e, is supposed,
from various coincidences, to have furnished Shakspeare with the
groundwork of the play; but the character of Isabella is, in conception
and execution, all his own. The commentators have collected with
infinite industry all the sources of the plot; but to the grand creation
of Isabella, they award either silence or worse than silence. Johnson
and the rest of the black-letter crew, pass over her without a word. One
critic, a lady-critic too, whose name I will be so merciful as to
suppress, treats Isabella as a coarse vixen. Hazlitt, with that strange
perversion of sentiment and want of taste which sometimes mingle with
his piercing and powerful intellect, dismisses Isabella with a slight
remark, that "we are not greatly enamoured of her rigid chastity, nor
can feel much confidence in the virtue that is sublimely good at
another's expense." What shall we answer to such criticism? Upon what
ground can we read the play from beginning to end, and doubt the
angel-purity of Isabella, or contemplate her possible lapse from
virtue? Such gratuitous mistrust is here a sin against the light of
heaven.

Having waste ground enough,
Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary,
And pitch our evils there?

Professor Richardson is more just, and truly sums up her character as
"amiable, pious, sensible, resolute, determined, and eloquent:" but his
remarks are rather superficial.

Schlegel's observations are also brief and general, and in no way
distinguish Isabella from many other characters; neither did his plan
allow him to be more minute. Of the play altogether, he observes very
beautifully, "that the title Measure for Measure is in reality a
misnomer, the sense of the whole being properly the triumph of mercy
over strict justice:" but it is also true that there is "an original sin
in the nature of the subject, which prevents us from taking a cordial
interest in it."[12] Of all the characters, Isabella alone has our
sympathy. But though she triumphs in the conclusion, her triumph is not
produced in a pleasing manner. There are too many disguises and tricks,
too many "by-paths and indirect crooked ways," to conduct us to the
natural and foreseen catastrophe, which the Duke's presence throughout
renders inevitable. This Duke seems to have a predilection for bringing
about justice by a most unjustifiable succession of falsehoods and
counterplots. He really deserves Lucio's satirical designation, who
somewher