Believing that the language of the drama (which, he held, should be the standard of linguistic excellence) had terribly degenerated, he set himself to render his play a model of correctness in all respects. It is framed in extreme accordance with the assumed exigencies of the unities. The story is very simple and direct, the time occupied in the action is the same as that of the representation, and the scene is throughout in the same palace or its precincts. In thus focussing the whole drama into a crisis in the lives of the characters, and making no demands on the imagination of the spectators to furnish anything except the epoch, the dramatist proceeds on the assumption that all the illusion which the stage can afford is not attained except under these conditions. This assumption has been proved false by a thousand examples. The writer who has succeeded in observing the unities, probably confounds his own satisfaction at overcoming a great difficulty with the pleasure of the audience, forgetting that the spectator is interested in the effect only, not in the process. However this may be, Voltaire continued to value himself on the observance of the rules with which he hampered his genius, and to allow his prejudices on this point to affect his estimate of others, notably of Shakespeare.
It is not expedient to dwell on the character of this drama further than to say that it exhibits great dexterity in securing symmetry, compactness, and completeness under the assumed conditions; and that, if the characters exhibit no great individuality, and speak rather to promote the action than to reveal themselves, they talk as well as characters so unhappily situated can be supposed to talk. But it may be interesting to quote one or two
