Given the definition with which he starts--but it is a definition that
no Frenchman of the seventeenth or eighteenth century would have
admitted--it is hard to see how Dryden could have reached a
substantially different result. Nor, if comparisons of this sort are
to be made at all, is there much--so far, at least, as Shakespeare is
concerned--to find fault with in the verdict with which he closes. Yet
it is impossible not to regret that Dryden should have failed to
recognize the finer spirit and essence of French tragedy, as conceived
by Corneille: the strong-tempered heroism of soul, the keen sense of
honour, the consuming fire of religion, to which it gives utterance.

The truth is that Dryden stood at once too near, and too far from, the
ideals of Corneille to appreciate them altogether at their just value.
Too near because he instinctively associated them with the heroic
drama, which at the bottom of his heart he knew to be no better than
an organized trick, done daily with a view to "elevate and surprise".
Too far, because, in spite of his own candid and generous temper, it
was well-nigh impossible for the Laureate of the Restoration to
comprehend the highly strung nature of a man like Corneille, and his
intense realization of the ideal.

But, if Dryden is blind to the essential qualities of Corneille, he
is at least keenly alive to those of Shakespeare. It is a memorable
thing that the most splendid tribute ever offered to the prince of
Elizabethans should have come from the leading spirit of the
Restoration. It has often been quoted, but it will bear quoting once
again.

"Shakespeare was the man who, of all modern and perhaps ancient poets,
had the largest and most comprehensive soul. All the images of nature