This book is what it purports to be,—­not a collection of elaborate essays devoted to metaphysical analysis or to conjectural emendations of doubtful lines,—­but a series of ideal portraits of the women of Shakspeare’s plays.  The reader may fancy himself led by an intelligent cicerone who pauses before each picture and with well-chosen words tells enough of the story to present the heroine, and then gives her own conception of the character, with such hints concerning manners and personal peculiarities as a careful study of the play may furnish.  The narrations are models of neatness and brevity, yet full enough to give a clear understanding of the situation to any one unacquainted with it.  The creations of Shakspeare have a wonderful completeness and vitality; and yet the elements of character are often mingled so subtilely that the sharpest critics differ widely in their estimates.  Nothing can be more fascinating than to follow closely the great dramatist, picking out from the dialogue a trait of form here, a whim of color there, and at last combining them into an harmonious whole, with the truth of outline, hue, and bearing preserved.  Often as this has been done, there is room still for new observers, provided they bring their own eyes to the task, and do not depend upon the dim and warped lenses of the commentators.

It is very rarely that we meet with so fresh, so acute, and so entertaining a student of Shakspeare as the author of this volume.  Her observations, whether invariably just or not, are generally taken from a new stand-point.  She is led to her conclusions rather by instinct than by reason.  She makes no apology for her judgments.

  “I have no reason but a woman’s reason;
  I think her so because I think her so.”

And it would not be strange, if womanly instinct were to prove oftentimes a truer guide in following the waywardness or the apparent contradictions of a woman’s nature than the cold logical processes of merely intellectual men.

To the heroines who are most truly women the author’s loyalty is pure and intense.  Imogen, the “chaste, ardent, devoted, beautiful” wife,—­Juliet, whose “ingenuousness and almost infantile simplicity” endear her to all hearts,—­Miranda, that most ethereal creation, type of virgin innocence,—­Cordelia, with her pure, filial devotion,—­are painted with loving, sympathetic tenderness.

Altogether, this is a book which any admirer of the poet may read with pleasure; and especially to those who have not ventured to think wholly for themselves it will prove a most useful and agreeable companion.