the selfish characters bully them, mock them, thrust them aside at
every page--and they do so because they are more the stuff of which men
and women of any mark are made.
There are evil characters in Shakespeare, in Fielding, in Goldsmith, in
Scott: we find ruffians, rakes, traitors, and parasites. But they are
not paramount, not universal, not unqualified. Iago is utterly
overshadowed by Othello, Blifil by Alworthy, Tom Jones by Sophia
Western, Squire Thornhill by Dr. Primrose, the reprobate Staunton by
the good angel Jeanie Deans. Shakespeare, Fielding, Goethe, Scott draw
noble and generous natures quite as well as they paint the evil
natures: indeed they paint them better; they enjoy the painting of them
more; they make us enjoy them more. Take this test: if we run over the
characters of Shakespeare or of Scott we have to reflect before we find
the villains. If we run over the characters in Thackeray, it is an
effort of memory to recall the generous and the fine natures.
Thackeray has given us some loveable and affectionate men and women;
but they all have qualities which lower them and tend to make them
either tiresome or ridiculous. Henry Esmond is a high-minded and
almost heroic gentleman, but he is glum, a regular kill-joy, and, as
his author admitted, something of a prig. Colonel Newcome is a noble
true-hearted soldier; but he is made too good for this world and
somewhat too innocent, too transparently a child of nature.
Warrington, with all his sense and honesty, is rough; Pendennis is a
bit of a puppy; Clive Newcome is not much of a hero; and as for Dobbin
he is almost intended to be a butt.
A more serious defect is a dearth in Thackeray of women to love and to
honour. Shakespeare has given us a gallery of noble women; Fielding
has drawn the adorable Sophia Western; Scott has his Jeanie Deans. But
though Thackeray has given us over and over again living pictures of
women of power, intellect, wit, charm, they are all marred by atrocious
selfishness, cruelty, ambition, like Becky Sharp, Beatrix Esmond, and
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