night is worth giving: "June 10th. Began the play of 'King Henry V.' in a very nervous state, but endeavouring to keep my mind clear. Acted sensibly at first, and very spiritually at last; was very greatly received, and when called on at last, the whole house stood up and cheered me in a most fervent manner. I gave out the repetition of the play for four nights a week till the close of the season. It is the last of my attempts to present to the audience Shakespeare's own meaning" (Macready's Reminiscences, vol. ii. p. 145). A week later we find him playing with even greater success: "Acted King Henry V. better than I had yet done, and the house responded to the spirit in which I played. The curtain fell amidst the loudest applause . . . and I went before the curtain, and amidst shoutings and waving of hats and handkerchiefs by the whole audience standing up, the stage was literally covered with wreaths, bouquets, and bunches of laurel" (ut supra, p. 147). It was probably the success of this experiment which led Phelps to bring out the play at Sadler's Wells; and later Charles Kean followed the example by producing it at the Princess's Theatre. This was Kean's "last Shakespearian revival," and the play ran for eighty-four nights from March 28, 1859. Here also the scenic display was remarkable for the time. Cole, the biographer of Kean, declares that it "formed altogether the most marvellous realization of war, in its deadliest phase, that imitative art has ever attempted." In 1872 there was another notable reproduction of the play, by Calvert at Manchester, the spectacular effects being of a striking character. In 1875 this arrangement of the play was produced at Booth's Theatre in New York, under the supervision of Mr. Calvert. The next year the play was performed at the Queen's Theatre, Long Acre (see Introd. to II. Henry IV.), John Coleman taking the title rôle, and was moderately successful. In 1879 Calvert's version was again revived, with George Rignold as Henry, and had a good run on both sides of the Atlantic. The mounting was in most magnificent style, though the appearance of the King on horseback in the scene before Harfleur was in questionable taste.-F.A.M. CRITICAL REMARKS. As has been said in the introduction to I. Henry IV., the character of Henry V. had made a remarkable impression upon the mind of Shakespeare. He desired to set him forth as "the mirror of all Christian kings;" and the two plays in which his youthful follies, and his throwing off that "loose behaviour" on the death of his father, are shown, might almost be regarded as written mainly to prepare the way for the present drama, in which we see him as monarch, in nature no less than in name. But, as the poet approached his task in this final portion of the trilogy, he must have felt the peculiar difficulties it involved. The titlepage of the first edition of the play terms it a "chronicle history," and, though it is not probable that the form of the title is due to the author, it nevertheless aptly expresses the character of the production. It is an epical treatment of his subject, though cast in a dramatic mould. Like Homer, he begins by invoking the Muse, and, like the ancient poet, he dwells at times on details prosaic in themselves—such as the grounds of Henry's title to the crown-which, though unpoetical, were an important part of the history, and therefore interesting to his countrymen. The choruses, which, though they answer a purpose in bridging over the long intervals in the action, are not absolutely necessary, appear to have been due in part to this merely semi-dramatic method of composition. As has been well said, they are "a series of brief lyrical poems; for, though not lyrical in metre, they are strictly so in spirit, crowded with a quick succession of rapidly-passing brilliant scenes, majestic images, glowing thoughts, and kindling words." The result of this peculiar treatment of the poet's materials is naturally unlike all his other dramas. It is the least dramatic of the series. The king is really all the play; it is a "magnificent monologue," and he the speaker of it. The other characters serve little purpose except to afford him breathing-spaces, and to set off his glory by contrast. In the preceding plays, we got "under the veil of wildness" glimpses of his nobler nature. He was "the true prince" even when he played the fool for lack of anything better to do. Weary with the formality of court life, he sought relief and diversion in scenes of low life-low, but with no shame about it-filled with characters worthless enough, but interesting as studies of human nature. The prince mingled with them, but was never really one of them. He never forgot his royal destiny, never lost his true self, but let it lie latent, ready to awake when the call should come for action worthy of it. And now the prince, to whose advent to the throne his father and all who were thoughtful for the weal of England looked forward with fear and anxiety, has become the king-and what a change! The breath no sooner left his father's body, His prodigal habits drop from him like a jester's robe that he had assumed as a disguise, and the real man who had been masquerading in them stands forth "every inch a king." He is the poet's ideal king-one to whom the sturdiest republican might concede the divine right to rule, so completely do all royal gifts and graces unite in his character. He is profoundly conscious of his responsibilities and duties as a sovereign, yet not weakly sinking under them, but accepting the trust as from God and doing the work as for God, relying on Him in battle and rendering to Him the praise of the victory. This was indeed not the Henry of history; but as an ideal hero, the perfect flower of chivalry and piety, the character is unmatched in its way in Shakespeare's long gallery of manly portraiture. On the other characters in the play it is not necessary to dwell. It has been said that Shakespeare does not appear to be much interested in any of them except Fluellen, but perhaps that is too strong a statement. The brave Welshman, whom we admire and honour while we laugh at him, is, indeed, the finest piece of characterization in the play, next to the king. As Henry himself says: Though it appear a little out of fashion, There is much care and valour in this Welshman. But the other comic characters are by no means to be despised. Pistol is almost as perfect in his way as Fluellen. His fustian and brag are inimitable. How like a turkeycock he swells in the scene with his French captive, and how thoroughly is the conceit taken out of him by Fluellen! How is the mighty fallen, when this "most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy seignior of England," as the poor Frenchman thought him, is cudgelled by the Welsh captain and forced to eat the leek he had sneered at the day before! Even here, though his cowardice is as completely as it is comically shown up, he cannot refrain from his blatant threatenings. He will "most horribly revenge" this ignominy to which he tamely submits; he takes the groat "in earnest of revenge;" and his last words when the whipping is finished are "All hell shall stir for this." He disappears from the scene, the last straggler of that incomparable group of comic characters that had gathered around Falstaff, held by the attraction of his giant bulk as planets by the sun; but we cannot doubt that he regained his native impudence when he returned to England, and boasted in the old grandiloquent style of the scars he had got "in the Gallia wars." The only part of the play the authorship of which has been seriously questioned is the scene in which Katharine takes a lesson in English. Warburton pronounced it "ridiculous," and Hanmer rejected it from the text as not Shakespeare's. Fleay has more recently expressed the opinion that Thomas Lodge wrote it. Johnson defended it as in keeping with French character, and as diverting on the stage. Shakespeare probably wrote it, slight as it is. The epilogue to II. Henry IV. had promised that the audience should be made merry with "fair Katharine of France," and this scene fulfils that promise. It was only in some such harmless way that the poet would wish to make sport of the princess who was to be the bride of his favourite hero. To have made her seriously ridiculous would have been an indirect reflection upon him for falling in love with her. But the same epilogue had promised that Falstaff should also be brought upon the stage again, and it may be asked why this was not likewise done. Perhaps it had been already done in the Merry Wives of Windsor, which may have been written before Henry V. The introduction of the death of Falstaff in the latter play perhaps supports the view that this was written after the Merry Wives. However that may be, Falstaff would have been an unmanageable character in Henry V. If the poet at first intended to bring him into the play, his sober second thought must have led him to give up the idea. After the king had banished him from his presence, Falstaff's occupation was gone. To be sure, he could have regained the royal favour by reforming, but it is not easy to conceive of Falstaff reformed. It would have required a re-forming indeed, a radical renovation that would have left him scarcely recognizable, unless by his mere corporal bulk-and could even that have been maintained without his unlimited potations of sack? The delightful old reprobate would, I fear, have been rather dull in a more virtuous and responsible rôle. The better course was to get him out of the way as gently as possible, and Dame Quickly's account of his death-foolish though the woman be-is as pathetic as it is natural.-O.F.A. 7 Chor. O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention,1 A kingdom for a stage, princes to act And monarchs to behold the swelling scene! Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels, Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword and fire Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles all, The flat unraised spirits that have dar'd And let us, ciphers to this great accompt, 1 Invention, imagination; metrically a quadrisyllable. 2 Scaffold, stage. 3 Attest, stand for. 10 4 On your imaginary forces work. Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth; For 't is your thoughts that now must deck our kings, 28 |