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CHAPTER I.

KING RICHARD II.

THE Richard II. of Shakspere is the Richard II. of real history.

But there is a question whether, as the foundation of this drama, Shakspere worked upon any previous play. No copy of any such play exists. The character of Richard is so entire so thoroughly a whole-that we can have little doubt in believing it to be a creation, and not a character adapted to the received dramatic notions of the poet's audience. But still there is every reason to suppose that there was another play of 'Richard II.'—perhaps two others; and that one held possession of the stage long after Shakspere's exquisite production had been acted and published. There is a curious matter connected with the state history of Shakspere's own times that has regard to the performance of some play of Richard II.' On the afternoon previous to the insurrection of the Earl of Essex, in February, 1601, Sir Gilly Merrick, one of his partisans, procured to be acted before a great company of those who were engaged in the conspiracy, "the play of deposing Richard II." The official pamphlet of the declarations of the treasons of the Earl of Essex states that, when it was told Merrick, "by one of the players, that the play was old, and they should have loss in playing it, because few would come to it, there was forty shillings extraordinary given to play it; and so, thereupon, played it was." In the printed account of the arraignment of Merrick, it is said that he ordered this play "to satisfy his eyes with a sight of that tragedy which he thought soon after his lord should bring from the stage to the state." There is a passage in Camden's 'Annals' which would appear to place it beyond a doubt that the play so acted was an older play than that of Shakspere. It is there charged against Essex that he procured, by money, the obsolete tragedy (exoletam tragœdiam) of the abdication of Richard II. to be acted in a public theatre before the

conspiracy. Bacon hints at a systematic purpose of bringing Richard II. “ upon the stage and into print in Queen Elizabeth's time." Elizabeth herself, in a conversation with Lambarde, the historian of Kent, and keeper of the Records in the Tower, going over a pandect of the Rolls which Lambarde had prepared, coming to the reign of Richard II., said, "I am Richard II., know ye not that?" Any allusion to Richard II. at that time was the cause of great jealousy. Haywarde, in 1599, very narrowly escaped a state prosecution for his First Part of the Life and Reign of King Henry IV.' This book was the deposition of Richard II. put "into print," to which Bacon alludes. It appears to us that, without further evidence, there can be no doubt that the play acted before the partisans of the Earl of Essex was not the play of Shakspere. The deposition scene, as we know by the title-page, professed to be added to the edition of 1608. The play which Merrick ordered was, in 1601, called an obsolete play. Further, would Shakspere have continued in favour with Elizabeth, had he been the author of a play whose performance gave such deep offence?

But we have now further evidence that there was an old play of ' Richard II.,' which essentially differed from Shakspere's play. Mr. Collier, whose researches have thrown so much light upon the stage in general, and upon Shakspere's life in particular, has published some very curious extracts from a manuscript in the Bodleian Library, which describe, from the observations of a playgoer in the time of James I., a play of 'Richard II.,' essentially different in its scenes from the play of Shakspere. Dr. Symon Forman, who was a sort of quack and astrologer, and who, being implicated in the conspiracy to murder Sir Thomas Overbury, had escaped public accusation by suddenly dying in 1611, kept "a book of plays and notes thereof, for common policy;" by which

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"Also remember how the Duke of Glocester, the Earl of Arundel, Oxford, and others, crossing the King in his humour about the Duke of Erland (Ireland) and Bushy, were glad to fly and raise a host of men; and, being in his castle, how the Duke of Erland came by night to betray him, with three hundred men; but, having privy warning thereof, kept his gates fast, and would not suffer the enemy to enter, which went back again with a fly in his car, and after was slain by the Earl of Arundel in the battle.

"Remember, also, when the Duke (i. e. of Glocester) and Arundel came to London with their army, King Richard came forth to them, and met them, and gave them fair words, and promised them pardon, and that all should be well, if they would discharge their army: upon whose promises and fair speeches they did it; and after, the King bid them all to a banquet, and so betrayed them and cut off their heads, &c., because they had not his pardon under his hand and seal before, but his word.

"Remember therein, also, how the Duke of Lancaster privily contrived all villainy to set them all together by the ears, and to make the nobility to envy the King, and mislike him and his government; by which means he made his own son king, which was Henry Bolingbroke.

"Remember, also, how the Duke of Lancaster asked a wise man whether himself should ever be king, and he told him no, but his son should be a king and when he had told him, he hanged him up for his labour, because he should not bruit abroad, or speak thereof to others.

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From Forman's account of this play it will be seen that it embraces the earlier period of Richard II., containing the insurrection of Jack Straw. It seems very doubtful whether it includes the close of the reign. We have a talk for "policy" about the Duke of Lancaster's (Gaunt's) machinations; but nothing about Henry Bolingbroke. Were there two plays of 'Richard II.' of which we know nothing-the obsolete play of the deposition, which Merrick caused to be acted in 1601, and the play containing Jack Straw, which Forman noted in 1611?

We scarcely know how to approach this drama, even for the purpose of a simple analysis. We are almost afraid to trust our

own admiration when we turn to the cold criticism by which opinion in this country has been wont to be governed. We have been told that it cannot "be said much to affect the passions or enlarge the understanding." It may be so. And yet, we think, it might somewhat "affect the passions," for " gorgeous tragedy" hath here put on her "scepter'd pall," and if she bring not Terror in her train, Pity, at least, claims the sad story for her own. And yet it may somewhat" enlarge the understanding,"for, though it abound not in those sententious moralities which may fitly adorn "a theme at school," it lays bare more than one human bosom with a most searching anatomy; and, in the moral and intellectual strength and weakness of humanity, which it discloses with as much precision as the scalpel reveals to the student of our physical nature the symptoms of health or disease, may we read the proximate and final causes of this world's success or loss, safety or danger, honour or disgrace, elevation or ruin. And then, moreover, the profound truths *New Particulars regarding the Works of Shakespeare: 1836.

↑ Johnson.

which, half hidden to the careless reader, are to be drawn out from this drama, are contained in such a splendid framework of the picturesque and the poetical, that the setting of the jewel almost distracts our attention from the jewel itself. We are here plunged into the midst of the fierce passions and the gorgeous pageantries of the antique time. We not only enter the halls and galleries, where is hung

"Armoury of the invincible knights of old," but we see the beaver closed, and the spear in rest-under those cuirasses are hearts knocking against the steel with almost more than mortal rage;-the banners wave, the trumpet sounds-heralds and marshals are ready to salute the victor-but the absolute king casts down his warder, and the anticipated triumph of one proud champion must end in the unmerited disgrace of both. The transition is easy from the tourney to the battle-field. A nation must bleed that a subject may be avenged. A crown is to be played for, though

"Tumultuous wars

Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound."

The luxurious lord,

"That every day under his household roof Did keep ten thousand men,"

perishes in a dungeon ;-the crafty usurper sits upon his throne, but it is undermined by the hatreds even of those who placed him on it. Here is, indeed, a kingdom for a stage." And has the greatest of poets dealt with such a subject without affecting the passions or enlarging the understanding? No, no. Away with this. We will trust our own admiration.

It is a sincere pleasure to us to introduce our remarks upon the 'Richard II.' by some acute and just observations upon Shakspere's historical plays in general from a French source. The following passage is from the forty-ninth volume of the Dictionnaire de la Conversation et de la Lecture.' (Paris, 1838.) The article bears the signature of Philarète Chasles :

and barbarous writer, is, above all, remarkable for a judgment so high, so firm, so uncompromising, that one is almost tempted to impeach his coldness, and to find in this impassible observer something that may be almost called cruel towards the human race. In the historical pieces of Shakspere, the picturesque, rapid, and vehement genius which has produced them seems to bow before the superior law of a judgment almost ironical in its clear-sightedness. Sensibility to impressions, the ardent force of imagination, the eloquence of passion-these brilliant gifts of nature, which would seem destined to draw a poet beyond all limits, are subordinated in this extraordinary intelligence to a calm and almost deriding sagacity, which pardons nothing and forgets nothing. Thus, the dramas of which we speak are painful as real history. Eschylus exhibits to us Fate hovering over the world; Calderon opens to us heaven and hell as the last words of the enigma of life; Voltaire renders his drama an instrument for asserting his own peculiar doctrines ;-but Shakspere seeks his Fate in the hearts of men, and when he makes us see them so capricious, so bewildered, so irresolute, he teaches us to contemplate, without surprise the untoward events and sudden changes of fortune. In the purely poetical dramas to which this great poet has given so much verisimilitude, we console ourselves in believing that the evils which he paints are imaginary, and that their truth is but general. But the dramatic chronicles which Shakspere has sketched are altogether real. There we behold irrevocable evils-we see the scenes that the world has seen, and the horrors that it has suffered. The more the details that accompany these events are irresistible in their truth, the more they grieve us. The more the author is impartial, the more he wounds and overpowers us. This employment of his marvellous talent is in reality a profound satire upon what we are, upon what we shall be, upon what we were."

It is this wonderful subjection of the poetical power to the higher law of truth— to the poetical truth, which is the highest "This poet, so often sneered at as a frantic truth, comprehending and expounding the

historical truth-which must furnish the clue to the proper understanding of the drama of Richard II.' It appears to us that, when the poet first undertook

"to ope

The purple testament of bleeding war,”— to unfold the roll of the causes and consequences of that usurpation of the house of Lancaster which plunged three or four generations of Englishmen in bloodshed and misery-he approached the subject with an inflexibility of purpose as totally removed as it was possible to be from the levity of a partisan. There were to be weighed in one scale the follies, the weaknesses, the crimes of Richard-the injuries of Bolingbroke the insults which the capricious despotism of the king had heaped upon his noblesthe exactions under which the people groaned -the real merits and the popular attributes of him who came to redress and to repair. In the other scale were to be placed the afflictions of fallen greatness-the revenge and treachery by which the fall was produced the heartburnings and suspicions which accompany every great revolutionthe struggles for power which ensue when the established and legitimate authority is thrust from its seat. All these phases, personal and political, of a deposition and an usurpation, Shakspere has exhibited with that marvellous impartiality which the French writer whom we have quoted has well described. The political impartiality is so remarkable, that, during the time of Elizabeth, the deposition scene was neither acted nor printed, lest it should give occasion to the enemies of legitimate succession to find examples for the deposing of a monarch. Going forward into the spirit of another age, during the administration of Walpole, the play, in 1738, had an unusual success, principally because it contained many passages which seemed to point to the then supposed corruption of the court; and, on this occasion, a letter published in 'The Craftsman,' in which many lines of the play were thus applied to the political topics of the times, was the subject of state prosecution. The statesmen of Elizabeth and of

George II. were thus equally in fear of the popular tendencies of this history. On the other hand, when Richard, speaking dramatically in his own person, says,—

"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;"— Dr. Johnson rejoicingly says,-" Here is the doctrine of indefeasible right expressed in the strongest terms; but our poet did not learn it in the reign of James, to which it is now the practice of all writers whose opinions are regulated by fashion or interest to impute the original of every tenet which they have been taught to think false or foolish." Again, when the Bishop of Carlisle, in the deposition scene, exclaims, "And shall the figure of God's majesty, His captain, steward, deputy elect, Anointed, crowned, planted many years, Be judged by subject and inferior breath, And he himself not present?"—

Johnson remarks, "Here is another proof that our author did not learn in King James's court HIS elevated notions of the right Stuarts who has expressed this doctrine in of kings. I know not any flatterer of the much stronger terms." Steevens adds that Shakspere found the speech in Holinshed, and that "the politics of the historian were the politics of the poct." The contrary aspects which this play has thus presented to those who were political partisans is a most remarkable testimony to Shakspere's political impartiality. He appears to us as if he, "apart, sat on a hill retired," elevated far above the temporary opinions of his own age, or of succeeding ages. His business is with universal humanity, and not with a fragment of it. He is, indeed, the poet of a nation in his glowing and genial patriotism, but never the poet of a party. Perhaps, the most eloquent speech in this play is that of Gaunt, beginning

"This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle." It is full of such praise of our country as, taken apart from the conclusion, might too much foster the pride of a proud nation.

But the profound impartiality of the master- | sort of reasoning that the French critics i mind comes in at the close of this splendid the time of Voltaire, and the English wh description, to show us that all these glories caught the infection of their school, applie must be founded upon just government. to the higher range of the art of Shakspert The criticism of Dr. Johnson, for example, upon the character of Richard II. is, for the most part, a series of such mistakes. He misinterprets Shakspere's delineation of Richard, upon a preconceived theory of his Thus he says, in a note to the second scene in the third act, where Richard for a moment appears resigned

own.

"To bear the tidings of calamity,"

It seems to be the design of the poet to raise Richard to esteem in his fall, and, consequently, to interest the reader in his faHe gives him only passive fortitude,

vour.

It is in the same lofty spirit of impartiality which governs the general sentiments of this drama that Shakspere has conceived the mixed character of Richard. Sir Joshua Reynolds, in his admirable Discourses' (a series of compositions which present the example of high criticism upon the art of painting, when the true principles of criticism upon poetry were neglected or misunderstood), has properly reprobated "the difficulty as well as danger in an endeavour to concentrate in a single subject those various powers, which, rising from different points, naturally move in different directions." He says, with reference to this sub-the virtue of a confessor rather than of a ject, "Art has its boundaries, though imagi- king. In his prosperity we saw him imnation has none." Here is the great line of perious and oppressive; but in his distress distinction between poetry and painting. he is wise, patient, and pious." Now this is Painting must concentrate all its power upon precisely the reverse of Shakspere's reprethe representation of one action, one expres-sentation of Richard. Instead of passive forsion, in the same person. The range of poetry is as boundless as the diversities of character in the same individual. Sir Joshua Reynolds has, however, properly laughed at those principles of criticism which would even limit the narrow range of pictorial ex-writer flounders on in a series of carping pression to conventional, and therefore hackneyed, forms. He quotes a passage from Du Piles, as an example of the attempt of a false school of criticism to substitute the pompous and laboured insolence of grandeur "

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for that dignity which," seeming to be natural and inherent, draws spontaneous reverence." "If you draw persons of high character and dignity" (says Du Piles), "they ought to be drawn in such an attitude that the portraits must seem to speak to us of themselves, and as it were to say to us, 'Stop, take notice of me; I am that invincible king, surrounded by majesty:' 'I am that valiant commander who struck terror everywhere:' 'I am that great minister who knew all the springs of politics:' 'I am that magistrate of consummate wisdom and probity." Now, this is absurd enough as regards the painter; but, absurd as it is, in its limited application, it is precisely the same

titude, we have passionate weakness; and it is that very weakness upon which our pity is founded. Having mistaken Shakspere's purpose in the delineation of Richard in his fall, this able but sometimes prejudiced

objections to the language which Richard After Richard has said,

uses.

"Or I'll be buried in the king's highway,

Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet

May hourly trample on their sovereign's head," he flies off into a series of pretty imaginings, and ends thus,—

"Well, well, I see

I talk but idly, and you mock at me." Now in nothing is the exquisite tact of the poet more shown than in these riots of the imagination in the unhappy king, whose mind was altogether prostrate before the cool and calculating intellect of Bolingbroke. But Johnson, quite in Du Piles' style, here says, "Shakspere is very apt to deviate from the pathetic to the ridiculous. Had the speech of Richard ended at this line (May hourly trample on their sovereign's head'),

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