The Theory of Greek Tragedy 15 
to ends upon which depends the perfection of art in general and 
of dramatic art in particular—without introducing an element of 
excess or superfluity, a principle of disorder which tends to warp 
and sprain the play. The fact is that the Shakespearean dramatis 
personae are too big for the mimic world which they feign to in- 
habit; they are themselves realities masquerading in a world of 
fiction; they belong, not to the stage, but to existence. Dare I 
say so—they are too natural, particularly the women? I con- 
fess that to me at least it seems at times a little incongruous, 
even a little grotesque to watch these intensely animated charac- 
ters, complex with all the complexity of life, gesticulating, grimac- 
ing, frowning, smiling, running the gamut of a thousand expres- 
sions and inflections, bustling about with all the irresponsible vi- 
vacity of nature, “in a fiction, in a dream of passion,” amid a 
factitious and highly artificial scene clapped together transpar- 
ently enough out of a few bits of painted canvas, a rickety slide 
or two, and a set of flimsy hangings, the whole bounded by an 
arc of garish footlights and a row of staring spectators. On the 
contrary the Greek actor in his buskins, his mask, his robe and 
trappings, with his restrained gestures and intonations, may seem 
a singular figure when deprived of his appropriate accompani- 
ments. But put him in his place, in the midst of a scene and an 
action carefully insulated, to say the least, from actuality; and 
he ceases to be grotesque or incongruous: he and his surroundings 
are of a sort. 
In one particular, however—in the nature of the actions imi- 
tated and in the fidelity of the imitation it must be acknowledged 
that Greek tragedy bears no little likeness to the Elizabethan— 
quite enough, indeed, to justify the numerous parallels that have 
been drawn between them and even to support the contention 
that Shakespeare’s is the likest of all tragedy to the Athenian. 
Nor is the similarity so very extraordinary after all. There is 
naturally a kind of family resemblance among all the members of 
a genre. From this particular point of view life is bound to 
present pretty much the same aspect whoever views it. The 
frightful rivalry and competition, the monstrous waste of life, 
the atrocious expense of suffering, which are the very conditions 
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