When wheresoever goodness comes, she makes
The place still sacred, though with other feet
Never so much ’t is scandaled and polluted.
Let me learn anything that fits a man,
In any stables shown, as well as stages.”
Of his tragedies, the general judgment has pronounced “Byron’s Conspiracy” and “Byron’s Tragedy” to be the finest, though they have less genuine poetical ecstasy than his “d’Ambois.” The “Tragedy of Chabot, Admiral of France,” is almost wholly from his hand, as all its editors agree, and as is plain from internal evidence, for Chapman has some marked peculiarities of thought and style which are unmistakable. Because Shirley had some obscure share in it, it is printed with his works, and omitted by the latest editor of Chapman. Yet it is far more characteristic of him than “Alphonsus,” or “Cæsar and Pompey.” The character of Chabot has a nobility less prompt to vaunt itself, less conscious of itself, less obstreperous, I am tempted to say, than is common with Chapman. There is one passage in the play which I will quote, because of the plain allusion in it to the then comparatively recent fate of Lord Bacon. I am not sure whether it has been before remarked or not. The Lord Chancellor of France is impeached of the same crimes with Bacon. He is accused also of treacherous cruelty to Chabot, as Bacon was reproached for ingratitude to Essex. He is sentenced like him to degradation of rank, to a heavy fine, and to imprisonment at the King’s pleasure. Like Bacon, again, he twice confesses his guilt before sentence is passed on him, and throws himself on the King’s mercy:—
“Hear me, great Judges; if you have not lost
For my sake all your charities, I beseech you
Let the King know my heart is full of penitence;
Calm his high-going sea, or in that tempest