a whole nation.  Some justice, some meaning, France must have when she declares with one voice that Racine is not only one of the greatest of dramatists, but also one of the greatest of poets; and it behoves an Englishman, before he condemns or despises a foreign writer, to practise some humility and do his best to understand the point of view from which that writer is regarded by his own compatriots.  No doubt, in the case of Racine, this is a particularly difficult matter.  There are genuine national antipathies to be got over—­real differences in habits of thought and of taste.  But this very difficulty, when it is once surmounted, will make the gain the greater.  For it will be a gain, not only in the appreciation of one additional artist, but in the appreciation of a new kind of artist; it will open up a whole undiscovered country in the continent of art.

English dramatic literature is, of course, dominated by Shakespeare; and it is almost inevitable that an English reader should measure the value of other poetic drama by the standards which Shakespeare has already implanted in his mind.  But, after all, Shakespeare himself was but the product and the crown of a particular dramatic convention; he did not compose his plays according to an ideal pattern; he was an Elizabethan, working so consistently according to the methods of his age and country that, as we know, he passed ‘unguessed at’ among his contemporaries.  But what were these methods and this convention?  To judge of them properly we must look, not at Shakespeare’s masterpieces, for they are transfused and consecrated with the light of transcendent genius, but at the average play of an ordinary Elizabethan play-wright, or even at one of the lesser works of Shakespeare himself.  And, if we look here, it will become apparent that the dramatic tradition of the Elizabethan age was an extremely faulty one.  It allowed, it is true, of great richness, great variety, and the sublimest heights of poetry; but it also allowed of an almost incredible looseness of structure and vagueness of purpose, of dullness, of insipidity, and of bad taste.  The genius of the Elizabethans was astonishing, but it was genius struggling with difficulties which were well-nigh insuperable; and, as a matter of fact, in spite of their amazing poetic and dramatic powers, their work has vanished from the stage, and is to-day familiar to but a few of the lovers of English literature.  Shakespeare alone was not subdued to what he worked in.  His overwhelming genius harmonized and ennobled the discordant elements of the Elizabethan tradition, and invested them not only with immortality, but with immortality understanded of the people.  His greatest works will continue to be acted and applauded so long as there is a theatre in England.  But even Shakespeare himself was not always successful.  One has only to look at some of his secondary plays—­at Troilus and Cressida, for instance, or Timon of Athens—­to