It is, perhaps, characteristic of this commercial age that benevolence
should be always associated, if not considered synonymous, with the
giving of money. But this is clearly mistaken, for we have to consider
what effect the money given produces on the minds and bodies of human
beings. Sir Richard Whittington was an eminently benevolent man, and
spent his money freely for the good of his fellow-citizens. (We
sincerely hope, by the way, that he lent some of it to Falstaff
without security.) He endowed hospitals and other charities. Hundreds
were relieved by his gifts, and thousands (perhaps) are now in receipt
of his alms. This is well. Let the sick and the poor, who enjoy his
hospitality and receive his doles, bless his memory. But how much
wider and further-reaching is the influence of Falstaff! Those who
enjoy his good things are not only the poor and the sick, but all who
speak the English language. Nay, more; translation has made him the
inheritance of the world, and the benefactor of the entire human race.

It may be, however, that some other nations fail fully to understand
and appreciate the mirth and the character of the man. A Dr. G. G.
Gervinus, of Heidelberg, has written, in the German language, a heavy
work on Shakespeare, in which he attacks Falstaff in a very solemn and
determined manner, and particularly charges him with selfishness and
want of conscience. We are inclined to set down this malignant attack
to envy. Falstaff is the author and cause of universal laughter. Dr.
Gervinus will never be the cause of anything universal; but, so far as
his influence extends, he produces headaches. It is probably a painful
sense of this contrast that goads on the author of headaches to attack
the author of laughter.

But is there anything in the charge? We do not claim anything like