I at his ease, often put to shame, but, thanks to his inventive effrontery, never put out of countenance. He has fallen below his social position; he lives in the worst (though also in the best) society; he has neither soul, nor honor, nor moral sense; but he sins, robs, lies, and boasts, with such splendid exuberance, and is so far above any serious attempt at hypocrisy, that he seems unfailingly amiable whatever he may choose to do. Therefore he charms every one, although he is a butt for the wit of all. He perpetually surprises us by the wealth of his nature. He is old and youthful, corrupt and harmless, cowardly and daring, "a knave without malice, a liar without deceit; and a knight, a gentleman, and a soldier, without either dignity, decency, or honor." The young Prince shows good taste in always and in spite of everything seeking out his company.-BRANDES, William Shakespeare. 1 The secret of Falstaff's wit is for the most part a masterly presence of mind, an absolute self-possession, which nothing can disturb. His repartees are involuntary suggestions of his self-love; instinctive evasions of everything that threatens to interrupt the career of his triumphant jollity and self-complacency. His very size floats him out of all his difficulties in a sea of rich conceits; and he turns round on the pivot of his convenience, with every occasion and at a moment's warning. His natural repugnance to every unpleasant thought or circumstance, of itself makes light of objections, and provokes the most extravagant and licentious answers in his own justification. His indifference to truth puts no check upon his invention, and the more improbable and unexpected his contrivances are, the more happily does he seem to be delivered of them, the anticipation of their effect acting as a stimulus to the gaiety of his fancy. The success of one adventurous sally gives him spirits to undertake another: 1 Maurice Morgann: An Essay on the Dramatic Character of Sir John Falstaff. I he deals always in round numbers, and his exaggerations and excuses are "open, palpable, monstrous as the father that begets them.”—HAZLITT, Characters of Shakespeare's Plays. Under a helpless exterior, Falstaff conceals an extremely acute mind; he has always at command some dexterous turn whenever any of his free jokes begin to give displeasure; he is shrewd in his distinctions, between those whose favor he has to win and those over whom he may assume a familiar authority. He is so convinced that the part which he plays can only pass under the cloak of wit, that even when alone he is never altogether serious, but gives the drollest coloring to his love-intrigues, his intercourse with others and to his own sensual philosophy.-SCHLEGEL, Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature. Hotspur was first cousin of Henry IV and perhaps his senior; in 1388, the year after Henry Monmouth's birth, he had led the English forces at Otterburne. Yet Shakespeare makes them youthful rivals of the same age, to point the contrast between Hotspur's passion for personal glory and Henry's contented self-effacement. Hotspur in his way, not less than Henry, rebels against the traditions of his order. His blunt petulance, his disdain for music and poetry, his somewhat bourgeois relations with his wife, infringe as rudely as Henry's choice of comrades, or his weakness for "the poor creature, small beer," upon the code of chivalrous breeding. But Hotspur's unconventionalities spring from mere insensibility to other ambitions than that of snatching "honor" by heroic exploits; while Henry's most questionable compliances with the ways of mean men betray only a somewhat crude exercise of that "liberal eye" which in later days discovered still "some soul of goodness in things evil," that genial sympathy which on the eve of Agincourt banished fear from the I meanest of his "brothers, friends and countrymen" (Henry V, chorus iv). Henry is of kin with all Englishmen, a living embodiment of England; Hotspur is so far from embodying England that he conspires without a qualm to break it up, and is only concerned to round off the indentations which diminish his own share.-HERFORD, The Eversley Shakespeare. GLENDOWER Glendower was a romantic half-barbarian, although he had been "trained up in the English court." As the educated savage frequently falls back into barbaric ways, in spite of the polishing of grammar and rhetoric, so it is to be feared that Glendower was but a veneered courtier, after all. He was the natural product of the hard life amid Welsh fastnesses; the superstitions of a people whose ancestors had perhaps been the pupils of the Druid priesthood; and an implicit belief that he held so important a place in the creative scheme that at his nativity, not only but The goats ran from the mountains and the herds The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes The frame and huge foundation of the earth Glendower was a poet, and a chieftain of men who were equally at home with the harp and chant, with the mixing of magic potions, with clever devices in the torture of prisoners, and in the wild irregular sallies and. retreats which made up their idea of warfare. Glendower was a gentleman also, as will be observed in his intercourse with the brutal wit of Hotspur, and his tender thoughtfulness and care for women. But he was not a soldier nor a diplomat. He could and did defend his mountain caverns for many years, but he could not direct or command armies.WARNER, English History in Shakespeare's Plays. SIR RICHARD VERNON Vernon is by much the noblest of all the "subordinates" in the play. His constancy to the rebel party does not prevent his bearing honorable testimony to the merits of their opponents. His admiration of the gallant bearing of Prince Harry is in the purest spirit of chivalry, and true chivalry always carried honor-which is justice-to the verge of romance in generous dealing. It is Vernon who gives that superb description of the prince and his comrades, whom he had seen preparing for the campaign, in the 1st scene of the 4th Act, Part I. Vernon is the moderator in the party: he is the only one impressed with the dignity of impartiality; and therefore he would be the man-for steadiness of principle-to be intrusted beyond a whole council of such men as Worcester. He was constant to his cause; and although we regret that such a character should have paid the rebel's penalty with one like Worcester, yet the moral conveyed in the sacrifice to loyalty and quiet government is a valuable one.-CLARKE, Shakespeare's Characters. DOUGLAS Douglas is a creation that adds wonderful force to the scene, and aids in giving dignity and relief both to the king and to Hotspur. There is somewhat barbarous and uncivilized in his traits that speaks of a nation remoter from refinement than Northumberland. He asserts and dwells upon his own boldness with as little delicacy as he imputes fear and cold heart to Worcester, and is more petulant and inconsiderate in urging on the battle prematurely than Hotspur himself. Brave and most efficient he is as a soldier even to excite the enthusiastic admiration of his ally, but when he finds himself overmatched he runs away without hesitation, though it be to look for an opponent he can better cope with, and in the rout he is captured by most undignified catastrophe: "upon the foot of fear, fled I with the rest," the hero who professed that the word fear was unknown in Scotland: "And falling from a hill he was so bruised— That the pursuers took him." This accident is historical, like his military renown, and in the seeming incongruity Shakespeare found the key of the character. The Douglas of this play always reminds me of the Ares of the Iliad—a coarse exponent of the mere animal propensity to pugnacity, delighting in the circumstances. of homicide, but when pierced by the spear of Diomed, hastily flying from the conflict and bellowing aloud.LLOYD, Critical Essays. LADY PERCY Lady Percy, the wife of Hotspur, is a very lively and beautiful sketch: she is sprightly, feminine, and fond; but without anything energetic or profound, in mind or in feeling. Her gaiety and spirit in the first scenes, are the result of youth and happiness, and nothing can be more natural than the utter dejection and brokenness of heart which follow her husband's death; she is no heroine for war or tragedy; she has no thought of revenging her loss; and even her grief has something soft and quiet in its pathos. Her speech to her father-in-law, Northumberland, in which she entreats him "not to go to the wars," and at the same time pronounces the most beautiful eulogium on her heroic husband, is a perfect piece of feminine eloquence, both in the feeling and in the expression.-JAMESON, Shakespeare's Heroines. SUMMARY In the first part the battle of Shrewsbury forms the catastrophe, the center and aim of the action. In this part the nature of feudalism is represented more from its chivalrous aspect. The barons, in whom this element pre |