usurpation  of  Bolingbroke 
was  avenged,  and  the  York  branch  resumed  the  seat 
wrhich  belonged  to  it  of  hereditary  right. 

Edward  is  variously  described  as  a  soldier  and  a  vo- 
luptuary. He  was  a  mixture,  not  strange,  of  both. 
That  he  fought  bravely  ever  is  beyond  doubt.  That 


WARWICK'S  DEFECTION.  199 

lie  was  ever  fond  of  "  silken  dalliance "  is  equally  so. 
Warwick  had  made  him,  and  literally  had  placed  him 
on  the  throne.  He  deserved  some  consideration,  but 
Edward  thought  he  asked  too  much. 

While  the  great  baron  is  at  the  court  of  France  suing 
for  the  hand  of  the  French  princess  for  the  English 
king,  Edward  takes  the  bit  in  his  royal  teeth,  and 
marries  off-hand  a  lady  of  the  court  whose  modest 
beauty  charmed  and  captivated  him.1  Margaret  and 
Warwick  are  both  suppliants  now  before  the  throne  of 
Louis  of  France,  but  in  what  different  case.  Margaret 
a  discrowned  queen,  her  husband  a  willing  hermit  in 
exile,  her  son,  for  whom  she  pleads,  a  beggar  at  her 
side.  She  has  little  enough  to  offer  in  the  way  of  alli- 
ance with  the  proud  French  sovereign.  Warwick,  on 
the  other  hand,  is  empowered  to  offer  the  hand  of  one 
of  the  greatest  kings  of  Christendom  to  the  daughter 
of  France.  Margaret  sues  with  tears  and  promises; 
Warwick  with  gallant  smiles  and  gold.  What  wonder 
Warwick  wins.  It  was  an  age  when  on  the  surface  of 
things  might  made  right. 

But  just  at  the  moment  when  this  "  proud  setter- 
up  and  puller-down  "  is  carrying  all  before  him,  Mar- 
garet has  a  strange  and  unexpected  victory.  News  out 
of  England.  Edward's  light  marriage  with  the  Lady 
Grey.  "King  Louis,"  cried  Warwick  to  that  angry 
and  misused  monarch, 

"  I  here  protest  in  sight  of  Heaven, 
And  by  the  hope  I  have  of  heavenly  bliss, 

1  Nothing  is  historically  certain  concerning  this  episode  except  that 
Edward  married  the  Lady  Elizabeth  Grey.  Shakespeare's  delineation  is 
taken  from  Sir  Thomas  More. 


200  DOWNFALL  OF  LANCASTER. 

That  I  am  clear  from  this  misdeed  of  Edward's, 
No  more  my  king,  for  he  dishonors  me. 

I  here  renounce  him  and  return  to  Henry. 
My  noble  queen,  let  former  grudges  pass, 
And  henceforth  I  am  thy  true  servitor." 
Mar.  Warwick,  these  words  have  turned  my  hate  to  love, 
And  I  forgive  and  quite  forget  old  faults, 
And  joy  that  thou  becom'st  King  Henry's  friend.1 

So  the  mother  and  the  queen  drops  out  of  account  her 
personal  indignities,  for  the  sake  of  her  exiled  husband 
and  her  youthful  son : 

My  mourning  weeds  are  laid  aside, 
And  I  am  ready  to  put  armor  on.2 

Yet  Warwick  was  no  lover  of  the  Lancastrian.  His 
pride  is  touched  at  Edward's  treachery  to  himself, 
and 

Not  that  I  pity  Henry's  misery, 

But  seek  revenge  on  Edward's  mockery,3 

is  his  watchword  for  that  bloody  campaign,  whereof 
Margaret's  was  husband  and  son,  king  and  prince. 

Again  the  rude  shock  of  war.  The  powerful  King- 
maker once  more  pulls  down  a  king,  and  seats  the  old- 
time  occupant.  Then  follows  Barnet,  and  Warwick 
dies.  Tewkesbury  follows,  and  the  final  downfall  of 
Henry  of  Lancaster,  who  returns  thankfully  to  his 
Tower  prison,  while  Margaret  is  first  imprisoned  and 
then  exiled  from  the  country. 

1  Part  III.,  Act  III.,  Scene  3. 
» Ibid.  s  n,id> 


MARGARET  OF  ANJOU.  201 

The  House  of  York  is  seated  firmly  on  the  throne. 
The  troubled  Margaret  of  Anjou  retires  to  France  and 
her  father's  toy  kingdom,  after  a  feeble  and  futile  at- 
tempt to  rally  the  lost  cause  of  the  Red  Eose.  The 
murder  of  her  son,  which  is  dramatically  told  by  the 
poet,  is  historic  only  as  to  the  fact ;  but  Margaret's 
lament  over  him1  is  a  just  apostrophe  upon  those  sav- 
age times. 

There  were  fine  points  in  Margaret's  character.  We 
must  ever  bear  in  mind  that  Shakespeare  was  unable 
to  do  her  the  justice  which  the  great  Scotchman  does  in 
his  novel,  "  Anne  of  Geierstein,"  where  is  pathetically 
told  the  story  of  her  last  days.  Our  poet  gives  the 
mob  judgment  of  Margaret,  the  English  mob  judg- 
ment at  that.  It  is  well  to  remember  in  making  up 
our  minds  as  to  the  truth  of  Shakespeare's  character 
study,  that  he  was  pronouncing  it  upon  the  chieftain 
of  a  defeated  house,  of  a  broken  dynasty,  and  a  French 
woman,  to  whom  directly  and  indirectly  was  traceable 
a  good  deal  of  England's  humiliation.  We  shall  come 
upon  her  ghost,  as  it  were,  in  the  play  of  "  Richard 
III. ,"  where,  after  a  strange  fashion,  the  poet  commits 
the  greatest  of  his  many  anachronisms  by  her  introduc- 
tion, and  at  the  same  time  points  his  moral  and  adorns 
his  tale  the  better  for  his  historic  untruth. 

Those  scenes  in  which  are  introduced  the  conjurer 
Bolingbroke,  the  witch  Margery  Jourdan,  and  the  two 
quarrelling  bourgeois,  Horner  and  his  apprentice,2  as 
well  as  that  in  which  the  impostor  Simpcox  is  ex- 
posed,3 will  well  repay  careful  reading.  Together  with 

J  Part  III.,  Act  VM  Scene  5.  2  Part  II ,  Act  IL,  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  Eichard  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  fear. 

Clarence,  beware,  thou  keep'st  me  from  the  light, 
But  I  will  sort  a  pitchy  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  und  the  prince  his  son  are  gone. 
Clarence,  thy  turn  is  next,  and  then  the  rest.1 

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 

1  Part  III.,  Act  V.,  Scene  6. 


THE  PRINCES  OF  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.1 

Poor  young  prince,  the  Tower  looms  up  before  thee, 
though  thou  seest  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.8 

»  Part  III ,  Act  V. ,  Scene  7.  *  Part  III. ,  Act  V. ,  Scene  7. 


RICHARD  III. 

THE  source  of  this  play  is  Sir  Thomas  More's  "  Life 
of  Richard  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  Richard'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)  :  The  True 
Tragedy  of  Richard  III.,  Wherein  is  shown  the  death  of 
Edward  7F.,  and  the  smothering  of  the  two  young  prin- 
ces in  the  Tower. 

Shakepeare's  "  Richard "  is  mentioned  by  Meres, 
having  been  published  in  1597,  and  was  issued  in  five 
quarto  editions,  besides  the  First  Folio. 


207 

from 

CHRONOLOGY  OF  EDWARD  IV.  (FROM  1471),  EDWARD 
V.,  AND  RICHARD  III. 

(Shakespeare  includes  these  all  under  the  title-play  of  "Richard  IIL") 

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  arranged  between  his 
daughter  and  the  son  of  Louis  XI.;  and  Margaret  of  Anjou 
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.  Richard 
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-field. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

RICHARD  in. — THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLANTAGENETS. 

Easential  difference  between  "Richard  IIL"  and  the  other  historical  plays. 
— Why  Richard  is  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. — (II.)  Richard's  successful  usurpation  of  the 
throne. — (III.)  Bosworth  Field  and  Richmond. — Events  between  the 
death  of  Henry  VI.  and  that  of  Edward. — The  clearing  of  the  field  for 
Richard's  ambitious  plan. — The  seizure  of  Clarence. — The  unspeakable 
wooing  of  Anne  by  Richard. — The  clashing  of  rival  court  factions. — 
Underplay  of  Margaret's  f  ury. — 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  win. — 
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  cTetre. —  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  PLAY  A   CHARACTER  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  Richard  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,1 

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  sell-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  Richard,  but  few  have  been 
treated  with  such  critical  severity.  The  reason  is  that 
Richard  is  made  the  mouth-piece  of  his  own  depravity. 

'Act  I.,  Scene  1. 


208  RICHARD'S  CHARACTER. 

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  VHL,  who 
argues  himself  learnedly  and  conscientiously  into  the 
loathsome  act  of  divorcing  Katharine  of  Aragon  that 
he  may  marry  Anne  Boleyn.  But  Richard  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  upon  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  extenuating  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.  209 

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  surroundings.  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  undertaking. 

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  YE. :  " 

Grim-visaged  War  hath  smoothed  his  wrinkled  front : 
And  now  instead  of  mounting  barb6d  steeds 
To  fright  the  souls  of  fearful  adversaries, 
He  capers  nimbly  in  a  lady's  chamber 
To  the  lascivious  pleasing  of  a  lute.1 

1  Act  I.,  Scene  1. 
14 


210  THE  COURT  FACTIONS. 

Affairs  of  state  do  not  now  engage  the  thoughts  of 
Richard,  but  only  his  own  relations  to  these  "  piping 
times  of  peace." 

I  that  am  curtailed  of  this  fair  proportion, 
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.1 

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  the  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  —  Rivers,  Dorset,  Grey. 
The  old  nobles'  faction  was  headed  by  Buckingham, 
and  quietly  sympathized  with  by  Richard  Gloster. 

1  Act  I,  Scene  1. 


MURDER  OF  CLARENCE.  211 

The  three  events  around  which  the  action  of  the 
play  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  the  death  of  Henry  VI.,  Edward  IV.  reigned 
twelve  years,  years  of  peace  and  exhaustion.  All  Eng- 
land lay  bleeding  and  gasping  for  the  life  that  had 
been  well-nigh  drained  from  her  system  in  the  long 
duel  of  the  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.1  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  oJL 
his  brother  Clarence,  and  had  him  arrested  on  charges 
oTsorcery  similar  to  those  alleged  against  the  Duchess 
of  Gloucester  in  the  preceding  reign.  But  before  the 
~3eath  of  Clarence,  Eichard  Gloster,  marrying  Anne 
Neville,  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  VI.'s  son,  who,  if  the 
battle  of  Tewkesbury  had  had  another  termination, 
would  have  succeeded  his  father  upon  the  throne.  To 

*  Act  I.,  Scene  1. 


212  THE  WOOING  OF  ANNE. 

woo  the  widow  of  one  and  daughter  of  another  of  his 
victims  within  two  years  after  their  death  would  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  Eichard  even  was  fain  to  confide  to  himself : 

Was  ever  woman  in  this  humor  woo'd  ? 
Was  ever  woman  in  this  humor  won  ? 

li~« "          .  .         *    •  '•  '         .  .  .         •       • 

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,  ail  the  world  to  nothing.1 

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. 

i  Act  I.,  Scene  2. 


ANNE'S  MOTIVES.  213 

Jameson  and  Lady  Helen  Faucit  Martin.  Anne  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  Richard 
was  not  actually  guilty  of  that  double  murder  at  least, 
which  is  an  admirable  petitio  principii.  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. 
Richard  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  spell  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  Richard  one  interview  would 
not  accomplish  all  he  achieved.  Nearly  two  years' 


214  RICHARD'S  OBJECT. 

romantic  pursuit,  baffled  again  and  again  by  the  jeal- 
ousy of  Clarence,  is  crowded  within  the  compass  of 
these  lines.  Clarence  had  married  Anne's  sister,  and 
did  not  wish  to  share  the  great  King-maker's  wealth 
with  his  brother. 

Richard'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  Richard  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. 

1  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.1 

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 

1  Act  I. ,  Scene  1. 


216  APPEARANCE  OF  MARGARET. 

which  the  different  characters  are  set  forth,  revolving 
still  about  Eichard  and  his  schemes  : 

My  lord  of  Gloster,  I  have  too  long  borne 
Your  blunt  upbraidings  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.1 

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  Koses.  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, 

1ActL,  SceneS. 


MARGARET'S  CURSE.  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 
conies  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  x      DRAMATIC  USE  OF  MARGARET. 

Elvers  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  unlocked  accident  cut  off.1 

We  forbear  to  quote  her  awful  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  this  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. 

1  Act!.,  SceneS. 


A  HOLLOW  PEACE.  219 

v 

Now  they  believe  me,  and  withal  whet  me 
To  be  revenged  on  Rivers,  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.1 

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  young  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  Redeemer,  to  redeem  me  hence, 

1  Act!,  SceneS. 


220  CHARACTER  OF  EDWARD  IV. 

And  now  in  peace  my  soul  shall  part  in  heaven, 
Since  I  have  made  my  friends  at  peace  on  earth.1 

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  nattering  portrait  of  him.  At 
once  soldier  and  voluptuary,  with  a  good  mind  and  a 
weak  will ;  haughtily  independent  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  YI.  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.  Eichard  Gloster  was  in 
the  north  on  some  warlike  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 

1  Act  II.,   Scene  1. 


GLOSTER  SEIZES  THE  FRINGE.      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.1 

They  knew,  perhaps,  of  Richard  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  Richard, 
Duke  of  York,  were  with  their  mother,  guarded  by 
Rivers,  Dorset,  Grey,  upstarts  in  the  eyes  of  Buck- 
ingham and  his  fellows.  Richard  Gloster  moves  to 
London  to  assist  in  his  nephew's  coronation,  which 
was  set  for  April  4th.  Edward,  surrounded  by  his 
mother's  clan — Rivers,  Yaughan,  and  Grey  notably— 
proceeds  from  Ludlow  Castle  toward  London.  Rivers, 
on  the  part  of  the  boy-king,  meets  Gloster  at  North- 
ampton and  is  there  arrested.  The  young  king  and  his 
friends  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 

1  Act  II,  Scene  2. 


222  OLOSTER  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. 

"  All,  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." l 

She  seizes  upon  what  she  believes  is  the  last  chance 
of  safety  for  herself,  and  with  the  young  Duke  of 
York  flies  to  the  sanctuary  of  Westminster. 

Now  follows  the  swearing  of  loyalty  to  Edward  Y. 
by  the  nobility,  with  Bichard,  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 
Richard  and  Buckingham,  believing  that  in  the  arrest 
of  the  queen's  friends  he  was  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  ? 

Buck.      Who  knows  the  Lord  Protector's  mind  herein  ? 2 
1  Act  II,  Scene  4.  »  Act  III.,  Scene  4. 


OLDSTER'S  CONSPIRACY.  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  finds  the  testy  gentleman  so  hot 
That  he  will  lose  his  head  ere  give  consent 
His  master's  child,  as  worshipfully  he  terms  it, 
Shall  lose  the  royalty  of  England's  throne.1 

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  wrathf ully,  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  ?  2 

With  well  -  simulated  rage  he  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 

1  Act  III.,  Scene  1  •  Ibid. 


224:  BASENESS  OF  GLOSTEE.  I 

Oh,  Margaret,  Margaret,  now  thy  heavy  curse 
Is  lighted  on  poor  Hastings'  wretched  head.1 

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,  true  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  Eichard  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. 

Richard's  partial  betrayal  of  sentiment  as  he  whis- 
pers his  atrocious  lies  to  Buckingham  does  not  redeem 
him  in  our  eyes. 

i  Act  III.,  Scene  4. 


DR.  SHAW'S  SERMON.  225 

Yet  touch  this  sparingly,  as  'twere  far  off, 
Because  you  know,  my  lord,  my  mother  lives.1 

One  line  here  of  Richard'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.2 

On  June  22d  was  delivered  at  St.  Paul's  Cross,  by  the 
Rev.  Ralph  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  Rev.  Ralph  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,  with  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  Richard  and  Buckingham,  and  in  the 
famous  scene  where  the  former  permits  his  scruples  to 
be  overcome,  and  to  assume  the  crown. 

1  Act  IIL,  Scene  5.  2Ibid. 

15 


226  BUCKINGHAM'S  CRAFT. 

Olos.    How  now,  how  now,  what  say  the  citizens  ? 
Buck.  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  Kichard  !  " 

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.1 

Now  in  these  passages  are  indicated  two  historical 
facts.  The  people  were  slow  to  give  up  the  cause  of 
the  young  princes,  and  Richard'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?. 


GLOSTER'S  SCRUPLES  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. 
Buck.  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. 
Come,  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.1 

Richard  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  Eichard  as  his 

i  Act  III.,  Scene?. 


228  POPULAR  ACQUIESCENCE. 

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."  l 

These  were  the  legal  grounds  whereby  Richard  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  Eoses  were  tossing  above  the  pikes  of  St. 
Albans,  Towton,  Bamet,  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 Eichard'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  VI.  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 

i  Knight's  History,  Vol.  II.,  Chapter  VIII,  page  166. 


ELIZABETH  DENIED  HER  CHILDREN.        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.1 

Richmond  will  presently  stir  into  life,  but  at  the  criti- 
cal moment  when  Richard  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  ? 
Brak.      No,  madam,  no.     I  may  not  leave  it  so. 

I  am  bound  by  oath  and  therefore  pardon  me.9 

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  VL,  Part  III.,  Act  III,  Scene  7. 
'  Act  IV.,  Scene  1.  *  Ibid. 


230  RICHARD  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,  you  ancient  stones,  those  tender  babes 
Whom  envy  hath  immured  within  your  walls. 
Bough  cradle  for  such  pretty  ones. 
Rude,  ragged  nurse,  old  sullen  playfellow 
For  tender  princes,  use  my  babies  well. 
,  -    ,80  foolish  sorrow  bids  your  stones  farewell.1 

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 
offhand,  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  guilt.  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,  Eose  of  York. 

Theorists  are  reasonably  fond  of  tracing  the  begin- 
ning of  his  wickedness  to  the  sensitiveness  of  youth, 
conscious  of  great  powers  of  mind,  encased  in  a  de- 
formed and  ugly  body. 

1  Act  IV.,  Scene  1. 


GLOSTER'S  CHARACTER.  231 

King  Henry's  speech  expresses  what  Richard  seems 
to  have  thought  all  the  world  believed  : 

The  owl  shrieked  at  thy  birth,  an  evil  sign. 

The  night  crow  cried,  aboding  luckless  time. 

Dogs  howled  and  hideous  tempests  shook  down  trees. 

Thy  mother  felt  more  than  a  mother's  pain 
And  yet  brought  forth  less  than  a  mother's  hope, 
To  wit,  an  undigest,  deformed  lump.1 

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  the  heavens  have  shaped  my  body  so, 
Let  hell  make  crooked  my  mind  to  answer  it.8 

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  those  who  look 
down  on  him.  He  is  facile  princeps,  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  his  wicked  sclicni- 
ings,  that  held  no  one  sacred,  no  life  secure,  no  blood 

i  Henry  VI. ,  Part  III.,  Act  V.,  Scene  6.  »  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.1 

Humorously  exaggerated  as  this  is,  we  trace  the  idea  in 
Richard'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  factions.  In  pure  malignity,  he  pushed  the  dagger 
of  his  spite  into  first  this  one,  then  that,  until  he  per- 
ceived the  crown  glittering  before  him.  It  came  in  his 
way,  and  he  took  it,  grimly  smiling  doubtless  at  the 

i  Act  I.,  Scene  2. 


BUCKINGHAM'S  DEFECTION.  233 

thought  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 
skin  and  their  bodies  buried,  only  to  be  resurrected 
in  comparatively  modern  times.  But  in  this  incident 
Shakespeare  falls  into  a  mistake  concerning  Bucking- 
ham, and  so  often  an  historical  mistake  which  becomes 
a  clever  dramatic  triumph.  Buckingham's  falling 
away  was  not  on  account  of  Richard's  desire  to  have 
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.1 

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.8 

And  the  king's  dry,  cold  sneer : 

I  am  not  in  the  giving  vein  to-day, 
»  Act  IV.,  Scene  2.  2  Ibid. 


234:  RICHMOND  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  Richard  and  Anne  he  is  up  in  arms, 
and  in  active  correspondence  with  the  Earl  of  Rich- 
mond, Avho  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  begins 
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  was  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  line,  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  Bichard  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  Bichard,  and  wished  well  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  Bichard's  blandishments.  We  need 
not  believe  the  poet  intended  it  for  more  than  seeming. 
He  here  means  to  indicate  how  Bichard'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.  "  Belenting  fool,  and  shallow  chang- 
ing woman,"  as  Bichar<J  thought  her,  she  was  then  in 
correspondence  with  Bichmond,  and  destined  once 
more  to  see  happy  days  in  the  reign  of  her  daughter 
as  England's  queen.  Bichard  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. 

Bichmond  is  at  the  gates  of  his  heritage.     He  has 


VISIONS  IN  THE  NIGHT. 

not  a  large  army.  A  few  of  the  discontented  nobles 
come  to  greet  him.  The  friends  of  Edward  IY.  come 
out  of  their  sorrowful  retirement  to  gather  about  a 
Lancastrian  who  is  preferable  at  last  to  their  own 
White  Kose.  The  ex-queen's  friends  flock  to  him,  but 
the  people  are  comparatively  indifferent.  There  is  no 
great  uprising  of  the  commons  either  for  Richard  or 
for  Eichmond.  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 
"  ShaUow  Richmond." 

It  is  the  night  before  the  battle  of  Bosworth  Field.1 
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  wine,  without  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. 


BOSWORTH  FIELD.  237 

and  disturbed  by  the  guilty  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  Richmond's  side 
And  Richard  falls  in  all  his  height  of  pride.1 

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  beginning,  "  Give  me  another 
horse,  bind  up  my  wounds," 2  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  Richard.  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  palsying  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 

i  Act  V.,  Scene  3.  3Ibid. 


238  WOMEN  OF  THE  PLAT. 

king  Richard,  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  VIII. 
Shakespeare  has  not  touched  with  his  pen  the  period 
between  Richard  III.  and  Henry  YIIL,  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  Richard  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  Richard,  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  forward- 
ed 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 Richard  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 
and  bloody  past,  remains  a  heroine.  She  alone,  always 
and  to  his  face  withstands  the  powerful,  dominant 
hunchback,  "  hell's  black  intelligencer."  Even  Richard 


PROGRESS  OF  LITERATURE. 

must  have  admired  her.  "  Bear  with  me,"  she  cries 
not  only  to  the  Queen,  but  down  the  centuries  it  is  her 
frank  appeal  to  the  judgment  of  history. 

Bear  with  me,  I  am  hungry  for  revenge? 
And  now  I  cloy  me  with  beholding  it.1 

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  Eichard,  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 Eivers  was  an  accomplished  author  and  translator, 
and  the  first  English  book  printed  was  dedicated  to 
"  false  fleeting  perjured  Clarence." 

Even  Eichard  has  made  letters  his  debtor,  for  in  his 
reign  was  passed  a  tariff  law  expressly  excepting  from  its 
provisions  "  any  rnaner  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. 

i  Act  IV.,  Scene  4. 


238.0  ENGLAND  OF  THE  TUDORS. 

1  Henry  Tudor  looked  out  upon  a  new  land  as  he 
lifted  his  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 
self-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 in  Holinshed),  and  Fox's  "Book  of  Martyrs," 
were  principal  sources  of  information.  Many  passages 
are  transcribed  almost  word  for  word  from  these  orig- 
inals. 


16 


CHRONOLOGY  OF  THE  EEIGN  OF  HENRY  VII. 

BEING  THE  INTERVAL  BETWEEN  SHAKESPEARE'S  PLAY  OF  RICHARD 
III.  AND  HENRY  VIII. 

1486.  Henry  VII.   marries  Elizabeth  of  York,  daughter  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  have  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  Aragoii. 

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 


CHKONOLOGY  OF  HENRY  VIII. 

FROM  HIS  ACCESSION,  1509,  UNTIL  1533. 

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    Campeggio  appointed  commissioners  by 
the  Pope  to  try  the  cause  of  the  divorce. 

1529.  Queen  Katharine  appeals  to  Rome.     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 
-v  privately  married  to  Henry.     Act  of  Parliament  forbidding 

'  appeals  of  any  sort  to  be  made  to  Rome. 

1533.  Cranmer  made  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.      Cranmer 
declares  the  marriage  with  Katharine  null,  and  that  with 
Anne  Boleyn  legal.     Birth  of  Elizabeth,  afterwards  Queen. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HENRY  VIII.— THE  ENGLISH  REFORMATION. 

Position  of  this  play  as  epilogue  to  the  series. — Henry  VIII.  unites  the 
houses  of  Lancaster  and  York. — In  his  reign,  civil-political  strife 
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.  —  (II.)  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. — Bucking- 
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  his  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  Rome.— 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.  245 

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.1 

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, 

1  Appendix,  p.  299. 


246  HENRY'S  ALTERED  CHARACTER. 

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  dealing  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  personce  are  for  the  great  parb  sordid. 

The  prologue  to  the  play  deftly  indicates  this,  and 
is  a  keynote  to  the  whole  well  worth  study.  It  begins 
with  these  lines : 

I  come  no  more  to  make  you  laugli  :  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  story, 
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.1 
1  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,  all  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  (III.)  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 


248  FIELD  OF  THE  CLOTH  OF  GOLD. 

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-Reformation  period. 

We  have  first  an  indication  of  that  semi-barbaric 
taste  of  even  cultivated  monarchs,  for  such  displays  as 
that  of  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold,  when 

To-day  the  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.1    .... 

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.2  For  purposes  of  the 

1  Act  I.,  Scene  1. 

2  The  introduction  of  Wolsey's  name  BO  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.  as  Hamlet  to  the  tragedy  which  bears  his  name. 


BUCKINGHAM'S  CONDEMNATION.  249 

drama  the  strongest  expressions  of  popular  feeling 
are  put  in  Buckingham's  mouth,  as  "  This  top  proud 
fellow  ...  I  do  know  to  be  corrupt  and  trea- 
sonous," and 

He  (the  emperor)  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.1 

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.2 
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  ActL,  Scene  1. 

2  He  was  the  next  heir  if  Henry  died  without  issue,   being  the  lineal 
descendant  of  Thomas,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  seventh  son  of  Edward  III. 


250  A  VIOTIM  OF  THE  CARDINAL. 

position  to  Wolsey.  High  born  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  surroundings  to  the  pitch  of 
prime  favorite,  had  made  a  "  beggar's  book  outworth 
a  noble's  blood." 

Shakespeare  correctly  represents  the  popular  feel- 
ing 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.  . 

2c?  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  APPEARANCE.  251 

2c/  Gent.  All  the  commons 

Hate  him  perniciously,  and  o'  my  conscience 
Wish  him  ten  fathoms  deep.1 

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  the  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 3  for 
the  heavily  taxed  people  is,  it  was  probably  substanti- 
ally true,  and  another  evidence  that  the  poet  grasped 
the  truth  of  history  while  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.  •  Act  I. ,  Scene  2. 


252  OPPRESSION  OF  THE  COMMONS. 

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 
first  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 

.    V'JiUw.  The  subject's  grief 

.     .     .     Which  compels  from  each 
The  sixth  part  of  his  substance  to  be  levied 
Without  delay."  1 

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."  2  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  Elizabeth's  eye  ;  and  Elizabeth  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  reputa- 
tion of  her  Majesty's  father. 

1  Act  I.,  SceneS.  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.  Froude'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  VIII.  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.1 
Through  the  tortuous  web  of  these  delicate  facts  the 


1  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.  Elizabeth'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.1 

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  underlying  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.,  SceneS. 


256  RUMORS  OF  THE  DIVORCE. 

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. 

1st  Gentleman.     .     .     .     Did  you  not  of  late  days  hear 

A  buzzing  of  a  separation  between  the  king  and  Katharine  ? 

2o?  Gentleman.     .     .     .    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.1 

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.'2 

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 

1  Act  II,  Scene  1.  a  Ibid. 


HENRY'S  CONSCIENCE.  257 

Tarbes,  early  in  1527,  in  the  course  of  negotiations 
touching  the  marriage  of  Mary  (Henry's  daughter  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  speeches  uttered 

By  the  Bishop  of  Bayonne,  then  French  ambassador, 

Who  had  been  hither  sent  on  the  debating 

A  marriage,  twixt  the  Duke  of  Orleans  and 

Our  daughter  Mary.1 

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.  Froude,  is 
summed  up  as  follows  : 

Lord  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.' 
1  Act  II.,  Scene  4.  2  Act  II.,  Scene  2. 

17 


258  POPULAR  IMPRESSION  OF  HENRY. 

After  Wolsey  began  to  fight  shy  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  Bullen."  l 

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.2 

Mild,  gentle,  and  womanly  as  Katharine  is,  in  her  in- 
terview with  Wolsey  and  Campeius  (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)  ? 3 

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 

i  Act  III.,  Scene  2.  3  Act  IV.,  Scene  1.  3  Act  III.,  Scene  1. 


WOLSEY 'S  ACTIVITY.  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  whispering  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  marriage. 

Cham.  'Tis  most  true. 

These  news  are  everywhere  ;  every  tongue  speaks  them, 
And  every  true  heart  weeps  for't.     All  that  dare 
Look  into  this  affair  see  this  main  end, 
The  French  king's  sister.1 

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  m  honor  of 

1  Act  II.,  Scene  3. 


260  WOLSET  AND  ANNE  BOLEYN. 

the  pair,  one  of  which  is  exploited  in  Act  L,  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  which  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  Alengon, 
The  French  king's  sister  ;  he  shall  marry  her. 
Anne  Bullen.     No,  I'll  no  Anne  Bullens  for  him. 
There  is  more  in  it  than  fair  visage.     Bullen, 
No,  we'll  no  Bullens. 

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.1 

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. 

1  Act  III.,  Scene  2. 


WOLSEY'8  SECRET  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."  This  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  already  quoted  from  the 
poet's  pen  :  f^01 

While  things  were  thus  in  hand,  the  Cardinal  of  York  was 
advised  that  the  king  had  set  his  affections  upon  a  young 
gentlewoman  named  Anne  .  .  .  which  did  wait  upon  the 
queen.  This  was  a  great  grief  unto  the  cardinal,  as  he  that 
perceived  af  orehand,  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  Kome,  by  reason  of  the  appeal  which  by  her  was 
put  in;  the  cardinal  required  the  pope  by  letter  and  secret 
messengers,  that  in  any  wise  he  should  defer  the  judgment  of 


HENRY'S  POLICY. 

the  divorce,  till  he  might  frame  the  king's  mind  to  his  pur- 
pose.1 

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  Rome : 

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.3 

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  Eome,  and  the  beginning  of 
the  new  regime  are  set  forth  in  a  paragraph : 

1  Chronicle  quoted  in  Hazlitt's  Shakespeare^ 's  Library,  Part  I.,  Vol. 
IV.,  pp.  95,  96. 

2  Act  II.,  Scene  2. 


RISE  OF  CRANMER.  263 

King  Henry.  I  may  perceive 

These  cardinals  will  trifle  with  me.     I  abhor 
This  dilatory  sloth,  and  tricks  of  Koine. 
My  learned  and  well -beloved  servant  Cranmer, 
Prithee,  return :  with  thy  approach  I  know 
My  comfort  comes  along.1 

Previous  to  being  called  into  the  king's  service,  where 
he  was  rapidly  advanced  to  the  Archbishopric  of  Can- 
terbury, Cranmer  had  expressed  an  opinion  publicly 
that  the  divorce  might  be  legally  and  morally  settled 
by  decisions  of  learned  men  and  universities.2  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  Home. 

Once  the  break  with  Kome  is  assured  there  is  no 
further  obstacle  in  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 

1  Act  IT.,  Scene  4. 

a  Bishop  Burnett  makes  this  statement,  History  of  the  Reformation, 
VoL  I.,  p.  128.  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  CORONATION  OF  ANNE. 

color.     One  gentleman  describes  the  coronation  cere- 
monies to  another : 

1st  Gent.     God  save  you,  sir,  where  have  you  been  broiling  ? 
3d  Gent.    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  hour  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.1 

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-known 

1  Act  IV.,  Scene  1. 


"  NEW  CUSTOMS."  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.1  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  them  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.9 

» Act  I.,  Scene  4»  a  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. 
Cham.     I  am  glad  'tis  there :  now  I  would  pray  our  monsieurs 

To  think  an  English  courtier  may  be  wise 

And  never  see  the  Louvre.1 

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  fully  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  still  on  the  surface.  Mrs.  Jameson  remarks,  as  a 

i  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."  l 

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  in  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  born, 
And  range  with  humble  livers  in  content, 
Than  to  be  perked  up  in  a  glistering  grief 
And  wear  a  golden  sorrow. 

1  Mrs.  Jameson's  Characteristics  of  Women,  art.  Katharine  of  Aragon. 


268  ANNE'S  CHARACTER. 

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  jjray  for.1 

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.  Could  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 

i  Act  II,  SceneS. 


DR.  JOHNSON  AND  HEINE. 

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.1 

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- 

1  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.  As  a  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.—  Shake- 
speare's Maidens  and  Wonun. 


270  KATHARINE 

sey  instinctively  with  botli  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 
You  shall  not  be  my  judge,  for  it  is  you 
Hath  blown  this  coal  betwixt  my  lord  and  me.1 

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.8 

1  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  in  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.1 

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.2 

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 

i  Act  III.,  Scene  1.  J  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.1 

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.8 

There  are  many  affecting  passages  in  the  works  of  the 
great  dramatist,  but  these  last  messages  to  Henry,  es- 

'  Act  IV.,  Scenes.  «  Ibid. 


PEATH  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  : 

Remember  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.1 

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.2 

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.,  Scene  2. 

2  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  her) 
Though  in  her  cradle,  yet  now  promises 
Upon  this  land  a  thousand,  thousand  blessings 
Which  time  shall  bring  to  ripeness.1 

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 

i  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  Koses,  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  CONSCIENCE. 

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  in  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.1 

That  the  king's  mind  was  afterward  altered,  perhaps 
by  "many  a  groaning  throe  "  of  remorse,  we  have  evi- 
dence, for  by  his  will  he  left  the  throne,  first,  after  his 
infant  son  Edward,  to  Mary  the  daughter  of  Katha- 
rine, before  it  should  fall  to  Elizabeth,  the  daughter  of 
Anne,  and  they  succeeded  in  that  order.  Much  as  we 
find  to  despise  in  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, 

»  Act  II.,  Scene  4. 


CARDINAL   WOLSEY.  277 

is  evolved  the  fall  of  Cardinal  Wolsey.  The  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  him  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.1 

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 

1ActL,  Scene  1. 


278  WOLSEY'S  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  while." 1 
This  Shakespeare  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Buckingham 
anent  the  treaty  of  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold : 

Why  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.2 

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  YII.  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 

1  Burnett :  History  of  the  [Reformation,  vol.  i.,  p.  11. 

2  Act  I.,  Scene  1. 


HIS  CUNNING.  270 

against  public  detraction  which,  as  Courtenay  observes, 
"  is  generally  just,  though  not  applicable  to  the  parti- 
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.1 

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.2 

So  cunningly  he  endeavored  to  turn  the  king's  mercy 
into  his  own,  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  2.  a  Ibid. 


280          THE  MASQUE  AT  WOLSEY'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.1 

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  affairs  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.2 

i  Act  IV.,  Scene  2.  '  Act  II.,  Scene  4. 


WOLSEY  AND  KATHARINE.  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  failure  of  his 


282  CAUSES  OF  WOLSEY 'S  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  Rome  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  WOLSEY'S  LIFE.  2S3 

royal  sanction  for  them.  "Well  might  he  exclaim  in 
hope  of  the  king's  interference  : 

So  much  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.1 

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 

1  Act  III. ,  Scene  2. 


"284:  WOLSEY  AT  LEICESTER. 

life.  In  evidence  of  this  is  the  eloquent  speech  which 
Shakespeare  puts  in  his  mouth,  as  addressed  to  Crom- 
well, ending  with  the  famous  words  : 

O  Cromwell,  Cromwell, 
Had  I  but  served  my  God  with  half  the  zeal 
I  served  my  king,  lie  would  not  in  mine  age 
Have  left  me  naked  to  mine  enemies.1 

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  Koine.2 

'Act  III,  Scene  2.  2  ibid. 


WOLSEY 'S  DEATH.  285 

Ambition  of  this  same  exaltation  was  it  that  caused 
his  shuffling  policy  with  Kome  and  Henry  in  the  mat- 
ter of  the  divorce.  It  was  nothing  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  state  as  that  Henry  should  draw  the  one 
best  fitted  for  the  furtherance  of  his  plans  on  the 
triple  tiara  of  Eome,  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. 

Love  thyself  last,  cherish  those  hearts  that  hate  thee, 

Corruption  wins  not  more  than  honesty.1 

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  in  gentle  language  draws  a  picture  of 
the  scene  in  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  HI.,  Scene  2.  We  may  compare  this  confession  of  Wolsey'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  2. 

a  Act  IV.,  Scene  2. 


286  THE  ENGLISH  REFORMATION. 

Alternately  picturing  the  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  Reformation,  which  in  his  soul  he 
hated,  the  truth  of  history  is  summed  up  in  Griffith's 
words,  concluding, 

His  overthrow  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.1 

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  Reformation  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 
parties. 

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  PLAT.  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  VIII.  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.1 

1  Act  I,  SceneS. 


288  CRANMER  AND  GARDINER. 

Wolsey  knows  Anne  for  a  "  spleeny  Lutheran," 1  and 

again : 

There  is  sprung  up 

An  heretic,  an  arch  one,  Cranmer  ;  one 
Hath  crawled  into  the  favor  of  the  king, 
And  is  his  oracle.2 

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  : 

2c?  Gent.  He  of  Winchester 

Is  held,  no  great  good  lover  of  the  archbishop's, 
The  virtuous  Cranmer. 

3d  Gent.  All  the  land  knows  that : 

However,  yet  there's  no  great  breach,  when  it  comes 
Cranmer  will  find  a  friend  will  not  shrink  from  him. 

The  last  act  of  the  play  is  occupied  almost  wholly 
with  such  scenes  as  shall  leave  the  impression  that  the 
Eeformation  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 
Kome,  is  brought  in  direct  conflict  with  Gardiner,  who 
is  the  incarnation  of  the  old  faith,  which  in  him  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  lifetime  of  Anne,  while  it  did  not  occur 
until  the  time  of  Catherine  Parr,  Henry's  sixth  wife. 

1  Act  III.,  Scene  2.  2  ibid. 

3  Act  IV.,  Scene  1. 


BAPTISM  OF  ELIZABETH.  289 

From  this  persecution,  which  Shakespeare  transcribes 
from  Fox's  "  Book  of  Martyrs,"  wellnigh  word  for  word, 
the  archbishop  is  rescued  by  the  king's  friendship. 
That  Craumer  is  a  "  favorer  of  this  new  sect "  weighs 
not  with  the  stubborn  foe  of  Rome.  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 — 
You  must  be  godfather  and  answer  for  her.1 

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-like : 

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  memoriz'd.* 

The  final  speech  of  Cranmer,  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.,  Scene  2.  '  Act  HI.,  Scene  2. 

19 


290  ELIZABETHAN  ENGLAND. 

smoothly  what  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  Princess  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  aclown 
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. 

SUMMARY. 

IN  summing  up  the  results  of  this  study  of  English 
History  in  Shakespeare's  plays  the  object  must  be  to 
set  forth  not  what  ghakes^eare  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  tell  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  Decline  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  RICHARD  II.    TO  HENRY  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  provinces  won  in  bloody 
wars.  The  contentions  of  the  rival  nobles  penetrated 
to  the  commons.  All  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  usurpation.  Edward  IV.  seized  the  throne 
while  Henry  was  yet  alive,  inheriting  from  his  father 
the  claim  which  had  lain  in  the  person  of  Edmund  Mor- 
timer, great  grandson  of  Lionel,  third  son  of  Edward 
III.,  when  Bolingbroke  succeeded  Richard  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 
Richard  III.  as  the  "  reign  "  of  Edward  V.  The  time 
was  occupied  by  Richard  Gloster  in  disposing  of  all 
obstacles  in  his  own  pathway  to  the  throne.  When 
Richard  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  Richmond,  last  of  the  Lancastrians,  was  summoned 
by  a  handful  of  barons,  who  still  hoped  better  things 
for  England  than  that  she  should  be  the  plaything  of  a 
bloody  tyrant,  and  the  final  struggle  of  the  Roses  was 
made  on  Bosworth  Field,  where  Richard  IH.  died,  and 
with  him  the  dynasty  which,  for  good  and  ill,  had  ruled 
England  for  many  generations. 


294:  HENRY  VII. 

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  still  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  Refor- 
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 
with  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 

terf erence  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  affairs  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  Roses  these 
checks  no  longer  served  as  restraints  upon  the  action 


296  THE  ENGLAND  OF  DESTINY. 

of  the  crown.  With  the  growth  of  the  Parliament  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. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

SOUECES    OF  SHAKESPEARE'S  HISTORY. 

Edward  Hall's  Chronicle,  1577 ;  reprinted  1809. 
Raphael  Holinshed's  Chronicle,  1577  ;  reprinted  1807. 
In  Holinshed  is  included  Sir  Thomas  More's  Life  of  Richard 

III.  (1557)  and  George  Cavendish's  Life  of  Wolsey,  written 

between  1554-57. 

Robert  Fabyan's  Chroniclet  1516  ;  reprinted  1801. 
John  Foxe's  Acts  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. 

MODERN  HISTORIES  REFERRED  TO. 

Bishop  Burnett's  History  of  the  Reformation. 

Hallam's  History  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Hume's  History  of  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  VEX). 

J.  A.  Froude's  Katharine  of  Aragon. 

SHAKESPEAREANA. 

T.  P.  Courtenay's  Commentaries  on  the  Historical  Plays.    2  vols. 
London,  1840. 


298  BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

Biijliop  Wordsworth's  Notes  on  the  Historical  Plays.  3  vols. 
London  and  Edinburgh,  1883.  (These  Notes  are  seldom  ori- 
ginal, but  compiled  from  various  sources.) 

Professor  Henry  Heed's  Lectures  on  English  History.  Philadel- 
phia, 1856. 

Wrn.  J.  Eolfe'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. 

Joseph  Hunter's  New  Illustrations  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. 

Ulrici's  Shakespeare's  Dramatic  Art.     Bohn  Library. 

Gervinus's  Commentaries  on  Shakespeare,  translated  by  F.  Bun- 
nett.  New  York,  1883. 

A.  W.  Schlegel's  Dramatic  Literature.     Bohn  Library. 

Coleridge's  Notes  and  Lectures  on  Shakespeare.      Bohn  Library. 

Win.  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   HISTOKIES. 

Gairdner's  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  H. 

ON  THE  DATE  OP  THE  AUTHORSHIP  OP  HENRY 

THE  date  of  Shakespeare's  workmanship  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  CRANMEKS  PROPHECY. 

is  put  into  the  mouth  of  Cranmer  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.1 

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  EVIDENCE  OF  THE  PLAY.        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 
afforded  by  the  whole  play,  and  the  external  circum- 
stances which  must  have  had  an  important  influence  in 
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.1 

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.5 

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  in  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.  3  Act  III. ,  Scene  2. 


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  in  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 


CONTEMPORARY  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  VILE."  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  VIIL,  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  Rowley, 
entitled,  '  When  you  See  Me  You  Know  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 
authorship,  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  PLAT.  305 

play  of  Henry  VIII.  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 
VHI.  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. 


B  ^  a  « 


B 
fc- 


APPENDIX  IV. 

ON  THE  GENEALOGY  AND  CONNECTIONS  OP  THE  HOUSES 
OF  YORK  AND  LANCASTER. 

FOR  the  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.1  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,  William  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.,"  "Bich- 
ard  in.,"  and  "  Henry  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  inaccuracies  only,  of  what 

1  Appendix  III. 


308  SHAKESPEARE'S  GENEALOGY. 

the  above  table  contains.  It  is  from  a  conversation 
between  Richard  (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."  1 

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,  Duke  of  Clarence  ;  next  to  whom 
Was  John  of  Gaunt,  the  Duke  of  Lancaster  ;• 
The  fifth  was  Edward  Langley,  Duke  of  York  ; 
The  sixth  was  Thomas  of  Woodstock,  Duke  of 

Gloucester ; 2 

William  of  Windsor  was  the  seventh  and  last. 
Edward,  the  Black  Prince,  died  before  his  father, 
And  left  behind  him  Richard,  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  Richard  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  Richard  the  First's  son's  heir  being  dead 
The  issue  of  the  next  son  shquld  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  2. 

2  The  poet  reverses  the  actual  order  of  the  last  two  namee. 


RIVAL  CLAIMS  OF  THE  HOUSES.  309 

"Who  married  Edmund  Mortimer,  Earl  of  March. 
Edmund  had  issue,  Roger,  Earl  of  March ; 
Boger  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,1 
Who  kept  him  in  captivity  till  he  died.1 
But  to  the  rest. 

York.  His  eldest  sister,  Anne, 

My  mother,  being  heir  unto  the  crown, 
Married  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  ? 
Henry  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  forth  the  rival  claims  of  the  Yorkists 
and  Lancastrians,  in  the  settling  of  which  the  Wars  of 
the  Eoses  were  invoked. 

»  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. 

2  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 
Euthven. 


INDEX. 


AGINCOURT,  battle  of,  the  central 
incident  of  Henry  V.,  135  ;  scenes 
before  the  battle,  156;  an  accident, 
158. 

Anachronisms  of  Shakespeare,  4,  12, 
23,  42,  201, 261. 

Anglo  Saxon,  identity  of,  with  Nor- 
man conquerors,  20,  21,  295;  the 
race  of  destiny,  4,  21. 

Anne,  the  Lady  Neville,  courted  by 
Gloster,  212,  232 ;  explanation  of 
consent  to  marriage  with  Gloster, 
213;  coronation,  229,  230;  death, 
234  ;  sorrows  of,  238. 

Appendix  I.,  bibliography,  297-8. 

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,  25,  27 ;  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,  LORD,  definition  of  the  his- 
torical drama,  3. 


Barnet,  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,  236, 
237. 

Buckingham,  Duke  of  (in  Henry 
VI.),  opposed  to  the  king's  party, 
185. 

Buckingham,  Duke  of  (in  Richard 
m.),  conspiracy  with  Gloster,  223  ; 
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,  S49 ; 
popular  feeling  with,  250 ;  a  vic- 
tim of  Wolsey,  250;  farewell  speech 
and  prophecy,  251. 


312 


INDEX. 


Bullen,  Anne,  a  believer  in  the 
reformed  doctrines,  260,  288; 
crowned  at  Westminster,  258,  264  ; 
Shakespeare's  portrait  of,  264 ;  at 
the  masque  in  Wolsey's  house,  265, 
280 ;  Mrs.  Jameson's  comment  on, 
266 ;  sincerity  of,  267 ;  character 
of,  266 ;  after  guilt  or  innocence 
of,  273. 

Bulwer  Lytton's  novel,  Last  of  the 
Barons,  on  Edward  IV.,  220. 

Burnet,  Bishop,  History  of  the  Re- 
formation, quoted  on  Wolsey's  in- 
fluence with  the  king,  263. 

Bushy,  Bagot,  etc.,  63. 

CADE,  JACK,  character  of,  in  dispute, 
192  ;  connection  with  Wars  of  the 
Roses,  192 ;  temporary  success  of 
the  rebellion  of,  193 ;  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,  82, 
95. 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  on  the  England  of 
1200,  12. 

Cavendish,  George,  author  of  a  Life 
of  Wolsey,  241,  247. 

Cavendish,  Thomas,  4. 

Cervantes,  travesty  of  chivalry  in 
Don  Quixote,  125. 

Charles  of  Spain,  connection  with 
the  divorce  of  Katharine,  255,  256. 

Charles  VII.  of  France,  proclaims 
himself  king,  172 ;  begins  to  drive 
out  the  English,  173 ;  crowned  by 
Joan  of  Arc  at  Rheims,  176. 

Chatillon,the  French  ambassador,25. 

Chaucer,  Geoffrey,  60,  89. 

Chivalry,  decay  of,  in  14th  century, 
124  ;  Franco-;  Sacchetti  on,  125 ; 
Falstaff,  a  type  of  pseudo-,  124. 


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.,  132;  of  Henry 
VI.,  167;  of  Edward  IV.,  Edward 
V.,  and  Richard  HI.,  205  ;  of  Hen- 
ry VII.,  242  ;  of  Henry  VIII.,  243. 

Church  of  England,  autonomy  of,  as- 
serted by  King  John,  35;  in  Henry 
V.'s  reign,  139, 140, 142  ;  in  Shake- 
speare's day,  253. 

Clarence,  Duke  of,  death  and  attain- 
der, 211 ;  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,  189. 

Coleridge's  comment  on  Shakespeare 
and  Mil  ton,  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,  123 ;  of  Henry  V., 
147, 148, 153. 

Commons,  English,  growing  power 
of,  89 ;  assist  Henry  IV.  against 
the  nobles,  96;  in  Henry  I  V.'s 
reign,  101 ;  of  Kent,  complaints 
in  Cade's  rebellion,  192;  increas- 
ing intelligence  through  the  spread 
of  literature,  240 ;  in  Henry  VII.'s 
reign,  294. 

Compact,  the  broken,  of  Henry  IV. 
with  the  rebels,  114. 

Constance,  the  Lady,  denounces  the 
treaty  of  John  and  Philip,  33 ; 
character  of,  52 ;  rivalry  with 
Elinor,  52. 


INDEX. 


313 


Constance,  council  of,  139. 

Courtenay's,  Thos.,  Peregrine  Com- 
mentaries, 2,  52,  143,  218,  263,  279. 

Cranmer,  Archbishop,  prophecy  oi 
the  England  of  Elizabeth  and 
James,  5,  300;  opinion  of,  that 
the  divorce  might  be  granted  apart 
from  Rome,  26o  ;  dissolves  Kath- 
arine's marriage  with  Henry,  263 
typical  representative  of  the  new 
faith,  288;  arraigned  for  heresy, 
288;  godfather  of  Elizabeth,  289. 

Cromwell,  Oliver,  26. 

Crusades  in  the  14th  century,  121 ; 
Gibbon's  estimate  of  Henry  IV.  's 
sincerity,  122. 

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,  256  ; 
popular  judgment  of  Henry's  sin- 
cerity, 257;  Wolsey's  real  policy 
concerting,  259,  281  ;  Henry's 
share  in  it,  262  ;  pronounced  by 
Cranmer,  263. 

Douglass,  Earl  of,  alliance  with  the 
Percys,  102. 

Drake,  Sir  Francis,  4. 


EDWABD  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 ; 
character  of,  198,  220  ;  marriage 
of,  199  ;  dethroned  by  Warwick, 
200 ;  regains  the  crown,  200 ; 
reigns  in  peace  after  the  civil  wars, 
211;  parties  at  the  court  of ,  215; 
grief  over  the  death  of  his  brother 
Clarence,  214;  reconciles  court 
factions  at  his  death-bed,  219 ;  at- 


tacks upon  the  character  of,  224, 
225 ;  summary  of  reign,  293. 

Edward  V.,  10  ;  chronology  of,  205  ; 
preparations  for  coronation  of,  220 ; 
peers  swear  loyalty  to,  222 ;  lodged 
in  the  Tower  awaiting  coronation, 
222  ;  imprisoned,  229  ;  disappears 
from  history,  233;  summary  of 
reign,  10,  293. 

Elizabeth,  Queen  of  Edward  IV.; 
nobles  resent  her  marriage,  215 ;  ad- 
vance of  her  family  to  power,  215  ; 
resents  the  taunts  of  her  enemies, 
216  ;  friends  of,  arrested,  221 ;  flies 
to  sanctuary,  222;  plea  for  tho 
young  princes,  230;  hoodwinks 
Richard  III.,  235  ;  summary  of 
character,  238. 

Elizabeth,  the  Virgin  Queen,  her 
struggle  with  the  papacy,  36; 
baptism  of,  247,  289;  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,  253;  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  France,  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  VL'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. 

?ABYAN,  the  chronicler,  quoted,  63, 

225. 


314 


INDEX. 


Falconbridge,  Philip,  estimate  of  the 
faith  of  kings,  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,  126 ;  reproved  by 
Henry  V.,  128 ;  death  of,  130, 134 ; 
type  of  the  youth  of  Henry  V., 
129. 

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,  204. 

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,  172;  alli- 
ance of  Burgundy  with  English, 
172 ;  alliance  broken,  180 ;  loss  of 
the  French  conquests,  181 ;  Heine's 
estimate  of  the,  164 ;  harm  of,  to 
England,  181. 

Froude's  apology  for  Henry  VIH. 
commented  upon,  254,  273. 

GAUNT,  JOHN  OF,  apostrophe  to 
England,  14. 

Ghosts,  in  Richard  III.,  236. 

Gibbon's  estimate  of  Henry  IV. 's 
sincerity,  122. 

Gilbert,  Humphrey,  4. 

Glendower,  Owen,  94 ;  character  of, 
102,  113. 

Gloster  (Richard),  Shakespeare's 
portrait  of,  10;  genesis  of  ambi- 
tious schemes  of,  202 ;  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,  295. 

HAL,  PKINCE,  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,  126, 
127 ;  transformation  of  character, 
128,  129  ;  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,  223  ; 
executed,  224. 

Hawkins,  Francis,  4. 

Heine's  criticism  of  Dr.  Johnson, 
269  ;  on  the  historical  plays,  3  ;  on 
the  English  motive  in  the  French 
wars,  164. 

Henry  II.,  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,  92 ;  in- 
tention of  making  a  pilgrimage, 
93,  117, 121 ;  tmubledreigri i  of,  94  ; 
attempted  reforms  of,  95,  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  conspir- 
aey~against  him,  10T,~T02;  It>7; 
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  hia 
own  usurpation,  120 ;  summary  of 
reign,  9,  123,  292 ;  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,  130 ;  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  invasion, 
143 ;  insulting  treatment  of  his 
embassy,  145  ;  punishes  a  conspir- 
acy against  the  throne,  147 ;  lays 
siege  to  Harfleur,  151 ;  march  to 
Calais,  152 ;  courage  under  disas- 
trous conditions,  153, 156  ;  the  ac- 
cidental battle  and  victory  of 
Agincourt,  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, 
292. 

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  France,  172; 
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  H.,  186 ;  help- 
lessness in  the  York  rising,  1%; 
Parliament  excludes  his  son,  and 
recognizes  the  York  claim,  198; 
flies  from  defeat,  198;  restored 
temporarily  to  the  throne  by  War- 
wick, 200  ;  final  dethronement  of, 
200 ;  death  of,  202 ;  summary  of 
reign,  9,  292. 

Henry  VH.,  13 ;  chronology  of,  242  ; 
crowned  on  the  battle-field,  237; 
marries  Elizabeth  of  York,  238 ; 
accession  of,  marks  a  significant 
epoch,  245,  294  ;  summary  of  reign, 
294  ;  vide  also  Richmond. 

Henry  VIII.,  importance  of  date 
of  play  as  affecting  its  historical 
treatment,  Appendix,  page  299; 
chronology,  243 ;  sources  of,  241, 
247,  2t59  ;  date  of,  considered,  245  ; 
Appendix,  page  299 ;  character 
of  Henry  on  his  accession,  245 ; 
change  in,  when  play  begins,  246 ; 
writes  book  against  Luther,  247; 
repudiates  Wolsey's  oppression  of 
the  commons,  252;  Shakespeare's 
refining  of  his  character,  252,  253  ; 
domestic  history  of,  254  ;  political 
complications  in  the  divorce  of, 
255,  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  ;  affected  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,  2;  Shakespeare's 
object  in  writing,  2,  6 ;  moral  of, 
7,  295 ;  Schlegel  on  the  unity  of, 
7 ;  contents  of,  8,  291 ;  patriotic 
and  religious  bias  of,  13,  158,  175  ; 
contribution  of,  to  philosophy  of 
history,  31  ;  gap  between  King 
John  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,  2,  3,  6,  182,  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,  213,  269,  304. 

Hume's  description  of  the  Interdict, 
38. 

Huss,  John,  139. 

INNOCENT  III,  Pope.  Quarrel  with 
King  John,  33  ;  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  ;  Hurne  on,  38. 


Ireland,  conquest  of,  59  ;  war  with, 
in  reign  of  Richard  II.,  62,  69. 

Isabel,  Queen  of  Richard  II.  Mis- 
taken age  of,  60  ;  dramatic  impor- 
tance of,  60. 


JAMES  I.,  4,  5,  289,  290,  300,  303. 

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,  12;  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,  24 ;  events  preceding 
the  reign  of,  19-22  ;  alleged  usur- 
pation of,  25;  legal  rights  t- 
the  throne,  26,  27;  treaty  with 
France,  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,  43  ;  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. 

KATHARINE,  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, 268  ;  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,  281 ;  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  Richard 
Gloster  king,  228. 

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, 
34 ;  nomination  of,  rejected  by 
King  John,  34  ;  received  as  Arch- 
bishop by  John,  42 ;  joins  the 


barons  to  wrest  Magna  Charta  from 
John,  46;  joins  barons  against 
Pope  and  King,  46. 

Lewis,  Dauphin  of  France,  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  France,  47. 

Literature,  dawn  of  English,  90; 
progress  in  Richard  IIL'a  reign, 
239. 

MACBETH,  8. 

Magna  Charta,  8  ;  not  mentioned  in 
play  of  King  John,  12, 23 ;  occasion 
of,  43  ;  granted  by  King  John,  43 ; 
nullified  by  the  king,  44 ;  influence 
of,  in  Edward  Ill's  reign,  59. 

Manuel,  Emperor  (Greek),  visit  to 
England  in  Henry  IV. 's  reign,  122. 

Margaret  of  Anjou,  9;  marriage 
with  Henry  VI.,  186;  bet  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 ,  2.".8 ;  reappearance  by  poetic 
license  in  reign  of  Richard  III., 
201,  216 ;  this  anachronism  inter- 
prets history,  216 ;  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. 

Mortimer,  Edmund,  rightful  heir 
after  Richard  II.,  86,  97,  309; 
confusion  with  uncle  of 


318 


INDEX. 


name,  97;  Richard  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  Richard  II.,  66; 
death  of,  67. 

NASH,  THOMAS  (the  poet),  quoted  on 
the  historical  drama,  6,  182. 

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,  85  ;  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 ret,  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,  42. 

Pierce,  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,  291 ;  de- 
cline of,  58,  206  ;  seeds  of  dissolu- 
tion sown,  9,  87,  292. 

Primogeniture,  no  strict  law  of,  in 
England,  26. 

Printing,  influence  of,  in  England's 
renaissance,  90  ;Caxton  encouraged 
by  the  Woodvilles,  239 ;  the  art 
of,  encouraged  by  Richard  III., 
239. 

RALEIGH,  SIR  WALTER,  4. 

Reed,  Professor  Henry,  2. 

Reformation,  English,  12  ;  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,  247,  253,  282,  286, 
288 ;  value  of  the  play  of  Henry 
VIII.  in  studying  the  history  of, 
261 ;  connection  of,  with  downfall 
of  Wolsey,  282;  dawn  of,  286; 
Henry  VIII. 's  affairs,  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,  62 ;  farms  out  the  realm, 
63 ;  analysis  of  the  play,  64  ;  BUS- 


INDEX. 


319 


pected  of  Gloucester's  murder,  64  ; 
refuses  to  allow  the  duel  at  Coven- 
try to  proceed,  66  ;  relations  with 
Mowbray  and  Bolingbroke,  66 ; 
connection  of  these  events  with 
the  Wars  of  the  Roses,  67  ;  confis- 
cates Bolingbroke'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,  291. 

Richard  ILL ,  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,  207  ; 
Shakespeare's  portrait  from  the 
chronicles,  204, 208 ;  political  situ- 
ation when  the  play  opens,  209 ; 
courts  Anne  Neville,  212,  232  ;  ob- 
ject of  the  marriage,  214 ;  makes 
capital  out  of  factional  quarrels  of 
the  court,  215 ;  soliloquy  on  his 
own  hypocrisy,  218;  journeys  to 
London  ostensibly  to  crown  Ed- 
ward V.,  220;  ewears  loyalty  to, 
and  is  appointed  protector  of,  the 
king,  222  ;  plots  against  Hastings 
and  others  who  stand  in  his  way, 
223  ;  pretends  to  refuse  the  crown, 
227 ;  his  scruples  overcome,  227 ; 
his  title  affirmed  by  Parliament, 
227 ;  crowned  with  Anne  as  queen, 
230 ;  study  of  his  ambitious  ca- 
reer, 230 ;  defection  anil  death  of 


Buckingham,  233;  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  III.,  210,  228 ;  predic- 
tions of  Henry  VI.  concerning, 
228 ;  genealogy,  234  ;  driven  back 
from  first  invasion,  234 ;  lands  in 
England,  236 ;  defeats  Richard  III. 
at  Bosworth  Field,  237 ;  crowned 
on  the  battle-field  as  Henry  VII., 
237 ;  title  ratified  by  Parliament, 
238,  294.  Vide,  also,  Henry  VII. 

Rivers,  Lord,  connection  with  litera- 
ture in  Richard  in.,  239. 

Rowley,  Samuel,  authorship  of 
"  Troublesome  Raigne,"  ~4  ;  auth- 
orship of  a  chronicle  play  of  Henry 
VIII.,  804. 

SACCHETTI,  FRANCO,  quoted  on  the 
decay  of  chivalry,  125. 

Salic  Law,  141,  143. 

Say,  Lord,  killed  in  Cade's  rebellion, 
193, 195. 

Schlegel's  note  on  the  unity  of  the 
historical  plays,  7 ;  on  anachron- 
isms, 261. 

Scotland,  independence  won,  59; 
border  troubles  with  England,  94 . 
fear  of  invasion  from  (ha  Henry 
V.),  143. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  his  delineation  of 
Margaret  of  Anjou,  201. 

Shakespeare  contributions  to  Eng- 
lish history,  3,  6,  7,  31,  291  ;  criti- 
cism, 1 ;  as  an  historical  teacher, 
12,  291 ;  patriotic  and  religious 
bias  of,  7  ;  mob  judgment  of  Joan 
of  Arc,  175, 178 ;  mob  judgment  of 


320 


INDEX. 


Margaret  of    Anjou,   201  ;    tones 
down  character  of  Henry  VIII. , 

252,  254,  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,  159. 

Skottowe,  Augustine,  on  Richard  II., 
60;  on  the  authorship  of  Henry 
VIII.,  269. 

Socialism  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
192;  absurd  side  exploited  by 
Shakespeare,  193. 

Soliloquies,  use  of,  in  Richard  III., 
208,  237. 

Somerset,  Duke  of  (in  Henry  VI.), 
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  Anjou,  191 ;  ban- 
ished and  slain,  192. 

TARBES,  Bishop  of,  first  raises  ques- 
tion of  the  validity  of  Henry's 
marriage  with  Katharine,  256. 

Taxation,  abuse  of,  in  reign  of  Henry 
VIII.,  251 ;  Katharine's  plea  for 
abatement  of,  251  ;  Henry  dis- 
avows Wolsey's  policy  concerning, 
252. 

Tewkesbury,  battle  of,  200. 

Towton,  battle  of,  198. 

Troublesome  Raigne,  foundation 
play  of  King  John,  16,  24,  25,  29, 
32,  37,  44,  48  ;  anti-papal  spirit  of, 
32,  49. 


Troyes,  treaty  of,  161. 
Tyler,  Wat,  60,  75. 

ULRICI,  the  commentator,  on  the 
date  of  Henry  VIII.,  302. 

WAKEFIELD,  battle  of,  198. 

Wales,  conquest  of,  in  Edward  I.,  58. 

Wars  of  the  Roses,  9  ;  indirect  origin 
of,  68,  183,  292  ;  the  temple  garden 
story,  183 ;  genealogy  of  the  con- 
testing houses,  183 ;  appendix,  p. 
307 ;  parties  to  the  strife,  184, 197  ; 
final  struggle,  237,  238,  293  ;  J.  H. 
Green's  comment,  295. 

Warwick,  Earl  of,  the  king  maker, 
9 ;  embraces  the  Yorkist  cause, 
184 ;  great  political  power  of,  187  ; 
visits  France  on  behalf  of  Edward 
IV. ,  199  ;  anger  at  Edward's  slight- 
ing treatment,  200 ;  alliance  with 
Margaret  and  Henry,  200;  un- 
seats Edward  and  replaces  Henry 
on  the  throne,  200  ;  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  France,  44. 

Wolsey,  Cardinal,  popular  suspicion 
of,  248  ;  importance  of  dramatic 
portrait  of,  248  ;  oppression  of  the 
Commons,  252 ;  candidate  for  the 
papacy,  255,  256,  259 ;  suspected  of 
contriving  the  divorce,  256 ;  real 
policy  concerning  the  divorce,  259, 
285  ;  disturbed  by  king's  affection 
for  Anne  Boleyn,  260;  shuffling 
and  disingenuous  conduct,  260,  261, 
285  ;  humble  origin  of,  277  ;  rapid 
growth  in  favor,  277  ;  ability  and 
influence  with  Henry,  278  ;  noble 
plea  against  detractions,  279; 


INDEX. 


321 


lighter  phases  of  his  character, 
279;  relations  with  Katharine, 
381 ;  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. 


YOKE,  Duke  of  (in  Richard  II.), 
made  regent,  70 ;  feeble  character, 
72 ;  denounces  the  treason  of  his 
son,  83. 

York,  Duke  of  (in  Henry  VI.  ),founds 
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. 


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