in the drama than three horizons in a picture.  But let us be careful not to confound unity with simplicity of plot.  The former does not in any way exclude the secondary plots on which the principal plot may depend.  It is necessary only that these parts, being skilfully subordinated to the general plan, shall tend constantly toward the central plot and group themselves about it at the various stages, or rather on the various levels of the drama.  Unity of plot is the stage law of perspective.

“But,” the customs-officers of thought will cry, “great geniuses have submitted to these rules which you spurn!” Unfortunately, yes.  But what would those admirable men have done if they had been left to themselves?  At all events they did not accept your chains without a struggle.  You should have seen how Pierre Corneille, worried and harassed at his first step in the art on account of his marvellous work, Le Cid, struggled under Mairet, Claveret, d’Aubignac and Scuderi!  How he denounced to posterity the violent attacks of those men, who, he says, made themselves “all white with Aristotle!” You should read how they said to him—­and we quote from books of the time:  “Young man, you must learn before you teach; and unless one is a Scaliger or a Heinsius that is intolerable!” Thereupon Corneille rebels and asks if their purpose is to force him “much below Claveret.”  Here Scuderi waxes indignant at such a display of pride, and reminds the “thrice great author of Le Cid of the modest words in which Tasso, the greatest man of his age, began his apology for the finest of his works against the bitterest and most unjust censure perhaps that will ever be pronounced.  M. Corneille,” he adds, “shows in his replies that he is as far removed from that author’s moderation as from his merit.”  The young man so justly and gently reproved dares to protest; thereupon Scuderi returns to the charge; he calls to his assistance the Eminent Academy; “Pronounce, O my Judges, a decree worthy of your eminence, which will give all Europe to know that Le Cid is not the chef-d’oeuvre of the greatest man in France, but the least judicious performance of M. Corneille himself.  You are bound to do it, both for your own private renown; and for that of our people in general, who are concerned in this matter; inasmuch as foreigners who may see this precious masterpiece—­they who have possessed a Tasso or a Guarini—­might think that our greatest masters were no more than apprentices.”

These few instructive lines contain the everlasting tactics of envious routine against growing talent—­tactics which are still followed in our own day, and which, for example, added such a curious page to the youthful essays of Lord Byron.  Scuderi gives us its quintessence.  In like manner the earlier works of a man of genius are always preferred to the newer ones, in order to prove that he is going down instead of up—­Melite and La Galerie du Palais placed above Le Cid.