IN ABSTAINING FROM PARTICIPATION IN A DISGRACEFUL ACTION.--EPISODE OF
COLEVILE OF THE GRANGE.
In estimating the characters of great men, it is recognised as a
principle that we should give them almost the same credit for the
mischief they abstain from doing as for the positive good they effect.
Abstention from evil, under circumstances of great temptation to its
performance, is unquestionably a virtue of the highest order. In proof
of the high esteem habitually awarded by mankind to this rare although
negative excellence, I will refer merely to the celebrated letting-alone
case of the Roman Scipio, and the well-known parallel to it afforded by
the conduct of Sir John Falstaff himself, who (at a later period of
his career than the one at present under notice), having occasion,
for professional reasons, to break open a gentleman’s lodge, kill the
gentleman’s deer, and maltreat the gentleman’s servants, was yet, in the
very height and impetuosity of action, enabled to put a sufficient curb
on his impulses to resist the temptation of kissing a keeper’s daughter!
The little incident of self-denial just alluded to, though in every way
deserving of the highest eulogy, has, as it seems to me, been dwelt on
by the commentators with undue stress, rather implying a suspicion that
it might have been an exceptional case in the character and conduct of
our knight, and remarkable only on that account. So far from this being
the truth, I could establish precedents for the occurrence by a thousand
proofs of glaring offences which Sir John Falstaff did not commit, while
otherwise occupied in the way of his business. I will content myself,
however, with a single example, couched in an incident, which here falls
naturally into its place, by which it will be seen that the hero of
these pages could, on occasion, abstain from taking part in even the
greatest acts of rascality of his time; moreover, when the greatest
facilities, and even inducements, existed for his participating in such
means of glory.
The following passage from Hollinshed will facilitate comprehension of
the incident.
“Raufe Nevill, Earl of Westmoreland, that was not far off, together with
“the Lord John of Lancaster, the King’s son, being informed of this
“rebellious attempt *, assembled together such powers as they might make,
“and coming into a plain within the forest of Galtree, caused their standards
“to be pight down in the like sort as the Archbishop had pight his, over
“against them, being far stronger of people than the other; for (as some
“write) there were of the rebels, at the least, eleven thousand men. When the
“Earl of Westmoreland perceived the force of adversaries, and that they lay
“still and attempted not to come forward upon him, he subtilely devised how
“to quail their purpose, and forthwith despatched messengers unto the Arch-
“bishop to understand the cause, as it were, of that great assemble, and for what
“cause, contrary to the King’s peace, they came so in armour. The Archbishop
“answered that he took nothing in hand against the King’s peace; but that
“whatever he did, tended rather to advance the peace and quiet of the Com-
“monwealth than otherwise; and when he and his company were in arms, it
“was for fear of the King, to whom he could have no free access by reason
“of such a multitude of flatterers as were about him; and therefore he main-
“tained that his purpose was good and profitable, as well for the King himself
“as for the realm, if men were willing to understand a truth; and herewith
“he showed forth a scroll, in which the articles were written whereof before
“ye have heard. The Messengers returning unto the Earl of Westmoreland,
“showed him what they had heard and brought from the Archbishop. When
“he had read the articles, he showed in word and countenance, outwardly, that
“he liked of the Archbishop’s holy and virtuous intent and purpose; that he
“and his would prosecute the same in assisting the Archbishop, who,
“rejoicing at that, gave credit to the Earl, and persuaded the Earl Marshall
“against his will, as it were, to go with him to a place appointed for them
“to commune together. Then, when they were met with like number on either
“part, the articles were read over; and, without any more ado, the Earl of
“Westmoreland and those that were with him agreed to do their best to see
“that a reformation might be had according to the same. The Earl of West-
“moreland using more policy than the rest: ‘Well (said he), then our travail is
“come to the wished end; and whereas our people have been long in armour,
“let them depart home to their wonted trades and occupations: in the mean
“time let us drink together in sign of agreement, that the people on both
“sides may see it, and know that it is true that we be light at a point.
“They had no sooner shaked hands together, but a knight was sent straight-
“ways from the Archbishop to bring word to the people that there was a
“Peace concluded, commanding each man to lay aside arms, and resort home
“to their homes. The people beholding such tokens of peace as shaking of
“hands, and drinking together of the Lords in loving manner, brake up their
“field and returned homewards: but in the mean time, while the people of
“the Archbishop’s side drew away, the number of the contrary part increased,
“according to order given by the Earl of Westmoreland. And yet the
“Archbishop perceived not he was deceived till the Earl of Westmoreland
“arrested him and the Earl Marshall, with divers other. Their troops being
“pursued, many were taken, many slain, and many spoiled of that they had
“about them, and so permitted to go their ways.”
* i.e. That of Northumberland, Hastings, Mowbray and
Archbishop Scroop--with a view to the suppression of which
Falstaff and others were now marching into Yorkshire.
Now, I am happy to say, that with all his faults, Sir John Falstaff
was guiltless of participation in this infamous transaction. From the
Shak-spearian account of the occurrence (which does not materially
differ from that of the elder and more prosaic chronicles), it is clear
that Falstaff and his troops were not among those who treacherously
“increased,” according to orders from the Earl of Westmoreland, while
the people of the Archbishop’s side “drew away.”
Sir John did not make his appearance on the shameful field till the heat
of action was past and the disgraceful pursuit abandoned.
It is true that the fact is on record, that on our hero’s reaching the
skirts of Gaultree Forest, he met with a runaway rebel, by name Colevile
of the Dale, whom he immediately challenged, and who, as quickly
surrendered himself prisoner, on the mere suspicion that his challenger
was no other than the redoubted Sir John Falstaff. This circumstance,
whilst adding another to the thousand existing proofs that our knight
was a man of acknowledged bravery and martial renown--at the same time,
seems a little to weaken my theory, that Sir John is entitled to credit
for having withheld his countenance and assistance from the treacherous
“subtiltie” of Westmoreland and Lancaster. It looks rather as though he
had come a little late for the scramble, and was anxious to make up for
lost time in the pursuit and plunder of stragglers. Colevile, however,
seems to have fallen in his way most temptingly, and from the alacrity
with which he gave himself into custody, he would seem to have been an
individual ambitious for the distinction of being led captive at the
wheels of Sir John Falstaff’s car of triumph.
The following conversation explains the circumstances of the capture
*:--
* Henry IV. Part II., act iv. scene 2.
Sir John Falstaff. What is your name, sir? Of what condition are you;
and of what place, I pray?
Colevile. I am a knight, sir, and my name is, Colevile of the Dale.
Falstaff. Well then, Colevile, is your name; a knight, is your degree;
and your place, the dale. Colevile, shall still be your name; a traitor,
your degree; and the dungeon, your place--a place deep enough. So shall
you be still Colevile of the Dale.
Colevile. Are you not Sir John Falstaff?
Falstaff. As good a man as he, sir, whoe’er I am.
****
Colevile. I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and I yield me.
This capture of Colevile (which, considering Colevile’s alacrity to
be caught, I don’t well see how Sir John could have avoided), is, I am
happy to say, the only evidence on record, of our knight’s having been
in the slightest degree mixed up with this most rascally transaction in
the most rascally age of English history: perpetrated in the name, and
by the son and officers, of a distinguished rascal, who, by his own vast
demerits, had raised himself to the exalted position of the King of all
the Rascals in England. Sir John’s remarkable abnegation of self in this
affair, almost induces me to reconsider my by no means hastily formed
estimate of his entire character. I begin to doubt seriously that Sir
John Falstaff was one bit of a courtier after all. Had he been a person
of that description, he would certainly have toadied King Henry the
Fourth much better than he did, by aping (as is the fashion with people
of a courtly turn) the most salient points of that lugubrious, and
especially infamous, monarch’s character and conduct. This is a new
light on the mystery of our knight’s repeated failures in the attempt
to rise in court favour. He was not half a rogue--that is the long and
short of the matter. And King Henry the Fourth, of unblessed memory, who
had murdered his first cousin, who had stolen his first cousin’s wife’s
jewels and embroidered petticoats,--who was capable of every crime, from
pitch and toss with loaded farthings to manslaughter with arsenicated
preparations,--felt for him much of that contempt which a six-bottle
squire of the old school cannot but feel for a modern milksop, detected
in the effeminate act of putting water in his tumbler of sherry.