her man recorded in
literature or history. It is a moral as well as mental trait, and
belongs to the highest class of virtues. It is a virtue which, if
generally exercised, would remove mutual hostility by enlightening
mutual ignorance. And in Shakespeare we have, for once, a man great
enough to be modest and charitable; who has the giant's power, but,
instead of using it like a giant, trampling on weaker creatures, prefers
to feel them in his arms rather than feel them under his feet; and whose
toleration of others is the exercise of humility, veracity, beneficence,
and justice, as well as the exercise of reason, imagination, and humor.
We shall never appreciate Shakespeare's genius until we recognize in him
the exercise of the most difficult virtues, as well as the exercise of
the most wide-reaching intelligence.
It is, of course, not so wonderful that he should take the point of view
of characters in themselves beautiful and noble, though even these might
appear very different under the glance of a less soul-searching eye. To
such aspects of life, however, all genius has a natural affinity. But
the marvel of his comprehensiveness is his mode of dealing with the
vulgar, the vicious, and the low,--with persons who are commonly spurned
as dolts and knaves. His serene benevolence did not pause at what are
called "deserving objects of charity," but extended to the undeserving,
who are, in truth, the proper objects of charity. If we compare him, in
this respect, with poets like Dante and Milton, in whom elevation is the
predominant characteristic, we shall find that they tolerate humanity
only in its exceptional examples of beauty and might. They are
aristocrats of intellect and conscience,--the noblest aristocracy, but
also the haughtiest and most exclusive. They can sympathize with great
energies, whether celestial or diabolic, but their attitude towards the
feeble and the low is apt to be that of indifference, or contempt.
Milton can do justice to the Devil, though not, like Shakespeare, to
"poor devils." But it may be doubted if the wise and good have the right
to cut the Providential bond which connects them with the foolish and
the bad, and set up an aristocratic humanity of their own, ten times
more supercilious than the aristocracy of blood. Divorce the loftiest
qualities from humility and geniality, and they quickly contract a
pharisaic taint; and if there is anything which makes the wretched more
wretched, it is
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