IN considering the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher, especially those of the latter, we cannot miss noticing the heroic and martial spirit they breathe. This sometimes finds expression in one or two prominent personages, but frequently is diffused through the whole drama; and though its higher manifestation is confined to the tragedies, it not unfrequently occurs in the comedies, among characters otherwise depraved. This heroism consists mainly in a deification of the sentiment of honor, real or conventional--in a fierce joy and pride in personal prow. ess-and, especially, in a brave disdain of death, sometimes vehemently expressed, sometimes sportively, and active both in mail-clad warriors and volatile libertines. A large portion of Fletcher's characters are soldiers; in the camp and the field of battle he appears at home. His ideas and ideals belong to the feudal age. He takes the two aspects of the knight of olden time, his chivalrous spirit and his licentious appetites; and lifts him to the former, or sinks him to the latter, as the necessities of the play require. In his noblest expression of chivalry there is little sustained might of nature. Most of his heroes talk too loud, and their feeling of personal superiority often runs into bragging. Like Memnon, each carries a drum in his mouth." We will give some of the best specimens of this heroic vein.

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In "Bonduca," "The Double Marriage," The Loyal Subject," "The False One," Thierry and Theodoret," "Valentinian," we see this heroic type of character in its serious and lofty embodiment-in such men as Aëcius, Caratach, Penius, Cæsar, Memnon, Archas. Archas, who gives the name to "The Loyal Subject," is a brave, honest, generous, irascible warrior, faithful to a tyrannical and voluptuous king through all trials of his constancy, and illustrating at once Fletcher's favorite character of an indomitable soldier, and likewise his slavish notions of passive obedience to the will of kings, so fashionable at the court of James. All that Archas says is pitched on a high, screaming key of de

"No, those deeds that want rewards, sirrah, Those battles I have fought, those horrid dangers, (Leaner than death and wilder than destruction,) I

have marched upon, these honored wounds, Time's story, The blood I have lost, the youth, the sorrows suffered,

These are my death, these that can ne'er be recompensed;"

and he proceeds to taunt his enemy with cowardice in war as well as perfidy in peace. He asks him-alluding to his shamefully shamming sickness when danger came

"Where was your soldiership? Why went And all your right-honorable valor with not you out,

you?

Why met you not the Tartar, and defied

him?

roots up,

Why did not you so charge him?"

The faithfulness of the old soldier is carried to caricature in the last act, where, having been unjustly tortured and whipped, he quells by his commands the insurrection of his friends, raised to save or revenge him, and desires to condemn his own son to death for heading the revolt. Memnon, the Mad Lover," is another ot Fletcher's heroes. There is considerable substance in his very inflation, and his words strike fire. Eumenes, one of his captains, tells of the ten set battles his general had won, forcing his enemy at last to "wall himself up"

Disarmed for ever rising more;"

and Memnon, speaking for himself to his prince, and excusing his roughness of behavior, says:

"I know no court but martial, No oily language, but the shock of arms, No dalliance but with death; no lofty measures,

But weary and sad marches, cold and hunger,

Larums at midnight Valor's self would shake at;

Yet I ne'er shrunk: Balls of consuming wildfire

That lick'd men up like lightning, have I laughed at.

And tossed 'em back again like children's trifles.

Upon the edges of my enemies' swords I have marched like whirlwinds; Fury at this hand waiting,

Death at my right, Fortune my forlorn

mischief,

Frighted to see a new day break in blood."

"The Mad Lover," is one of Fletcher's most characteristic plays, full of nobility and meanness, of romantic heroism and reckless passion, of angels and beasts. It has much exhilarating animation; and the comic scenes, though gross, are mirth-provoking. The fifth scene of the fourth act is especially diverting.

"Valentinian," is one of the most celebrated of Fletcher's tragedies. Aecius, the brave and faithful soldier, is a reproduction of Archas. Like him, he carries the principles of obedience to folly. When Maximus sternly denounces the baseness of the Emperor, Aëcius replies: "We are but subjects, Maximus, obedi

AECIUS. [Entering.] Let Titius Command the company that Pontius lost, And see the fosses deeper.

MAX. How now, sweetheart ? What make you here, and thus ? AECIUS. Lucina weeping! This must be much offence.

MAX. Look up, and tell me, Why are you thus?-My ring! oh, friend, I have found it!

You are at court, sweet!

LUCINA. Yes; this brought me hither. MAX. Rise, and go home.-I have my fears, Aëcius:

Oh, my best friend, I am ruined !-Go, Lu

And sing thine own sad requiem! Go, Lucina,

And, if thou dearest, out-live this wrong!

LUCINA. I dare not.

Kiss me. I find no Cæsar here; these lips
Was it not so?
Taste not of ravisher, in my opinion.

LUCINA. Oh, yes!

MAX. I dare believe thee; For thou wert ever truth itself, and sweet

ness.

Indeed she was, Aëcius.

AECIUS. So she is still.

MAX. Once more !-Oh, my Lucina, oh,

my comfort,

The blessing of my youth, the life of my

life!

Till you have dropt your mistress into marble.

Now, go forever from me.

LUCINA. Long farewell, sir!

And as I have been loyal, gods, think on me!

MAX. Stay; let me once more bid farewell, Lucina.

Farewell, thou excellent example of us! Thou starry virtue, fare thee well! seek Heaven,

And there by Cassiopeia shine in glory! We are too base and dirty to preserve thee. AECIUS. Nay, I must kiss too. Such a kiss again,

And from a woman of so ripe a virtue, Aëcius must not take. Farewell, thou phoenix,

If thou wilt die, Lucina! which, well weighed,

If you can cease a while from these strange thoughts,

I wish were rather altered,
LUCINA. No.

AECIUS. Mistake not.

I would not stain your honor for the empire,
Nor any way decline you to discredit:
'Tis not my fair profession, but a villain's.
I find and feel your loss as deep as you do,
And am the same Aëcius, still as honest,
The same life I have still for Maximus,
The same sword wear for you, where jus-
tice wills me,

And 'tis no dull one: therefore, misconceive not;

Only I would have you live a little longer, But a short year.

Besides, compelled and forced with violence

To what you have done, the deed is none of yours,

No, nor the justice neither. You may live, And still a worthier woman, still more honored;

For, are those trees the worse we tear the fruits from?

Or, should th' eternal gods desire to perish Because we daily violate their truths, Which is the chastity of Heaven. No, lady!

If you dare live, you may: And as our sins
Make them more full of equity and justice,
So this compulsive wrong makes you more
perfect,

The empire too will bless you.
MAX. Noble sir,

If she were anything to me but honor,
And that that's wedded to me too, laid in,
Not to be worn away without my being;
Or could the wrongs be hers alone, or mine,
Or both our wrongs, not tied to after issues,
Not born anew in all our names and kin-
dreds,

I would desire her live; nay more, compel

her:

But, since it was not youth, but malice did it,

And not her own, nor mine, but both our

losses;

Nor stays it there, but that our names must find it,

Even those to come, and when they read she lived,

Must they not ask how often she was rav. ished,

And make a doubt she loved that more than wedlock?

Therefore she must not live.

AECIUS. Therefore she must live, To teach the world such deaths are superstitious.

LUCINA. The tongues of angels cannot alter me;

For, could the world again restore my credit,

As fair and absolute as first I bred it,
That world I should not trust again. The

empire,

And almost glories in his penitence, I'll leave him robes to mourn in, my sad ashes.

AECIUS. The farewells then of happy souls be with thee,

And to thy memory be ever sung
The praises of a just and constant lady!
This sad day, whilst I live, a soldier's tears
I'll offer on thy monument, and bring,
Full of thy noble self, with tears untold
yet,

Many a worthy wife to weep thy ruin! MAX. All that is chaste upon thy tomb shall flourish,

All living epitaphs be thine: Time, story, And what is left behind to piece our lives, Shall be no more abused with tales and trifles,

But, full of thee, stand to eternity!

AECIUS. Once more, farewell! Go, find Elysium,

There where the happy souls are crowned with blessings,

There, where 'tis ever spring, and ever

The scene between Valentinian and Aëcius in the first act, in which the latter bluntly tells the emperor what is talked and thought about him in the army and among the people, has much force and feeling. The most indulgent critics of Fletcher concur in condemning the miserable shift by which, to preserve his principle of passive obedience, he makes Maximus turn out an ambitious villain, who kills the emperor more from a desire to obtain his seat, than to revenge the outrage upon his wife. It is useless, however, to particularize instances of Fletcher's caprice, carelesness and slavishness. Propriety and consistency, in the development of plot or character, must not be expected from him.

"Bonduca" is conceived in even a more heroic spirit. Caratach, Suetonius, Penius, all speak the language of high hearts and unshaken minds. Caratach, the British Chief, is perhaps Fletcher's finest character in the heroic vein. His modesty, his heartiness, his respect for valor wherever found, and his good sense, make him respected even by the Romans. Suetonius says of him:

I suck'd these honor'd scars from, and all Roman;

Ten years of bitter nights and heavy marches,

(When many a frozen storm sung through And made it doubtful whether that or I my cuirass, Were the more stubborn metal) have I wrought through,

And all to try these Romans. Ten times a-night

I have swam the rivers, when the stars of Rome

Shot at me as I floated, and the billows Tumbled their watery ruins on my shoulders,

Charging my batter'd sides with troops of And

agues;

still to try these Romans, whom I

found

corn,

Halted on crutches to 'em,

His bearing in battle and in defeat has equal nobleness. In the last act his wanderings with his little ward, Hengo, and the description of the latter's death, have much pathos and sweetness.

The address of Suetonius to his troops, in the second scene of the third act, is a good specimen of Fletcher's hot and loftily vehement declamation. The image of Fame, "pitched on the topless Appenine," is grand:

SUET. And, gentlemen, to you now! To bid you fight is needless; ye are Romans, The name will fight itself: To tell ye who You go to fight against, his power, and nature,

poor,

But loss of time; ye know it, know it
And oft have made it so: To tell ye fur-

ther,

Informs again the dead bones with your virtues.

Go on, I say: Valiant and wise rule Hea.

ven,

And all the great aspects attend 'em ; Do but blow

Upon this enemy, who, but that we want foes,

Cannot deserve that name; and like a mist, A lazy fog, before your burning valors You'll find him fly to nothing. This is all, We have swords, and are the sons of ancient Romans,

Heirs to their endless valors; fight and conquer.

"Bonduca," as Mr. Darley says, "has much flutter and rant, and we may add, more indecency and slang, but it is still replete with sentiments after "the breathes that contempt of fear and death high Roman fashion," and particularly which is the characteristic of Fletcher's heroism.

The opening scene of "The Humorous Lieutenant," in which the three Ambassadors appear to old King Antigonus, has some fine images, as that in which the union of the kings is urged:

"Think of that strength When you are all one body, all one mind; When all your swords struck one way; Like so many brother billows, rose togewhen your angers,

ther,

angers;

March on the edge of danger; rest and sleep,

(The souls of soft and tender bodies,) they Shake off as well as yours; and when tired nature

Locks up their spirits, yet, like storms far off,

Even in their rest they raise a warlike murmur."

The lightness of foot with which Fletcher springs from his heroic stilts, is well illustrated in this play. Antigonus, who speaks to the ambassador like a man to whom glory and honor are deities he constantly worships, descends in the rest of the drama to the level of Brissac, in