Dr. Johnson rather oddly remarks, that "the comic scenes are natural and pleasing"; not indeed but that the remark is true enough, but that it seems rather out of character. And if these scenes please, it is not so much from any fund of mirthful exhilaration, or any genial gushes of wit and humor, as from the reckless, unsympathizing freedom, not unmingled with touches of scorn, with which the deformities of mankind are shown up. The contrast between the right-thoughted, well-meaning Claudio, a generous spirit walled in with overmuch infirmity, and Barnardine, a frightful petrifaction of humanity, “careless, reckless, and fearless of what is past, present, or to come," is in the Poet's boldest manner.

Nevertheless, the general current of things is far from musical, and the issues greatly disappoint the reader's feelings. The drowsy Justice, which we expect and wish to see awakened, and set in living harmony with Mercy, apparently relapses at last into a deeper sleep than ever. Our loyalty to Womanhood is not a little wounded by the humiliations to which poor Mariana stoops, at the ghostly counsels of her spiritual guide, that she may twine her life with that of the cursed hypocrite who has wronged her sex so deeply. That, amid the general impunity of so much crime, the mere telling of some ridiculous lies to the Duke about himself should draw down a disproportionate severity upon Lucio, the lively, unprincipled jester and wag, who might well be let pass as a privileged character, makes the whole look more as if done in mockery of justice than in honor of mercy. Except, indeed, the noble unfolding of Isabella, scarce any thing turns out as we would have it; nor are we much pleased at seeing her diverted from the quiet tasks and holy contemplations which she is so able and worthy to enjoy.

It will not be amiss to add, that the title of this play is apt to give a wrong impression of its scope and purpose. Measure for Measure is in itself equivocal; but the subject-matter here fixes it to be taken in the sense, not of the old Jewish proverb, "An eye for an eye, and a toolk

for a tooth," but of the divine precept, "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." Thus the title falls in with that noble line by Coleridge, "What nature makes us mourn, she bids us heal"; or with a similar passage in The Merchant of Venice, "We do pray for mercy, and that same prayer doth teach us all to render the deeds of mercy.

COMMENTS

By SHAKESPEAREAN SCHOLARS

ISABELLA

Isabella has also the innate dignity which renders her "queen o'er herself," but she has lived far from the world and its pomps and pleasures; she is one of a consecrated sisterhood-a novice of St. Clare; the power to command obedience and to confer happiness are to her unknown. Portia is a splendid creature, radiant with confidence, hope, and joy. She is like the orange-tree, hung at once with golden fruit and luxuriant flowers, which has expanded into bloom and fragrance beneath favoring skies, and has been nursed into beauty by the sunshine and the dews of heaven. Isabella is like a stately and graceful cedar, towering on some alpine cliff, unbowed and unscathed amid the storm. She gives us the impression of one who has passed under the ennobling discipline of suffering and selfdenial: a melancholy charm tempers the natural vigor of her mind: her spirit seems to stand upon an eminence, and look down upon the world as if already enskyed and sainted; and yet when brought in contact with that world which she inwardly despises, she shrinks back with all the timidity natural to her cloistral education.-JAMESON, Shakespeare's Heroines.

But the poet in Shakespeare comes first, and the philosopher only second; and the title of the play should rather be "Isabella." It is better to know the dramas of Shakespeare by their women than by their philosophy; and of these women Isabella is the best. You may like them for several virtues, these women; and by the word "best" I

mean the most "moral"; this accords with the whole scheme of the play. Isabella-we conclude with the poet's own description—is a saint. I am not quoting "a thing ensky'd and sainted"; these words have reference to the cloister; but I allude to III, i, 186–7. Again, let me illustrate, and by comparison; there is no inductive method in literature. Isabella we may compare with the Portia of The Merchant of Venice, and the distinction is most striking; she combines all the daring of Portia with cold calmness and a hesitancy of peculiar charm. Portia would have importuned Angelo quite otherwise (II, ii); Isabella is at war 'twixt will and will not; but for the urgency of Lucio she might have withdrawn from the contest; this is one of the finest things in the play. But as she proceeds, love dominates the scruple of morality, and she gains the respite of another interview.-LUCE, Handbook to Shakespeare's Works.

THE DUKE

The reigning Duke, who had thus allowed this law to slumber, had done so from kindness of heart and innate mildness. He thinks himself justified in bearing testimony to himself that even to the envious he must appear a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier. He holds that high moral opinion that the ruler and judge ought to be as holy as he is severe, a pattern in himself, "grace to stand and virtue go"; he considers him as a tyrant who punishes in others the faults into which he falls himself. His whole nature is that of a man of moderation, gentleness, and calmness, his whole endeavor that of a circumspect philosopher. He loves his people, but he does not relish their loud applause and thronging, nor does he think the man of safe discretion that affects it. He has a leaning to solitude, and plays the part of a friar perhaps even better than that of a statesman; his earnest endeavor was always to know himself, but it also seemed a kind of necessity with him to know men and to test the instruments of his rule. This circumspect wisdom, never seeing things im

perfectly or from one point of view, shows itself also in his conduct respecting the morality or immorality of the people of Vienna, which by degrees had attained to such a height that the prince could no longer remain inactive. He is himself not of a sensual nature, but he does not, like Angelo, judge those who are so with unreasonable severity and strictness. In this mild spirit he has allowed those severe laws to slumber, but by this he has given free course to crime; these fruits of his kindness rouse him into seeking a remedy. But even while he now has recourse to severity, he allows himself to be governed by the same two-sided consideration which is throughout peculiar to him; he reflects that it would be tyrannical in him if he, who by his lenity had first given a free passage to sin, should all of a sudden turn to rigor. He therefore withdraws himself, and imposes on a deputy this office of making the change from the hitherto lax administration of justice to a new inculcation of the old, neglected, and severe laws.-GERVINUS, Shakespeare Commentaries.

CLAUDIO'S SIN

With deliberate distinctness, which hasty reading must not be allowed to blur, Shakspere has set forth the circumstances which bring this young man, who in Whetstone's version was an ordinary libertine, within the scope of the terrible statute. He had been contracted to Juliet, and had lived with her as his wife, though the outward form of marriage had been postponed, because Juliet's dowry remained in the coffer of her friends, whose favor had yet to be gained for the union. A contracted couple, from the Elizabethan point of view, were looked upon as joined in wedlock, and thus Claudio's sin was merely one in name. Moreover and it is one of the dramatist's most subtle and original uses of parallelism-Claudio's relation to Juliet had been almost of a piece with that of Angelo to Mariana. But where the one had for wordly reasons left his already affianced bride in the lurch, the other with generous im