when it came to the prime of its vigor, for the spirit of Shakespeare; and exactly at that season the spirit of Shakespeare were poured into it. If the spirit of Shakespeare gave to it such mental treasures as an individual genius never gave before to a national tongue, in return, no national tongue ever gave to an individual genius such a compass of glory as English has given, and is destined to give, to the spirit of Shakespeare. This, the tongue of four or five millions merely when Shakespeare wrote, is now heard over the continents and islands of the globe; and wherever it is read or spoken, the name of him who for an obscure theatre once composed his dramas, is sounded with reverence and rapture. Who can conceive the immensity of that public which the English language prepares for Shakespeare with the growth of generations? The English language spreads in Europe; it is the language of this great and increasing American nation; it will be that of the millions who are to fill Australia, and to cover every habitable spot that gleams in the Pacific; if Britain continues to sway India, authority, profit, and ambition will confer dominance on her language, and extend it through many regions of Asia; but wherever this language is known, there Shakespeare's genius will be also known. Some have fears that, in such diffusion, English must be broken into a variety of dialects, and be lost in a chaos of corruptions and adaptations. We do not share in these fears. The English language has not, by means of elementary roots, the independent, native sufficiency which the Greek or the German has; it has, however, an admirable substitute, in the facility with which it fashions new and foreign words. The facility of annexing and incorporating words is as great in the English language as that of annexing and incorporating territory is in the English government. We remember a time, not long since, when English critics wailed dolefully over the corruption of the language by peculiarities of American phraseology; but of late we have seen not a few English critics adopt some of our most exceptional peculiarities, merely on account of their expressiveness, and without our justification of circumstance and necessity. But there are two volumes on which we rest our strongest confidence for the preservation, through all vicissitudes, of our language in its genius and its unity: one volume contains the writings of Shakespeare, the other, the authorized translation of the Bible; for both will continue to be read and studied, each in its own sphere, while the mind of man has thought for the natural and the supernatural, while idea, incident, character, and passion impart interest to life, while God, existence, eternity, infinite meaning unto death. - and mystery give HUMAN LIFE IN SHAKESPEARE. HAKESPEARE is, in the most comprehen man life; and I propose to speak on the study of his works as a study of this human life. 1. We study life as a whole in Shakespeare. This is the first consideration which I offer to your attention. We have humanity conveyed within the focus of his genius. Thus it is brought within our comprehension, with unity of vision and intensity of light. We can, therefore, place life before us through the medium of Shakespeare's mind with a steadiness of contemplation which by no other medium is attainable. Direct observation is to any man extremely limited: it is limited, even when a man's opportunities are the widest. The man who has travelled most, and thought most, will yet have seen life in a very partial, a very superficial manner. If he has had a purpose, his purpose must have controlled the order of his inquiry; it must have shaped the method of his reflection, so that men and men's reflections will appear differently, as seen by the naturalist, the trader, the moralist, the theologian, and the statesman. If the observer has not a purpose, he is a mere mental vagrant. His journeyings and his thinkings are only unconnected passages of movement and of consciousness, without law and without design. Nor will the writings of philosophers afford us the wholeness, the completeness, for which we seek. It is the business of philosophers to take man to pieces, to divide him into his several faculties and functions. I blame not the philosophers for their method. Their method is a necessity of philosophy, for philosophy depends upon analysis. The metaphysician considers man in relation to pure mind and absolute being; the theologian considers him in relation to God and immortality; the moralist considers him in relation to motives and actions; the legislator considers him in relation to the state; the jurist in relation to the laws; the critic in relation to art and literature; the educationist regards him as child and student; the political economist looks upon him merely as a worker and consumer. Man thus, as the object of either speculative or practical contemplation, is infinitively divided. So studied, he is studied in abstract and |