As, to do good, for the honour and glory of a supreme Being, and in conformity to his commandments, is the highest perfection of mortal man—so, to commit evil, under the pretence of religious duty, and, in his sacred name, constitutes the most flagrant impiety of which a human creature can, in the full premeditation of guilt, be chargeable.

The crimes, which, unhappily, form all the incidents of this drama, are, by the hardened perpetrators of them, all ascribed to the holy will and pleasure of Heaven. King Henry casts from his bed and throne, his loving and obedient wife; because his conscience dreads the anger of his Maker:—and Cardinal Wolsey devotes himself to pomp, amasses unbounded wealth, and exacts from his neighbours every honour short of adoration; whilst his profession announces—his imitation of an humble Redeemer.

The qualities and characters of both the King and the Cardinal underwent almost a total change, from their youth to their manhood; or to that period in which they are here delineated. Henry, when young, possessed personal beauty and grace—his mind was susceptible of all the softer delights, and a peculiar b 2[Page 4]passion for music seemed to have turned his soul to harmony.—Wolsey, even at the age of forty, would laugh, sing, and dance—when he was younger, he would drink also—and once, for some tumult which he raised, at a country fair, he suffered the disgrace of being placed in the stocks; though he was, at that very time, rector of a living in the neighbouring village.

Who, that had beheld the gay, the graceful, the accomplished Henry, at a ball or concert, enraptured with sweet sounds, could have predicted, that—he would divorce four virtuous wives, and behead two of them?—And who, that had seen the riotous Wolsey, with his legs imprisoned in a market-place, could possibly have descried, in that object of condign punishment,—a future archbishop, England's prime minister, an illustrious cardinal, and an aspirer at the popedom?

From the many artful praises of Anne Bullen, which Shakspeare has introduced in this play, but, above all, from his many prophetic insinuations, and, at length, his bold prophecy, that the infant daughter of Henry and beauteous Anne—shall prove a blessing to this realm—it is conjectured, that the play of Henry the Eighth was written and performed during the reign of that very child, Queen Elizabeth.²

With all his desire to please his royal mistress, Shakspeare has yet never once depreciated the virtues of the good Queen Katharine, or drawn a veil over her injuries. He has made her the most prominent, as well as the most amiable, sufferer in his [Page 5]drama—and, in thus closely adhering to the truth of history, he pays a silent tribute to the liberality of Elizabeth, more worth than all his warmest eulogiums.

Katharine's first speech, in that excellent part of the play, her trial, is taken from history, with but trivial variation; and likewise the King's reply to it. Her dying scene, particularly her letter and message to the King, have also the sanction of history for their most pathetic passages. Commentators have, in general, preferred the latter scene to the foregoing one, in its quality of exciting compassion. But, perhaps, a mild and submissive woman, such as Katharine is described, can never be considered so much an object of pity, as when bitter provocation has impelled her to assume the deportment of haughtiness, and the language of anger.

The selfsame words which Wolsey spoke upon his fall are here inserted, and are the lines beginning, "Had I served my God,"³ &c.—This statesman and churchman is by far more respectable in his adversity, than in his prosperity—and yet, it may be observed, that he merely took the road to heaven, when the path to all terrestrial joys had closed upon his footsteps.

High as the merit of this play is, its attraction on the stage is aided by a magnificent coronation of the elevated Anne Bullen. It is melancholy, however, to reflect, upon viewing this fictitious ceremony—that a few years only elapsed, after the spectacle had been in reality exhibited, when the same unthinking crowd b 3[Page 6]who resorted to gaze—ran, with equal curiosity, to behold the identical object of all this splendour, and their admiration—perish upon a scaffold.

Anne Bullen, or rather Queen Anne, was the first crowned head who suffered death by the law of England; and yet her daughter, Elizabeth,—less penetrated by her mother's woes, than governed by her father's cruelty,—caused the second legal execution of a sovereign, in the person of her own cousin, Mary, Queen of Scots.

Many parts of this drama, where the principal characters are not introduced, are, nevertheless, highly interesting: such, in particular, is the final adieu of the Duke of Buckingham. The prayers and good wishes of him, and of all the injured persons in this play, for their common tyrant Henry, are not more remarkable for their charity than for their inefficacy. Henry's remaining life was divided between fits of anger, remorse, despondency: and he died, after a reign of thirty-seven years, hated by every Englishman,—with the rancour of a slave.