permanent importance. The grant was confirmed in 1599; and the reason for the confirmation of arms is stated with minute particularity in the exemplification' then granted by Sir William Dethick and the great Camden :- Know ye that in all nations and kingdoms the record and remembrance of the valiant facts and virtuous dispositions of worthy men have been known and divulged by certain shields of arms and tokens of chivalry; the grant and testimony whereof appertaineth unto us, by virtue of our offices from the queen's most excellent majesty and her highness' most noble and victorious progenitors: wherefore, being solicited, and by credible report informed that John Shakspere, now of Stratford-upon-Avon, in the county of Warwick, gent., whose parent and great-grandfather, late antecessor, for his faithful and ap. proved service to the late most prudent prince King Henry VII. of famous memory, was advanced and rewarded with lands and tenements, given to him in these parts of Warwickshire, where they have continued by some descents in good reputation and credit,' &c., &c. It is not difficult to imagine the youthful Shakspere sitting at his mother's feet, to listen to the tale of his antecessor's' prowess; or to picture the boy led by his father over the field of Bosworth,-to be shown the great morass which lay between both armies,-and Radmoor Plain, where the battle began,-and Dickon's Nook, where the tyrant harangued his army,—and the village of Dadlington, where the graves of the slain still indented the ground. Here was the scene of his antecessor's faithful and approved service.' In the humble house of Shakspere's boyhood there was, in all probability, to be found a thick squat folio volume, then some thirty years printed, in which might be read, 'what misery, what murder, and what execrable plagues this famous region hath suffered by the division and dissension of the renowned houses of Lancaster and York.' This, to the generation of Shakspere's boyhood, was not a tale buried in the dust of ages; it was one whose traditions were familiar to the humblest of the land, whilst the memory of its bitter hatreds still ruffled the spirits of the highest. For what nobleman liveth at this day, or what gentleman of any ancient stock or progeny is clear, whose lineage hath not been infested and plagued with this unnatural division?' In that old volume from which we quote, 'the names of the histories contained' are thus set forth -I. The Unquiet Time of King Henry the Fourth. II. 'The Victorious Acts of King Henry the Fifth.' III. The Troublous Season of King Henry the Sixth.' IV. The Prosperous Reign of King Edward the Fourth.' V.The Pitiful Life of King Edward the Fifth.' VI. The Tragical Doings of King Richard the Third.' VII. The Politic Governance of King Henry the Seventh. VIII. The Triumphant King Henry the Eighth." This book was Hall's Chronicle.'Introduction to Histories, p. lxxx.

6

It was thus, doubtless, that from early youth his mind dwelt upon this period of our history; and thus in eight of the noblest historical dramas has he given us the rise and fall of the house of Lancaster, and closely following on that, the fall of the proud line of Plantagenet.

To estimate the grandeur, but above all, the moral power of these dramas, they should be read, not one by one, or at intervals; far less in disjointed order, but in regular succession, as though they were one finished work; for the eight are linked together by numerous and important incidents, each telling on the other, and the whole series forms one grand epic of retributive justice.

Mr. Knight, with whose estimates of each play we have generally been much pleased, points out, indeed, the close connexion, the oneness rather, of the three plays of Henry the Sixth and Richard the Third; but it is the strife of Bolingbroke and the second Richard that is the cause, although fifty years had passed away, of the heart-burnings, and discontents, and intrigues which are exhibited throughout the three plays of Henry the Sixth. View these latter, without reference to the earlier, and we marvel why a king so just, so mild, so conscientious, should suffer so grievously during his whole reign, and at length meet a violent death. For the reason of this, we must turn to Richard the Second,' and in Bolingbroke's violent seizure of his crown, and connivance, if not actual participation in his murder, the mystery of that innocent king's sufferings is made clear. The iniquity of Bolingbroke is visited not on him, or on his immediate successor-but on 'the third and fourth generation;' and to work out this one principle, God's revenge against murderers,' is the object which is sternly kept in view throughout.

This fine dramatic epic commences with Richard in the fulness of a power, which he knew not how to use, banishing his cousin Bolingbroke, and refusing to 'old John of Gaunt, time'honored Lancaster,' the boon of once again seeing his son. The death of John of Gaunt, and the seizure of his estates, follow, and we feel that Bolingbroke is justified in his first step. But popular discontent runs high against the king, and Bolingbroke, who on his landing had solemnly sworn that he had returned but to claim his hereditary possessions, sees the crown within his grasp, and hastens to clutch it. From henceforward he is in the ascendant,-and the deposition, and imprisonment, and death of Richard follow. But even before the last act of the tragedy is completed, we perceived the difficulties and vexations with which Bolingbroke is surrounded, and in his anxious inquiry after his son,-that son that is to be his successor, but who is as dissolute as desperate,' we are led to expect coming troubles.

The next portion of this fine poem opens with the lamentation of the new king that 'intestine broils' have not suffered him to fulfil his intention of journeying

As far as to the sepulchre of Christ ;'

and then his sorrow at the continued profligacy of his son, brings to remembrance the opposite character of young Hotspur, and his grief and indignation break out in these passionate lines

'Oh that it could be proved
That some night tripping faery had exchanged
In cradle clothes our children where they lay,
And called mine Percy, his Plantagenet!'

The next scene shows us this unworthy son carousing with his profligate companions at the Boar's Head, and this introduces to our contemplation one of the finest historical characters, we think, in all Shakspere's plays.

The question whether Henry the Fifth was actually the profligate youth which Shakspere has represented, has been fiercely contested up to the present moment; and as Sir Roger De Coverly remarked on another subject, 'so much may be said on 'both sides,' that we really find it difficult to decide upon it. All the authorities with which Shakspere was conversant, agree in representing him as turbulent, profligate, and low-minded; but he, with that deep and minute insight into character which beyond every other dramatist he possessed, while exhibiting him as profligate, has elevated him in mental power far above his carousing associates; for Shakspere well knew that however the moral character might be changed, the mental could not; and that no vulgar mind could conceive or embody sentiments so noble as those which the chivalrous king in the play that bears his name was to put forth. In the selection of Hal's' companions, Shakspere has shown great skill. They are all reckless, bent on dangerous enterprises, and thus the excitement their society produces, is a pleasant contrast in the eyes of the young prince to the gloom and stately formality of his father's court. But the moral power of Shakspere is equally shown, for who among them all possesses a single quality to demand respect? The amiable villains, the high-minded housebreakersthe highwaymen who, but for crimes which they are forced to commit, stand on such high vantage ground, above sober, quiet church-going people-those fictitious monsters with which our modern literature teems, find no favor with Shakspere. Poins, Peto, Bardolph, Pistol,-Falstaff himself, despite his inimitable wit, and apparent bonhommie, what are they all, but mean, selfish, low-minded profligates ;-characters which it is as impossible that any one reader should desire to imitate as that he should wish to possess Bardolph's red nose, or Falstaff's 'mountain ' of flesh.'

But although the prince is for a season to be obscured by these 'envious clouds,' he is ere long to shine forth; and by what slow

and judicious measures is his conversion effected. The praises which his father bestows upon Hotspur, though they irritate him, awaken nobler feelings in his mind; and though in the next scene we find Falstaff regaining his ascendancy over him, still we perceive that there is a chord in his heart that can vibrate to noble emotions. The approach of actual warfare, the reality of that excitement, the shadow of which he had so long pursued, first arouses him, and in his chivalrous defiance of Hotspur, the first lineaments of the hero of Azincour may be traced. The battle of Shrewsbury finely brings out the antagonist characters of young gallant Hal;' and the commonplace, shrewd, and worldly fat knight;' and when in the heat of battle the prince asks

What, standst thou idle here? lend me thy sword;

Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff

Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies,

Whose deaths are unavenged,'—

and Falstaff replies by bragging laughingly of his valor, and giving the bottle of sack instead of his pistol, when the prince flings it back to him, exclaiming,

'What! is't a time to jest and dally now ?'

we feel that the link that bound the prince to him is snapt for ever there is no common feeling between them. And thus, at the close, how finely does young Henry lament over the 'brave 'Percy'

This earth which bears thee dead,

Bears not alive so bold a gentleman,

Adieu, and take with thee thy praise to heaven!
Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave,
But not remembered in thine epitaph.'

But the fat knight lies near, counterfeiting death; 'Poor Jack, 'farewell,' says the prince, his pity mingling with his contempt,

'I could have better spared a better man ;-
Oh! I should have a heavy miss of thee,

If I were much in love with vanity.'

Old habits and old associates are not, however, easily broken off, and this Shakspere well knew; and thus we find in the following play, that the prince has again been inveigled into companionship with his former friends. But we perceive a change has passed over him. He jests with Poins, but it is forced jesting; I could be sad, and sad indeed too,' he says; and though for the last time he visits the Boar's Head, still it

is with a scarcely overcome reluctance, and he feels himself much to blame,

Thus idly to profane the precious time,'

and his jests with Falstaff are mixed with sarcasms.

The death-bed of that father who had so unjustly won the crown, completes the change. The solemn presence of a dying man; his melancholy foreboding that

The fifth Harry from curbed license plucks

The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog
Shall flesh his teeth in every innocent.'

His sad recollections of the 'bye-paths and indirect crooked 'ways,' by which he obtained the crown, and his earnest desires that his penitent son may wear it in 'more fairer sort,' all combine to bow down the wild but most susceptible spirit of the prince, and to bring his follies to his bitter remembrance; and when he leads forth his father to that 'Jerusalem chamber' where he is to die, we feel that his conversion is completed.' Then,

'Consideration like an angel came

And whipt the offending Adam out of him.'

How finely does Henry, now no longer the 'madcap prince,' but the king, appear in the fifth act :-his noble address to the lord chief justice.

You did commit me :

For which I do commit into your hand

The unstained sword that you have used,

With this remembrance-that you use the same to bear
With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit,

As you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand.'

All the commentators (and Mr. Knight seems more than half inclined to follow them) consider that the king deals hardly with his former companions. For this severity we would only quote the first couplet of some of the finest lines Shakspere ever

wrote.

'He who the sword of heaven will bear,
Must be as holy, as severe.'

He must, therefore, stand apart from all imagined connivance with those whose vices he abhors; and thus, unless the king had publicly disclaimed Falstaff and his companions, their matchless cunning would have persuaded the world that he still secretly patronized them, and the moral exhibited in the king's changed character would have been incomplete. But he does