The play opens with a quarrel in the street of Hereford between Lord Herbert, Lord Powis, and their followers; which is put down by the judges, who are holding the assize in the town. The commencement of the conflict, in which blood was shed, is thus described :

"Lord Powis detracted from the power of Rome,

an unjust sentence-as unjust as that pro- | time familiar, and presented Sir John Oldnounced by the worthy writer of the letter castle upon the stage, in a manner that would in the Bodleian Library, that the wittiest of be agreeable to “personages descended from all Shakspere's creations was "a buffoon," his title," and to the great body of the and that he might be confounded with the people “who ought to have him in honourfighting knight whose chief distinction was able memory." Whether the reputation of the garter on his leg. Fastolf was a respect- Oldcastle derived much benefit from their able personage no doubt in his day, but not labours remains to be seen. "sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant, being, as he is, old Jack Falstaff." It appears to us, therefore, that, in the same manner as the "young gentle lady" and Dr. Richard James, somewhat ignorantly as we think, confounded Fastolf and Falstaff, so they erred in a similar way by believing that "in Shakspere's first show of Harry the Fifth the person with which he undertook to play a buffoon was not Falstaff, but Sir John Oldcastle." Fuller, in his 'Worthies,' speaking of Sir John Falstaff, has the same complaint, as we have seen, against “stage-poets." Now, admitting what appears possible, that Shakspere in his 'Henry IV.' originally had the name of Oldcastle where we now find that of Falstaff, is it likely that he could have meant the champion of the Reformation of Wickliff, who was cruelly put to death for heresy in the fourth year of Henry V., to have been the boon companion of the youthful prince; and who, before the king went to the French wars, died quietly in his bed, “e'en at the turning of the tide ?" And yet there is little doubt that, when Shakspere adopted a name familiar to the stage, he naturally raised up this species of absurd misconception, which had the remarkable fate of being succeeded by a mistake still more absurd, that Falstaff and Fastolf were one and the same. It is, however, extremely probable that there were other plays in which the character of Sir John Oldcastle was presented historically, and falsely presented; that from this circumstance Shakspere saw the necessity of substituting another name for Oldcastle, and of making the declaration " Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is not the man ;" and that the authors of the play before us, "The First Part of Sir John Oldcastle,' adopted a subject with which the public mind was at that

Affirming Wickliff's doctrine to be true, And Rome's erroneous: hot reply was made By the Lord Herbert; they were traitors all That would maintain it. Powis answered, They were as true, as nòble, and as wise As ye; they would defend it with their lives; He nam❜d for instance, sir John Oldcastle, The Lord Cobham: Herbert replied again, He, thou, and all are traitors that so hold. The lie was given, the several factions drawn, And so enrag'd that we could not appease it." The second scene introduces us to the Bishop of Rochester, denouncing Lord Cobham (Oldcastle), as an heretic, to the Duke of Suffolk. The bishop is supported by Sir John of Wrotham, whose zeal is so boisterous as to receive the following rebuke from the Duke ::

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'Oh, but you must not swear; it ill becomes One of your coat to rap out bloody oaths." The king appears, to hear the complaint of the churchman; and he promises to send for Oldcastle "and school him privately." In the third scene we have Lord Cobham and an aged servant, and Lord Powis arrives in disguise, and is concealed by Cobham. In the second act we have a comic scene, amusing enough, but anything but original; a sumner arrives to cite Lord Cobham before the Ecclesiastical Court, and the old servant of the noble reformer makes the officer eat the citation. Nashe tells us in his 'Pierce Pennylesse' that he once saw Robert Greene "make

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an appȧritor eat his citation, wax and all, | play of high poetical power. The interview very handsomely served 'twixt two dishes." between Henry and his faithful friend and We have something like the same incident adherent; the anxiety of the reformer to in the play of the 'Pinner of Wakefield.' vindicate himself from disloyalty, whilst he The scene changes to London, where we have honestly supported his own opinions; the an assembly of rebels, who give out that natural desire of the king to resist innovaOldcastle will be their general. In the next tion, whilst he respected the virtues of the scene, which is probably the best sustained innovator,-points like these would have of the play, we have Henry and Lord Cobham been handled by Shakspere, or one imbued in conference:with his spirit, in a manner that would have

"K. Henry. "T is not enough, Lord Cobham, lived and abided in our memories. The

to submit ;

You must forsake your gross opinion.
The bishops find themselves much injured;
And though, for some good service you have
done,

We for our part are pleased to pardon you,
Yet they will not so soon be satisfied.

Cob. My gracious lord, unto your majesty,
Next unto my God, I do owe my life;
And what is mine, either by nature's gift,
Or fortune's bounty, all is at your service.
But for obedience to the pope of Rome,
I owe him none; nor shall his shaveling
priests,

That are in England, alter my belief.
If out of Holy Scripture they can prove
That I am in an error, I will yield,
And gladly take instruction at their hands:
But otherwise I do beseech your grace
My conscience may not be encroach'd upon.
K. Henry. We would be loth to press our
subjects' bodies,

Much less their souls, the dear redeemed
part

Of Him that is the ruler of us all :

Yet let me counsel you, that might command.
Do not presume to tempt them with ill words,
Nor suffer any meetings to be had
Within your house; but to the uttermost
Disperse the flocks of this new gathering sect.
Cob. My liege, if any breathe, that dares
come forth,

And say, my life in any of these points
Deserves the attainder of ignoble thoughts,
Here stand I, craving no remorse at all,

But even the utmost rigour may be shown." The Bishop of Rochester appears, and denounces Cobham for the contempt shown to his citation; the king reproves the bishop, and dismisses Oldcastle in safety. It is evident that the dramatic capabilities of such a scene furnish an occasion for the dis

lines that we have quoted, which are the best in the scene, furnish a sufficient proof that the subject was in feeble hands.

The third act opens to us the conspiracy of Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey. The conspirators meet Lord Cobham. The mode in which they introduce their purpose is spirited and dramatic. Cobham has invited them to his house, and promises them hunters' fare and a hunt. Cambridge thus replies, before he presents the paper which discloses the plot :

"Cam. Nay, but the stag which we desire to
strike,

Lives not in Cowling: if you will consent,
And go with us, we 'll bring you to a forest
Where runs a lusty herd; among the which
There is a stag superior to the rest,

A stately beast, that, when his fellows run,
He leads the race, and beats the sullen earth,
As though he scorn'd it with his trampling

hoofs;

Aloft he bears his head, and with his breast, Like a huge bulwark, counterchecks the wind:

And, when he standeth still, he stretcheth
forth

His proud ambitious neck, as if he meant
To wound the firmament with forked horns.
Cob. 'Tis pity such a goodly beast should
die.

Cam. Not so, sir John; for he is tyrannous,
And gores the other deer, and will not keep
Within the limits are appointed him.
Of late he's broke into a several,
Which doth belong to me, and there he spoils
Both corn and pasture. Two of his wild race,
Alike for stealth and covetous encroaching,
Already are removed; if he were dead,
I should not only be secure from hurt,
But with his body make a royal feast."

T

Cobham then dissembles, and asks

"Is not this a train laid to entrap my life?" They offer to swear fidelity; but he requires them only to subscribe the writing. The time and place of mecting are appointed, and they part. Cobham puts the paper in his pocket, and goes off to betray them to the king. The state-morality of the age of Elizabeth might perhaps have made this incident more palatable to an audience of that day than to ourselves; but we doubt whether Shakspere would have put this burthen upon the soul of one whom he wished to represent as a hero and a martyr. We have more scenes of the rebels ; followed by the scene which we have already noticed of the parson robbing the king. The same worthy divine is afterwards found in the king's camp, dicing with his majesty; and then the robbery is discovered, and the robber pardoned. The rebels who were in the field, headed by Sir Roger Acton, are routed. The Bishop of Rochester affirms that they were incited by Cobham, who arrives at the moment of the accusation to prove his loyalty by denouncing Scroop, Grey, and Cambridge. The king is satisfied; but subsequently the Bishop of Rochester seizes Cobham, and confines him in the Tower, from which he very soon escapes. With the exception of a scene in which Cambridge and the other conspirators are seized by the king, the whole of the fifth act is occupied by the wanderings of Cobham and his wife, their disguises and their escapes. The following scene is prettily imagined, and gracefully expressed:

Extremities admit no better choice,

And, were it not for thee, say froward time
Imposed a greater task, I would esteem it
As lightly as the wind that blows upon us :
But in thy sufferance I am doubly task'd;
Thou wast not wont to have the earth thy
stool,

Nor the moist dewy grass thy pillow, nor
Thy chamber to be the wide horizon.

L. Cob. How can it seem a trouble, having
you

A partner with me in the worst I feel?
No, gentle lord, your presence would give

ease

To death itself, should he now seize upon me.
[She produces some bread and cheese,
and a bottle.

Behold, what my foresight hath underta'en,
For fear we faint; they are but homely cates;
Yet, sauced with hunger, they may seem as
sweet

As greater dainties we were wont to taste.

Cob. Praise be to Him whose plenty sends
both this

And all things else our mortal bodies need!
Nor scorn we this poor feeding, nor the state
We now are in; for what is it on earth,
Nay, under heaven, continues at a stay?
Ebbs not the sea, when it hath overflow'd?
Follows not darkness when the day is gone?
And see we not sometimes the eye of heaven
Dimm'd with o'er-flying clouds? There's not
that work

Of careful nature or of cunning art,

How strong, how beauteous, or how rich it be, But falls in time to ruin. Here, gentle madam,

In this one draught I wash my sorrow down. [Drinks." The persecuted pair fall asleep; and, a mur

"Cob. Come, madam, happily escaped. Here dered body being found near them, they are

let us sit;

apprehended as the murderers, and conducted to trial. They are discharged through the discovery of the real murderer, and fly with Lord Powis into Wales.

It will be evident from this analysis that "The First Part of Sir John Oldcastle' is

entirely deficient in dramatic unity. Shakspere in representing a series of historical events did not of course attempt to sustain that unity of idea which we see so strikingly in his best tragedies and comedies. We have not one great action, but a succession of

actions; and yet, through his wonderful development of character, in which a real power of characterization, and his skill in grouping a series of events round one leading event, we have a principle upon which the mind can determinately rest, and rightly comprehend the whole dramatic movement. In the play before us there is no distinct relation between one scene and another. We forget the connection between Oldcastle and the events in which he is implicated; and, when he himself appears on the scene, the

poet would have luxuriated, is made subordinate to the hurry of the perplexed though monotonous movement of the story. Thoroughly to understand the surpassing power of Shakspere in the management of the historical drama, it might be desirable to compare 'King John,' or 'Richard II.,' or 'Richard III.,' or 'Henry VIII.,' with this play; but, after all, the things do not admit of comparison.

CHAPTER III.

THOMAS LORD CROMWELL.

THE first edition of this play was published in 1602, under the title of "The Chronicle History of Thomas Lord Cromwell.' No name or initials of an author appear in the titlepage. In 1613 appeared 'The true Chronicle Historie of the whole life and death of Thomas Lord Cromwell. As it hath beene sundry times publikely Acted by the Kings Majesties Seruants. Written by W. S.' In 1602 the registers of the Stationers' Company had the entry of 'A Booke called the Lyfe and Deathe of the Lord Cromwell, as yt was lately acted by the Lord Chamberleyn his servants.' It appears, therefore, that the play was originally performed, and continued to be performed, by the company in which Shakspere was a chief proprieter. Beyond the initials W. S. there is no external evidence whatever to attribute the play to the great dramatizer of English history.

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Schlegel, as we have seen, calls 'Sir John Oldcastle,' and 'Thomas Lord Cromwell,' 'biographical dramas and models in this species." We have no hesitation in affirming that a biographical drama, especially such a drama as "Thomas Lord Cromwell,' is essentially undramatic. 'Oldcastle' takes a portion only of the life of its hero; but 'Cromwell' gives us the story of the man from his boyhood to his execution. The resemblance which it bears to any play of Shakspere's is solely in the structure of the

title; and that parallel holds good only with regard to one play, ‘Lear,' according to its original title, the 'True Chronicle Historie of the Life and Death of King Lear and his three Daughters.' In the folio collection of 1623 we have indeed 'The Life and Death of King John,' 'The Life and Death of Richard II.,' 'The Life of King Henry V.,' 'The Life and Death of Richard III.,' and 'The Life of King Henry VIII.' So in the same edition we have 'The Life and Death of Julius Cæsar.' But our readers are perfectly aware that in all these dramas a very small portion of the life of the hero of each is included in the action. Shakspere knew his art too well to attempt to teach history dramatically by connecting a series of isolated events solely by their relation to a principal agent, without any other dependence. Nothing, for example, can be more complete in itself than the action of 'Richard II.,' or that of 'Henry V.,' of 'Richard III.,' and of Henry VIII.' We have in these pieces nearly all the condensation which pure tragedy requires. But in Thomas Lord Cromwell,' on the contrary, what Shakspere would have told in a few words, reserving himself for an exhibition of character in the more striking situations, is actually presented to us in a succession of scenes that have no relation to any action of deepening interest-chapter upon chapter which might have been very well spared, if

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one chapter, that of the elevation and fall of | usurer is hanged and the merchant is restored Cromwell, had occupied a space proportioned to competence. to its importance.