able progress at Geneva in divinity and the learned languages, was sent by his father to Magdalen college, Oxford. In 1563, he took his degree of master of arts; in 1563, he obtained a fellowship in Merton college; in 1569, he was elected one of the proctors of the university; and, for a considerable time during a vacancy, he supplied the place of university-orator. His friends now having in view some preferment for him about the court, in 1576, he went abroad to make the tour of Europe, and perfect himself in the modern languages. He continued about four years on the continent, and, upon his return he applied himself to the study of history and politics to qualify himself for public employment. He was very soon called upon to exert his talents in stations of great dignity and importance. From gentleman-usher to Queen Elizabeth, he rose to be her majesty's ambassador to the courts of France and Denmark; and her representative in the council of state of the United Provinces, in 1588. He managed the queen's affairs so much to the satisfaction of the ministry at home, that he was continued in this high office till 1597, when all the public negotiations with the states being successfully terminated, he was recalled. But, instead of meeting with that reward for his eminent services which he had a right to expect, he found his own interest declining with that of his patron, the earl of Essex, and, in a fit of disgust, retired from court, and all public business; and, though afterwards much solicited, he never would accept of any new office under government, but King James, on his accession, conferred on him the honour of knighthood. To this retirement from the bustle of public life, the university of Oxford most probably stands indebted for the Bodleian library, justly esteemed one of the noblest in the world. The first step Sir Thomas Bodley took in this affair, was to write a letter to Dr Ravis, the vicechancellor of the university, offering to rebuild the decayed fabric of the public library, to improve and augment the scanty collection of books contained in it, and to vest an annual income in the hands of the heads of the university, for the purchasing of books, and for the salaries of such officers as they should think it necessary to appoint. A suitable answer being returned, and this generous offer gratefully accepted, Sir Thomas immediately ordered the old building to be pulled down, and a new one erected at his own expense, which was completed in about two years. He then added to the old a new collection of the most valuable books then extant, which he ordered to be purchased in foreign countries; and having thus set the example, the nobility, the bishops, and several private gentlemen, made such considerable benefactions in books, that the room was not large enough to contain them. Upon which Sir Thomas offered to make considerable additions to the building. On the 19th of July 1610, he laid the first stone of a new foundation, being accompanied by the vice-chancellor, doctors, masters of arts, &c. Sir Thomas Bodley did not live to see this building completed; but he had the satisfaction to know that it was intended as soon as that was finished to enlarge the plan of the whole edifice, and in the end to form a regular quadrangle; and as he knew his own fortune was inadequate to this great work, he made use of his interest with several persons of rank and fortune, and engaged them to make large presents to the university to forward this undertaking, to which PERIOD.] FRANCIS BEAUMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER. 213 he bequeathed his whole estate. He likewise drew up some excellent statutes for the regulation of the library, which seems to have been the last act of his life. He died on the 28th of January, 1612, and was buried in the chapel of Merton college, where a handsome monument was erected to his memory; his statue was likewise put in the library, at the expense of the earl of Dorset, when chancellor of the university. Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher. FLOR. A. D. 1612. THESE bright ornaments of our dramatic literature were so indissolubly united during life, in a fellowship dear to every lover of the muses, and their immortal strains have so intertwined their names in the remembrance of posterity, that it would be a violation of good taste and good feeling were we to separate them. Very little is known concerning them, and very few memorials of them have been handed down, save those matchless dramas which have made their literary partnership more celebrated, and far more valuable to mankind, than the martial friendships of the Theseus and Pirithous, and Castor and Pollux, of antiquity. Francis Beaumont was descended from an ancient and respectable family of that name in Leicestershire. His grandfather, John Beaumont, had been master of the rolls, and his father, Francis, one of the judges of the court of common pleas. He was born in the year 1585, and having completed his education at Cambridge, was entered a student of the Inner Temple. It does not appear that he made any great progress in his legal studies, nor indeed is it possible that he could have done so, since it was here that he met with Fletcher, and the two embryo lawyers, being both possessed of a competency already, flung aside all anticipations of wigs and silk gowns for the more agreeable pastime of enlivening the town with their exquisite dramas, and of engaging at the Mermaid in those celebrated wit combats' which called forth, in addition to the wit and fancy of our two authors, all the learning of Selden, the quaint conceits of Donne, the rich humour of Ben Jonson, and the genius of Shakspeare. In a poetical epistle to Ben Jonson, Beaumont writes, "What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid! heard words that have been So nimble, and so full of subtle flame, As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest He died on the 15th of March, 1615, in the 30th year of his age, leaving behind him one daughter, who, it is said, was living in Leicestershire in the year 1700. John Fletcher was the son of Dr Fletcher, bishop of Bristol, and afterwards bishop of London, and was born in the year 1577. After studying at Cambridge, where he made great proficiency, and was esteemed an excellent scholar, he was entered of the Inner Temple, being destined by his parents for the bar. Their wishes do not appear to have been accomplished, since the young poet found it difficult to bend his attention to musty parchments and tedious precedents, and meeting an associate of the same disposition in Beaumont, the two committed the deadly sin of writing poetry, which, of course, incapacitated them for the legal profession. A pleasant story is told of their having been once at a tavern together, where they were concerting the rough draft of a tragedy, and assigning to each the different parts he was to write: "I'll undertake to kill the king," said Fletcher. These treasonable words were overheard by the waiter, who immediately caused them to be apprehended, but, of course, on their giving an explanation, the affair ended in a jest. Fletcher was carried off by the plague which ravaged London in the year 1625, being then in the 49th year of his age. It is almost impossible to enter into any just criticisms of the writings of these illustrious men within the limits allotted to us. They have left behind them upwards of fifty dramas of such unequal merit that almost every one would demand a separate examination; and so little are they known to modern readers, that we should seem to be guilty of extravagance were we to bestow on their productions any adequate commendations, unless we produced very ample extracts to justify our praise. We cannot now apportion out to each his share in the different plays which they wrote in conjunction, nor indeed have we any account on which reliance can be placed of the different qualities of mind by which each was distinguished. The general opinion seems to be that Beaumont was the deeper scholar and more acute critic, while Fletcher had the more brilliant wit and loftier genius. "He," (Fletcher) says old Fuller, in his quaint and amusing style, "and F. Beaumont, Esq. like Castor and Pollux, most happy when in conjunction, raised the English stage to equal the Athenian and Roman theatre; Beaumont bringing the ballast of judgment, and Fletcher the sail of phantasie; both compounding a poet to admiration." Langbaine bears the same testimony. "Beaumont was master of a good wit and a better judgment; he so admirably well understood the art of the stage, that even Jonson himself thought it no disparagement to submit his writings to his correction." "Mr Fletcher's wit was equal to Mr Beaumont's judgment, and was so luxurious, that, like superfluous branches, it was frequently pruned by his judicious partner." This tatement, though true in the main, must be received with some limitations, since, on the one hand, The Maid's Tragedy, Philaster, and the King and No King, in which Beaumont is generally allowed to have had the chief hand, exhibit more fancy, more of the qualities by which Fletcher was distinguished, than the majority of the other plays which they are known to have written in conjunction; while, on the other hand, those written by Fletcher alone, are, on the whole, equal in point of taste and judgment to most of those in which Beaumont assisted him. It is nevertheless to be noticed, that in the Maid's Tragedy, King and No King, and Philaster, the characters are more justly conceived and more consistent, the plot is less defective, the inequalities not so marked, and the general impression left on the mind more permanent, than in any other of their plays; and that the most light, airy, and fancy-teeming PERIOD.] FRANCIS BEAUMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER. 215 of their dramas, the Faithful Shepherdess, was the production of Fletcher alone. It is time, however, that we should leave this topic, on which, after all, it is not likely that we shall attain to any absolute certainty, and point out those peculiar features in the writings of our authors which have attracted the admiration of so many ages. The plays written before Beaumont's death are more regular in their construction, and more obedient to the laws of the drama, than those of Shakspeare, or any other of the dramatists of the day, with the exception of rare Ben Jonson's.' To this regularity of plot, they added great skill in painting to the life the manners of gentlemen in those times. Enabled as they were by birth and fortune to associate with young men of rank and fashion, they have succeeded admirably in hitting off the wild reckless spirit, the debauched manners, the fantastic humours, and the quickness of repartee, which distinguished the dissipated gallants of Elizabeth's reign. Their dialogue in comedy is always spirited, and often witty; their scenes bustling and amusing; and their characters, on the whole, well supported, though occasionally, especially in Fletcher's plays, they undergo strange metamorphoses. Thus, for instance, in the Scornful Lady, Morecraft, a miser, all on a sudden becomes a prodigal, for the not very intelligible reason of his having been cheated by a young fellow who had borrowed money from him. There are many, however, of a different stamp, though it is observable that they excel much more in painting women than men. Shakspeare has few portraits so exquisitely beautiful as those of Aspasia and Bellario, and not many more comic than those of Bessus and the little French Lawyer. Their grand excellencies are not so much the depicting of character, as a rich vein of wit-a native elegance of thought and expression, and a wandering romantic fancy, delightful even in its wildest moods. They do not possess the profound knowledge of human nature which alone would have made Shakspeare immortal. They cannot paint with the brush of a master the gradual progress of a mind from confidence to suspicion,-from suspicion to jealousy, and from jealousy to madness; or the fearful workings of a soul racked between the ardent desire of an object which seems almost within the grasp, and the dread and abhorrence of the path of crime by which that object must be attained. Their characters are not so much beings of lofty intellect as of deep passion; and these passions are portrayed not in their rise and gradual progress, but in their highest mood. To this defect must be added their great inequality. The very richest gems of their wit and fancy are not unfrequently set in caskets so vile, that the very clumsiest artist might have been ashamed to own himself the maker of them. Instead of writing with care and pains, as those who were anxious to please their auditors or readers, and "to do something such that after ages should not willingly let it die," they seem to have followed the whim of the moment, and to have dashed forward with a wild recklessness, which spurned alike the laws of the drama, the example of the best models, and the approbation of their hearers. Nor is it unnatural that such should be the character of compositions written, not for profit, but for pleasure, by young men of ample fortune and in the very heyday of youth, to whom the occupation of a playwright might seem rather a degradation than an honour; when Ben Jonson the bricklayer was their competitor, and the unedu There is, however, a cated Will Shakspeare their undoubted superior. sterling wit in their dialogues-a vigorous and lusty manhood in their portraits-a stirring warmth and action in their scenes and a strength and beauty in the buoyant pinions on which they soar aloft into the realms of fancy, which will bear them up in spite of these defects, and will insure them through all ages two of the most sacred niches in the temple of English poetry. The following brief passage is addressed by one of Philaster's friends to the king, who is threatening to have Philaster beheaded. It is not nearly so beautiful as many which might have been selected, but its length is convenient : "King, you may be deceived yet: The head you aim at cost more setting on Like a wild overflow that swoops before him A golden stack, and with it shakes down bridges, Aud, so made mightier, takes whole villages Upon his back, and in that heat of pride Charges strong towns, towers, castles, palaces, And lays them desolate; so shall thy head, (to Philaster) Philaster, Act V. Scene 1. There are two plays included in the common editions of Beaumont and Fletcher, which, from their great merit, demand a separate notice; we mean The Faithful Shepherdess and The Two Noble Kinsmen. The former, which was the production of Fletcher alone, is a pastoral drama, of which it may safely be said, that we have nothing in the language at once so purely pastoral and so exquisitely poetical. The Comus was undoubtedly copied from it, and although Milton may have surpassed the original in stately and majestic poetry, it is beyond a question, that Fletcher, besides the merit of priority, is more redolent of life and nature. Were it not defiled by indelicacy, The Faithful Shepherdess would be faultless. With a taste not less execrable than that which Dryden exhibited when he profaned the fairy-land of Miranda with his gross obscenities, Fletcher has polluted the primeval simplicity and virgin innocence of the Eden he had created, by the disgusting debaucheries of the sullen Shepherd and the wanton Cloe. With this exception, nothing can be more faultless, or more abundant in beauty. The other drama which we mentioned, The Two Noble Kinsmen, was formerly said to be the joint production of Fletcher and Shakspeare, but the prevalent opinion in modern times seems to be that Shakspeare had no connection with it. We see not, for our own parts, on what this disbelief is grounded. It is certain that Fletcher had some ally, who could not be Beaumont, for the play was written after Beaumont's death; and since the title page of the first edition of the play calls Shakspeare and Fletcher the authors-since the truth of this statement was never questioned until modern times, although many of Shakspeare's friends were living when the play was published-since all the old critics mention Shakspeare as one of the writers of it-and more than |