gallant Officer, the answer is just, and corresponds with the acknowledgment which had a little before been made, "that his day's service at Shrewsbury had gilded over his

night's exploit at Gads Hill.-You may thank the unquiet "time," says the Chief Justice, "for your quiet o'erposting of "that action"; agreeing with what Falstaff says in another place; Well, God be thanked for these Rebels, they offend "none but the virtuous; I laud them, I praise them.". Whether this be said in the true spirit of a Soldier or not, I do not determine; it is surely not in that of a mere Coward and Poltroon.

It will be needless to shew, which might be done from a variety of particulars, that Falstaff was known and had consideration at Court. Shallow cultivates him in the idea that a friend at Court is better than a penny in purse: Westmorland speaks to him in the tone of an equal: Upon Falstaff's telling him that he thought his lordship had been already at Shrewsbury, Westmorland replies, " Faith "Sir John, 'tis more than time that I were there, and you too; "the King I can tell you looks for us all; we must away "to night." "Tut," says Falstaff, "never fear me, I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream."—He desires, in another

all

place, of my lord John of Lancaster, "that when he goes

"to Court, he may stand in his good report." His intercourse and correspondence with both these lords seem easy and familiar. "Go," says he to the "Go," says he to the page, "bear this "to my Lord of Lancaster, this to the Prince, this to the Earl of Westmorland, and this (for he extended himself on all sides) to old Mrs. Ursula," whom, it seems, the rogue ought to have married many years before.-But these intimations are needless: We see him ourselves in the Royal Presence; where, certainly, his buffooneries never brought him; never was the Prince of a character to commit so high an indecorum, as to thrust, upon a solemn occasion, a mere Tavern companion into his father's Presence, especially in a moment when he himself deserts his looser character, and takes up that of a Prince indeed. -In a very important scene, where Worcester is expected

with proposals from Percy, and wherein he is received, is treated with, and carries back offers of accommodation from the King, the King's attendants upon the occasion are the Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, the Earl of Westmorland, Sir Walter Blunt, and Sir John FalstaffWhat shall be said to this? Falstaff is not surely introduced here in vicious indulgence to a mob audience ;-he utters but one word, a buffoon one indeed, but aside, and to the Prince only. Nothing, it should seem, is wanting, if decorum would here have permitted, but that he should have spoken one sober sentence in the Presence (which yet we are to suppose him ready and able to do if occasion should have required; or his wit was given him to little purpose) and Sir John Falstaff might be allowed to pass for an established Courtier and counsellor of state. "If I do grow great," says he, "I'll grow less, "purge and leave sack, and live as a nobleman should do." Nobility did not then appear to him at an unmeasurable distance; it was, it seems, in his idea, the very next link in the chain.

But to return. I would now demand what could bring Falstaff into the Royal Presence upon such an occasion, or justify the Prince's so public acknowledgment of him, but an established fame and reputation of Military merit? In short, just the like merit as brought Sir Walter Blunt into the same circumstances of honour.

But it may be objected that his introduction into this scene is a piece of indecorum in the author. But upon what ground are we to suppose this? Upon the ground of his being a notorious Coward? Why, this is the very point in question, and cannot be granted: Even the direct contrary I have affirmed, and am endeavouring to support. But if it be supposed upon any other ground, it does not concern me; I have nothing to do with Shakespeare's indecorums in general. That there are indecorums in the Play I have no doubt: The indecent treatment of Percy's dead body is the greatest ;-the familiarity of the significant, rude, and even ill disposed Poins with the Prince,

is another; but the admission of Falstaff into the Royal Presence (supposing, which I have a right to suppose, that his Military character was unimpeached) does not seem to be in any respect among the number. In camps there is but one virtue and one vice; Military merit swallows up or covers all. But, after all, what have we to do with indecorums? Indecorums respect the propriety or impropriety of exhibiting certain actions ;-not their truth or falshood when exhibited. Shakespeare stands to us in the place of truth and nature: If we desert this principle, we cut the turf from under us; I may then object to the robbery and other passages as indecorums, and as contrary to the truth of character. In short we may rend and tear the Play to pieces, and every man carry off what sentences he likes best. But why this inveterate malice against poor Falstaff? He has faults enough in conscience without loading him with the infamy of Cowardice; a charge, which, if true, would, if I am not greatly mistaken, spoil all our mirth.-But of that hereafter.

It seems to me that, in our hasty judgment of some particular transactions, we forget the circumstances and condition of his whole life and character, which yet deserve our very particular attention. The author, it is true, has thrown the most advantageous of these circumstances. into the back ground, as it were, and has brought nothing out of the canvass but his follies and buffoonery. We discover, however, that in a very early period of his life he was familiar with John of Gaunt; which could hardly be, unless he had possessed much personal gallantry and accomplishment, and had derived his birth from a distinguished at least, if not from a Noble family.

It may seem very extravagant to insist upon Falstaff's birth as a ground from which, by any inference, Personal courage may be derived, especially after having acknowledged that he seemed to have deserted those points of honour which are more peculiarly the accompanyments of rank. But it may be observed that in the Feudal ages rank and wealth were not only connected with the point

of honour, but with personal strength and natural courage. It is observable that Courage is a quality which is at least as transmissible to one's posterity as features and complexion. In these periods men acquired and maintained their rank and possessions by personal prowess and gallantry; and their marriage alliances were made, of course, in families of the same character: And from hence, and from the exercises of their youth, we must account for the distinguished force and bravery of our antient Barons. It is not therefore beside my purpose to inquire what hints of the origin and birth of Falstaff, Shakespeare may have dropped in different parts of the Play; for tho' we may be disposed to allow that Falstaff in his old age might, under particular influences, desert the point of honour, we cannot give up that unalienable possession of Courage, which might have been derived to him from a noble or distinguished stock.

But it may be said that Falstaff was in truth the child of invention only, and that a reference to the Feudal accidents of birth serves only to confound fiction with reality: Not altogether so. If the ideas of courage and birth were strongly associated in the days of Shakespeare, then would the assignment of high birth to Falstaff carry, and be intended to carry along with it, to the minds of the audience the associated idea of Courage, if nothing should be specially interposed to dissolve the connection ;-and the question is as concerning this intention, and this effect.

I shall proceed yet farther to make a few very minute observations of the same nature: But if Shakespeare meant sometimes rather to impress than explain, no circumstances calculated to this end, either directly or by association, are too minute for notice. But however this may be, a more conciliating reason still remains: The argument itself, like the tales of our Novelists, is a vehicle only; theirs, as they profess, of moral instruction; and mine of critical amusement. The vindication of Falstaff's Courage deserves not for its own sake the least sober discussion; Falstaff is the word only, Shakespeare is the Theme: And if thro' this

channel I can furnish no irrational amusement, the reader will not, perhaps, every where expect from me the strict severity of logical investigation.

2

Falstaff, then, it may be observed, was introduced into the world,—(at least we are told so) by the name of Oldcastle. This was assigning him an origin of nobility; but the family of that name disclaiming any kindred with his vices, he was thereupon, as it is said, ingrafted into another stock scarcely less distinguished, tho' fallen into indelible disgraces; and by this means he has been made, if the conjectures of certain critics are well founded, the Dramatic successor, tho', having respect to chronology, the natural proavus of another Sir John, who was no less than a Knight of the most noble order of the Garter, but a name for ever dishonoured by a frequent exposure in that Drum-and-trumpet Thing called The first part of Henry VI., written doubtless, or rather exhibited, long before Shakespeare was born, tho' afterwards repaired, I

1 I believe the stage was in possession of some rude outline of Falstaff before the time of Shakespeare, under the name of Sir John Oldcastle; and I think it probable that this name was retained for a period in Shakespeare's Hen. 4th. but changed to Falstaff before the play was printed. The expression of "Old Lad of the Castle," used by the Prince, does not however decidedly prove this; as it might have been only some known and familiar appellation too carelessly transferred from the old Play.

2 I doubt if Shakespeare had Sir John Fastolfe in his memory when he called the character under consideration Falstaff. The title and name of Sir John were transferred from Oldcastle not Fastolfe, and there is no kind of similarity in the characters. If he had Fastolfe in his thought at all, it was that, while he approached the name, he might make such a departure from it as the difference of character seemed to require.

3 It would be no difficult matter, I think, to prove that all those Plays taken from the English chronicle, which are ascribed to Shakespeare, were on the stage before his time, and that he was employed by the Players only to refit and repair; taking due care to retain the names of the characters and to preserve all those incidents which were the most popular. Some of these Plays, particularly the two parts of Hen. IV., have certainly received what may be called a thorough repair; that is, Shakespeare new-wrote them to the old names. In the latter part of Hen. V. some of the old materials remain; and in the Play which I have here censured (Hen. VI.) we see very little of the new. I

Q