clearly set forth. The very springs of Greek character are uncovered
in the Greek tragedies; and the tremendous forces liberated by the
Renaissance are nowhere else so strikingly brought to light as in that
group of tragedies which were produced in so many countries, by so
many men, at the close of that momentous epoch. When literature runs
mainly to the tragic form, it may be assumed that the spiritual force
of the race has expressed itself afresh, and that a race, or a group
of races, has passed through one of those searching experiences which
bring men again face to face with the facts of life; for the
production of tragedy involves thought of such depth, insight of such
clearness, and imaginative power of such quality and range that it is
possible, on a great scale, only when the springs of passion and
action have been profoundly stirred. The appearance of tragedy marks,
therefore, those moments when men manifest, without calculation or
restraint, all the power that is in them; and into no other literary
form is the vital force poured so lavishly. It is the instinctive
recognition of this unveiling of the soul of man which gives the
tragedy such impressiveness even when it is haltingly represented on
the stage, and which subdues the imagination to its mood when the
solitary reader comes under its spell. The life of the race is sacred
in those great passages which record its sufferings; and nothing makes
us so aware of our unity with our kind in all times and under all
circumstances as the community of suffering in which, actively or
passively, all men share.

In the tragedy the student of literature is brought into the most
intimate relation with his race in those moments when its deepest
experiences are laid bare; he enters into its life when that life is
passing through its most momentous passages; he is present in those
hidden places where it confesses its highest hopes, reveals its most