ays and Mysteries, which had been
adopted by the Church as the best means of acquainting the populace with
Sacred History. The audiences of the Miracle Plays were prepared for the
representation of human action on the stage. Meanwhile, from translation
and imitation, young scholars at the universities had become familiar
with some of the masterpieces of Ancient Drama, and with the laws of
dramatic form. But where were they to seek for matter to fill out these
forms? Where were they, in short, to get their plots?

Plot, we know, is pattern as applied to human action. A story, whether
told or acted, must tend in some definite direction if it is to be a
story at all. And the directions in which stories can go are singularly
few. Somebody in the _Athenaeum_--probably Mr. Theodore Watts, he has the
habit of saying such things--has remarked that during the past century
only two novelties in plot, _Undine_ and _Monte Christo_, have been
produced in European literature. Be that as it may, nothing strikes the
student of comparative literature so much as the paucity of plots
throughout literature and the universal tendency to borrow plots rather
than attempt the almost impossible task of inventing them. That tendency
is shown at its highest in the Elizabethan Drama. Even Shakespeare is as
much a plagiarist or as wise an artist, call it which you will, as the
meanest of his fellows.

Not alone is it difficult to invent a plot; it is even difficult to see
one in real life. When the _denouement_ comes, indeed--when the wife
flees or commits suicide--when bosom friends part, or brothers speak no
more--we may know that there has been the conflict of character or the
clash of temperaments which go to make the tragedies of life. But to
recognise these opposing forces before they come to the critical point
requires somewhat rarer qualities. There must be a quasi-scientific
interest in life _qua_ life, a dispassionate detachment from the events
observed, and at the same time an artistic capacity for selecting the
cardinal points in the action. Such an attitude can only be attained in
an older civilisation, when individuality has emerged out of
nationalism. In Europe of the sixteenth century the only country which
had reached this stage was Italy.

The literary and spiritual development of Italy has always been
conditioned by its historic position as the heir of Rome. Great nations,
as M. Renan has remarked, work themselves out in effect