diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-21 20:42:52 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-21 20:42:52 -0800 |
| commit | f30ffdd957b88e75435f304d038dd3b6c2faa9e1 (patch) | |
| tree | 34d3c30eca5ceb5d82b8e4001aac811c5732883d | |
| parent | e937afff48b2a346efdc65b14c3a56a7b30bd245 (diff) | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-0.txt | 3566 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-0.zip | bin | 78552 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h.zip | bin | 431495 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/68209-h.htm | 4630 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 247904 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_000.png | bin | 3054 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_001.png | bin | 8972 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_009.png | bin | 7539 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_015.png | bin | 5339 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_021.png | bin | 6993 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_028.png | bin | 9572 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_033.png | bin | 6740 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_038.png | bin | 8323 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_045.png | bin | 8297 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_049.png | bin | 8469 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_053.png | bin | 7100 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_060.png | bin | 7825 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_063.png | bin | 8008 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_070.png | bin | 8721 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_078.png | bin | 8210 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_082.png | bin | 9114 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_090.png | bin | 8514 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68209-h/images/i_102.png | bin | 9183 -> 0 bytes |
26 files changed, 17 insertions, 8196 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8239705 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #68209 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68209) diff --git a/old/68209-0.txt b/old/68209-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6402bc0..0000000 --- a/old/68209-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3566 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of George Bernard Shaw: His Plays, by -Henry L. Mencken - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: George Bernard Shaw: His Plays - -Author: Henry L. Mencken - -Release Date: May 30, 2022 [eBook #68209] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Emmanuel Ackerman, Charlie Howard, and the Online - Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This - file was produced from images generously made available by - The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GEORGE BERNARD SHAW: HIS -PLAYS *** - - - - - - George Bernard Shaw - his plays - - BY - HENRY L. MENCKEN - - - [Illustration] - - - BOSTON AND LONDON - JOHN W. LUCE & CO. - 1905 - - - - - _Copyright, 1905, by_ - JOHN W. LUCE & COMPANY - _Boston, Mass., U. S. A._ - - - _The Plimpton Press Norwood Mass. U.S.A._ - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PREFACE. - - BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION. - - THE SHAW PLAYS: - - Mrs. Warren’s Profession. - - Arms and the Man. - - The Devil’s Disciple. - - Widowers’ Houses. - - The Philanderer. - - Captain Brassbound’s Conversion. - - Cæsar and Cleopatra. - - A Man of Destiny. - - The Admirable Bashville. - - Candida. - - How He Lied to Her Husband. - - You Never Can Tell. - - Man and Superman. - - John Bull’s Other Island. - - Major Barbara. - - THE NOVELS AND OTHER WRITINGS: - - The Irrational Knot, Love Among the Artists, Cashel Byron’s - Profession, An Unsocial Socialist, On Going to Church, The - Quintessence of Ibsenism, etc. - - BIOGRAPHICAL AND STATISTICAL. - - SHAKESPEARE AND SHAW. - - - - -PREFACE - - -This is a little handbook for the reading tables of Americans -interested enough in the drama of the day to have some curiosity -regarding the plays of George Bernard Shaw, but too busy to give them -careful personal study or to read the vast mass of reviews, magazine -articles, letters to the editor, newspaper paragraphs and reports of -debates that deal with them. Every habitual writer now before the -public, from William Archer and James Huneker to “Vox Populi” and “An -Old Subscriber” has had his say about Shaw. In the pages following -there is no attempt to formulate a new theory of his purposes or a -novel interpretation of his philosophies. Instead, the object of this -modest book is to bring all of the Shaw commentators together upon the -common ground of admitted fact, to exhibit the Shaw plays as dramas -rather than as transcendental treatises, and to describe their plots, -characters, and general plans simply and calmly, and without reading -into them anything invisible to the naked eye. - -The order in which the plays are considered is not the chronological -one, and some readers may think that it is not the logical one. -Inasmuch as an exposition of the reasons that urged its adoption would -waste a great deal of space, the point will not be argued. The brief -biography of the dramatist is based upon the most accurate available -eulogies, denunciations, reminiscences, and manuscripts. So, too, the -historical data regarding the plays and other publications. - -The reputation of Mr. Shaw as a playwright has so far exceeded his -renown as a novelist, a socialist, a cart-tail orator, a journeyman -reformer, a vegetarian, and a critic of literature and the arts, -that his novels and other minor works have been noticed but briefly. -But this is not to be taken as evidence that they do not merit -acquaintance. Even the worst of Shaw is well worth study. - - - - -BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION - - What else is talent but a name for experience, practice, - appropriation, incorporation, from the times of our forefathers? - - --FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE. - - -A century is a mere clock-tick in eternity, but measured by human -events it is a hundred long years. Napoleon Bonaparte, born in 1768, -became an officer of artillery and gravedigger for an epoch. Born in -1868, he might have become a journeyman genius of the boulevards, a -Franco-Yankee trust magnate, or the democratic boss of Kansas City. And -so, contrariwise, George Bernard Shaw, born in 1756 instead of 1856, -might have become a gold-stick-in-waiting at the Court of St. James or -Archbishop of Canterbury. The accident that made him what he is was one -of time. He saw the light after, instead of before Charles Darwin. - -Darwin is dead now, and the public that reads the newspapers remembers -him only as the person who first publicly noted the fact that men -look a great deal like monkeys. But his soul goes marching on. Thomas -Huxley and Herbert Spencer, like a new Ham and a new Shem, spent their -lives seeing to that. From him, through Huxley, we have appendicitis, -the seedless orange, and our affable indifference to hell. Through -Spencer, in like manner, we have Nietzsche, Sudermann, Hauptmann, -Ibsen, our annual carnivals of catechetical revision, the stampede for -church union, and the aforesaid George Bernard Shaw. Each and all of -these men and things, it is true, might have appeared if Darwin were -yet unborn. Ibsen might have written “A Doll’s House,” and a rash synod -or two might have turned impertinent search-lights upon the doctrine -of infant damnation. It is possible, certainly, but it is supremely, -colossally, and overwhelmingly improbable. - -Why? Simply because before Darwin gave the world “The Origin -of Species” the fight against orthodoxy, custom, and authority -was perennially and necessarily a losing one. On the side of -the defense were ignorance, antiquity, piety, organization, and -respectability--twelve-inch, wire-wound, rapid-fire guns, all of them. -In the hands of the scattered, half-hearted, unorganized attacking -parties there were but two weapons--the blowpipe of impious doubt and -the bludgeon of sacrilege. Neither, unsupported, was very effective. -Voltaire, who tried both, scared the defenders a bit and for a while -there was a great pother and scurrying about, but when the smoke -cleared away the walls were just as strong as before and the drawbridge -was still up. One had to believe or be damned. There was no compromise -and no middle ground. - -And so, when Darwin bobbed up, armed with a new-fangled dynamite gun -that hurled shells charged with a new shrapnel--facts--the defenders -laughed at the novel weapon and looked forward to slaying its bearer. -Spencer, because he ventured to question Genesis, lost his best friend. -Huxley, for an incautious utterance, was barred from the University -of Oxford. And then of a sudden, there was a deafening roar and a -blinding flash--and down went the walls. Ramparts of authority that -had resisted doubts fell like hedge-rows before facts, and there began -an intellectual reign of terror that swept like a whirlwind through -Europe, America, Asia, Africa, and Oceania. For six thousand years it -had been necessary, in defending a doctrine, to show only that it was -respectable or sacred. Since 1859, it has been needful to prove its -truth. - -It will take the perspective of centuries to reveal to us the exact -metes and bounds of Darwin’s influence. He himself probably gave little -thought to it. His own business in life was the investigation of -biological phenomena and he was too busy at that to take an interest in -politics or ethics. But his new method of assailing tradition appealed -to men laboring in far distant vineyards, and soon there was in -progress a grand assault-at-arms that left orthodoxy and custom dying -on the field. Huxley led the physicians and Spencer the metaphysicians. -Every time the former overturned an old theory of matter, the latter -pricked an old maxim of ethics. And so the search for the ultimate -verities, which had been a pariah hiding in cellars, like anarchism or -polygamy, became the spirit of the times. Whenever custom or tradition -reared one of its hydra-heads, there was a champion ready to strike it -down. - -The practical result of this was that seekers after the truth, growing -bold with success, began attacking virtues as well as vices. And herein -you will find the fundamental difference between the philosophers -before Darwin and those after him. The _Spectator_, in the ’teens -of the eighteenth century, inveighed against marital infidelity--an -amusement counted among the scarlet sins since the days of Moses. -Ibsen, a century and a half later, asked if there might not be evil, -too, in unreasoning fidelity. If you pursue this little inquiry to its -close, you will observe that George Bernard Shaw, in nearly all of -his plays and novels, follows Ibsen rather than Addison. Sometimes he -lends his ear to one of the two classes of pioneers he mentions in “The -Quintessence of Ibsen,” and sometimes to the other, but it is always to -the pioneers. Either he is exhibiting a virtue as a vice in disguise, -or exhibiting a vice as a virtue in vice’s clothing. In this fact lies -the excuse for considering him a world-figure. He stands in a sense -as an embodiment of the _welt-geist_, which is a word invented by the -Germans to designate world-spirit or tendency of the times. - - -II - -Popular opinion and himself to the contrary notwithstanding, Shaw is -not a mere preacher. The function of the dramatist is not that of the -village pastor. He has no need to exhort, nor to call upon his hearers -to come to the mourners’ bench. All the world expects him to do is to -picture human life as he sees it, as accurately and effectively as he -can. Like the artist in color, form, or tone, his business is with -impressions. A man painting an Alpine scene endeavors to produce, not a -mere record of each rock and tree, but an impression upon the observer -like that he would experience were he to stand in the artist’s place -and look upon the snow-capped crags. In music it is the same. Beethoven -set out, with melody and harmony, to arouse the emotions that stir us -upon pondering the triumphs of a great conqueror. Hence the Eroica -Symphony. Likewise, with curves and color, Millet tried to awaken the -soft content that falls upon us when we gaze across the fields at -eventide and hear the distant vesper-bell--and we have “The Angelus.” - -The purpose of the dramatist is identical. If he shows us a drunken man -on the stage it is because he wants us to experience the disgust or -amusement or envy that wells up in us on contemplating such a person -in real life. He concerns himself, in brief, with things as he sees -them. The preacher deals with things as he thinks they ought to be. -Sometimes the line of demarcation between the two purposes may be but -dimly seen, but it is there all the same. If a play has what is known -as a moral, it is the audience and not the playwright that formulates -and voices it. A sermon without an obvious moral, well rubbed in, would -be no sermon at all. - -And so, if we divest ourselves of the idea that Shaw is trying to -preach some rock-ribbed doctrine in each of his plays, instead of -merely setting forth human events as he sees them, we may find his -dramas much easier of comprehension. True enough, in his prefaces -and stage directions, he delivers himself of many wise saws and -elaborate theories. But upon the stage, fortunately, prefaces and -stage directions are no longer read to audiences, as they were in -Shakespeare’s time, and so, if they are ever to discharge their natural -functions, the Shaw dramas must stand as simple plays. Some of them, -alackaday! bear this test rather badly. Others, such as “Mrs. Warren’s -Profession” and “Candida,” bear it supremely well. - -It is the dramatist’s business, then, to record the facts of life as -he sees them, that philosophers and moralists (by which is meant the -public in meditative mood) may deduce therefrom new rules of human -conduct, or observe and analyze old rules as they are exhibited in the -light of practice. That the average playwright does not always do so -with absolute accuracy is due to the fact that he is merely a human -being. No two men see the same thing in exactly the same way, and -there are no fixed standards whereby we may decide whether one or the -other or neither is right. - -Herein we find the element of individual color, which makes one man’s -play differ from another man’s, just as one artist’s picture of a -stretch of beach would differ from another’s. A romancist, essaying -to draw a soldier, gave the world Don Cesar de Bazan. George Bernard -Shaw, at the same task, produced Captain Bluntschli. Don Cesar is an -idealist and a hero; Bluntschli is a sort of refined day laborer, -bent upon earning his pay at the least possible expenditure of blood -and perspiration. Inasmuch as no mere man--not even the soldier under -analysis himself--could ever hope to pry into a fighting man’s mind -and define and label his innermost shadows of thought and motive with -absolute accuracy, there is no reason why we should hold Don Cesar -to be a more natural figure than Captain Bluntschli. All that we can -demand of a dramatist is that he make his creation consistent and -logical and, as far as he can see to it, true. If we examine Bluntschli -we will find that he answers these requirements. There may be a good -deal of Shaw in him, but there is also some of Kitchener and more of -Tommy Atkins. - -This is one of the chief things to remember in studying the characters -in the Shaw plays. Some of them are not obvious types, but a little -inspection will show that most of them are old friends, simply viewed -from a new angle. This personal angle is the possession that makes one -dramatist differ from all others. - - -III - -Sarcey, the great French critic, has shown us that the essence of -dramatic action is conflict. Every principal character in a play must -have a complement, or as it is commonly expressed, a foil. In the most -primitive type of melodrama, there is a villain to battle with the hero -and a comic servant to stand in contrast with the tearful heroine. As -we go up the scale, the types are less strongly marked, but in every -play that, in the true sense, is dramatic, there is this same balancing -of characters and action. Comic scenes are contrasted with serious ones -and for every Hamlet you will find a gravedigger. - -In the dramas of George Bernard Shaw, which deal almost wholly with the -current conflict between orthodoxy and heterodoxy, it is but natural -that the characters should fall broadly into two general classes--the -ordinary folks who represent the great majority, and the iconoclasts, -or idol-smashers. Darwin made this war between the faithful and the -scoffers the chief concern of the time, and the sham-smashing that is -now going on, in all the fields of human inquiry, might be compared to -the crusades that engrossed the world in the middle ages. Everyone, -consciously or unconsciously, is more or less directly engaged in it, -and so, when Shaw chooses conspicuous fighters in this war as the chief -characters of his plays, he is but demonstrating his comprehension of -human nature as it is manifested to-day. In “Man and Superman,” for -instance, he makes John Tanner, the chief personage of the drama, a -rabid adherent of certain very advanced theories in social philosophy, -and to accentuate these theories and contrast them strongly with the -more old-fashioned ideas of the majority of persons, he places Tanner -among men and women who belong to this majority. The effect of this is -that the old notions and the new--orthodoxy and heterodoxy--are brought -sharply face to face, and there is much opportunity for what theater -goers call “scenes”--_i. e._ clashes of purpose and will. - -In all of the Shaw plays--including even the farces, though here to -a less degree--this conflict between the worshipers of old idols and -the iconoclasts, or idol-smashers, is the author’s chief concern. In -“The Devil’s Disciple” he puts the scene back a century and a half -because he wants to exhibit his hero’s doings against a background of -particularly rigid and uncompromising orthodoxy, and the world has -moved so fast since Darwin’s time that such orthodoxy scarcely exists -to-day. Were it pictured as actually so existing the public would -think the picture false and the playwright would fail in the first -business of a maker of plays, which is to give an air of reality to -his creations. So Dick Dudgeon, in “The Devil’s Disciple” is made a -contemporary of George Washington, and the tradition against which he -struggles seems fairly real. - -In each of the Shaw plays you will find a sham-smasher like Dick. -In “Mrs. Warren’s Profession,” there are three of them--Mrs. Warren -herself, her daughter Vivie and Frank Gardner. In “You Never Can Tell” -there are the Clandons; in “Arms and the Man” there is Bluntschli, and -in “Man and Superman” there are John Tanner and Mendoza, the brigand -chief, who appears in the Hell scene as the Devil. In “Candida” and -certain other of the plays it is somewhat difficult to label each -character distinctly, because there is less definition in the outlines -and the people of the play are first on one side and then on the other, -much after the fashion of people in real life. But in all of the Shaw -plays the necessary conflict is essentially one between old notions of -conduct and new ones. - -Dramatists of other days, before the world became engaged in its -crusade against error and sham, depicted battles of other sorts. In -“Hamlet” Shakespeare showed the prince in conflict with himself, and -in “The Merchant of Venice” he showed Shylock combatting Antonio, or, -in other words, the ideals of the Jew at strife with Christian ideals -of charity and mercy. Of late, the most important plays have much -resembled those of Shaw. Ibsen, except in his early poetical dramas, -deals chiefly with the war between new schemes of human happiness -and old rules of conduct. Nora Helmer fights the ancient idea that a -married woman should love, honor and obey her husband, no matter what -the provocation to do otherwise, just as Mrs. Warren defies the mandate -that a woman should preserve her virtue, no matter how much she may -suffer thereby. Sudermann, in “Magda,” shows his heroine in revolt -against the patriarchal German doctrine that a father’s authority over -his children is without limit, and Hauptmann, another German of rare -talents, depicts his chief characters in similar situations. Shaw is -frankly a disciple of Ibsen, but he is far more than a mere imitator. -In some things, indeed--such, for instance, as in fertility of wit and -invention--he very greatly exceeds the Norwegian. - - -IV - -As long as a dramatist is faithful to his task of depicting human life -as he sees it, it is of small consequence whether the victory, in the -dramatic conflict, goes to the one side or the other. In Pinero’s -play, “The Second Mrs. Tanqueray,” the heroine loses her battle with -convention and her life pays the forfeit. In Ibsen’s “Ghosts,” the -contest ends with the destruction of all concerned; in Hauptmann’s -“Friedensfest” there is no conclusion at all, and in Sudermann’s -“Johnnisfeuer,” orthodox virtue triumphs. The dramatist, properly -speaking, is not concerned about the outcome of the struggle. All he is -required to do is to draw the two sides accurately and understandingly -and to show the conflict naturally. In other words, it is not his -business to decide the matter for his audience, but to make those who -see his play think it out for themselves. - -“Here,” he says, as it were, “I have set down certain human -transactions and depicted certain human beings brought face to face -with definite conditions, and I have tried to show them meeting these -conditions as persons of their sort would meet them in real life. -I have endeavored, in brief, to exhibit a scene from life as real -people live it. Doubtless, there are lessons to be learned from this -scene--lessons that may benefit real men and women if they are ever -confronted with the conditions I have described. It is for you, my -friends, to work out these lessons for yourselves, each according to -his ideas of right and wrong.” - -That Shaw makes such an invitation in each of his plays is very plain. -The proof lies in the fact that they have, as a matter of common -knowledge, caused the public to do more thinking than the dramas of -any other contemporary dramatist, with the sole exception of Ibsen. -Pick up any of the literary monthlies and you will find a disquisition -upon his technique, glance through the dramatic column of your favorite -newspaper and you will find some reference to his plays. Go to your -woman’s club, O gentle reader! and you will hear your neighbor, Mrs. -McGinnis, deliver her views upon “Candida.” Pass among any collection -of human beings accustomed to even rudimentary mental activity--and you -will hear some mention, direct or indirect, and some opinion, original -or cribbed, of or about the wild Irishman. All of this presupposes -thinking, somewhere and by somebody. Mrs. McGinnis’ analysis of -Candida’s soul may be plagiarized and in error, but it takes thinking -to make errors, and the existence of a plagiarist always proves the -existence of a plagiaree. Even the writers of reviews in the literary -monthlies, and the press agents who provide discourses upon “You Never -Can Tell” for the provincial dailies are thinkers, strange as the idea, -at first sight, may seem. And so we may take it for granted that Shaw -tries to make us think and that he succeeds. - - -V - -“My task,” said Joseph Conrad the other day, in discussing the aims of -the novelist, “is, by the power of the written word, to make you hear, -to make you feel--it is, before all, to make you _see_. That--and no -more....” - -“All that I have composed,” said Hendrik Ibsen, in an address to -the Ladies’ Club of Christiania, “has not proceeded from a conscious -tendency. I have been more the poet and less the social philosopher -than has been believed.... Not alone those who write, but also those -who read, compose, and very often they are more full of poetry than the -poet himself....” - -“The poet,” said Schopenhauer, “brings pictures of life and human -character and situations before the imagination, sets everything in -motion and leaves it to everyone to think into these pictures as much -as his intellectual power will find for him therein.” - -Let us suppose, for instance, that “Mrs. Warren’s Profession” is given -a performance and that 2000 average citizens pay to see it. Of the 2000 -it is probable that 1900 will be persons who accept unquestioningly and -without even a passing doubt the legal and ecclesiastical maxim that -the Magdalen was a sinner, whom mercy might save from her punishment -but not from her sin. A thousand, perhaps, will sit through the -play without progressing any further; it will appeal to them merely -as an entertainment and those who are not vastly delighted by its -salaciousness, will condemn its immorality. But the 900, let us say, -will slowly awaken to the strange fact that there is something to be -said against as well as for the ancient maxim. Eight hundred of them, -perhaps, after debating the matter in their minds, will decide that the -arguments for it overwhelm those against it, and one hundred will leave -the playhouse convinced to the contrary or in more or less doubt. But -the eight hundred, though they have left harboring the same opinion -that was theirs before they came, will have made an infinite step -forward. Instead of being unthinking endorsers of a doctrine they have -never even examined, they will have become, in the true sense, original -thinkers. Thereafter, when they condemn the Magdalen, it will be, not -because a hundred popes did so before them, but because on hearing her -defense, they found it unconvincing. - -In this will be seen the truth of the statement purposely reiterated: -that Shaw is in no sense a preacher. His private opinions, very -naturally, greatly color his plays, but his true purpose, like that of -every dramatist worth while, is to give a more or less accurate and -unbiased picture of some phase of human life, that persons observing -it may be led to speculate and meditate upon it. In “Widowers’ Houses” -he attempts, by setting forth a series of transactions between a given -group of familiar Englishmen, to show that capitalism, as a social -force, is responsible for the oppression that slum landlords heap -upon their tenants, and that, in consequence, every other man of the -capitalistic class, no matter what his own particular investments -and activities may be, shares, to a greater or less extent, in the -landlords’ offense. A capitalist reading this play may conclude with -some justice that the merit of husbanding money--or, as Adam Smith -calls it, the virtue of abstinence--outweighs his portion of the -burden of this sin, or that it is, in a sense, inevitable and so not -properly a sin at all; but whatever his conclusion, if he has honestly -come to it after a consideration of the facts, he is a far better man -than when he accepted the maxims of the majority unquestioningly and -without analysis. - -A preacher necessarily endeavors to make all his hearers think exactly -as he does. A dramatist merely tries to make them think. The nature of -their conclusions is of minor consequence. - - -VI - -That Shaw will ever become a popular dramatist, in the sense that -Sardou and Pinero are popular, seems to be beyond all probability. -The vogue that his plays have had of late in the United States is -to be ascribed, in the main, to the yearning to appear “advanced” -and “intellectual” which afflicts Americans of a certain class. The -very fact that they do not understand him makes him seem worthy of -admiration to these virtuously ambitious folks. Were his aims and -methods obvious, they would probably vote him tiresome. As it is, a -performance of “Candida” delights them as much as an entertainment by -Henry Kellar, the magician, and for the same reason. - -But even among those who approach Shaw more honestly, there is little -likelihood that he will ever grow more popular, in the current sense, -than he is at present. In the first place, some of his plays are -wellnigh impossible of performance in a paying manner without elaborate -revision and expurgation. “Man and Superman,” for instance, would -require five hours if presented as it was written. And “Mrs. Warren’s -Profession,” because of its subject-matter, will be unsuitable for a -good many years to come. In the second place, Shaw’s extraordinary -dexterity as a wit, which got him his first hearing and keeps him -before the public almost constantly to-day, is a handicap of crushing -weight. As long as he exercises it, the great majority will continue to -think of him as a sort of glorified and magnificent buffoon. As soon as -he abandons it, he will cease to be Shaw. - -The reason of this lies in the fact that the average man clings fondly -to two ancient delusions: (_a_) that wisdom is always solemn, and (_b_) -that he himself is never ridiculous. Shaw outrages both of these ideas, -the first by placing his most searching and illuminating observations -in the mouths of such persons as Frank Gardner and Sidney Trefusis, -and the second by drawing characters such as Finch McComas and Roebuck -Ramsden. The average spectator laughs at Frank’s impertinences and -at Trefusis’ satire, and by gradual stages, comes to laugh at Frank -and Trefusis. Beginning as comedians, they become butts. And so, -conversely, McComas and Ramsden, as their opponents fall, rise -themselves. In the first act of “Man and Superman,” the battle seems to -be all in favor of John Tanner and so the unthinking reader concludes -that Tanner is Shaw’s personal spokesman and that the Tanner doctrines -constitute the Shavian creed. Later on, when Tanner falls before the -forces of inexorable law, this same reader is vastly puzzled and -perplexed, and in the end he is left wondering what it is all about. - -If he would but remember the reiterated axiom that a dramatist’s -purpose is to present a picture of life as he sees it, without -reference to any particular moral conclusions, he would better enjoy -and appreciate the play as a work of art. Playwrights of Shaw’s -calibre do not think it necessary to plainly label every character or -to reward their heroes and kill their villains in the last act. It is -utterly immaterial whether Tanner is dragged into a marriage with Ann -or escapes scot free. The important thing is that the battle between -the two be depicted naturally and plausibly and that it afford some -tangible material for reflection. - -The average citizen’s disinclination to see the ridiculous side of his -own pet doctrines and characteristics has been noted by Shaw in his -preface to Ibsen’s plays. Ibsen has drawn several characters intended -to satirize the typical self-satisfied business man and tax-payer--the -type greatly in the majority in the usual theater audience. These -characters, very naturally, have failed utterly to impress the said -gentlemen. One cannot expect a man, however keen his sense of humor, -to laugh at the things he considers eminently proper and honorable. -Shaw’s demand that he do so has greatly restricted the size of the -Shaw audience. To appreciate “The Devil’s Disciple,” for instance, a -religious man would have to lift himself bodily from his accustomed -rut of thought and look down upon himself from the same distance that -separates him in his meditations from the rest of humanity. This, it is -obvious, is possible only to man given to constant self-analysis and -introspection--the 999th man in the thousand. - -Even when the average spectator does not find himself the counterpart -of a definite type in a Shaw play, he is confused by the handling of -some of his ideals and ideas. No doubt the men who essayed to stone -the Magdalen were infinitely astounded when the Messiah called their -attention to the fact that they themselves were not guiltless. But it -is precisely this establishment of new view-points that makes Shaw -as an author worth the time and toil of study. In “Mrs. Warren’s -Profession,” the heroine’s picturesque fall from grace is shown in -literally a multitude of aspects. We have her own antipodal changes in -self-valuation and self-depreciation, we have her daughter’s varying -point of view, and we have the more constant judgments of Frank -Gardner, his father, Crofts, and the rest. It is kaleidoscopic and -puzzling, but it is not sermonizing. You pay your money and you take -your choice. - - -VII - -But even if Shaw’s plays were not performed at all, he would be a -world-figure in the modern drama, just as Ibsen is a world-figure and -Maeterlinck another. Very frequently it happens, in literature as well -as in other fields of metaphysical endeavor, that a master is unknown -to the majority except through his disciples. Until Huxley began -lecturing about it, no considerable number of laymen read “The Origin -of Species.” Fielding is not even a name to thousands who know and -love Thackeray. And Adam Smith--how many citizens of to-day read “The -Wealth of Nations”? Yet it is undeniable that the Scotch schoolmaster’s -conclusions have colored the statutes of the entire English-speaking -world and that they are dished up to us, with new sauces, in every -political campaign. - -And so it is with playwrights. Ibsen is far less popular than Clyde -Fitch, but Ibsen’s ideas are fast becoming universal. Persons who -would, under no consideration, pay $2 a seat to see “Ghosts,” pay -that sum willingly when “The Second Mrs. Tanqueray” or “The Climbers” -is the bill. From these plays, unknowingly, they absorb Ibsenism in -a palatable and diluted form, like children who take castor oil in -taffy. That either is a conscious imitation of any Ibsen drama I do not -intend to affirm. What I mean is that the Norwegian is that model of -practically every contemporary play-maker worth considering, just as -plainly as Molière was the model of Congreve, Wycherley, and Sheridan. -A commanding personality, in literature as well as in statecraft, -creates an atmosphere, and lesser men, breathing it, take on its -creator’s characteristics. - -Shaw himself, a follower of Ibsen, has shown variations sufficiently -marked to bring him followers of his own. In all the history of the -English stage, no man has exceeded him in technical resources nor in -nimbleness of wit. Some of his scenes are fairly irresistible, and -throughout his plays his avoidance of the old-fashioned machinery of -the drama gives even his wildest extravagances an air of reality. So -far but two men have exhibited skill in this regard at all measurable -with his. They are Israel Zangwill and James M. Barrie. Perhaps neither -of them consciously admires Shaw: but the fact is of small importance. -The essential thing is that “The Admirable Crichton” is of Shaw, -Shavian, and that “Agnes-Sit-By-The Fire,” in conception, development -and treatment, might be one of the “Plays Pleasant.” - -And now let us proceed to a consideration of the Shaw plays. - - - - -GEORGE BERNARD SHAW: HIS PLAYS - - - - -“MRS. WARREN’S PROFESSION.” - - -Mrs. “Kitty” Warren, the central character of Shaw’s most remarkable -play (and it is one of the most remarkable plays, in many ways, of -the time) is a successful practitioner of what Kipling calls the -oldest profession in the world. She is no betrayed milkmaid or cajoled -governess, this past mistress of the seventh unpardonable sin, but -a wide-awake and deliberate sinner, who has studied the problem -thoroughly and come to the conclusion, like Huckleberry Finn, that -it is better, by far, to sin and be damned than to remain virtuous -and suffer. The conflict in the play is between Mrs. Warren and her -daughter, and in developing it, Shaw exhibits his insight into the -undercurrents of human nature to a superlative degree. Mrs. Warren, -though she is a convention smasher, does not stand for heterodoxy. -In truth despite all her elaborate defense of herself and her bitter -arraignment of the social conditions that have made her what she is, -she is a worshiper of respectability and the only true believer, save -one, in the play. It is Vivie, her daughter, a virgin, who holds the -brief against orthodoxy. - -“If I had been you, mother,” says Vivie, in the last scene, when the -two part forever, “I might have done as you did; but I should not have -lived one life and believed another. You are a conventional woman at -heart. That is why I am leaving you now.” - -This complexity of character has puzzled a good many readers of the -play, but though there is a complexity, there is no real confusion. -Mrs. Warren, despite her ingenious reasoning, is a vulgar, ignorant -woman, little capable of analyzing her own motives. Vivie, on the other -hand, is a girl of quick intelligence and extraordinary education--a -Cambridge scholar, a mathematician and a student of the philosophies. -As the play opens Mrs. Warren seems to have all the best of it. She is -the rebel and Vivie is the slave. But in the course of the strangely -searching action, there is a readjustment. Convention overcomes the -mother and crushes her; her daughter, on the other hand, strikes off -her shackles and is free. - -At the beginning Vivie is home from Cambridge, where she has tied with -the third wrangler--for and in consideration of a purse of $250 offered -by Mrs. Warren. For years she has seen very little of her mother, and -now, on the eve of a reunion, she is curious and inquisitive. They set -up housekeeping in a small cottage in the country, near the parsonage -of the Rev. Samuel Gardner, “a pretentious, booming, noisy person,” -and the friend of Mrs. Warren. There come, too, Sir George Crofts, “a -gentlemanly combination of the most brutal types of city man, sporting -man and man-about-town,” and one Praed, a sort of Greek chorus to the -drama. The Rev. Mr. Gardner’s son, Frank, “an entirely good-for-nothing -young fellow,” is attracted to Vivie, and so when Crofts casts his eye -upon her, there begins the action of a drama. - -Vivie, beginning by wondering at her mother’s long absence from home, -ends by harboring a sickening sense of suspicion. The elder woman’s -unconscious vulgarities, her bizarre view-point, her championing of -Crofts--all add fuel to the flame of doubt. At first Mrs. Warren tries -browbeating, after the orthodox custom of parents, but to her horror -she finds that Vivie will not submit to such an exercise of authority. -And soon they are face to face in a mighty struggle and there is no -quarter on either side. - -Finally Vivie demands to know the name of her father. Mrs. Warren -blusters, threatens, begs, evades, lies--and ends by breaking down -and telling the truth. Vivie is disgusted, horrified, appalled; Mrs. -Warren, at first in tears, returns to her browbeating. - -“What right have you to set yourself above me like this?” she demands. -“You boast of what you are to me--to me who gave you the chance of -being what you are....” - -“You attack me with the conventional authority of a mother,” replies -Vivie calmly. “I defend myself with the conventional superiority of a -respectable woman....” - -But for the present, it is Mrs. Warren who triumphs. She has reasons, -arguments, causes, theories: Vivie’s shields are merely custom, -authority, the law. Mrs. Warren sees her advantage and hastens to -seize it. She tells Vivie all--of the squalor that she knew, of her -temptation, of the lure of comfort--“a lovely house, plenty of servants -and the choicest of eating and drinking”--and finally, of her strong -and resolute determination to yield and of the fruits of her yielding. - -“Do you think,” she says, “that I was such a fool as to let other -people trade in my good looks by employing me as a shopgirl, a barmaid -or a waitress, when I could trade in them myself and get all the -profits, instead of starvation wages...?” - -Vivie is visibly impressed, and herein Shaw shows his skill in laying -open the human animal. His iconoclasts sometimes go to mass and his -saints sometimes sin, exactly as saint and sinner sin and pray in real -life. Vivie, we learn in the end, is the real sham-smasher of the two, -but in this scene she seems to change places with her mother. Mrs. -Warren, alert to the slightest advantage, drives home her logic. It is -a scene that exhibits the play of mind upon mind as no other scene in a -contemporary play exhibits it, saving only that marvellous one between -Marikka and George in “Johnnisfeuer.” Mrs. Warren’s picture of the -forces that overcame her, her sturdy defense of her philosophy of life; -her contempt for those who fear to risk their all--it would take a girl -more than human to resist these things. - -But the season of sentiment and pathos is destined to be brief. -Crofts, who is Mrs. Warren’s partner in her chain of brothels, resumes -his siege of Vivie. Even Mrs. Warren grows nauseated and Vivie’s -own disgust is undisguised. Then, for a moment, Crofts becomes the -conventional villain and hurls the sins of the mother into the -daughter’s teeth. It is all melodrama here--Crofts grows “black with -rage,” and Frank, bobbing up, rifle in hand, proposes to shoot him. And -then comes the climax. - -“Allow me, Mister Frank,” says Crofts, “to introduce you to your -half-sister, the eldest daughter of the Reverend Samuel Gardner. Miss -Vivie: your half-brother. Good morning.” - -As he turns on his heel, Frank raises the rifle and takes aim at his -back. - -“You’ll testify before the coroner that it’s an accident?” he says to -Vivie. - -She “seizes the muzzle and pulls it round against her breast.” - -“Fire now,” she says. “You may.” - -After that the play goes downhill to its inevitable conclusion. Vivie, -admitting her mother’s justification, revolts against her effort to -distort it into a grotesque sort of respectability. So there is a -parting and the daughter goes off to London, to begin life anew as -a public accountant and conveyancer. Mrs. Warren, now sunk to the -wailing, snivelling stage, follows her. The final scene between mother -and daughter is strangely impressive. Mrs. Warren pleads and begs and -screams. At the end of her rope she turns, and like an animal at bay -shows her teeth. - -“From this time forth,” she shrieks, with the air of a tragedy queen, -“I’ll do wrong, and nothing but wrong! And I’ll prosper on it!” - -“Yes,” said Vivie philosophically, “it’s better to choose your line and -go through with it. If I had been you, mother, I might have done as you -did; but I should not have lived one life and believed another.... That -is why I am bidding you good-bye now....” - -And so ends the play of “Mrs. Warren’s Profession.” Posing as a -smasher of shams, Mrs. Warren is the most abject devotee in the whole -synagogue. Fenced within her virtue, Vivie is a true iconoclast--with -seasons of backsliding, it is true (for she is supremely human), but -with no permanent slacking of her unfaith. - -William Archer, the translator of Ibsen, says that the play is -“intellectually and dramatically, one of the most remarkable of the -age,” and Cunninghame Graham calls it “the best that has been written -in English in our generation.” And yet James Huneker finds Mrs. Warren -“a bore” and Vivie “a chilly, waspish pig,” and Max Beerbohm, confused -by the fact that Vivie runs the whole gamut of passions, up and down -again, in the four acts, complains that the play exhibits no change in -the characters and that Vivie ends as she begins--“determined to go out -into the world to work.” Certainly it seems wellnigh incredible that a -man of Mr. Beerbohm’s discernment should be blind to the vast battles -that rage in the girl’s soul--her horror at the beginning, her yielding -to sentimentality and her declaration for sincerity and truth at the -close. Were the play ended with the extraordinary second act, his -objections would probably seem fatuous even to himself. - -“Mrs. Warren’s Profession,” as a bit of theatrical mechanics, is -unsurpassed. Its events proceed with the inevitable air that marks -the work of a thoroughly capable journeyman: not a scene is out of -place; not a line is without its meaning and purpose. The characters -are sketched in rapidly and vividly and before the first act is half -over we have each of them clearly in our eye--Mrs. Warren and her -ancient profession, her vulgarities and her string of “private hotels” -from Brussels to Buda Pesth; the Rev. Samuel Gardner and his shallow, -commonplace hypocrisy; Frank Gardner and his utter worthlessness and -blasphemy; Crofts and his mellow lewdness; Vivie and her progress -from undergraduate cynicism and spectacular cigar-smoking to real -individualism; and Praed and his soft chanting in the background. - -Taken as a play, the drama is wellnigh faultless. It might well serve, -indeed, as a model to all who aspire to place upon the stage plausible -records of human transactions. - - - - -“ARMS AND THE MAN” - - “Arms and the man I sing.” - - --_The Aeneid._ - - -Arms and the Man,” on its face, is a military satire, not unrelated to -“A Milk White Flag,” and Shaw himself hints that he tried to keep it -within the sphere of popular comprehension, but under the burlesque -and surface wit there lies an idea that the author later elaborated -in “Man and Superman.” This idea concerns the relationship of the -sexes and particularly the matter of mating. Ninety-nine men in every -hundred, when they go a-courting, fancy that they are the aggressors -in the ancient game and rather pride themselves upon their enterprise -and their daring. Hence we find Don Juan a popular hero. As a matter -of fact, says Shaw, it is the woman that ordinarily makes the first -advances and the woman that lures, forces, or drags the man on to the -climax of marriage. You will find this theory set forth in detail in -the preface of “Man and Superman” and elaborated in the play itself. In -“Arms and the Man” it is overshadowed by the satire, but even a casual -study of the drama will reveal its outlines. - -The scene of “Arms and the Man” is a small town in Bulgaria and the -time is the winter of the Balkan War, 1885–6. Captain Bluntschli, -the hero, is a Swiss soldier of fortune, who takes service with the -Servians because war is his trade and Servia happens to be nearer his -home than Bulgaria. A machine gun detachment under his command is -overwhelmed by a sudden and unscientific charge of blundering Bulgarian -horsemen, and he swiftly takes to the woods, being little desirous -of shedding his blood unnecessarily. He and his comrades are pursued -by Bulgarians bent upon finishing them, and, passing through a small -town at night at a gallop, he shins up a rainspout and takes refuge -in the bed-chamber of a young woman, Raina Petkoff, the daughter of a -Bulgarian officer. - -The ensuing scene between the two is a masterpiece of comedy and -Richard Mansfield’s performances of the play have made it familiar -to most American theater-goers. Bluntschli, as Shaw depicts him, is -a soldier entirely devoid of the heroics associated in the popular -imagination with men of war. He has no yearning to die for his country -or any other country, and, after bullying his unwilling hostess with an -unloaded revolver, he frankly confesses that he is hungry and sleepy, -and that, as a general proposition, he prefers a good dinner to a -forlorn hope. She is a young woman suffering from much romanticism -and undigested French fiction, and very naturally she is tremendously -astonished. Her heavy-eyed intruder, as a matter of fact, fairly -appals her. His common-sense seems idiocy and his callous realism -sacrilege. - -But, nevertheless, the theatricality of his appearance makes an -overwhelming appeal to her and she shelters him and conceals him from -his enemies--her countrymen--and when he goes away, she sends after him -a portrait of herself, just as any other romantic young woman might do. -To her the incident is epochal, but Bluntschli himself gives little -thought to it. As he says afterwards, a soldier soon forgets such -things: “He is always getting his life saved in all sorts of ways by -all sorts of people.” So he fights a bit, forages a bit, perspires a -bit, draws his pay, eats his meals, and waits, in patience, for the war -to end. - -But Raina does not forget. Even when peace comes at last and her -betrothed, Major Sergius Saranoff, comes home, she still remembers -her “chocolate-cream soldier.” Sergius was the blundering ass whose -reckless charge sent Bluntschli flying through the night into Raina’s -chamber. He is a queer mixture of romanticist and realist, of -aristocrat and blackguard, with the ideals alternately of a Cæsar and a -potman. One moment he revels in a Byronic ecstacy with Raina, the next -moment he is making Mulvaney-like advances to Louka, her maid. - -This Louka is one of Shaw’s peculiarly human characters--a sort -of refined and developed Regina, taken from “Ghosts” and given an -essentially Shavian cast. She has a soul above servility, though she -answers Raina’s bell, and when Saranoff, awakening to his own grotesque -hypocrisy, revolts against Raina’s idealization of his very tawdry -heroics, Louka is ready to enmesh him in her net. She will be a fine -lady, this superwoman in a maid’s cap, and like Raina she will go to -Belgrade for the opera and to Vienna for frocks and frills. - -Bluntschli, returning, helps to set the stage for her. Raina’s father -and Sergius, her betrothed, have met the Swiss and invited him to the -Petkoff home, not connecting him with the intruder who invaded Raina’s -bed-chamber. They want him to give them aid in the prosaic business -of putting up the shutters of war--to show them how to get their men -home and feed them on the way. This is his true forte and he comes -to the domicile of the Petkoffs--and again meets Raina. She is now -twenty-three, and the usual physiological revulsion against Byronic -sentiment is beginning to stir her. She sees that Sergius, with all his -gallant cavalry charges and play-acting, is rather a cheap sort after -all, and in the same light she sees that Bluntschli, despite his frank -running away and his fondness for chocolate-creams, is the more honest -of the two. The Swiss himself still gives little thought to her. His -business is to show old Petkoff how to bring his regiments home, and -after that, to return to Switzerland and take over the management of -his deceased father’s chain of Alpine hotels. - -But, as Shaw hints, the man in the case has little to do with the -ordering of such dramas. Raina and Louka, each with her prey in sight, -fall to the chase. Sergius wavers, holds himself together, essays a -flight, is dragged back, and capitulates. As Louka carries him into -camp, the innocent and romantic little Raina is left free to bag -Bluntschli. He walks into the net with eyes wide open and, as it were, -sword in hand. When he finds himself enmeshed he is surprised beyond -measure, but he is a good soldier, is Bluntschli, and this time it is -too late to run away. - -“Major Petkoff,” he says to the old man, “I beg to propose formally to -become a suitor for your daughter’s hand.” - -And that is the end of the drama. - -A detailed description would spoil the charm of the play’s exuberant -and boundless humor. As a comedy it is capital, from the scene of -Bluntschli’s entrance into Raina’s chamber to the last scene of all, -wherein the Petkoffs cross-examine him as to his finances. Bluntschli -is no mere burlesque. In him Shaw has tried to depict a real soldier -as opposed to a soldier of the grand opera or Ivanhoe type. He has -succeeded, in his way, as admirably as Cervantes, albeit a great -many persons--like Raina herself--whose idea of soldierly bearing -is expressed in St. Louis and of heroism in the charge of the Light -Brigade, have been vastly puzzled by Bluntschli. - -Raina is drawn boldly and with what artists call an open line, and -her revolt against romantic tomfoolery and humbug is shown with -excellent art. Sergius, with his surface civilization and complex -personality--“the half dozen Sergiuses who keep popping in and out -of this handsome figure of mine”--and his keen self-analysis, is -naturally a less obvious type, but even he is perfectly consistent in -his inconsistency. Louka is the female Don Juan--the Donna Anna of “Man -and Superman,”--to the life. Her deliberate ensnarement of Sergius, in -itself would make a drama well worth the writing. The Petkoffs, Raina’s -parents, are simple-minded barbarians, and Nicola, their man-servant, -who willingly resigns Louka to Sergius, is of a breed not peculiar to -Bulgaria. - -The play, despite its abounding humor and excellent characterizations, -is not to be numbered among Shaw’s best. The second act, which should -be the strongest, is the weakest, and the remarkable originality -and humor of the first scene rather detract from those that follow. -Shaw describes the play as his first attempt at writing a drama -comprehensible to the general public. With this object in view, he -lavished upon it a wealth of wit, but it is to be doubted if the real, -inner humor of the action has ever gone home. Mansfield still has -it in his repertory, but he seldom presents it. Persons who admire -“Beaucaire” and “Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde” are not apt to demand it. - - - - -“THE DEVIL’S DISCIPLE” - - -In “Mrs. Warren’s Profession” we saw individuals battling against -the law and in “Arms and the Man” we observed romanticism in an -_opera-bouffe_ catch-as-catch-can struggle with realism. In “The -Devil’s Disciple” we have revealed religion bruising its fists upon the -hard head of impious doubt. Dick Dudgeon, the hero (and he is a hero of -the good old white-shirted, bare-necked, melodramatic sort) laughs at -the commandments and the beatitudes--and then puts the virtuous to rout -by an act of supreme nobility that few of them, with all their faith in -post-mortem reward, would dare to venture. - -It is a problem in human motives that looks formidable. Why does Dick, -the excommunicated, brave Hell to save another? Why does he face death, -dishonor, shame and damnation, with no hope of earthly recompense and -less of glory in the beyond? For the same reason, in truth, that moved -Huckleberry Finn to save the nigger Jim at the cost of his immortal -soul. “I had no motive,” says Dick, in an attempt at self-analysis, -“and no interest. All I can tell you is that when it came to the point -whether I would take my neck out of the noose and put another man’s -into it, I couldn’t do it.” You will find the psychology of this -worked out in the writings of Friedrich Nietzsche, the mad German. If -you think well of your belief in the good and the beautiful, don’t read -them. - -The scene of “The Devil’s Disciple” is a small town in New England -and the time is the first year of the Revolutionary War. Shaw set -the action back this far because he wanted to display Dick against -a background of peculiarly steadfast and rock-ribbed faith, and the -present, alackaday! has little of it that isn’t wobbly. Dick’s mother -is a Puritan of the Puritans--a fetich worshiper whose fetich is the -mortification of the flesh. She flays her body, her mind and her soul -and in the end essays to flay the souls of those about her. Against all -of this Dick revolts. He doesn’t know exactly why, for Darwin is unborn -and doubt is still indecent, but he revolts, nevertheless. And so he -becomes a disciple of the devil. - -King George’s red-coats are abroad in the land, on the hunt for rebels, -and Dick’s uncle, a blasphemer and sinner like himself, is nabbed by -them and hanged for treason. Dick sees the hanging and enjoys it as a -spectacle, but it fails to make him a tory, and he comes home as much -an enemy of church and king as ever. Then the soldiers come nearer and -the rumor spreads that they propose to hang Dick as horrible example -the second. Anthony Anderson, the village pastor, undertakes to warn -him, and incidentally to counsel him against his sacrilege and his -sins. Dick, in turn, warns Anderson. King George’s men, he says, will -not choose the village heretic the next time. The uselessness of -such a course has been shown in the case of his late and unlamented -uncle. When they come to hang again, he points out, they will select a -patriot whose taking off will leave a profound impression and something -approaching regret--to wit, Anderson himself. The pastor laughs at -this. He is a holy man and a truly good one. He fears no military but -the hosts of darkness. - -But Dick is right after all. One morning he goes to the Anderson home -and while he is there the pastor is called away to the bedside of his -(Dick’s) mother. Dick does not think it is worth while to go himself. -His mother has tortured and preached at him from birth and he frankly -hates her. During the pastor’s absence soldiers come to the door. They -have a warrant for the good dominie, charging him with treason. The -sergeant sees Dick, and-- - -“Anthony Anderson,” he says, “I arrest you in King George’s name as a -rebel.... Put on your coat and come along....” - -And so Dick faces his Calvary, with no faith to lead him on. By all the -books he should seek shelter behind the truth and leave self-sacrifice -to the godly. But he is a man, this devil’s disciple, and he doesn’t. - -“Yes,” he says, “I’ll come.” - -The whole drama is played in this first act of the play and the rest -of it is chiefly rather commonplace melodrama. Judith, the pastor’s -wife, finds her anchors of faith and virtue swept away by Dick’s -stupendous sacrifice. At the beginning it seems her duty to hate -him. She ends by loving him. But Shaw complains pathetically of the -stupidity which made an actor account for Dick’s heroism by exhibiting -him as in love with her in turn. “From the moment that this fatally -plausible explanation was launched,” he says, “my play ... was not -mine.... But, then, where is the motive? On the stage, it appears, -people do things for reasons. Off the stage they don’t.”... Herein the -dramatist reads his orders aright. It is his business to set the stage -and give the show. The solution of its problems and the pointing of -its morals--these things are the business of those who pay to see it. -Let each work it out for himself--with such incidental help as he may -obtain from the aforesaid Friedrich Nietzsche. - -Dick is by no means the only full-length figure in the drama. Anderson, -the parson, is, in many ways, a creation of equal subtlety and -interest. He is a true believer to the outward eye, and he plays his -part honestly and conscientiously, but when the supreme moment comes, -the man springs out from the cleric’s black coat and we have Captain -Anthony Anderson, of the Springtown Militia. The colonists, so far, -have fought the king’s red-coats with threats and curses. When Dick’s -sacrifice spurs him to hot endeavor, Anderson is found to be the -leader foreordained. Off come his sable trappings and out come his -pistols--and he leads his embattled farmers to Dick’s rescue and to -the war for freedom. It is a transformation supremely human, and in -addition, vociferously dramatic. A wary builder of scenes is this man -Shaw! A Sardou peeping from behind Ibsen’s whiskers! - -One of the minor characters is General Burgoyne, that strange mixture -of medieval romance and modern common-sense who met his doom at the -hands of the Yankee farm-hands at Saratoga. Shaw pictures him as a -sort of aristocratic and foppish Captain Bluntschli and devotes seven -pages of a remarkably interesting appendix to defending the consequent -battering of tradition. “He is not a conventional stage soldier,” says -Shaw, “but as faithful a portrait as it is in the nature of stage -portraits to be.” - -The same may be said of most of Shaw’s characters. Dick Dudgeon is -certainly not a conventional stage hero, despite his self-sacrifice, -his white shirt, his bare neck, and his melodramatic rescue in the nick -of time. But he is a living figure, for all that, because his humanity -is fundamental. As Shaw himself says, some enemy of the gods has always -been a popular hero, from the days of Prometheus. That such an enemy -may be truly heroic, and even godlike, is evident, but evident facts -are not always obvious ones, and it requires plays like “The Devil’s -Disciple” to remind us of them. - -“Dick Dudgeon,” says Shaw in his preface, “is a Puritan of the -Puritans. He is brought up in a household where the Puritan religion -has died and become, in its corruption, an excuse for his mother’s -master-passion of hatred in all its phases of cruelty and envy. In -such a home he finds himself starved of religion, which is the most -clamorous need of his nature. With all his mother’s indomitable -selfishness, but with pity instead of hatred as his master-passion, -he pities the devil, takes his side, and champions him, like a true -Covenanter, against the world. He thus becomes, like all genuinely -religious men, a reprobate and an outcast. Once this is understood, the -play becomes straightforwardly simple.” - - - - -“WIDOWERS’ HOUSES” - - -Just as Ibsen, when he set up shop as a dramatist, began by imitating -the great men of his time, so Shaw, when he abandoned novel-writing -for play-making, modeled his _opus_ upon the dramas then in fashion. -Ibsen’s first play was a one-act melodrama of the old school called -“Kiaempehöien” and it has been forgotten, happily, these fifty years. -Shaw’s bow was made in “Widowers’ Houses,” a three-act comedy. Begun in -1885, in collaboration with William Archer, the incompleted manuscript -was dusted, revamped and pushed to “finis” in 1892. It is not a -masterpiece, but its production by the Independent Theater Company -of London, served to introduce Shaw to the public, and thus it had a -respectable purpose. Admittedly modeled upon the early comedies of -Pinero and Jones, it shows plain evidences that it was produced during -the imitative stage of the author’s growth. It has scenes of orthodox -build, it has an “emotional” climax at the end and there are even -soliloquys--but the mark of Shaw is plainly upon every line of it. -The “grand” scene between the hero and the heroine might be from “Man -and Superman.” There is imitation in it, as there is in the earlier -works of most men of creative genius, but there is also a vast deal of -originality. - -At the time the play was begun Shaw was engrossed in the propaganda -of the Fabian Society and so it was not unnatural that, when he set -out to write a play he made a social problem the foundation stone of -it. Harry Trench, a young Englishman but twice removed from the lesser -aristocracy and with the traditional ideals and ideas of his caste, is -the tortured Prince of this little “Hamlet.” Happening in his travels -upon two fellow Britishers--father and daughter--he falls in love with -the latter and in due course makes his honorable proposals. The father, -scenting the excellent joys of familiar association with Harry’s titled -relatives, gives his paternal blessing, and the affair bobs along in a -manner eminently commonplace and refined. The clan Sartorius has money; -the clan Trench has blood. An alliance between Harry and the fair Miss -Sartorius is one obviously desirable. - -But before the wedding day is set, there comes trouble aplenty. By -accident Harry is led into an investigation of the manner in which -the Sartorius pounds, shillings and pence reach the wide pockets of -his _fiancée’s_ father. What he discovers fairly horrifies him. Papa -Sartorius wrings his thousands from the people of the gutter. Down in -the slums of St. Giles, of Marylebone and of Bethnal Green lie his -estates--rows upon rows of filthy, tumble-down tenements. The pound -saved on repairs kills a slum baby--and buys Blanche Sartorius a new -pair of gloves. The shillings dragged from reluctant costermongers and -washerwomen give Sartorius his excellent cigars. He is the worst slum -landlord in London--the most heartless, the most grasping, the most -murderous and the most prosperous. His millions pile up as his tenants -shuffle off to the potter’s field. - -Harry’s disgust is unspeakable. He will have nothing of the Sartorius -hoard. Rather starve upon his miserable $3500 a year! He will work--he -has a license to practise upon his fellow-men as physician and -surgeon--and he and Blanche will face the world bravely. But Blanche, -unfortunately, does not see it in that light. Harry’s income is regular -and safe, but seven hundred pounds is no revenue for the daughter and -son-in-law of a millionaire. And when she discovers the reason for -Harry’s singular self-sacrifice and modesty, her pride rages high. -After all, Sartorius is her father. He may squeeze his tenants for the -last farthing, but he has been good to her. His money has been hers, -and even when she fathoms the depths of his heartlessness, her shame -does not break her loyalty. So she sends Harry about his business and -seeks consolation in maidenly tears. Thus they remain for a space--he -sacrificing his love to his ideals of honesty and honor, and she -offering her virtuous affection upon the altar of filial allegiance and -pride. - -It is Sartorius who solves the problem. He is not shocked by Harry’s -revolt, by any means. The world, as he knows, is full of such silly -scruples and senseless ideas of altruism. And, at any rate, he is -willing to give his tenants as much as he can afford. He explains it -all to Blanche. - -“I have made up my mind,” he says, “to improve the property and get in -a new class of tenants.... I am only waiting for the consent of the -ground landlord, Lady Roxdale.” - -Lady Roxdale is Harry’s aristocratic aunt and Blanche’s face shows her -surprise. - -“Lady Roxdale!” she exclaims. - -“Yes,” replies her fond papa. “But I shall expect the mortgagee to take -his share of the risk.” - -“The mortgagee!” says Blanche. “Do you mean----” - -“Harry Trench,” says Sartorius blandly, finishing the sentence for her. - -And so the melancholy fact is laid bare that Harry’s safe and honorable -$3500 a year, upon which he proposed to Blanche that they board and -lodge in lieu of her father’s tainted thousands, is just as dirty, -penny for penny, as the latter. Sartorius puts it before Harry, too, -and very plainly. - -“When I,” he says, “to use your own words, screw and bully and drive -those people to pay what they have freely undertaken to pay me, I -cannot touch one penny of the money they give me until I have first -paid you your seven hundred pounds out of it....” - -Of course, that puts a new face upon the situation. Thinking over -it calmly, Harry comes to the conclusion that the oppression of slum -dwellers is a thing regrettable and deplorable, but, on the whole, -inevitable and necessary. As Sartorius shows him, they would not -appreciate generosity if it were accorded them. Ethically, they are to -be pitied; practically, pity would do them no good. In matters of money -a man must make some sacrifice of his ideals and look out for himself. -And so Harry and Blanche are united with benefit of clergy and the -Sartorius money and the Trench blood enters upon an honorable and--let -us hope--happy and permanent alliance. - -In incident and character-drawing the play is rather elemental. -Sartorius is the stock capitalist of drama--a figure as invariable as -the types in Jerome K. Jerome’s “Stageland.” And the other persons of -the play--Harry Trench, the altruist with reservations; William de -Burgh Cokane, his mentor in orthodox hypocrisy; Lickcheese, Sartorius’ -rent-collector and rival, and Blanche herself--all rather impress us as -beings we have met before. Nevertheless, an occasional flash reveals -the fine Italian hand of Shaw--a hand albeit, but yet half trained. -That Blanche is a true daughter to Sartorius, psychologically as well -as physically, is shown in a brief scene wherein she and a serving -maid are the only players. And the “grand” scene at the close of the -play, between Blanche and Harry, smells of the latter-day Shaw to high -heaven. Harry has come to her father’s house to discuss their joint -affairs and she goes at him savagely: - -“Well? So you have come back here. You have had the meanness to come -into this house again. (_He blushes and retreats a step._) What a -poor-spirited creature you must be! Why don’t you go? (_Red and -wincing, he starts huffily to get his hat from the table, but when he -turns to the door with it she deliberately gets in his way, so that he -has to stop._) _I_ don’t want you to stay. (_For a moment they stand -face to face, quite close to one another, she provocative, taunting, -half-defying, half-inviting him to advance, in a flush of undisguised -animal excitement. It suddenly flashes upon him that all this ferocity -is erotic--that she is making love to him. His eye lights up; a cunning -expression comes into the corner of his mouth; with a heavy assumption -of indifference he walks straight back to his chair and plants himself -in it with his arms folded. She comes down the room after him._)...” - -It is too late for poor Harry to beat a retreat. He is lost as -hopelessly as John Tanner in “Man and Superman” and in the same way. - -The scene savors strongly of Nietzsche, particularly in its frank -acceptance of the doctrine that, when all the poets have had their say, -plain physical desire is the chief basis of human mating. No doubt -Shaw’s interest in Marx and Schopenhauer led him to make a pretty -thorough acquaintance with all the German metaphysicians of the early -eighties. “Widowers’ Houses” was begun in 1885, four years before -Nietzsche was dragged off to an asylum. In 1892, when the play was -completed and the last scene written, the mad German’s theories of life -were just beginning to gain a firm foothold in England. - - - - -“THE PHILANDERER” - - -Shaw calls “The Philanderer” a topical comedy, which describes it -exactly. Written in 1893, at the height of the Ibsen craze, it served -a purpose like that of the excellent _revues_ which formerly adorned -the stage of the New York Casino. Frankly, a burlesque upon fads of the -moment, its interest now is chiefly archeological. For these many moons -we have ceased to regard Ibsen as a man of subterranean mystery--who -has heard any talk of “symbolic” plays for two years?--and have learned -to accept his dramas as dramas and his heroines as human beings. Those -Ibsenites of ’93 who haven’t grown civilized and cut their hair are now -buzzing about the head of Maeterlinck or D’Annunzio or some other new -god. To enjoy “A Doll’s House” is no longer a sign of extraordinary -intellectual muscularity. The stock companies of Peoria and Oil City -now present it as a matter of course, between “The Henrietta” and -“Camille.” - -But when Shaw wrote “The Philanderer” a wave of groping individualism -was sweeping over Europe, the United States and other more or less -Christian lands. Overeducated young women of the middle class, with -fires of discontent raging within them, descended upon Nora Helmer with -a whoop and became fearsome Ibsenites. They formed clubs, they pleaded -for freedom, for a wider area of development, for an equal chance; -they demanded that the word “obey” be removed from their lines in the -marriage comedy; they wrote letters to the newspapers; they patronized -solemn pale-green matinées: some of them even smoked cigarettes. -Poor old Nietzsche had something to do with this uprising. His ideas -regarding the orthodox virtues, mangled in the mills of his disciples, -appeared on every hand. Iconoclasts, amateur and professional, grew as -common as policemen. - -Very naturally, this series of phenomena vastly amused our friend from -Ireland. Himself a devoted student of Ibsen’s plays and a close friend -to William Archer, their translator, he saw the absurdity and pretense -in the popular excitement, and so set about making fun of it. - -In “The Philanderer” he shows a pack of individualists at war with the -godly. Grace Tranfield and Julia Craven, young women of the period, -agree that marriage is degrading and enslaving, and so join an Ibsen -club, spout stale German paradoxes and prepare to lead the intellectual -life. But before long both fall in love, and with the same man, and -thereafter, in plain American, there is the devil to pay. Julia tracks -the man--his name is Leonard Charteris--to Grace’s home and fairly -drags him out of her arms, at the same time, yelling, shouting, -weeping, howling and gnashing her teeth. Charteris, barricading himself -behind furniture, politely points out the inconsistency of her conduct. - -“As a woman of advanced views,” he says, “you determined to be free. -You regarded marriage as a degrading bargain, by which a woman sold -herself to a man for the social status of a wife and the right to be -supported and pensioned out of his income in her old age. That’s the -advanced view--our view....” - -“I am too miserable to argue--to think,” wails Julia. “I only know that -I love you....” - -And so a fine temple of philosophy, built of cards, comes fluttering -down. - -As the struggle for Charteris’ battle-scarred heart rages, other -personages are drawn into the trenches, unwillingly and greatly to -their astonishment. Grace’s papa, a dramatic critic of the old school, -and Julia’s fond parent, a retired military man, find themselves members -of the Ibsen club and participants in the siege of their daughters’ -reluctant Romeo. Percy Paramore, a highly respectable physician, -also becomes involved in the fray. In the end he serves the useful -peace-making purpose delegated to axmen and hangmen in the ancient -drama. Charteris, despairing of eluding the erotic Julia shunts her -off into Paramore’s arms. Then Grace, coming out of her dream, wisely -flings him the mitten and the curtain falls. - -It is frankly burlesque and in places it is Weberfieldian in its -extravagance. It was not presented in London in 1893 because no actors -able to understand it could be found. When it was published it made a -great many honest folk marvel that a man who admired Ibsen as warmly -as Shaw could write such a lampoon on the Ibsenites. This was the -foundation of Shaw’s present reputation as a most puzzling manufacturer -of paradoxes. The simple fact that the more a man understood and -admired Ibsen the more he would laugh at the grotesqueries of the -so-called Ibsenites did not occur to the majority, for the reason -that an obvious thing of that sort always strikes the majority as -unintellectual and childish and, in consequence, unthinkable. So Shaw -got fame as a paradoxical sleight-of-hand man, as Ibsen did with “The -Wild Duck” in 1884, and it has clung to him ever since. At present -every time he rises to utterances a section of the public quite frankly -takes it for granted that he means exactly the opposite of what he says. - -It is unlikely that “The Philanderer” will ever take the place of “East -Lynne” or “Charley’s Aunt” in the popular repertoire. In the first -place, as has been mentioned, it is archaic and, in the second place, -it is not a play at all, but a comic opera libretto in prose, savoring -much of “Patience” and “The Princess Ida.” In the whole drama there is -scarcely a scene even remotely possible. - -Every line is vastly amusing,--even including the sermonizing -of which Mr. Huneker complains,--but all remind one of the -“I-am-going-away-from-here” colloquy between “Willie” Collier and Miss -Louise Allen in a certain memorable entertainment of Messrs. Weber and -Fields. - - - - -“CAPTAIN BRASSBOUND’S CONVERSION” - - -Captain Brassbound’s Conversion” is a fantastic comedy, written with -no very ponderous ulterior purpose and without the undercurrents that -course through some of Shaw’s plays, but nevertheless, it is by no -means a bit of mere foolery. The play of character upon character is -shown with excellent skill, and if the drama has never attracted much -attention from aspiring comedians it is because the humor is fine-spun, -and not because it is weak. - -The scene is the coast of Morocco and the hero, Captain Brassbound, is -a sort of refined, latter-day pirate, who has a working arrangement -with the wild natives of the interior and prospers in many ventures. -To his field of endeavor come two jaded English tourists--Sir Howard -Hallam, a judge of the criminal bench, and Lady Cicely Waynflete, his -sister-in-law. Lady Cicely is a queer product of her sex’s unrest. She -has traveled often and afar; she has held converse with cannibal kings; -she has crossed Africa alone. Hearing that it is well-nigh suicidal -to venture into the Atlas Mountains, which rear their ancient peaks -from the eastern skyline, she is seized by a yearning to explore them. -Sir Howard expostulates, pleads, argues, and storms--and in the end -consents to go with her. - -It is here that Brassbound enters upon the scene--in the capacity of -guide and commander of the expedition. He is a strange being, this -gentleman pirate, a person of “olive complexion, dark southern eyes ... -grim mouth ... and face set to one tragic purpose....” A man of blood -and iron. A hero of scarlet romance, red-handed and in league with the -devil. - -And so the little caravan starts off--Sir Howard, Lady Cicely, -Brassbound and half a dozen of Brassbound’s thugs and thieves. They -have little adventures and big adventures and finally they reach an -ancient Moorish castle in the mountains, heavy with romance and an -ideal scene for a tragedy. And here Brassbound reveals his true colors. -Pirate no longer, he becomes traitor--and betrays his charges to a wild -Moroccan chieftain. - -But it is not gold that leads him into this crime, nor anything else so -prosaic or unworthy. Revenge is his motive--dark, red-handed revenge -of the sort that went out of fashion with shirts of mail. He has been -seeking a plan for Sir Howard’s destruction for years and years, and -now, at last, providence has delivered his enemy into his hands. - -To see the why and wherefore of all this, it is necessary to know -that Sir Howard, before reaching his present eminence, had a brother -who fared upon the sea to the West Indies and there acquired a sugar -estate and a yellow Brazilian wife. When he died the estate was seized -by his manager and his widow took to drink. With her little son she -proceeded to England, to seek Sir Howard’s aid in her fight for -justice. Disgusted by her ill-favored person and unladylike habits, -he turned her out of doors and she, having no philosophy, straightway -drank herself to death. And then, after many years, Sir Howard himself, -grown rich and influential, used his riches and his influence to -dispossess the aforesaid dishonest manager of his brother’s estate. -Of the bibulous widow’s son he knew nothing, but this son, growing -up, remembered. In the play he bobs into view again. He is Captain -Brassbound, pirate. - -Brassbound has cherished his elaborate scheme of vengeance for so -many years that it has become his other self. Awake and sleeping he -thinks of little else, and when, at last, the opportunity to execute -it arrives, he goes half mad with exultation. That such revenges have -come to seem ridiculous to civilized men, he does not know. His life -has been cast along barren coasts and among savages and outcasts, and -ethically he is a brother to the crusaders. His creed still puts the -strong arm above the law, and here is his chance to make it destroy one -of the law’s most eminent ornaments. Viewed from his standpoint the -stage is set for a stupendous and overpowering drama. - -But the saturnine captain reckons without the fair Lady Cicely. In all -his essentials, he is a half-savage hairy-armed knight of the early -thirteenth century. Lady Cicely, calm, determined and cool, is of the -late nineteenth. The conflict begins furiously and rages furiously to -the climax. When the end comes Brassbound feels his heroics grow wabbly -and pitiful; he sees himself mean and ridiculous. - -“Damn you!” he cries in a final burst of rage. “You have belittled my -whole life to me!” - -There is something pathetic in the figure of the pirate as his ideals -come crashing down about his head and he blindly gropes in the dark. - -“It was vulgar--vulgar,” he says. “I see that now; for you have opened -my eyes to the past; but what good is that for the future? What am I to -do? Where am I to go?” - -It is not enough that he undoes his treason and helps to save Sir -Howard. What he wants is some rule of life to take the place of the -smashed ideals of his wasted years. He gropes in vain and ends, like -many another man, by idealizing a woman. - -“You seem to be able to make me do pretty well what you like,” he says -to Lady Cicely, “but you cannot make me marry anybody but yourself.” - -“Do you really want a wife?” asks Cicely archly. - -“I want a commander,” replies the reformed Brassbound. “I am a good man -when I have a good leader.” - -He is not the first man that has fallen beneath the spell of her -dominating and masterful ego, to mistake his obedience for love, and -she bluntly tells him so. And thus they part--Brassbound to return to -his ship and his smuggling, and Cicely to go home to England. - -As will be observed, this is no ordinary farce, but a play of -considerable depth and beam. Shaw is a master of the art of depicting -such conflicts as that here outlined, and Brassbound and Cicely are by -no means the least of his creations. With all the extravagance of the -play, there is something real and human about each, and the same may -be said of the lesser characters--Sir Howard; the Rev. Leslie Rankin, -missionary and philosopher; Drinkwater, Brassbound’s recruit from the -slums of London; the Moorish chiefs; Captain Hamlin Kearney of the -U. S. S. _Santiago_, who comes to Sir Howard’s rescue, and the others. - -The chief fault of the play is the fact that the exposition, in the -first act, requires an immense amount of talk without action. The whole -act, in truth, might be played with all of the characters standing -still. Later on, there is plenty of movement, but the play as a whole -is decidedly inferior to the majority of the Shaw dramas. The dialogue -lacks the surface brilliancy of “You Never Can Tell” and “Candida” -and the humor, in places, is too delicate, almost, for the theme. -The piece, in fact, is a satirical melodrama disguised as a farce--a -melodrama of the true Shaw brand, in which the play of mind upon mind -overshadows the play of club upon skull. - - - - -“CÆSAR AND CLEOPATRA” - - -Because he put it forth as a rival to “Julius Cæsar” and “Anthony and -Cleopatra,” Shaw’s “Cæsar and Cleopatra” has been the football in an -immense number of sanguinary critical rushes. His preface to it is -headed “Better than Shakespeare?” and he frankly says that he thinks -it _is_ better. But that he means thereby to elbow himself into the -exalted position occupied by William of Avon for 300 years does not -follow. “In manner and art,” he said, in a recent letter to the London -_Daily News_, “nobody can write better than Shakespeare, because, -carelessness apart, he did the thing as well as it can be done within -the limits of human faculty.” Shaw, in other words, by no means lacks -a true appreciation of Shakespeare’s genius. What he endeavors to -maintain is simply the claim that, to modern audiences, _his_ Cæsar -and _his_ Cleopatra should seem more human and more logical than -Shakespeare’s. That this is a thesis susceptible of argument no one who -has read “Cæsar and Cleopatra” will deny. - -“The sun do move,” said the Rev. Mr. Jasper. Shaw says the same thing -of the world. In Shakespeare’s day knighthood was still in flower and -the popular ideals of military perfection were medieval. A hero was -esteemed in proportion as he approached Richard Cœur de Lion. Chivalry -was yet a very real thing and the masses of the people were still -influenced by the transcendentalism of the Crusades. And so, when -Shakespeare set out to draw a conqueror and hero of the first rank, he -evolved an incarnation of these far-fetched and rather grotesque ideals -and called it Julius Cæsar. - -To-day men have very different notions. In these piping times of -common-sense, were a Joan of Arc to arise, she would be packed off to a -home for feeble-minded children. People admire, not Chevalier Bayard, -but Lord Kitchener and U. S. Grant; not so much lofty purposes as -tangible achievements; not so much rhetoric as accomplishment. For a -man to occupy to-day the position held by Cæsar at the beginning of the -year 44 B.C. he would have to possess traits far different from those -Shakespeare gave his hero. Shaw endeavors to draw a Cæsar with just -such modern marks of heroism--to create a Roman with the attributes -that might exalt a man, in this prosaic twentieth century, to the -eminence attained by the immortal Julius 1900 years ago. In other -words, Shaw tries to reconstruct Shakespeare’s Cæsar (and incidentally, -of course, his Cleopatra) just as a latter-day stage manager must -reconstruct the scenes and language of Shakespeare to make them -understandable to-day. That his own Cæsar, in consequence, is a more -comprehensible, a more human and, on the whole, a more possible hero -than Shakespeare’s is the substance of his argument. - -The period of the play is the year 48 B.C., when Cleopatra was a girl -of sixteen and Cæsar an oldster of fifty-two, with a widening bald -spot beneath his laurel and a gradually lessening interest in the -romantic side of life. Shaw depicts the young queen as an adolescent -savage: ignorant, cruel, passionate, animal, impulsive, selfish and -blood-thirsty. She is monarch in name only and spends her time as -any child might. Egypt is torn by the feud that finally leads to the -Alexandrine war, and, Cleopatra, perforce, is the nominal head of -one of the two parties. But she knows little of the wire-pulling and -intriguing, and the death of her brother and rival, Ptolemy Dionysius, -interests her merely as an artistic example of murder. The health of -a sacred cat seems of far more consequence to her than the welfare of -Asia Minor. - -Cæsar comes to Alexandria to take a hand in the affairs of Egypt and, -incidentally, to collect certain moneys due him for past services as a -professional conqueror. Cleopatra fears him at first, as a most potent -and evil bogey-man, and is so vastly surprised when she finds him quite -human, and even commonplace, that she straightway falls in love with -him. Cæsar, in return, regards her with a mild and cynical interest. -“He is an important public man,” says Max Beerbohm, “who knows that a -little chit of a girl-queen has taken a fancy to him and is tickled -by the knowledge, and behaves very kindly to her and rather wishes -he were young enough to love her.” He needs 1600 talents in cash and -tries to collect the money. In truth, he has little time to waste -in listening to her sighs. Pothinus, of the palace--an early Roman -Polonius--is appalled. - -“Is it possible,” he gasps, “that Cæsar, the conqueror of the world, -has time to occupy himself with such a trifle as our taxes?” - -“My friend,” replies Cæsar affably, “taxes are the chief business of a -conqueror of the world.” - -And so there comes fighting and the burning of the Alexandrine library -and the historic heaving of Cleopatra into the sea and other incidents -more or less familiar. Through it all the figure of Cæsar looms calm -and unromantic. To him this business of war has become a pretty dull -trade: he longs for the time when he may retire and nurse his weary -bones. He fishes Cleopatra out of the water--and complains of a touch -of rheumatism. He sits down to a gorgeous banquet of peacock’s brains -and nightingale’s tongues--and asks for oysters and barley water. Now -and then Cleopatra’s blandishments tire him. Again, her frank savagery -startles and enrages him. In the end, when his work is done and his fee -pocketed, when Cleopatra’s throne is safe, with Roman soldiers on guard -about it, he goes home. - -“I will send you a beautiful present from Rome,” he tells the volcanic -girl-queen. - -She demands to know what Rome can offer Egypt. - -“I will send you a man,” says Cæsar, “Roman from head to heel and Roman -of the noblest; not old and ripe for the knife; not lean in the arms -and cold in the heart; not hiding a bald head under his conqueror’s -laurels; not stooped with the weight of the world on his shoulders; -but brisk and fresh, strong and young, hoping in the morning, fighting -in the day and revelling in the evening. Will you take such an one in -exchange for Cæsar?” - -“His name? His name?” breathes the palpitating Cleopatra. - -“Shall it be Mark Anthony?” says Cæsar. - -And the erotic little Cleopatra, who has a vivid remembrance of -Anthony’s manly charms, born of a fleeting glimpse of him, falls into -her elderly friend’s arms, speechless with gratitude. - -Unlike most of Shaw’s plays, “Cæsar and Cleopatra” is modelled -upon sweeping and spectacular lines. In its five acts there are -countless scenes that recall Sardou at his most magnificent--scenes -that would make “Ben Hur” seem pale and “The Darling of the Gods” a -parlor play. And so, too, there is plenty of the more exciting sort -of action--stabbings, rows, bugle-calls, shouts and tumults. What -opportunity it would give to the riotous, purple fancy of Klaw and -Erlanger or the pomp and pageantry of David Belasco! - -Shaw makes Cleopatra a much more human character than Cæsar. In the -latter there appears rather too much of the icy _sang froid_ we have -grown accustomed to encounter in the heroes of the brigade commanded -by “The Prisoner of Zenda.” Some of Cæsar’s witticisms are just a bit -too redolent of the professional epigrammatist. Reading the play we -fancy him in choker collar and silk hat, with his feet hoisted upon -a club window-sill and an Havana cigar in his mouth,--the cynical -man-of-the-world of the women novelists. In other words, Shaw, in -attempting to bring the great conqueror down to date, has rather -expatriated him. He is scarcely a Roman. - -Cleopatra, on the contrary, is admirable. Shaw very frankly makes her -an animal and her passion for Cæsar is the backbone of the play. She is -fiery, lustful and murderous; a veritable she-devil; and all the while -an impressionable, superstitious, shadow-fearing child. In his masterly -gallery of women’s portraits--Mrs. Warren, Blanche Sartorius, Candida, -Ann Whitefield and their company--Cleopatra is by no means the least. - -The lesser characters--Brittanus, the primitive Briton (a parody of -the latter-day Britisher); Apollodorus, the Sicilian dilletante; -Ftatateeta, Cleopatra’s menial and mistress; Rufio, the Roman general -(a sort of Tiber-bred William Dobbin); and the boy Ptolemy--all remain -in the memory as personages clearly and certainly drawn. - -In view of the chances that the play affords the player and the stage -manager it seems curious that it was so long neglected by the Frohmans -of the day. Between Shaw’s Cæsar and Shakespeare’s Cæsar there is a -difference wide enough to make a choice necessary. That a great many -persons, pondering the matter calmly, would cast their ballots for -the former is a prophecy not altogether absurd. Just as the world -has outgrown, in succession, the fairy tale, the morality play, the -story in verse, the epic and the ode, so it has outgrown many ideas -and ideals regarding humanity that once appeared as universal truths. -Shakespeare, says Shaw, was far ahead of his time. This is shown by -his Lear. But the need for earning his living made him write down to -its level. As a result those of his characters that best pleased his -contemporaries--Cæsar, Rosalind, Brutus, etc.--now seem obviously and -somewhat painfully Elizabethan. - - - - -“A MAN OF DESTINY” - - -That characteristic tendency to look at the under side of things and -to explore the depths beneath the obvious surface markings, which -Shaw displays in “Cæsar and Cleopatra,” “Arms and the Man” and “The -Devil’s Disciple,” is shown at the full in “The Man of Destiny.” -The play is in one act and in intent it is a mere bravura piece, -written, as the author says, “to display the virtuosity of the two -principal performers.” But its picture of Napoleon Bonaparte, the -principal character, is a startlingly novel one, and the little drama -is remarkable alike for its fantastic character drawing, its cameo -craftsmanship, its ingenious incident and its fairly dazzling dialogue. -There is more of the quality called “brilliancy” in its one scene than -in most three-act society comedies of the day. Some of its episodes are -positive gems. - -The Napoleon of the play is not the emperor of popular legend and -Meissonier’s painting, but the young general of 1796, but recently -come to opportunity and still far from immortality. The scene is the -parlor of a little inn on the road from Lodi to Milan and the young -general--he is but twenty-seven--is waiting impatiently for a packet -of despatches. He has defeated the Austrians at Lodi, but they are yet -foes to be feared and he is very eager to know whether General Massena -will make his next stand at Mantua or at Peschiera. A blundering -jackass of a lieutenant, the bearer of the expected despatches, comes -staggering in with the information that he has been met on the road and -outwitted and robbed of them by a boyish young officer of the enemy’s. -Napoleon flies into a rage, very naturally, but after all it is an -incident of the wars and, the papers being lost, he resigns himself to -doing without them. - -Almost simultaneously there appears from upstairs a handsome young -woman. The lieutenant, seeing her, is instantly struck with her -remarkable resemblance to the youthful officer who cajoled and robbed -him. Napoleon pricks up his ears and orders the half-witted lieutenant -out of the room. And then begins a struggle of wits. The young woman -and the young officer are one person. Bonaparte knows it and demands -the dispatches. But she is a nimble one, this patriot in skirts, and -it seems for a while that he will have to play the dragoon and tear -them from her bodice. Even when she yields and he has the papers in his -hands, she is the victor. There is one letter that he dare not read. It -is a _billet-doux_ from a woman to a man who is not her husband and it -has been sent from Paris by a well-meaning blunderer that the husband -may read it and learn. Josephine is the woman, the director Barras is -the other man--and Napoleon himself is the husband. - -Here we have Bonaparte the man, facing a crisis in his affairs more -appalling than any he has ever encountered on the field of war. There -is no gleam of a crown ahead to cheer him on and no crash of artillery -to hearten him. It is a situation far more terrifying than the fight -about the bridge at Lodi, but he meets it squarely and resolutely. And -in the end he outplays and vanquishes his fair conqueror. - -She tells the blundering lieutenant that the officer boy who outwitted -him was her brother. - -“If I undertake to place him in your hands, a prisoner,” she says, -“will you promise me on your honor as an officer and a gentleman not to -fight with him or treat him unkindly in any way?” - -The simple-minded lieutenant promises--and the young woman slips out -and once more discards her skirts for the uniform of a young officer. -Then she reappears and surrenders. - -“Where are the dispatches?” demands Napoleon, with heavy dissembling. - -“My sister has bewitched the general,” says the protean stranger. -“General: open your coat; you will find the dispatches in the breast of -it....” - -And lo! they are even there--and all agree that as papers bearing the -gristly finger-prints of a witch, they must be burnt. Cæsar’s wife must -be above suspicion. - -“I read them the first thing....” whispers the witch’s alter ego; “So -you see I know what’s in them; and you don’t.” - -“Excuse me,” replies Napoleon blandly. “I read them when I was out -there in the vineyard ten minutes ago.” - -It would be impossible to exaggerate the humor and delicacy of this -little play. Napoleon, it must be remembered, is still a youngster, -who has scarcely dared to confess to himself the sublime scope of his -ambitions. But the man of Austerlitz and St. Helena peeps out, now -and then, from the young general’s flashing eyes, and the portrait, -in every detail, is an admirable one. Like Thackeray, Shaw is fond of -considering great men in their ordinary everyday aspects. He knows -that Marengo was but a day, and that there were thousands of other -days in the Little Corporal’s life. It is such week-days of existence -that interest him, and in their light he has given us plays that offer -amazingly searching studies of Cæsar and of Bonaparte, not to speak of -General Sir John Burgoyne. - - - - -“THE ADMIRABLE BASHVILLE” - - -The Admirable Bashville, or Constancy Rewarded,” a blank verse farce -in two tableaux, is a dramatization by Shaw of certain incidents in -his novel, “Cashel Byron’s Profession.” Cashel Byron, the hero of the -novel, is a prize-fighter who wins his way to the hand and heart of -Lydia Carew, a young woman of money, education and what Mulvaney calls -“theouries.” Cashel sees in Lydia a remarkably fine girl; Lydia sees in -Cashel an idealist and a philosopher as well as a bruiser. The race of -Carew, she decides, needs an infusion of healthy red blood. And so she -marries Byron--and they live happily ever after. - -Bashville is Lydia’s footman and factotum, and he commits the -unpardonable solecism of falling in love with her. Very frankly he -confesses his passion and resigns his menial portfolio. - -“If it is to be my last word,” he says, “I’ll tell you that the -ribbon round your neck is more to me,” etc., etc.... “I am sorry -to inconvenience you by a short notice, but I should take it as a -particular favor if I might go this evening.” - -“You had better,” says Lydia, rising quite calmly and keeping -resolutely away from her the strange emotional result of being -astonished, outraged and loved at one unlooked-for stroke. “It is not -advisable that you should stay after what you have just----” - -“I knew that when I said it,” interposes Bashville, hastily and -doggedly. - -“In going away,” continues Lydia, “you will be taking precisely the -course that would be adopted by any gentleman who had spoken to the -same effect. I am not offended by your declaration; I recognize your -right to make it. If you need my testimony to further your future -arrangements, I shall be happy to say that I believe you to be a man of -honor.” - -An American pugilist-actor, struck by the possibilities of the story, -engaged a journeyman playwright to make a play of it, and Shaw, to -protect his rights, put together “The Admirable Bashville.” The one -performance required by the English copyright law was given by the -Stage Society at the Imperial Theater, London, in the summer of 1903. - -“It was funny,” says James Huneker, who witnessed the performance. “It -gibed at Shakespeare, at the modern drama, at Parliament, at social -snobbery, at Shaw himself, and at almost everything else within reach. -The stage setting was a mockery of the Elizabethan stage, with two -venerable beef-eaters in Tower costume, who hung up placards bearing -the legend, ‘A Glade in Wiltstoken Park,’ etc. Ben Webster as Cashel -Byron and James Hearn as the Zulu King (whom Cashel entertains by an -exhibition of his fistic prowess) carried off the honors. Aubrey Smith, -made up as Mr. Shaw in the costume of a policeman with a brogue, caused -merriment, especially at the close, when he informed his audience that -the author had left the house. And so he had. He was standing at the -corner when I accosted him.” - -Shaw explains that he wrote the extravaganza in blank verse because -he had to hurry over it and “hadn’t time to write it in the usual -prose.” To anyone “with the requisite ear and command of words,” he -says in another place, “blank verse, written under the amazingly loose -conditions which Shakespeare claimed, with full liberty to use all -sorts of words, colloquial, technical, rhetorical and even obscurely -technical, to indulge in the most far-fetched ellipses, and to -impress ignorant people with every possible extremity of fantasy and -affectation, is the easiest of all known modes of literary expression, -and this is why whole oceans of dull bombast and drivel have been -emptied on the head of England since Shakespeare’s time in this form by -people who could not have written ‘Box and Cox’ to save their lives.” - -“The Admirable Bashville” may be seen in the United States before long. -Not long ago the London _Daily Mail_ reported that the eminent comedian -and gladiator, Mr. James J. Corbett, was casting eager eyes upon it and -that Shaw rather liked the idea of his appearing in it. - -“He is a man who has made a success in one profession,” the dramatist -is reported to have said, “and will therefore understand that there are -difficulties to be encountered in making a success in another. Look -at the books written to-day, and then consider which you would rather -have--a man who can do nothing or a really capable prize-fighter.” - -All of which you will find, much elaborated, in “Cashel Byron’s -Profession,” which was written in 1882. - - - - -“CANDIDA” - - -Candida” is a latter-day essay in feminine psychology after the fashion -of “A Doll’s House,” “Monna Vanna” and “Hedda Gabler.” Candida Morell, -the heroine, is a clergyman’s wife, who, lacking an acquaintance -with the philosophies and face to face with the problem of earning -her daily bread, might have gone the muddy way of Mrs. Warren. As it -is, she exercises her fascinations upon a moony poet, arouses him -to the mad-dog stage of passion, drives her husband to the verge of -suicide--and then, with bland complacency and unanswerable logic, reads -both an excellent lecture, turns the poet out of doors, and falls into -her husband’s arms, still chemically pure. It is an edifying example of -the influence of mind over matter. - -Arnold Daly’s heroic production of the play, at the little Berkeley -Lyceum, in New York City, served as the foundation of the present vogue -of Shaw in the United States, and in consequence “Candida” has been the -theme of many metropolitan and provincial philosophers and critics. -At the start the vast majority of them muddled the play hopelessly. -Candida, they decided, was a sublime type of the virtuous wife and -mother--a good woman whose thoughts were as innocent as her acts. It -remained for Shaw--and he is usually his own best critic--to set them -right. Candida, he explained, was a “very immoral female ... who, -without brains and strength of mind ... would be a wretched slattern or -voluptuary.” In other words (as he tried to make clear) she remained -virtuous, not because there was aught of the vestal or altruist about -her, but because she had discovered that it was possible to enjoy all -of the ecstatic excitement of a fall from grace, and still, by holding -back at the actual brink of the precipice, to retain, in full measure, -her reputation as a pattern of fidelity and virtue. She solved the -problem of being immoral and respectable at the same time. - -The play is well built and thoroughly balanced and mature. Its every -scene shows that it is the work of a dramatist whose genius has been -mellowed and whose hand has been made sure by experience. The action -moves with that certain, natural air peculiar to many of Ibsen’s plays. -The characters are not sketches, but definitive, finished portraits. -They are not obvious types, perhaps, but even the poet, with all his -extravagances, is strangely human. - -The Rev. James Morell, Candida’s husband, is a Christian-socialist of -a sort not uncommon on either side of the Atlantic. He has a parish in -an unfashionable part of London, and beside the usual futilities of -a conscientious clergyman’s daily labor, finds time to make frequent -addresses to the masses and classes upon the problems of the hour. In -his make-up, there is much of the unconscious make-believe of the actor -off the stage, though his own belief in himself is unshaken. Public -speaking seems to have this uncanny effect upon many men. Beginning in -all sincerity, they gradually lay stress upon the manner of saying a -thing at the expense of the matter. Their aim is to make an effect by -means of the spoken word and in the end, without realizing it, they -become stagey and unnatural. Such a man is Morell. By no means, it will -be observed, is he to be mistaken for a hypocrite. - -Into his home, by some mad, altruistic impulse, he brings Eugene -Marchbanks, a moon-struck young man with the romantic ideals and day -dreams of a medieval Edgar Allan Poe and the practical common-sense of -an infant. Eugene is eighteen. He inhabits a world a mile or so above -the pink clouds of the sunset and writes vague, immaterial verses of -the sort that all of us invent and some of us set down in pen-and-ink -when we are young. At the start, in all probability, Candida regards -him as a nuisance. But by the time the play opens she has already lured -him on to the rocks. It is pleasant to sit by the fire and listen to -his hazy verses. He is a relief from the honest beefiness of Morell. -And so Candida has her entertainment and Eugene, poor boy! falls in -love with her. - -Now, loving another man’s wife, since the beginning of written history, -has always presupposed or developed a rather ungenial attitude toward -that other man, and Eugene, studying Morell, comes to the conclusion -that he is a mere vaporish windbag--a silly bundle of stale platitudes, -trite ponderosities and pulpit puerilities. Having the valor of youth, -he makes open confession. - -“I love your wife,” he says to Morell, “... a woman with a great soul -craving reality, truth, freedom, and being fed on metaphors, sermons, -stale perorations, mere rhetoric. Do you think a woman’s soul can live -on your talent for preaching?...” - -Morell is staggered, not by Eugene’s frank avowal of his love for -Candida, but by the other things he has said. What if it is true that -she is stifled by the atmosphere of the Morell home? What if it is -true that she has tired of being shadow and drudge to an obscure, -over-earnest clergyman in a semi-slum and has turned her fancy toward -the poet? - -“It is easy, terribly easy,” he says pathetically, “to break a man’s -faith in himself. To take advantage of that to break a man’s spirit is -devil’s work. Take care of what you are doing. Take care....” - -It is a time of torment for the preacher and he sees his house of cards -trembling as if for a fall. Eugene, all the while, is defiant and -belligerent. He adds the virtue of rescuing Candida to the pleasure of -possessing her, and the two together work his swift undoing. - -“Send for her!” he roars. “Send for her and let her choose between us!” - -Aha, my masters! what a scene is this!--what a scene of mad passion for -the gallery to linger over breathlessly, for the orchestra to greet -with stares and for the critics to belabor and dissect in the morning! - -Candida comes in and the two bid for her heart and helping hand. - -“I have nothing to offer you,” says Morell, with proud humility, “but -my strength for your defense, my honesty of purpose for your surety, my -ability and industry for your livelihood, and my authority and position -for your dignity. That is all it becomes a man to offer a woman.” - -“And you, Eugene?” asks Candida quietly. “What do you offer?” - -“My weakness!” exclaims the poet passionately. “My desolation! My -heart’s need!” - -“That’s a good bid,” says Candida judicially. “Now I know how to make -my choice.” - -Then she pauses and looks curiously from one to the other, as if -weighing them. Morell, whose lofty confidence has once more changed -into heart-breaking dread, loses all power over himself and in -a suffocating voice--the appeal bursting from the depths of his -anguish--cries “Candida!” - -“Coward!” shrieks Eugene, divining the victory in the surrender. And -Candida--O most virtuous of wives!--says blandly, “I give myself to the -weaker of the two” and falls into her husband’s arms. It is a situation -that struck the first night audience at the Berkeley Lyceum as one -eminently agreeable and refined. - -As Shaw explains, the poet, despite the fact that “his face whitens -like steel in a furnace that cannot melt it,” is a gainer by Candida’s -choice. He enters the Morell home a sentimental boy yearning for an -emotional outlet. He leaves it a man who has shouldered his cross and -felt the unutterable stimulus of sacrifice. Candida makes a man of him, -says Shaw, by showing him his strength. David finds that he must do -without Uriah’s wife. - -The dramatist makes Candida essay a most remarkable analysis of her -own motives. It is after Morell has reproached her, sick at heart and -consumed by a nameless fear, to learn if Eugene’s fiery onslaught has -been born of any unrest that may be stirring within her. She explains -freely and frankly, with more genuine honesty and self-revelation, -perhaps, than she knows. Eugene, she says, is like a shivering beggar -asking for her shawl. He needs love but scarcely knows it, and she -conceives it her duty to teach him the value of love, that no worse -woman may teach him its pains later on. - -“Will he forgive me,” she says, “for not teaching him myself? For -abandoning him to the bad women for the sake of my goodness--my purity, -as you call it? Ah, James, how little you understand me, to talk of -your confidence in my goodness and purity. _I would give them both to -Eugene as willingly as I would give my shawl to a beggar dying of -cold_, if there was nothing else to restrain me....” - -“Here,” says Huneker, “is one of the most audacious speeches in -any modern play. It has been passed over by most critics who saw -in ‘Candida’ merely an attempt to make a clergyman ridiculous, not -realizing that the theme is profound and far-reaching, the question put -being no more or no less than: Shall a married man expect his wife’s -love without working for it, without deserving it?” To this may be -added another and more familiar question: May not the woman who lives -in the odor of sanctity be more thoroughly immoral, at heart, than the -worst of her erring sisters? - -The play has a number of extremely exciting “grand” scenes and in -general is admirably suitable for public performance. The minor -characters are but three in number--Candida’s wine-buying vulgarian of -a father, Morell’s curate and Proserpine, his typewriter. Proserpine is -admirable, and her hopeless love for Morell--a complaint not uncommon -among the women he knows--gives the play a note of homely sentiment -that keeps it to earth. - -As a piece of workmanship “Candida” is Shaw at his best; as a study in -the workings of the feminine mind it deserves to rank with some of the -best plays the modern stage has to offer. - - - - -“HOW HE LIED TO HER HUSBAND” - - -How He Lied to Her Husband” is a one-act bit of foolery that Shaw wrote -for Arnold Daly after “Candida” had made a success in New York. It was -presented for the first time on the evening of Sept. 26, 1904, and -during the ensuing week was more vociferously discussed than any other -one-act play that ever graced the boards of an American theater. - -As he made fun of the vaporing Ibsenites of the early ’90’s in “The -Philanderer,” just so Shaw got his joke at the expense of his own -ecstatic followers in this little appendix to “Candida.” The latter had -been presented with huge profit, and thousands of honest playgoers, -alert for mysterious “symbolism” and subtle “purposes” had seen -in its heroine a great many of the qualities they formerly sought -and discovered in the much-mauled Ibsen women. Candida, in brief, -became the high priestess of the advanced cult, in all its warring -denominational variety. It became a sign of intellectual vigor to go to -the Berkeley Lyceum and compare her with Nora Helmer, Hedda Gabler and -their company. And so Shaw indited “How He Lied to Her Husband.” - -The characters in the little farce are a fashionable young poet named -Henry Upjohn, an untamed American husband named Bumpus, and his wife, -Aurora Bumpus, a young woman with yearnings. Aurora and Henry have -seen a performance of “Candida” and have come away with a feeling that -an intrigue after the fashion of Candida and Eugene, is one of those -things that no really advanced poet or modern wife should be without. -So Henry writes a sheaf of sonnets to Aurora and being determined -to play the game according to the rules, proposes that they run off -together. They are about to depart, conscientiously leaving the Bumpus -diamonds behind, when Aurora, at the brink of the precipice, draws back. - -Meanwhile Bumpus happens upon Henry’s sonnets and confronts the poet -with the charge of having written them. Henry, determined to save -Aurora, “lies like a gentleman”--and incidentally overdoes it. Bumpus, -mistaking his well-meant prevarication for impolite indifference to -Aurora’s beauty, or denial of it, flies into a passion, and is on the -point of soundly thrashing the amorous bard when Aurora stays his hand. -Then Henry confesses, and Bumpus is so much pleased by the manner in -which the sonnets celebrate his wife’s charms that he offers to print -them for private circulation among connoisseurs with broad margins and -_de luxe_ binding. - -The play is built upon the lines of broad farce, and in New York it -made an uproarious success. The encounter between Bumpus and Henry is -extraordinarily ludicrous. Aurora throughout is the typical enthusiast -of the women’s clubs--filled with vague longings and ambitions, but -intensely practical and commonplace at bottom. Henry, during one of -their tumultuous exchanges, is about to break her fan. She shrieks the -warning that it cost a dollar. He ventures upon a dark, melodramatic -oath. “How dare you swear in my presence?” she demands. “One would -think you were my husband!” - -A pretty bit of fooling, _à la_ “The Wild Duck,” “The Philanderer” and -“Alice-Sit-by-the Fire.” Shaw calls it “a warning to theater-goers.” It -is. - - - - -“YOU NEVER CAN TELL” - - -You Never Can Tell,” like many of the dramas of Shakespeare, was -made to order. Shaw wrote it in 1896 and he calls it “an attempt to -comply with many requests for a play in which the much paragraphed -“brilliancy” of “Arms and the Man” should be tempered by some -consideration for the requirements of managers, in search of -fashionable comedies for West End theaters.” And so he laid the scene -in England, and made all his characters English and kept as close -to the earth as he could. But for all that, he failed to make a -conventional parlor drama of it. Shaw is Shaw, and when he set out to -build a comedy _à la mode_ he evolved instead a tragedy covered with a -sugar-coating of farce. On its face it is uproariously and irresistibly -funny; beneath the surface there is as nasty an undercurrent as that of -“Widowers’ Houses.” - -Fergus Crampton, a wealthy English yacht builder, and his most -marvellous family are the chief characters of the play. Years before -the curtain rises Crampton and his wife agree to disagree and she -packs off to Madeira with their three babies--two girls and a boy. -Subscribing to the heterodox doctrine that a married woman is entitled -to her own home, her own pocket-book and her own name, Mrs. Crampton -assumes the cognomen of Clandon, bestows it upon her offspring -and brings them up in complete ignorance of the existence of their -paternal progenitor. Also she rears them in strict accordance with -her ultra-advanced ideas of independence and individualism. In all -matters concerning the emotions and intellect, they have freedom. And -so they become unconscionable egotists, disrespectful to their elders, -self-willed and obstinate, and nuisances in general. - -As the curtain rises we find the Clandons back in England. Happening -into a small seaside town, Phil and Dolly, the younger of the three -children, scrape an acquaintance with one Valentine, a struggling young -dentist (and also a being with advanced views of human events), and -Dolly has the honor of paying him his first fee. Through him they meet -his landlord, an irascible old gentleman in a semi-nautical coat and an -habitual frown. They invite both dentist and landlord to luncheon, and -at the meal the discovery is made that the latter is none other than -the long-lost Mr. Crampton. Like the leading comedian of a burlesque -show afterpiece, Crampton is in consternation and shrieks “My wife!” in -a hoarse stage whisper. - -“You are very greatly changed,” observes Mrs. Clandon-Crampton. - -“I daresay,” replies the wretched husband and father. “A man does -change in eighteen years.” - -This much of the prologue being accomplished, the personages proceed -to the real business of the action. Crampton, outraged and disgusted -beyond measure by the manners and dress of his progeny, demands that -Phil and Dolly be given over to his care and custody on the ground -that their mother is an unfit person to have the charge of them. -Meanwhile Valentine, the dentist, has felt a yearning towards Gloria, -the elder daughter, and Gloria, after surviving five previous sieges -of her heart, looks upon him not unkindly. One brief interview, in -fact, serves to advance him to a point whereat he may safely offer her -a chaste caress. Her mother, greatly astonished by his easy victory -over Gloria’s battalions of modern principles, seeks an explanation. -Valentine very blandly discusses the situation. - -The duel of sex, he says, is much like the contest between the makers -of guns and the makers of ship’s armor. One year one is ahead and the -next year the other. In the old days, he says, mothers taught their -daughters old-fashioned methods of resisting the wiles of old-fashioned -Romeos, and for a space this method of defense was successful. But -by-and-by the Romeos learned its weak points, and the fond mammas -of England had to devise some new armor. They hit upon scientific -education, and for awhile it, too, was successful. But in the end the -old story was repeated. - -“What did the man do?” says Valentine. “Just what the artilleryman -does--went one better than the woman--educated himself scientifically -and beat her at that game just as he had beaten her at the old one. -I learned how to circumvent the Woman’s Rights’ woman before I was -twenty-three....” - -But before the play is done the philosophical duellist of sex finds -himself the vanquished rather than the victor. He begins to have doubts -about his preparedness for the marriage state and essays a polite -withdrawal. But Gloria, weighted with the wisdom of five previous -amorous encounters, is no easy adversary to lose. - -“Be sensible,” says the valiant Valentine. “It’s no use. I haven’t a -penny in the world.” - -“Can’t you earn one?” demands Gloria. “Other people do.” - -Valentine, scenting a chance to flee, is half-delighted, -half-frightened. - -“I never could!” he declares. “You’d be unhappy.... My dearest love, I -should be the merest fortune-hunting adventurer if----” - -She grips his arm and kisses him. - -“Oh, Lord!” he gasps. “O, I----” - -The trap has sprung and he is caught fast. - -“I don’t know anything about women,” wails the duellist of sex, -pathetically. “Twelve years’ experience is not enough.” - -William, the waiter at the hotel, reads the moral. - -“You never can tell, sir,” he says, “You never can tell.” - -So much for the love making, which you will find, in slightly -different form in “Widowers’ Houses” and “Man and Superman.” The battle -between the Cramptons, husband and wife, is a more serious thing. In -some mysterious way the dramatist manages to keep the spectator from -sympathizing with either, but Crampton, nevertheless, is a character in -a tragedy and not in a comedy. It is all a ghastly horror to him--the -flight of his wife, the cynical, worldwise impudence and grotesque -individualism of his children, the perversity and topsy-turveyness -of the whole domestic drama. He is no martyr, by any means, for life -in his company, it is evident, would be an excellent imitation of -existence in a cage with a tiger, but if he is not lovable, he at -least has a great capacity for loving. He and Gloria have a memorable -encounter, in which she explains her theory of conduct in detail. - -“You see,” she says triumphantly, at the end, “everything comes right -if we only _think_ it resolutely out.” - -“No,” says Crampton sullenly, “I don’t think. I want you to feel: -that’s the only thing that can help us....” - -In the end he succumbs to the inevitable senilely. - -“Ho! ho! He! he! he!” he laughs, as Gloria bears Valentine away. And -then, say the stage directions, “he goes into the garden, chuckling at -the fun.” - -Somehow the boundless humor of the play is forgotten long before this -undercurrent of ironic pathos. - -William, the waiter, is one of Shaw’s most delightful characters. -He is, in truth, the chorus to the drama, and a man of deep -philosophies. To everyone’s consternation it is discovered that the -eminent Mr. Bohun, Q. C., who is called in as legal adviser to the -Clandon-Cramptons is William’s son. - -“I’ve often wished he was a potman,” he says. “Would have had him off -my hands ever so much sooner, sir. Yes, sir, had to support him until -he was thirty-seven, sir....” - -William reads Schopenhauer, but he has no intellectual yearnings. - -“My name is Boon, sir,” he says, “though I am best known down here as -Balmy Walters, sir. By rights I should spell it with the aitch you, -sir, but I think it best not to take that liberty, sir. There is Norman -blood in it, sir, and Norman blood is not a recommendation to a waiter.” - -Bohun, the son, is a blustering, roaring legal whale of the low -comedy type. The last act of the play is made a screaming farce by -his elephantine efforts to smooth out the family tangles of the -Clandon-Cramptons. In the end he reaches a decision worthy of Solomon. - -“You can do nothing,” he says to Crampton, “but make a friendly -arrangement. If you want your family more than they want you, you’ll -get the worst of the arrangement; if they want you more than you want -them, you’ll get the better of it. The strength of their position lies -in their being very agreeable personally. The strength of your position -lies in your income....” - -And that is the nearest approach to a solution of the difficulty that -the play offers. - - - - -“MAN AND SUPERMAN” - - -Measured with rule, plumb-line or hay-scales, “Man and Superman” -is easily Shaw’s _magnum opus_. In bulk it is brobdignagian; in -scope it is stupendous; in purpose it is one with the Odyssey. Like -a full-rigged ship before a spanking breeze, it cleaves deep into -the waves, sending ripples far to port and starboard, and its giant -canvases rise half way to the clouds, with resplendent jibs, sky-sails, -staysails and studdingsails standing out like quills upon the fretful -porcupine. It has a preface as long as a campaign speech; an interlude -in three scenes, with music and red fire; and a complete digest of the -German philosophers as an appendix. With all its rings and satellites -it fills a tome of 281 closely-printed pages. Its epigrams, quips, -jests, and quirks are multitudinous; it preaches treason to all the -schools; its hero has one speech of 350 words. No one but a circus -press agent could rise to an adequate description of its innumerable -marvels. It is a three-ring circus, with Ibsen doing running high -jumps; Schopenhauer playing the calliope and Nietzsche selling peanuts -in the reserved seats. And all the while it is the most entertaining -play of its generation. - -Maybe Shaw wrote it in a vain effort to rid himself at one fell swoop -of all the disquieting doctrines that infested his innards. Into it he -unloaded Kropotkin, Noyes, Bakounin, Wilde, Marx, Proudhon, Nietzsche, -Netschajew, Wagner, Bunyan, Mozart, Shelley, Ibsen, Morris, Tolstoi, -Goethe, Schopenhauer, Plato--seized them by the heels and heaved them -in, with a sort of relieved “God help you!” The result is 281 pages of -most diverting farce--farce that only half hides the tumultuous uproar -of the two-and-seventy jarring sects beneath it. It is a tract cast -in an encyclopedic and epic mold--a stupendous, magnificent colossal -effort to make a dent in the cosmos with a slapstick. - - Why, all the saints and sages who discuss’d - Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust - Like foolish Prophets forth: their Words to Scorn - Are scatter’d, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust. - -Shaw explains that he wrote the play in response to a suggestion by -A. B. Walkley, the dramatic critic of the London _Times_ that he should -tackle the subject of Don Juan. In his 37-page preface he traces, at -length, the process of reasoning which led him to the conclusion that -Juan, as he was depicted by the fathers, was a fraud and an impostor. -In the business of mating, he says (after Schopenhauer) it is not the -man but the woman that does the pursuing. Man’s function in life is -that of food-getting. Woman’s is that of perpetuating the race. Hence -man’s ordinary occupation is making money, and woman’s is getting -married. To protect himself against “a too aggressive prosecution -of woman’s business,” he says, man has “set up a feeble romantic -convention that the initiative in sex business must always come from -him.” But the pretense is so shallow “that even in the theater, that -last sanctuary of unreality, it imposes only on the inexperienced. -In Shakespeare’s plays the woman always takes the initiative. In his -problem plays and his popular plays alike the love interest is the -interest of seeing the woman hunt the man down.” - -And so, the hero of this new play, John Tanner (our old friend Juan -Tenorio) is the pursued, and Doña Ana (Miss Ann Whitefield) is the -pursuer. John is a being of most advanced and startling ideas. He -writes a volume called “The Revolutionist’s Handbook and Pocket -Companion,” full of all sorts of strange doctrines, from praise -of the Oneida Community to speculations regarding the probable -characteristics of the Superman. He laughs at honor, titles, the law, -property, marriage, liberty, democracy, the golden rule and everything -else that God-fearing folks hold sacred; he has a good word for -Czolgosz; he gives directions for beating children; he curls his lip -at civilization; he ventures the view that “every man over forty is a -scoundrel.” And then, with all this cargo of nonconformity afloat in -his hold, fate sends him sailing into a haven of staunch orthodoxy. - -He and Roebuck Ramsden, a gentleman who hangs Herbert Spencer’s -portrait on his library wall as a sort of banner of his intellectual -modernity, are appointed guardians for Ann, whose papa has just passed -away, and John, to protect himself against being caught in ambush by -the Life Force, as represented in his ward, endeavors to marry her off -to Octavius Robinson, a harmless young man who has lived beneath her -father’s roof since his childhood. John is aware of the faults of Ann -and has no yearning to be enmeshed in her web. He notices that she is -a liar and politely calls her attention to the fact; he observes her -pursuit of him and makes open preparations for flight. Finally, in full -cry, he runs away in an automobile across Europe. But the Life Force -is more powerful than gasoline, and Ann, yielding to its irresistible -impulse, follows him--across the English channel, to Dover, and across -France toward the Mediterranean. In the Sierra Nevada mountains she -brings her game to bay and in old Grenada poor John receives his _coup -de grace_. Thus he sinks to earth: - - _Tanner._ ... The trap was laid from the beginning. - - _Ann_ (_concentrating all her magic_). From the beginning--from - our childhood--for both of us--by the Life Force. - - _Tanner._ I will not marry you. I will not marry you. - - _Ann._ Oh, you will, you will. - - _Tanner._ I tell you, no, no, no. - - _Ann._ I tell you, yes, yes, yes. - - _Tanner._ No. - - _Ann_ (_coaxing--imploring--almost exhausted_). Yes. Before it is - too late for repentance. Yes. - - _Tanner_ (_struck by an echo from the past_). When did all this - happen to me before? Are we two dreaming? - - _Ann_ (_suddenly losing her courage, with an anguish that she - does not conceal_). No. We are awake and you have said no: that - is all. - - _Tanner_ (_brutally_). Well? - - _Ann._ Well, I made a mistake, you do not love me. - - _Tanner_ (_seizing her in his arms_). It is false: I love you. - The Life Force enchants me: I have the whole world in my arms - when I clasp you.... - -And this is the story upon which Shaw hangs his 175 pages of play--it -would take seven hours to perform it in its entirety--his thirty-seven -pages of introduction, and his sixty-nine pages of appendix. - -The conflict between Tanner and the ethics and traditions represented -by Ramsden is riotously and irresistibly humorous. The first act of the -play, indeed, is the most gorgeously grotesque in all Shaw. Better fun -is scarcely imaginable. The famous Hell scene, which forms a sort of -movable third act, is also a masterpiece of comedy. Tanner during his -flight from Ann, is captured by a band of social-anarchist brigands, -led by one Capt. Mendoza, a sentimental Anglo-Hebrew. Mendoza’s story -of his unrequited love for an English lass sends Tanner to dreamland, -and he dreams that he is in Hell. And then an elaborately comic play -within a play is performed. Mendoza appears as the Devil; Tanner as -Don Juan; and Ann as Doña Ana de Ulloa. It is long, this episode, -and beyond all hope of boiling down, but the persons who see “Man -and Superman” without it miss two-thirds of the drama. An excellent -exposition by the Devil of the superiority of Hell over Heaven forms -part of it. During the rest of the action the characters discuss every -imaginable subject, from love to the higher morality. - -“Whatever they say of me in churches on earth,” says the Devil, “I know -that it is universally admitted in good society that the Prince of -Darkness is a gentleman; and that is enough for me....” - -In the first act Violet Robinson, Octavius’ sister, gives her family -an overwhelming shock by passing to that moral bourne whence no -feminine traveler returns. Her maiden aunt is for turning her out of -doors. Ramsden is apoplectic. Octavius is speechless. The scandal is -appalling. And here comes Tanner’s chance. He has preached against -marriage and now he will follow his preaching with practise. Virtuous -or unvirtuous, what are the odds? The Life Force is at it again, -and he, John Tanner, is its champion. So he goes to Violet’s rescue -grandly--a hero, every inch of him. - -“They think to blame you,” he says loftily, “by their silly -superstitions about morality and propriety and so forth. But I know, -and the whole world really knows, that you are right to follow your -instinct; that vitality and bravery are the greatest qualities a woman -can have, and motherhood her solemn initiation into womanhood, and -that the fact of your not being legally married matters not one scrap -either to your own worth or to our real regard for you.” - -The limelight flashes here, but suddenly it goes out and Violet’s eyes -flash instead. - -“Oh!” she exclaims, “you think me a wicked woman, like the rest! -You think that I am not only vile, but that I share your abominable -opinions.... I won’t bear such a horrible insult.... I have kept my -marriage secret for my husband’s sake. But now I claim my right as a -married woman not to be insulted....” - -And as Tanner wilts his fine theories come crashing down about his head. - -The play is such a gigantic, ponderous thing that any effort to -summarize it is difficult. The central idea--that, in mating, the -man is pursued by the woman--is one that we have seen Shaw employ in -“Arms and the Man,” “The Philanderer,” and other plays. As he himself -says, it is not a new conception. Shakespeare had it, though maybe -unconsciously, and its rudiments appear in the works of other men. -Schopenhauer made it classical. In “Man and Superman” Shaw uses it -as an excuse for airing practically every radical doctrine in the -modern repertoire. “The general impression of the book,” says Huneker, -“causes us to believe there is a rift in the writer’s lute; not in -his mentality, but in his own beliefs, or scepticisms. Perhaps Shaw -no longer pins his faith to Shaw.” Herein the critic makes the common -mistake of confusing the dramatist and the theorist. Shaw borrows part -of the title from Nietzsche and makes sad sport of the mad German in -many a scene, but that is no evidence that he is insincere when, in his -introduction, he classes Nietzsche with those writers “whose peculiar -sense of the world I recognize as more or less akin to my own.” “The -Revolutionist’s Handbook and Pocket Companion” at the end of the play -is given, he says, merely to prove that John Tanner, its author, is -really the revolutionist and genius the drama makes him out to be. Too -often, says Shaw, a playwright is content to say that his hero is a man -of parts without offering any tangible evidence of the fact. - -All in all, “Man and Superman” is a work worth the two years of effort -the title page hints it cost the author. But it is a pity that Shaw -didn’t divide it into two plays, a volume of essays, two dozen magazine -articles and a book of epigrams. The age of the epic is past. To-day we -sacrifice Fortinbras to get “Hamlet” into two hours and a half. - - - - -“JOHN BULL’S OTHER ISLAND” - - -This is a political satire in Shaw’s most amusing manner and, as its -title indicates, deals with the eternal Irish question--a problem -that, in England, rivals in perennial interest the dispute between -capital and labor in the United States. The author, with characteristic -impartiality, gives all sides a fair hearing, and “though in the end,” -says A. B. Walkley, “all parties are dismissed with costs, we have a -conviction that justice has been done.” - -Two London engineers--Broadbent, an Englishman, and Larry Doyle, -an anglicized Irishman--are the central characters. Broadbent is a -political radical and insatiable reformer of a very familiar sort. -Yearning to lend a hand in the uplifting of humanity, he turns to the -martyred Irish and proposes to be their champion, without in the least -understanding them. Doyle, on the other hand, looks upon all reform as -so much moonshine. As far as he is concerned, Ireland may go hang. He -is neither a patriot nor an altruist. - -Nevertheless, when Broadbent decides to go to Ireland to study the -problem of saving the Irish on the ground, Doyle consents to go with -him, and together they arrive at a primitive sort of Irish village. -There they make acquaintance with the folks who constitute suffering -Ireland--an unfrocked priest whose mysticism has given him the -local character of a lunatic, a peasant fairly savage in his simple -superstitions, the fanatical parish priest and other types more or -less familiar. To Doyle they are commonplace bores. To Broadbent they -constitute a People yearning for a Moses. - -When Doyle refuses to stand for Parliament for the district, Broadbent -willingly steps into the breach, and in the ensuing campaign all the -multitudinous facets of the Irish question are revealed. The honest -electors, misunderstanding Broadbent’s altruistic efforts for their -welfare, get a great deal of innocent enjoyment out of his orations -and a great deal more out of his honest efforts to deal with them as -freeman to freeman. He offers to take a farmer’s pig home in his motor -car. The car runs over the pig and, in addition, knocks out the window -of the village china shop. “There is a jest in every line,” says the -critic of the London _Daily Mail_. “The play exists for and by the -comic spirit alone.” - -In the end, after many farcical situations and excellent quips, the -canny Irish yeomanry accept Broadbent as a profitable acquaintance, -and as the novelty of his misunderstood good intentions dies, come -to regard him more or less seriously. As the curtain falls they are -looking forward with interest to certain very material boons he -promises to confer upon them--a big hotel in the village, a new tower -for the village landmark and links for the village golfers. Meanwhile -he has fallen in love with an old sweetheart of Doyle’s and, after -an uphill wooing, has supplanted the latter in the fair charmer’s -affections. - -The play is a characteristically Shavian _reductio ad absurdum_ of -the vast ocean of hair-raising schemes and startling theories that -has so long deluged the Irish question. Shaw himself is an Irishman, -and no doubt the troubles of his native land are of some interest to -him, despite his vigorous denial that he is a patriot. Probably the -play indicates his subscription to the idea of many an Irishman whose -emotionalism has been tempered by English common-sense: that Ireland -must cease looking for relief without and seek it within. In so far as -this is true, the play is dialectic. But first of all it is a farce by -the dramatist whom one London critic, at least, calls “the best living -writer of comedy.” - -“It’s all rot,” says Broadbent, the Englishman in the play, of some -speech made by Doyle. “It’s all rot, but it’s so brilliant, you know.” - -“Here, no doubt,” observed Mr. Walkley of the _Times_, “Shaw is slyly -taking a side glance at the usual English verdict on his own works. -The verdict will need some slight modification in the case of ‘John -Bull’s Other Island.’ For, in the first place, the play is not _all_ -rot. Further, it has some other qualities than mere brilliancy. It -is at once a delight and a disappointment.... Shaw takes up the -empty bladders of life, the current commonplaces, the cant phrases, -the windbags of rodomontade, the hollow conventions, and the sham -sentiments; quietly he inserts his pin; and the thing collapses with a -pop.” - -The play was given six special matinée performances at the London Court -Theater in the latter part of 1904, and Arnold Daly has since presented -it in America. - - - - -THE NOVELS AND OTHER WRITINGS - - -Shaw’s four published novels both suffer and gain by the widespread -public interest in his plays; gain because this interest serves to -keep them somewhat in the foreground, and suffer because, as the work -of a very young man, they are ill-fitted to stand comparison with -the literary offspring of his maturity. Of the four, “Love Among the -Artists” is the best and “Cashel Byron’s Profession” the most popular. -“An Unsocial Socialist” is a wild extravaganza that has lived its day -and done its task, and “The Irrational Knot” is forgotten. The author’s -first novel, written in his early twenties, has never seen the light. -The publishers of that time would have none of it, and later on, when -Shaw “copy” began to find a market and there even arose a mild demand -for it, Shaw wisely decided that the yellowing manuscript should remain -in the twilight of its tomb. - -The hero of “Cashel Byron’s Profession” has become one of the most -familiar characters of latter-day fiction. References to him are made -in the newspapers frequently and every time a star of the roped arena -marries a chorus girl the love making of Mr. Byron is recalled. He was -not the first bruiser to grace the pages of an English romance--as -admirers of “Pendennis” and _The Spectator_ well know--but he has -become, by long odds, the most conspicuous. It is to be deplored -that Shaw did not save him for a play. “The Admirable Bashville,” a -burlesque dramatization of the novel, does not answer. Cashel should be -the hero of a melodrama _a la_ “Arms and the Man.” What an opportunity -he would give to our Greek god stars! - -Cashel is the son of an actress and becoming tired of her variable -moods and the exactions of his instructors, runs away from boarding -school in England and journeys to Australia. There, by chance, he -is taken into the household of Mr. “Ned” Skene, an eminent retired -pugilist, as secretary and gymnasium assistant. The alert Skene -discerns in him a rare “find” and before long he is back in England -again, battling his way to fame and fortune. - -Before long, through one Lord Worthington, a man of vast acquaintance -and catholic taste, Cashel is introduced to the notice of Miss Lydia -Carew, a young Englishwoman of huge fortune and most marvellous -intellectuality. It is not until page 189--more than half way -through the 330 page book--that Lydia learns that Cashel is a -prize-fighter. Very naturally she recoils from him, but all the while, -half-unconsciously, she has been falling desperately in love with him, -and in the end, despite his profession, she marries him. - -“I practically believe,” she explains to his rejected rival, “in the -doctrine of heredity; and as my body is frail and my brain morbidly -active, I think my impulse toward a man strong in body and untroubled -in mind is a trustworthy one. You can understand that; it is a plain -proposition in eugenics.” - -And so Cashel retires from the ring and gradually, though never -completely, takes on the polish of civilization. It is a union so happy -that it soon descends into the commonplace. - -The author was born with the dramatic instinct of a Sardou or a Hal -Reid and throughout the book there are scenes of tremendous excitement -and clatter. Cashel fights fairly terrific battles--among others one -with Miss Carew’s footman, Bashville, who also loves her--and the -general air of the book is distinctly warlike. Most of the minor -characters are commonplace. Skene and his wife and Lord Worthington -are old friends from Thackeray and Lucian Webber, Lydia’s cousin -and unsuccessful Romeo, is the ready-made rising young statesman of -contemporary English fiction. - -“An Unsocial Socialist” is a tract born of the nights that Shaw passed -in pondering the philosophies. All of the ten articles in the manifesto -of 1845 are preached in it, and in addition there is much that the Hon. -“Tom” Watson, the Hon. Eugene Debs, and various other earnest gentlemen -were destined to spout forth years later. “I suppose,” says Max -Beerbohm, “that there is not under heaven a subject on which Shaw has -not thought deeply and indignantly.” “An Unsocial Socialist” justifies -this venture. It is the most riotous hodge-podge of cart-tail oratory -and low comedy in the language. - -Sidney Trefusis, a millionaire, takes to wife Henriette Jansenius, -the daughter of a millionaire, and after a brief honeymoon bids her -good-bye. He is no ordinary money-king, this strange young man, but -a Rothschild with the ideas of a Marx. The times, he decides, are -out of joint. Things have grown rotten in Denmark. To live as men of -his fortune live would be to give his tacit consent to the immoral -scheme of things. And so he deserts his wife, assumes the name of -Smilash, and going to a small country town, sets up shop as the local -jack-of-all-trades. - -From this point on, for a hundred pages, the book is a socialist tract. -To his wife, who pursues him, and to everyone else he encounters--the -faculty and student body of a refined young ladies’ seminary, the -village politicians, chance passersby, enemies, and friends--he -expounds his theories. Also--and this is what makes him rise from the -common level of propagandists--he practices many (though not all) of -the things he preaches. In the end, his neglect kills his wife and he -goes ranging England in search of a real affinity. When he finds her he -marries her and the book ends--with a most marvellous letter from the -hero to the author. - -As in the case of “The Philanderer” a great many persons have wondered -how Shaw could make such a ridiculous character of a man whose -doctrines apparently coincide with his own. In truth, it is highly -improbable that Shaw, or any other sane man, ever held to the ideas -expressed by Trefusis. The latter’s speech beside the corpse of his -wife is without parallel in fiction. And some of his other utterances -and acts--how royally and deliciously sacrilegious they are! Certainly -an age that finds Schopenhauer’s essay on women a never-ending delight -should be better acquainted with the ecstatic shocks of “An Unsocial -Socialist.” Trefusis, being utterly beyond the pale, is as productive -of wicked little thrills to the orthodox and virtuous as McIntosh -Jellaludin, David, Pantagruel, or the latest popular murderer. - -“The Irrational Knot”--the theme of which is evident from the title--is -now but a name. It was one of a vast multitude of similar books that -saw the light at the time of its birth. Not one of the reviewers, -eulogists or enemies of Shaw seems to think much of it. “Love Among -the Artists,” on the contrary, is a novel that deserves to rank with -the really important fiction of the time. The theme is not startlingly -original and in the 400-odd pages there are oceans of tiresome talk, -but the work, as a whole, bears the stamp of distinction, and if only -for the admirable searching portrait of the Polish _pianiste_, Aurélie -Szczympliça, it deserves some share of attention. - -The story has the amiably discursive cast of the other Shaw stories -and ill bears translation into a brief summary. Adrian Herbert, an -artist, is a character about whom others, in a sense, revolve, though, -in himself, he is little interesting. At the start he is affianced to -Mary Sutherland, a young woman of artistic longings. The chief business -of the book is to show how he is won away from Mary by the Szczympliça -and duly and regularly married by that remarkable young woman. As for -Mary, she finds consolation in the arms of John Hoskyn, an eminently -practical and matter-of-fact gentleman, who wanders into Bohemia quite -by accident, and is much astonished by what he sees there. - -Shaw was a newcomer in Bohemia himself when he wrote this book and to -this fact may be ascribed the freshness and virility of some of the -characters--the Szczympliça in particular, and Owen Jack, the eccentric -composer. In the former the vagaries of the artistic mind are revealed -with considerable originality and delicacy. If he was tempted to make a -burlesque of the soulful little Aurélie, he kept a tight rein upon the -impulse. Jack, on the contrary, is frankly a figure out of low comedy. -Nothing more grotesque than his struggles with the Philistines is to -be found in any of the Shaw plays. Like Cashel Byron, he and Aurélie -deserve to be translated from the closet to the stage. Jack especially -is sufficiently obvious to give any comedian of fair talents the -opportunity of a lifetime. - -Shaw’s pair of critical pamphlets--“The Perfect Wagnerite” and “The -Quintessence of Ibsenism”--will go down into history beside Robert -Schumann’s early reviews of the compositions of Chopin and Huxley’s -opening broadsides for Darwin. Each paved the way for better knowledge -and better understanding. In 1888, when “The Perfect Wagnerite” was -published, the composer of “The Ring of the Nibelung” was still caviare -to the Britons. The professors of the day knew him and feared that the -great gaping public would come to know him, and so, like the ancient -monks who kept the Scriptures under lock and key, they greatly desired -that he be ignored. Shaw undertook the vain task of proving the younger -Siegfried a socialist--and succeeded in making his readers meditate -upon Wagner. Thus he earned whatever money and fame he got from his -pains. - -“The Quintessence of Ibsenism” includes some wonderfully illuminative -and searching passages, but on the whole it is rather out of date. Shaw -makes the Norwegian a social-philosopher of most earnest purposes, and -hangs upon the book an elaborate and ingenious theory of sham-smashing. -As a matter of fact, we have Ibsen’s own word for it that few of his -plays contain much conscious preaching, and no doubt many of the -alarming doctrines Shaw found in them were not there before he conjured -them up. Nevertheless, the book remains the best estimate of Ibsen yet -written in English. - -Incidentally, it gave birth to the tumultuous discussion of the -so-called “symbolic” play which raged over England and America half a -dozen years ago. Nowadays one hears little of “symbolism” and even the -comic papers have ceased to regard Ibsen and his company as men who -write in mysterious cryptograms. But persons who follow the trend of -things dramatic remember the disputations that once awoke the echoes. -You will find the germ of them in Shaw’s half-forgotten discourses upon -“Brand,” “Peer Gynt,” and “Emperor and Galilean.” - -In the early ’90’s, when Max Nordau’s mighty tome, “Degeneration,” -was making a stir like a new best-selling novel, Shaw published a -counter-blast to it. Even exceeding Nordau in the minuteness of his -knowledge, he made an answer that, in the words of one admirer, -“wiped Nordau off the field of discussion.” Unhappily, this effort at -regeneration has been forgotten with “Degeneration.” - -Shaw’s remarkable essay “On Going to Church,” which was recently -republished in book form, is an earnest plea for less humbug in public -worship. The average church, he argues, is so hopelessly ugly, tawdry, -and irritating, that it straightway dissipates any religious emotion -the stray comer may harbor when he enters. - -The socialistic and political essays, while by no means unimportant to -the students of the Shaw plays, are scarcely within the province of -this book. - - - - -BIOGRAPHICAL AND STATISTICAL - - -I - -George Bernard Shaw was born in Dublin, July 26, 1856. His paternal -grandfather, Bernard Shaw, was high sheriff of County Kilkenny, and -his maternal grandfather, Walter Bagnall Gurley, a county ’squire and -fox hunter, with an extensive, but entailed estate. Shaw’s father -was a younger son and, in consequence, no millionaire. But that he -was a pauper or that the dramatist, in his youth, was attracted to -vegetarianism because, as James Huneker hints, cabbages are cheaper -than venison, there is no reason to believe. When the family came to -London, in 1876, it took up quarters in “a well furnished house in a -pleasant part” of the city. This upon the authority of Mr. Stanley -Shaw, a relative, in a letter to the New York _Sun_, dated Berlin, -April 25, 1905. - -The Shaws then, were country gentlemen, and in all probability -little different from the other Irish gentry about them. The son of -the younger son was educated and reared in the orthodox fashion. He -learned the speech of the Irish aristocracy and the foreign tongues -in favor--English, French, and maybe a bit of German; he mastered -the three R’s, he studied the history of his country, and went to -church. “When I was a little boy,” he says in his essay “On Going -to Church,” “I was compelled to go on Sunday; and though I escaped -from that intolerable bondage before I was ten, it prejudiced me so -violently against church-going that twenty years elapsed before, in -foreign lands and in pursuit of works of art, I became once more a -church-goer. To this day, my flesh creeps when I recall that genteel -suburban Irish Protestant church, built by Roman Catholic workmen who -would have considered themselves damned had they crossed its threshold -afterward....” A virtuous, commonplace family. Its present head, says -the Mr. Stanley Shaw aforesaid, “is Major Sir Frederick Shaw, Bart., -D. S. O. of Bushey Park, Dublin.” A respectable, well-sounding name and -address. - - -II - -Shaw was twenty when he reached London--the meditative, impressionable, -speculative, iconoclastic age. Apparently he fell an easy prey -to the philosophical anarchists who then held the centre of the -stage--Proudhon, Lassalle, Marx, Louis Blanc, Engels, Liebknecht, and -the lesser Germans. Certainly it was a day of stimulating stirring -about. Huxley and Spencer were up to their necks in gore; Ibsen, with -“The League of Youth” behind him, was giving form to “The Pillars of -Society” and “A Doll’s House”; Nietzsche was tramping up and down his -garden path; Wagner was hard at work; “The Principles of Sociology” -had just come from the press. Sham-smashing was in the air. Everything -respectable was under suspicion. - -It didn’t take Shaw long to spring out of the audience upon the stage. -His first novel, in truth, must have been begun long before he learned -to find his way about the streets of London. Whether it was good or bad -the human race will never know; publishers declined it without thanks, -and the author, when his manuscripts began to have a value, decided -that it should remain unpublished. “It was a very remarkable work,” he -says, “but hardly one which I should be well advised in letting loose -whilst my livelihood depends on my credit as a literary workman. I can -recall a certain difficulty, experienced even while I was writing the -book, in remembering what it was about....” Thus heavily did his theme -bear down upon him. - -What the young Irishman did to relieve his imagination during the -next three years is not recorded. That he learned a great deal, -particularly of music and literature, is very probable. His sister -was a professional singer, and the persons he met were chiefly of the -literary-artistic sort. He was “but an infant of twenty-four, when, -being at that time one of the unemployed” he essayed to mend his -“straitened fortunes” by writing his second novel, “The Irrational -Knot.” It was no masterpiece, but if the few persons who glanced -through it possessed prophetic eyes they must have seen in it marks -of a genius rather startling. A year later came “Love Among the -Artists”--a volume of nearly 500 pages. Then, in order, came “Cashel -Byron’s Profession” and “An Unsocial Socialist.” Not one of these -extraordinary tales struck the fancy of the publishers. “An encouraging -compliment or two,” says Shaw, was his sole reward for the fatiguing -labor of writing them. Not until a good while afterward did any of -the five see the light, and then it was only “to fill up the gaps -in socialist magazines financed by generous friends.” “An Unsocial -Socialist” was the first to reach the dignity of covers. After it came -“Cashel Byron’s Profession” and “The Irrational Knot.” “Love Among the -Artists” was the last to appear upon the book stalls. - - -III - -Meanwhile Shaw had become engaged in half a dozen reform crusades. -Vegetarianism found in him an early advocate and socialism won him -easily. In 1883, the year Karl Marx died, Thomas Davidson, an American, -laid the foundation of the Fabian Society at a series of parlor -conferences in London. In 1884 Shaw joined the society, and four years -later, when it began holding public meetings, he found himself one of -its leading lights. He has told us himself how he delighted to indulge -in eloquent socialistic orations from cart-tails and how he came to -acquire a bodyguard of faithful auditors whose presence was assured -whenever it was announced that he would speak. With the pen, too, he -labored for the manifesto of 1845, and even to-day he is still hard at -it--despite prosperity, the approach of middle age and a fair imitation -of the thing called fame. He wrote tracts in great number and after -1889 edited the Fabian Essays. Incidentally he wrote “Fabianism and the -Empire” (1900), “Fabianism and the Fiscal Question” (1904), and other -socialistic broadsides. At odd moments he had his say, too, upon the -subjects of vegetarianism, the use of quotation marks, capitalization, -evening clothes, capital punishment, and the eternal snobbishness of -the patriotic Britisher. - -During all this time he was drawn nearer and nearer to the theater. As -far back as 1885 he began a play in collaboration with William Archer, -the translator of Ibsen. This drama, rewritten and amplified seven -years later, was the first of his works to be performed in public. But -the need of getting on in the world pressed gloomily. “The question -was,” Shaw has told us, “how to get a pound a week.” Novel writing -was plainly hopeless and play making seemed equally impossible. There -remained a chance to set up shop as a critic. Shaw made the plunge -and almost immediately his humor and originality won him an audience. -“Soon,” he says, “my privileges were enormous and my wealth immense.... -The classes patiently read my essays; the masses patiently listened -to my harangues. I enjoyed the immunities of impecuniosity with the -opportunities of a millionaire....” - -At the start Shaw’s regular topic was the art pictorial, but before -long he began to dabble in music. According to Max Beerbohm, his first -essay was printed in the first number of the _Star_ in 1888. This was a -highly purposeful periodical, founded by T. P. O’Connor (“If we enable -the charwoman to put two lumps of sugar in her tea instead of one,” -said “Tay Pay,” in his salutatory, “we shall not have worked in vain”), -and Shaw wrote over the _nom de plume_ of “Corno di Bassetto.” In 1890, -after two years’ service, he transferred his flag to the _World_. -Then, like his friend Huneker, he abandoned music for the drama, and -from January, 1895, to May, 1898, he was the critic of the _Saturday -Review_--the London weekly in whose columns the ingenious Mr. Beerbohm -now holds forth. - - -IV - -As has been noted, “Widowers’ Houses,” Shaw’s first play, was completed -in 1892. It was given its initial performance during that year at the -Royalty Theater, London, by the Independent Theater Company, and made -a rather strenuous success. “The socialists and independents,” says -Shaw, “applauded me furiously on principle; the ordinary play-going -first-nighters hooted me frantically on the same ground; I, being -at that time in some practice as what might be unpolitely called a -mob-orator, made a speech before the curtain; the newspapers discussed -the play for a whole fortnight, not only in the ordinary theatrical -notices and criticisms, but in leading articles and letters; and -finally the text of the play was published, with an introduction by -Mr. Grein (the manager of the Independent Company), an amusing account -by Mr. Archer of the original collaboration, and a long preface and -several elaborate controversial appendices in the author’s most -energetically egotistical fighting style.” - -“The Philanderer” was written in 1893, also for the Independent -Theater, and “Mrs. Warren’s Profession” was completed the same year. -The former was withdrawn because it was found well-nigh impossible to -unearth actors capable of understanding it sufficiently to play it, and -the latter remained in the manager’s desk because the virtuous English -play-censor forbade its performance. Nine years later--January 12, -1902--it was presented privately by the Stage Society. - -In 1894 a group of philanthropic play-goers, convinced that the dramas -of the day were intolerable, financed a series of special performances -at the Avenue Theater, London. The second play presented was Shaw’s -“Arms and the Man.” It was given its premiere April 21, and ran until -July 7. Shaw, in his preface to the second volume of “Plays Pleasant -and Unpleasant” enters upon an elaborate account of its receipts and -the philosophy thereof. During its brief season the Londoners paid -$8,500 to see it and the cost of presenting it, counting salaries, -rents, lights, advertising, and royalties, was nearly $25,000. Soon -afterwards Richard Mansfield presented the play in the United States -and it made a very fair success. It is in the Mansfield repertoire -even to-day, and now and then there is a matinée performance of it. -But apparently the public does not very vigorously demand it. In -translation it has been done in Germany. - -“The Man of Destiny” was written in 1895. Two years later it was -given one performance at Croydon, England. Then it slumbered until -the last months of 1904, when Arnold Daly played it in New York as an -after-piece to “Candida.” Since then his company has appeared in it in -most of the large cities of the United States. “Candida” and “You Never -Can Tell” were written in 1896. The former was first played by the -Independent Theater Company, during a tour of the English provinces, in -1897. Arnold Daly, scraping together $300, presented it, in association -with Winchell Smith, at the Berkeley Lyceum, a diminutive theater in -West 45th street, New York, in 1904. The success of the drama was so -great that before long Daly found himself a Broadway star under the -management of Liebler & Co., and at present it seems likely that Shaw’s -plays will serve to keep him in the public eye for a good while to -come. - -Shaw wrote a one-act piece, “How He Lied to Her Husband,” for his -young American interpreter, and when it was presented in New York, in -the fall of 1904, it made a great stir. “You Never Can Tell,” which -had been withdrawn by Shaw after being placed in rehearsal in London, -was given at the Garrick Theater by Daly at the conclusion of the run -of “Candida.” The two volumes of “Plays Pleasant and Unpleasant” were -published in 1898. They included “Widowers’ Houses,” “The Philanderer,” -“Mrs. Warren’s Profession,” “Arms and the Man,” “You Never Can Tell,” -“Candida,” and “The Man of Destiny”--not to speak of a 37-page preface -dealing with a vast multitude of subjects. - - -V - -“The Devil’s Disciple,” the first of the “Three Plays for Puritans,” -was written early in 1897. Richard Mansfield presented it in New York -in the fall of that year and it made an excellent success. Like “Arms -and the Man” it is still in his repertoire--pretty far down in the -trunk, it may be mentioned in passing, with many other plays atop of -it. In October, 1899, Murray Carson’s company played it for a few weeks -at Kensington, near London. “Cæsar and Cleopatra” was written in 1898, -and “Capt. Brassbound’s Conversion” the next year. The “Three Plays -for Puritans” were published in 1900. “The Admirable Bashville, or -Constancy Rewarded” was given by the Stage Society at the Imperial -Theatre in 1903. Shaw evolved it from the fragments of “Cashel Byron’s -Profession” to protect his rights in the latter, an unauthorized -dramatization having been made for an American pugilist-actor. The play -was printed as an appendix to the second English edition of “Cashel -Byron’s Profession.” - -“Man and Superman” was written in 1902, and published the next year, -with a gigantic preface, and “The Revolutionist’s Handbook and Pocket -Companion” as an appendix. Preface, play, and appendix make a volume -of 244 closely-printed pages. The drama saw the light on the evening -of May 23, 1905, at the Court Theater, London. Granville Barker, made -up to resemble Shaw, played the role of John Tanner, and Miss Lillian -McCarthy was the Ann Whitefield. May 21 and 22 there were special -performances of the play by the Stage Society, and in September, 1905, -Robert Loraine and his company presented it in New York. The third act -with the scene of Don Juan in Hell was omitted. “John Bull’s Other -Island” was completed in 1904, and presented at six special matinees at -the Court Theater by the Stage Society in the fall of that year. “Major -Barbara” was written in 1905. - -Shaw’s two critical tracts, “The Perfect Wagnerite” and “The -Quintessence of Ibsenism” were published in 1888 and 1891, -respectively. His last scholastic manifesto, “The Common Sense of -Municipal Training” was issued in 1904. A remarkable essay, “On Going -to Church,” which appeared originally in the _Savoy Quarterly_--Arthur -Symons’ journal--in 1896, was reprinted early in 1905, and attained -a large sale. In the late ’80’s, in an English periodical, there -appeared his celebrated answer to Max Nordau’s book, “Degeneration.” In -the opinion of some of his admirers this is, by far, the best of his -controversial works, but, unfortunately, it has not been reprinted in -permanent form. - -“When Arnold Daly visited Shaw,” says Gustav Kobbé, “he found several -indications that cynicism and Fabian socialism are not unprofitable. -Shaw lives in large apartments in the New Reform Club, overlooking -the Thames embankment, and he has a country place at Welwin, too.... -There is no sham in the interior of his places of abode. There is a -complete absence of the cheap æsthetic or of superfluous ornamentation. -Simplicity of outline distinguishes such ornaments as there are. -Handles, incrustations and the like are eschewed. Shaw explained to -Daly that he wished nothing in his abode that would collect dust. Even -rugs are tabooed.... Daly did not find the author a _poseur_, but -simply a man who was not an ordinary man....” - -That Shaw has a keen eye to business a great many aspiring managers -have discovered. He demands a royalty of 15 per cent. of the gross -receipts of his plays--considerably more than all but the most -famous dramatists receive--and is careful and unsentimental in his -negotiations. That he is now basking in the sun of prosperity is -very probable. Saving only Shakespeare, no English author was better -represented in the productions of the winter of 1904–5. In addition -Shaw is much in demand as a lecturer and has no difficulty in finding -a publisher for whatever he chooses to write. In 1898 he inherited the -entailed estate of his maternal grandfather, Walter Bagnall Gurley. He -was married the same year to Miss Charlotte Frances Payne-Townshend. - -“Who’s Who” says that Shaw’s favorite exercises are swimming and -cycling and that his recreation is “anything except sport.” He is tall, -lanky, and wears a shaggy, red beard. He affects loose fitting flannel -shirts and heaps his curses upon the dress suit. He is a vegetarian, -a socialist, and many other things of a heterodox, fearsome sort. He -uses the typewriter in preference to a pen, even for correspondence. He -has travelled in Europe and the Levant, and may soon come to America. -He refuses to use apostrophes in such words as don’t and can’t, and -affects thin spacing, after the German style, instead of italics, to -emphasize words. “Last season,” says the sapient Mr. Daly, “he was a -social freak; now he is a legitimate amuser (sic!) of the people.” - -And so much for George Bernard Shaw. - - - - -SHAKESPEARE AND SHAW - - -Shaw’s notion that Shakespeare’s plays--or, at least, some of -them--have been left behind by the evolution of popular philosophy -and ideals is scarcely original with him. As he himself points out, -the Bard of Avon has been burned in hot critical fire for many years, -despite the “Shakespeare fanciers” who hold him as a god. Some of his -plays, says Shaw, were so far ahead of their time when they were first -presented that it has taken 300 years of theater-goers to tire of the -“long line of disgraceful farces, melodramas, and stage-pageants which -actor-managers, from Garrick and Cibber to our own contemporaries, -have hacked out of them,” and to understand performances of the -texts as the poet wrote them. By the same token, those plays which -Shakespeare himself “wrote down” to the level of his audience have -grown archaic in sentiment and character. Dramas like “Anthony and -Cleopatra,” says Shaw, will nevermore be written, “nor relished by men -in whose philosophy guilt and innocence, and, consequently, revenge and -idolatry, have no meaning. Such men must rewrite all the old plays in -terms of their own philosophy....” - -When this was published, as a preface to “Cæsar and Cleopatra,” in -“Three Plays for Puritans,” there was a volcanic critical eruption, and -ever since then the flames have roared about the ingenious Irishman. He -has delivered lectures explaining his position, he has set forth his -views, elaborately and carefully, in print, and his admirers have gone -to his rescue--but a large party of Shakespeare worshipers insist on -clinging to the belief that he has attempted to drag the bard from his -pedestal and himself climb upon it. Recently, in London, he delivered -a lecture designed to make clear his idea. Next morning the London -morning papers printed amazingly confused reports of it, and to set -himself right Shaw wrote a letter to the _Daily News_ containing 12 -assertions, which, like the 95 theses Luther nailed upon the church -door at Wittenberg, he desired should make known the substance of his -argument. Here they are: - -“1. That the idolatry of Shakespeare which prevails now existed in his -own time, and got on the nerve of Ben Jonson. - -“2. That Shakespeare was not an illiterate poaching laborer who came -up to London to be a horseboy, but a gentleman with all the social -pretensions of our higher _bourgeoisie_. - -“3. That Shakespeare, when he became an actor, was not a rogue and a -vagabond, but a member and part proprietor of a regular company, using, -by permission, a nobleman’s name as its patron, and holding itself as -exclusively above the casual barnstormer as a Harley Street consultant -holds himself above a man with a sarsaparilla stall. - -“4. That Shakespeare’s aim in business was to make money enough to -acquire land in Stratford, and to retire as a country gentleman with a -coat of arms and a good standing in the county; and that this was not -the ambition of a _parvenu_, but the natural course for a member of -the highly respectable, though temporarily impecunious, family of the -Shakespeares. - -“5. That Shakespeare found that the only thing that paid in the theater -was romantic nonsense, and that when he was forced by this to produce -one of the most effective samples of romantic nonsense in existence--a -feat which he performed easily and well--he publicly disclaimed any -responsibility for its pleasant and cheap falsehood by borrowing the -story and throwing it in the face of the public with the phrase ‘As You -Like It.’ - -“6. That when Shakespeare used that phrase he meant exactly what he -said, and that the phrase ‘What You Will,’ which he applied to ‘Twelfth -Night,’ meaning ‘Call it what you please,’ is not, in Shakespearean -or any other English, the equivalent of the perfectly unambiguous and -penetratingly simple phrase ‘As You Like It.’ - -“7. That Shakespeare tried to make the public accept real studies of -life and character in--for instance--‘Measure for Measure’ and ‘All’s -Well That Ends Well’; and that the public would not have them, and -remains of the same mind still, preferring a fantastic sugar doll, like -Rosalind, to such serious and dignified studies of women as Isabella -and Helena. - -“8. That the people who spoil paper and waste ink by describing -Rosalind as a perfect type of womanhood are the descendants of the same -blockheads whom Shakespeare, with the coat of arms and the lands in -Warwickshire in view, had to please when he wrote plays as they liked -them. - -“9. Not, as has been erroneously stated, that I could write a better -play than ‘As You Like It,’ but that I actually have written much -better ones, and in fact, never wrote anything, and never intend to -write anything, half so bad in matter. (In manner and art nobody can -write better than Shakespeare, because, carelessness apart, he did the -thing as well as it can be done within the limits of human faculty.) - -“10. That to anyone with the requisite ear and command of words, blank -verse, written under the amazingly loose conditions which Shakespeare -claimed, with full liberty to use all sorts of words, colloquial, -technical, rhetorical, and even obscurely technical, to indulge in -the most far-fetched ellipses, and to impress ignorant people with -every possible extremity of fantasy and affectation, is the easiest -of all known modes of literary expression, and that this is why whole -oceans of dull bombast and drivel have been emptied on the head of -England since Shakespeare’s time in this form by people who could -not have written ‘Box and Cox’ to save their lives. Also (this on -being challenged) that I can write blank verse myself more swiftly -than prose, and that, too, of full Elizabethan quality plus the -Shakespearian sense of the absurdity of it as expressed in the lines of -Ancient Pistol. What is more, that I have done it, published it, and -had it performed on the stage with huge applause. - -“11. That Shakespeare’s power lies in his enormous command of word -music, which gives fascination to his most blackguardly repartees and -sublimity to his hollowest platitudes. - -“12. That Shakespeare’s weakness lies in his complete deficiency in -that highest sphere of thought, in which poetry embraces religion, -philosophy, morality, and the bearing of these on communities, which -is sociology. That his characters have no religion, no politics, no -conscience, no hope, no convictions of any sort. That there are, as -Ruskin pointed out, no heroes in Shakespeare. That his test of the -worth of life is the vulgar hedonic test and that since life cannot be -justified by this or any other external test, Shakespeare comes out -of his reflective period a vulgar pessimist, oppressed with a logical -demonstration that life is not worth living, and only surpassing -Thackeray in respect to being fertile enough, instead of repeating -‘Vanitas vanitatum’ at second hand to work the futile doctrine -differently and better in such passages as ‘Out, out, brief candle.’” - -These twelve articles merely serve to arouse a new storm of discussion -and Shaw profited much thereby in the advertising it gave him. In May, -1905, the controversy had reached such a height that J. B. Fagan, a -young English dramatist, wrote a burlesque about it. The piece was -called “Shakespeare vs. Shaw” and was presented at the Haymarket -Theater, London. The scene of the one act was a courtroom, in which -the case between the two playwrights was being tried. James Welsh, -Miss Winifred Emery, Cyril Maude, and other prominent players were -in the cast and the little _revue_ evidently made a fair success. -At all events, its presentation was a rather significant thing. Few -dramatists, in their lifetimes, see plays written about them. - - -THE END - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes - - -Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a -predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they -were not changed. - -Simple typographical errors were corrected; missing quotation marks at -the beginnings of chapters were left unbalanced; a missing one within a -paragraph was added. - -The Table of Contents had no page numbers. - -“Major Barbara” is listed in the Table of Contents, but thereafter is -mentioned only once, in a sentence on page 99. - -“Johnnisfeuer” may be a misspelling for “Johannisfeuer.” - -Page 7: “a chilly, waspish pig” was printed that way, but it may be -a misprint for “a chilly, waspish prig”. - -Page 15: “Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde” was printed that way, but it is a -misprint for “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”. - -Pages 49 and 98: “The Admirable Bashville, or Constancy Rewarded” -was printed that way, but is a misprint for “The Admirable Bashville, -or Constancy Unrewarded”. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GEORGE BERNARD SHAW: HIS -PLAYS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/68209-0.zip b/old/68209-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 874abf8..0000000 --- a/old/68209-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h.zip b/old/68209-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 979549d..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/68209-h.htm b/old/68209-h/68209-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index acda42a..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/68209-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4630 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8" /> - <title> - George Bernard Shaw His Plays, by Henry L. Mencken—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> - <style> /* <![CDATA[ */ - -body { - margin-left: 2.5em; - margin-right: 2.5em; -} -.x-ebookmaker body {margin: 0;} -.x-ebookmaker-drop {color: inherit;} - -h1, h2, h3 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; - margin-top: 2.5em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - word-spacing: .2em; -} - -h1 {margin-top: 0; line-height: 1.5;} -h3 {font-weight: normal;} - -h2.chap {margin-bottom: 0;} -h2+p {margin-top: 1.5em;} -.x-ebookmaker h1, .x-ebookmaker .chapter, .x-ebookmaker .newpage {page-break-before: always;} -.x-ebookmaker h1.nobreak, .x-ebookmaker h2.nobreak, .x-ebookmaker .nobreak {page-break-before: avoid; padding-top: 0;} - -.transnote h2 { - margin-top: .5em; - margin-bottom: 1em; -} - -p { - text-indent: 1.75em; - margin-top: .51em; - margin-bottom: .24em; - text-align: justify; -} -p.b1 {margin-bottom: 1em;} - -.x-ebookmaker p { - margin-top: .5em; - margin-bottom: .25em; -} -.x-ebookmaker p.b1 {margin-bottom: 1em;} - -.caption p, .center p, p.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} - -.p0 {margin-top: 0em;} -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} -.b2 {margin-bottom: 2em;} -.vspace {line-height: 1.5;} - -.in0 {text-indent: 0;} -.in2 {padding-left: 2em;} -.in4 {padding-left: 4em;} -.in8 {padding-left: 8em;} - -.smaller {font-size: 85%;} -.larger {font-size: 125%;} -.large {font-size: 150%;} - -img.drop-cap {float: left; margin: -.8em .75em 0 0; max-width: 4.5em;} -p.drop-cap:first-letter {color: transparent; margin-left: -3.2em;} -p.drop-cap .firstword.in05 {padding-left: .5em;} -p.drop-cap .firstword.in03 {padding-left: .3em;} -p.drop-cap .firstword.in01 {padding-left: .1em;} -.x-ebookmaker img.drop-cap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} -.x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap {text-indent: 0;} -.x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap:first-letter {color: inherit; margin-left: 0;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right; margin-right: 2em;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} -.firstword {text-transform: uppercase;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin: 4em auto 4em auto; - clear: both; -} -.x-ebookmaker hr { - margin-top: .1em; - margin-bottom: .1em; - visibility: hidden; - color: white; - width: .01em; - display: none; -} - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - right: .25em; - text-indent: 0; - text-align: right; - font-size: 70%; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; - font-style: normal; - letter-spacing: normal; - line-height: normal; - color: #acacac; - border: .0625em solid #acacac; - background: #ffffff; - padding: .0625em .125em; -} - -.figcenter { - margin: 2em auto 2em auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; -} -.x-ebookmaker .figcenter {margin: 0 auto 0 auto;} - -img { - padding: 1em 0 .5em 0; - max-width: 100%; - height: auto; -} -.x-ebookmaker img {max-height: 80%;} - -a.ref {text-decoration: none;} - -ul {margin-left: 10%; padding-left: 0;} -li {list-style-type: none; padding-left: 1.5em; padding-bottom: .5em; text-indent: -2em; text-align: left;} -li.in2 {padding-left: 3em;} -.x-ebookmaker ul {margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 0;} - -.blockquot { - margin: 1.5em 5% 1.5em 5%; - font-size: 95%; -} - -.blockquot.inhead p {padding-left: 1.5em; text-indent: -1.5em;} -.blockquot.inhead.center p {padding-left: 0; text-indent: 0; text-align: center;} -.x-ebookmaker .blockquot {margin: 1.5em 3% 1.5em 3%;} - -.poetry-container { - margin: 1.5em auto; - text-align: center; - font-size: 98%; -} - -.poetry { - display: inline-block; - text-align: left; - margin-left: 0; -} - -.poetry .stanza {padding: 0.5em 0;} -.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} - -.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} - -.x-ebookmaker .poetry-container {text-align: center;} -.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block; text-align: left; margin-left: 10%;} -.x-ebookmaker .poetry .stanza {page-break-inside: avoid;} - -.transnote { - background-color: #999999; - border: thin dotted; - font-family: sans-serif, serif; - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 5%; - margin-top: 4em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - padding: 1em; -} -.x-ebookmaker .transnote { - page-break-inside: avoid; - margin-left: 2%; - margin-right: 2%; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - padding: .5em; -} - -.gesperrt { - letter-spacing: 0.2em; - margin-right: -0.2em; -} -.wspace {word-spacing: .3em;} - -span.locked {white-space:nowrap;} -.pagenum br {display: none; visibility: hidden;} -.bbox {border: .2em solid black; padding: 1.5em; - margin: 4em auto 4em auto; max-width: 20em; - page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} - - /* ]]> */ </style> -</head> - -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of George Bernard Shaw: His Plays, by Henry L. Mencken</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: George Bernard Shaw: His Plays</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Henry L. Mencken</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: May 30, 2022 [eBook #68209]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Emmanuel Ackerman, Charlie Howard, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GEORGE BERNARD SHAW: HIS PLAYS ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="max-width: 18em;"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="1600" height="2560" alt="cover" /> -</div> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="bbox"> -<h1> -George Bernard Shaw<br /> -his plays</h1> - -<p class="p2 vspace">BY<br /> -<span class="large">HENRY L. MENCKEN</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="max-width: 1.25em;"> - <img src="images/i_000.png" width="52" height="103" alt="floral decoration" /> -</div> - -<p class="p4">BOSTON AND LONDON<br /> -<span class="large">JOHN W. LUCE & CO.</span><br /> -1905 -</p> -</div> - -<p class="newpage p4 smaller"> -<i class="gesperrt">Copyright, 1905, by</i><br /> -<span class="smcap">John W. Luce & Company</span><br /> -<i class="gesperrt">Boston, Mass., U. S. A.</i></p> - -<p class="p4 smaller"><i>The Plimpton Press Norwood Mass. U.S.A.</i> -</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<div class="in4"> -<ul> -<li><a href="#PREFACE" class="smcap">Preface.</a></li> -<li><a href="#BY_WAY_OF_INTRODUCTION" class="smcap">By Way of Introduction.</a></li> -<li><a href="#GEORGE_BERNARD_SHAW" class="smcap">The Shaw Plays:</a></li> -<li class="in2"><a href="#MRS_WARRENS_PROFESSION">Mrs. Warren’s Profession.</a></li> -<li class="in2"><a href="#ARMS_AND_THE_MAN">Arms and the Man.</a></li> -<li class="in2"><a href="#THE_DEVILS_DISCIPLE">The Devil’s Disciple.</a></li> -<li class="in2"><a href="#WIDOWERS_HOUSES">Widowers’ Houses.</a></li> -<li class="in2"><a href="#THE_PHILANDERER">The Philanderer.</a></li> -<li class="in2"><a href="#CAPTAIN_BRASSBOUNDS_CONVERSION">Captain Brassbound’s Conversion.</a></li> -<li class="in2"><a href="#C_SAR_AND_CLEOPATRA">Cæsar and Cleopatra.</a></li> -<li class="in2"><a href="#A_MAN_OF_DESTINY">A Man of Destiny.</a></li> -<li class="in2"><a href="#THE_ADMIRABLE_BASHVILLE">The Admirable Bashville.</a></li> -<li class="in2"><a href="#CANDIDA">Candida.</a></li> -<li class="in2"><a href="#HOW_HE_LIED_TO_HER_HUSBAND">How He Lied to Her Husband.</a></li> -<li class="in2"><a href="#YOU_NEVER_CAN_TELL">You Never Can Tell.</a></li> -<li class="in2"><a href="#MAN_AND_SUPERMAN">Man and Superman.</a></li> -<li class="in2"><a href="#JOHN_BULLS_OTHER_ISLAND">John Bull’s Other Island.</a></li> -<li class="in2">Major Barbara.</li> -<li><a href="#THE_NOVELS_AND_OTHER_WRITINGS" class="smcap">The Novels and Other Writings:</a></li> -<li class="in2">The Irrational Knot, Love Among the Artists, - Cashel Byron’s Profession, An Unsocial - Socialist, On Going to Church, The Quintessence - of Ibsenism, etc.</li> -<li><a href="#BIOGRAPHICAL_AND_STATISTICAL" class="smcap">Biographical and Statistical.</a></li> -<li><a href="#SHAKESPEARE_AND_SHAW" class="smcap">Shakespeare and Shaw.</a></li> -</ul> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">vii</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="PREFACE">PREFACE</h2> -</div> - -<p class="in0"><span class="smcap">This</span> is a little handbook for the reading tables of Americans -interested enough in the drama of the day to have -some curiosity regarding the plays of George Bernard -Shaw, but too busy to give them careful personal study -or to read the vast mass of reviews, magazine articles, -letters to the editor, newspaper paragraphs and reports -of debates that deal with them. Every habitual writer -now before the public, from William Archer and James -Huneker to “Vox Populi” and “An Old Subscriber” -has had his say about Shaw. In the pages following there -is no attempt to formulate a new theory of his purposes -or a novel interpretation of his philosophies. Instead, -the object of this modest book is to bring all of the Shaw -commentators together upon the common ground of admitted -fact, to exhibit the Shaw plays as dramas rather -than as transcendental treatises, and to describe their -plots, characters, and general plans simply and calmly, -and without reading into them anything invisible to the -naked eye.</p> - -<p>The order in which the plays are considered is not -the chronological one, and some readers may think that it -is not the logical one. Inasmuch as an exposition of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">viii</span> -reasons that urged its adoption would waste a great deal of -space, the point will not be argued. The brief biography -of the dramatist is based upon the most accurate -available eulogies, denunciations, reminiscences, and -manuscripts. So, too, the historical data regarding the -plays and other publications.</p> - -<p>The reputation of Mr. Shaw as a playwright has so -far exceeded his renown as a novelist, a socialist, a cart-tail -orator, a journeyman reformer, a vegetarian, and -a critic of literature and the arts, that his novels and -other minor works have been noticed but briefly. But -this is not to be taken as evidence that they do not merit -acquaintance. Even the worst of Shaw is well worth -study.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">ix</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="BY_WAY_OF_INTRODUCTION">BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION</h2> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>What else is talent but a name for experience, practice, appropriation, -incorporation, from the times of our forefathers?</p> - -<p class="right p0 b2"> -—<span class="smcap">Friedrich Nietzsche.</span> -</p> -</div> - -<p class="in0"><span class="smcap">A century</span> is a mere clock-tick in eternity, but measured -by human events it is a hundred long years. Napoleon -Bonaparte, born in 1768, became an officer of -artillery and gravedigger for an epoch. Born in 1868, -he might have become a journeyman genius of the -boulevards, a Franco-Yankee trust magnate, or the -democratic boss of Kansas City. And so, contrariwise, -George Bernard Shaw, born in 1756 instead of 1856, -might have become a gold-stick-in-waiting at the Court -of St. James or Archbishop of Canterbury. The accident -that made him what he is was one of time. He saw -the light after, instead of before Charles Darwin.</p> - -<p>Darwin is dead now, and the public that reads the -newspapers remembers him only as the person who first -publicly noted the fact that men look a great deal like -monkeys. But his soul goes marching on. Thomas -Huxley and Herbert Spencer, like a new Ham and a -new Shem, spent their lives seeing to that. From him, -through Huxley, we have appendicitis, the seedless<span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">x</span> -orange, and our affable indifference to hell. Through -Spencer, in like manner, we have Nietzsche, Sudermann, -Hauptmann, Ibsen, our annual carnivals of catechetical -revision, the stampede for church union, and the aforesaid -George Bernard Shaw. Each and all of these men -and things, it is true, might have appeared if Darwin -were yet unborn. Ibsen might have written “A Doll’s -House,” and a rash synod or two might have turned impertinent -search-lights upon the doctrine of infant damnation. -It is possible, certainly, but it is supremely, -colossally, and overwhelmingly improbable.</p> - -<p>Why? Simply because before Darwin gave the world -“The Origin of Species” the fight against orthodoxy, -custom, and authority was perennially and necessarily -a losing one. On the side of the defense were ignorance, -antiquity, piety, organization, and respectability—twelve-inch, -wire-wound, rapid-fire guns, all of them. In the -hands of the scattered, half-hearted, unorganized attacking -parties there were but two weapons—the blowpipe -of impious doubt and the bludgeon of sacrilege. -Neither, unsupported, was very effective. Voltaire, who -tried both, scared the defenders a bit and for a while -there was a great pother and scurrying about, but when -the smoke cleared away the walls were just as strong -as before and the drawbridge was still up. One had to -believe or be damned. There was no compromise and -no middle ground.</p> - -<p>And so, when Darwin bobbed up, armed with a new-fangled<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">xi</span> -dynamite gun that hurled shells charged with -a new shrapnel—facts—the defenders laughed at the -novel weapon and looked forward to slaying its bearer. -Spencer, because he ventured to question Genesis, lost -his best friend. Huxley, for an incautious utterance, -was barred from the University of Oxford. And then -of a sudden, there was a deafening roar and a blinding -flash—and down went the walls. Ramparts of authority -that had resisted doubts fell like hedge-rows before -facts, and there began an intellectual reign of terror -that swept like a whirlwind through Europe, America, -Asia, Africa, and Oceania. For six thousand years it -had been necessary, in defending a doctrine, to show -only that it was respectable or sacred. Since 1859, it -has been needful to prove its truth.</p> - -<p>It will take the perspective of centuries to reveal to -us the exact metes and bounds of Darwin’s influence. -He himself probably gave little thought to it. His own -business in life was the investigation of biological phenomena -and he was too busy at that to take an interest -in politics or ethics. But his new method of assailing -tradition appealed to men laboring in far distant vineyards, -and soon there was in progress a grand assault-at-arms -that left orthodoxy and custom dying on the -field. Huxley led the physicians and Spencer the metaphysicians. -Every time the former overturned an old -theory of matter, the latter pricked an old maxim of -ethics. And so the search for the ultimate verities,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xii">xii</span> -which had been a pariah hiding in cellars, like anarchism -or polygamy, became the spirit of the times. Whenever -custom or tradition reared one of its hydra-heads, there -was a champion ready to strike it down.</p> - -<p>The practical result of this was that seekers after the -truth, growing bold with success, began attacking virtues -as well as vices. And herein you will find the fundamental -difference between the philosophers before Darwin -and those after him. The <i>Spectator</i>, in the -’teens of the eighteenth century, inveighed against marital -infidelity—an amusement counted among the scarlet -sins since the days of Moses. Ibsen, a century and a -half later, asked if there might not be evil, too, in unreasoning -fidelity. If you pursue this little inquiry to its -close, you will observe that George Bernard Shaw, in -nearly all of his plays and novels, follows Ibsen rather -than Addison. Sometimes he lends his ear to one of the -two classes of pioneers he mentions in “The Quintessence -of Ibsen,” and sometimes to the other, but it is -always to the pioneers. Either he is exhibiting a virtue -as a vice in disguise, or exhibiting a vice as a virtue in -vice’s clothing. In this fact lies the excuse for considering -him a world-figure. He stands in a sense as an -embodiment of the <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">welt-geist</i>, which is a word invented -by the Germans to designate world-spirit or tendency -of the times.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiii">xiii</span></p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>Popular opinion and himself to the contrary notwithstanding, -Shaw is not a mere preacher. The function -of the dramatist is not that of the village pastor. He -has no need to exhort, nor to call upon his hearers to -come to the mourners’ bench. All the world expects -him to do is to picture human life as he sees it, as accurately -and effectively as he can. Like the artist in -color, form, or tone, his business is with impressions. -A man painting an Alpine scene endeavors to produce, -not a mere record of each rock and tree, but an impression -upon the observer like that he would experience -were he to stand in the artist’s place and look upon the -snow-capped crags. In music it is the same. Beethoven -set out, with melody and harmony, to arouse the -emotions that stir us upon pondering the triumphs of -a great conqueror. Hence the Eroica Symphony. Likewise, -with curves and color, Millet tried to awaken the -soft content that falls upon us when we gaze across the -fields at eventide and hear the distant vesper-bell—and -we have “The Angelus.”</p> - -<p>The purpose of the dramatist is identical. If he shows -us a drunken man on the stage it is because he wants -us to experience the disgust or amusement or envy that -wells up in us on contemplating such a person in real -life. He concerns himself, in brief, with things as he -sees them. The preacher deals with things as he thinks<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">xiv</span> -they ought to be. Sometimes the line of demarcation -between the two purposes may be but dimly seen, but it -is there all the same. If a play has what is known -as a moral, it is the audience and not the playwright -that formulates and voices it. A sermon without an -obvious moral, well rubbed in, would be no sermon at all.</p> - -<p>And so, if we divest ourselves of the idea that Shaw -is trying to preach some rock-ribbed doctrine in each -of his plays, instead of merely setting forth human -events as he sees them, we may find his dramas much -easier of comprehension. True enough, in his prefaces -and stage directions, he delivers himself of many wise -saws and elaborate theories. But upon the stage, fortunately, -prefaces and stage directions are no longer -read to audiences, as they were in Shakespeare’s time, -and so, if they are ever to discharge their natural functions, -the Shaw dramas must stand as simple plays. -Some of them, alackaday! bear this test rather badly. -Others, such as “Mrs. Warren’s Profession” and “Candida,” -bear it supremely well.</p> - -<p>It is the dramatist’s business, then, to record the facts -of life as he sees them, that philosophers and moralists -(by which is meant the public in meditative mood) may -deduce therefrom new rules of human conduct, or observe -and analyze old rules as they are exhibited in the -light of practice. That the average playwright does -not always do so with absolute accuracy is due to the -fact that he is merely a human being. No two men<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xv">xv</span> -see the same thing in exactly the same way, and there -are no fixed standards whereby we may decide whether -one or the other or neither is right.</p> - -<p>Herein we find the element of individual color, which -makes one man’s play differ from another man’s, just -as one artist’s picture of a stretch of beach would differ -from another’s. A romancist, essaying to draw a soldier, -gave the world Don Cesar de Bazan. George -Bernard Shaw, at the same task, produced Captain -Bluntschli. Don Cesar is an idealist and a hero; Bluntschli -is a sort of refined day laborer, bent upon earning -his pay at the least possible expenditure of blood and -perspiration. Inasmuch as no mere man—not even the -soldier under analysis himself—could ever hope to pry -into a fighting man’s mind and define and label his innermost -shadows of thought and motive with absolute -accuracy, there is no reason why we should hold Don -Cesar to be a more natural figure than Captain Bluntschli. -All that we can demand of a dramatist is that -he make his creation consistent and logical and, as far -as he can see to it, true. If we examine Bluntschli we -will find that he answers these requirements. There may -be a good deal of Shaw in him, but there is also some -of Kitchener and more of Tommy Atkins.</p> - -<p>This is one of the chief things to remember in studying -the characters in the Shaw plays. Some of them are -not obvious types, but a little inspection will show that -most of them are old friends, simply viewed from a new<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvi">xvi</span> -angle. This personal angle is the possession that makes -one dramatist differ from all others.</p> - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>Sarcey, the great French critic, has shown us that -the essence of dramatic action is conflict. Every principal -character in a play must have a complement, or as -it is commonly expressed, a foil. In the most primitive -type of melodrama, there is a villain to battle with the -hero and a comic servant to stand in contrast with the -tearful heroine. As we go up the scale, the types are -less strongly marked, but in every play that, in the true -sense, is dramatic, there is this same balancing of characters -and action. Comic scenes are contrasted with -serious ones and for every Hamlet you will find a gravedigger.</p> - -<p>In the dramas of George Bernard Shaw, which deal -almost wholly with the current conflict between orthodoxy -and heterodoxy, it is but natural that the characters -should fall broadly into two general classes—the ordinary -folks who represent the great majority, and the -iconoclasts, or idol-smashers. Darwin made this war -between the faithful and the scoffers the chief concern -of the time, and the sham-smashing that is now going -on, in all the fields of human inquiry, might be compared -to the crusades that engrossed the world in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvii">xvii</span> -middle ages. Everyone, consciously or unconsciously, -is more or less directly engaged in it, and so, when Shaw -chooses conspicuous fighters in this war as the chief -characters of his plays, he is but demonstrating his comprehension -of human nature as it is manifested to-day. -In “Man and Superman,” for instance, he makes John -Tanner, the chief personage of the drama, a rabid adherent -of certain very advanced theories in social philosophy, -and to accentuate these theories and contrast -them strongly with the more old-fashioned ideas of the -majority of persons, he places Tanner among men and -women who belong to this majority. The effect of this -is that the old notions and the new—orthodoxy and heterodoxy—are -brought sharply face to face, and there is -much opportunity for what theater goers call “scenes”—<i>i. e.</i> -clashes of purpose and will.</p> - -<p>In all of the Shaw plays—including even the farces, -though here to a less degree—this conflict between the -worshipers of old idols and the iconoclasts, or idol-smashers, -is the author’s chief concern. In “The Devil’s -Disciple” he puts the scene back a century and a half -because he wants to exhibit his hero’s doings against -a background of particularly rigid and uncompromising -orthodoxy, and the world has moved so fast since Darwin’s -time that such orthodoxy scarcely exists to-day. -Were it pictured as actually so existing the public would -think the picture false and the playwright would fail -in the first business of a maker of plays, which is to give<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xviii">xviii</span> -an air of reality to his creations. So Dick Dudgeon, -in “The Devil’s Disciple” is made a contemporary of -George Washington, and the tradition against which he -struggles seems fairly real.</p> - -<p>In each of the Shaw plays you will find a sham-smasher -like Dick. In “Mrs. Warren’s Profession,” -there are three of them—Mrs. Warren herself, her -daughter Vivie and Frank Gardner. In “You Never -Can Tell” there are the Clandons; in “Arms and the -Man” there is Bluntschli, and in “Man and Superman” -there are John Tanner and Mendoza, the brigand chief, -who appears in the Hell scene as the Devil. In “Candida” -and certain other of the plays it is somewhat difficult -to label each character distinctly, because there is -less definition in the outlines and the people of the play -are first on one side and then on the other, much after -the fashion of people in real life. But in all of the Shaw -plays the necessary conflict is essentially one between -old notions of conduct and new ones.</p> - -<p>Dramatists of other days, before the world became -engaged in its crusade against error and sham, depicted -battles of other sorts. In “Hamlet” Shakespeare -showed the prince in conflict with himself, and in “The -Merchant of Venice” he showed Shylock combatting -Antonio, or, in other words, the ideals of the Jew at -strife with Christian ideals of charity and mercy. Of -late, the most important plays have much resembled -those of Shaw. Ibsen, except in his early poetical<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xix">xix</span> -dramas, deals chiefly with the war between new schemes -of human happiness and old rules of conduct. Nora -Helmer fights the ancient idea that a married woman -should love, honor and obey her husband, no matter -what the provocation to do otherwise, just as Mrs. Warren -defies the mandate that a woman should preserve -her virtue, no matter how much she may suffer thereby. -Sudermann, in “Magda,” shows his heroine in revolt -against the patriarchal German doctrine that a father’s -authority over his children is without limit, and Hauptmann, -another German of rare talents, depicts his chief -characters in similar situations. Shaw is frankly a disciple -of Ibsen, but he is far more than a mere imitator. -In some things, indeed—such, for instance, as in fertility -of wit and invention—he very greatly exceeds the -Norwegian.</p> - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>As long as a dramatist is faithful to his task of depicting -human life as he sees it, it is of small consequence -whether the victory, in the dramatic conflict, -goes to the one side or the other. In Pinero’s play, “The -Second Mrs. Tanqueray,” the heroine loses her battle -with convention and her life pays the forfeit. In Ibsen’s -“Ghosts,” the contest ends with the destruction -of all concerned; in Hauptmann’s “Friedensfest”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xx">xx</span> -there is no conclusion at all, and in Sudermann’s “Johnnisfeuer,” -orthodox virtue triumphs. The dramatist, -properly speaking, is not concerned about the outcome -of the struggle. All he is required to do is to draw the -two sides accurately and understandingly and to show -the conflict naturally. In other words, it is not his business -to decide the matter for his audience, but to make -those who see his play think it out for themselves.</p> - -<p>“Here,” he says, as it were, “I have set down certain -human transactions and depicted certain human -beings brought face to face with definite conditions, and -I have tried to show them meeting these conditions as -persons of their sort would meet them in real life. I -have endeavored, in brief, to exhibit a scene from life -as real people live it. Doubtless, there are lessons to -be learned from this scene—lessons that may benefit -real men and women if they are ever confronted with -the conditions I have described. It is for you, my -friends, to work out these lessons for yourselves, each -according to his ideas of right and wrong.”</p> - -<p>That Shaw makes such an invitation in each of his -plays is very plain. The proof lies in the fact that they -have, as a matter of common knowledge, caused the public -to do more thinking than the dramas of any other -contemporary dramatist, with the sole exception of -Ibsen. Pick up any of the literary monthlies and you -will find a disquisition upon his technique, glance -through the dramatic column of your favorite newspaper<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxi">xxi</span> -and you will find some reference to his plays. Go -to your woman’s club, O gentle reader! and you will -hear your neighbor, Mrs. McGinnis, deliver her views -upon “Candida.” Pass among any collection of human -beings accustomed to even rudimentary mental activity—and -you will hear some mention, direct or indirect, -and some opinion, original or cribbed, of or about the -wild Irishman. All of this presupposes thinking, somewhere -and by somebody. Mrs. McGinnis’ analysis of -Candida’s soul may be plagiarized and in error, but it -takes thinking to make errors, and the existence of a -plagiarist always proves the existence of a plagiaree. -Even the writers of reviews in the literary monthlies, and -the press agents who provide discourses upon “You -Never Can Tell” for the provincial dailies are thinkers, -strange as the idea, at first sight, may seem. And so we -may take it for granted that Shaw tries to make us think -and that he succeeds.</p> - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>“My task,” said Joseph Conrad the other day, in discussing -the aims of the novelist, “is, by the power of -the written word, to make you hear, to make you feel—it -is, before all, to make you <em>see</em>. That—and no -more....”</p> - -<p>“All that I have composed,” said Hendrik Ibsen, in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxii">xxii</span> -an address to the Ladies’ Club of Christiania, “has not -proceeded from a conscious tendency. I have been more -the poet and less the social philosopher than has been -believed.... Not alone those who write, but also -those who read, compose, and very often they are more -full of poetry than the poet himself....”</p> - -<p>“The poet,” said Schopenhauer, “brings pictures of -life and human character and situations before the imagination, -sets everything in motion and leaves it to everyone -to think into these pictures as much as his intellectual -power will find for him therein.”</p> - -<p>Let us suppose, for instance, that “Mrs. Warren’s -Profession” is given a performance and that 2000 -average citizens pay to see it. Of the 2000 it is probable -that 1900 will be persons who accept unquestioningly -and without even a passing doubt the legal and ecclesiastical -maxim that the Magdalen was a sinner, whom -mercy might save from her punishment but not from her -sin. A thousand, perhaps, will sit through the play -without progressing any further; it will appeal to them -merely as an entertainment and those who are not vastly -delighted by its salaciousness, will condemn its immorality. -But the 900, let us say, will slowly awaken to the -strange fact that there is something to be said against -as well as for the ancient maxim. Eight hundred of -them, perhaps, after debating the matter in their minds, -will decide that the arguments for it overwhelm those -against it, and one hundred will leave the playhouse<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxiii">xxiii</span> -convinced to the contrary or in more or less doubt. But -the eight hundred, though they have left harboring the -same opinion that was theirs before they came, will -have made an infinite step forward. Instead of being -unthinking endorsers of a doctrine they have never even -examined, they will have become, in the true sense, -original thinkers. Thereafter, when they condemn the -Magdalen, it will be, not because a hundred popes did -so before them, but because on hearing her defense, -they found it unconvincing.</p> - -<p>In this will be seen the truth of the statement purposely -reiterated: that Shaw is in no sense a preacher. -His private opinions, very naturally, greatly color his -plays, but his true purpose, like that of every dramatist -worth while, is to give a more or less accurate and unbiased -picture of some phase of human life, that persons -observing it may be led to speculate and meditate -upon it. In “Widowers’ Houses” he attempts, by -setting forth a series of transactions between a given -group of familiar Englishmen, to show that capitalism, -as a social force, is responsible for the oppression that -slum landlords heap upon their tenants, and that, in -consequence, every other man of the capitalistic class, -no matter what his own particular investments and activities -may be, shares, to a greater or less extent, in the -landlords’ offense. A capitalist reading this play may -conclude with some justice that the merit of husbanding -money—or, as Adam Smith calls it, the virtue of abstinence—outweighs<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxiv">xxiv</span> -his portion of the burden of this -sin, or that it is, in a sense, inevitable and so not properly -a sin at all; but whatever his conclusion, if he has -honestly come to it after a consideration of the facts, he -is a far better man than when he accepted the maxims -of the majority unquestioningly and without analysis.</p> - -<p>A preacher necessarily endeavors to make all his -hearers think exactly as he does. A dramatist merely -tries to make them think. The nature of their conclusions -is of minor consequence.</p> - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<p>That Shaw will ever become a popular dramatist, in -the sense that Sardou and Pinero are popular, seems to -be beyond all probability. The vogue that his plays -have had of late in the United States is to be ascribed, -in the main, to the yearning to appear “advanced” and -“intellectual” which afflicts Americans of a certain -class. The very fact that they do not understand him -makes him seem worthy of admiration to these virtuously -ambitious folks. Were his aims and methods -obvious, they would probably vote him tiresome. As -it is, a performance of “Candida” delights them as -much as an entertainment by Henry Kellar, the magician, -and for the same reason.</p> - -<p>But even among those who approach Shaw more honestly,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxv">xxv</span> -there is little likelihood that he will ever grow more -popular, in the current sense, than he is at present. In -the first place, some of his plays are wellnigh impossible -of performance in a paying manner without elaborate -revision and expurgation. “Man and Superman,” for -instance, would require five hours if presented as it was -written. And “Mrs. Warren’s Profession,” because of -its subject-matter, will be unsuitable for a good many -years to come. In the second place, Shaw’s extraordinary -dexterity as a wit, which got him his first hearing -and keeps him before the public almost constantly to-day, -is a handicap of crushing weight. As long as he exercises -it, the great majority will continue to think of him -as a sort of glorified and magnificent buffoon. As soon -as he abandons it, he will cease to be Shaw.</p> - -<p>The reason of this lies in the fact that the average -man clings fondly to two ancient delusions: (<i>a</i>) that -wisdom is always solemn, and (<i>b</i>) that he himself is -never ridiculous. Shaw outrages both of these ideas, -the first by placing his most searching and illuminating -observations in the mouths of such persons as Frank -Gardner and Sidney Trefusis, and the second by drawing -characters such as Finch McComas and Roebuck -Ramsden. The average spectator laughs at Frank’s -impertinences and at Trefusis’ satire, and by gradual -stages, comes to laugh at Frank and Trefusis. Beginning -as comedians, they become butts. And so, conversely, -McComas and Ramsden, as their opponents fall,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxvi">xxvi</span> -rise themselves. In the first act of “Man and Superman,” -the battle seems to be all in favor of John Tanner -and so the unthinking reader concludes that Tanner -is Shaw’s personal spokesman and that the Tanner doctrines -constitute the Shavian creed. Later on, when -Tanner falls before the forces of inexorable law, this -same reader is vastly puzzled and perplexed, and in the -end he is left wondering what it is all about.</p> - -<p>If he would but remember the reiterated axiom that -a dramatist’s purpose is to present a picture of life -as he sees it, without reference to any particular moral -conclusions, he would better enjoy and appreciate the -play as a work of art. Playwrights of Shaw’s calibre -do not think it necessary to plainly label every character -or to reward their heroes and kill their villains in -the last act. It is utterly immaterial whether Tanner is -dragged into a marriage with Ann or escapes scot free. -The important thing is that the battle between the two -be depicted naturally and plausibly and that it afford -some tangible material for reflection.</p> - -<p>The average citizen’s disinclination to see the ridiculous -side of his own pet doctrines and characteristics -has been noted by Shaw in his preface to Ibsen’s plays. -Ibsen has drawn several characters intended to satirize -the typical self-satisfied business man and tax-payer—the -type greatly in the majority in the usual theater -audience. These characters, very naturally, have failed -utterly to impress the said gentlemen. One cannot expect<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxvii">xxvii</span> -a man, however keen his sense of humor, to laugh -at the things he considers eminently proper and honorable. -Shaw’s demand that he do so has greatly restricted -the size of the Shaw audience. To appreciate “The -Devil’s Disciple,” for instance, a religious man would -have to lift himself bodily from his accustomed rut of -thought and look down upon himself from the same -distance that separates him in his meditations from the -rest of humanity. This, it is obvious, is possible only -to man given to constant self-analysis and introspection—the -999th man in the thousand.</p> - -<p>Even when the average spectator does not find himself -the counterpart of a definite type in a Shaw play, -he is confused by the handling of some of his ideals and -ideas. No doubt the men who essayed to stone the -Magdalen were infinitely astounded when the Messiah -called their attention to the fact that they themselves -were not guiltless. But it is precisely this establishment -of new view-points that makes Shaw as an author worth -the time and toil of study. In “Mrs. Warren’s Profession,” -the heroine’s picturesque fall from grace is shown -in literally a multitude of aspects. We have her own -antipodal changes in self-valuation and self-depreciation, -we have her daughter’s varying point of view, and -we have the more constant judgments of Frank Gardner, -his father, Crofts, and the rest. It is kaleidoscopic -and puzzling, but it is not sermonizing. You pay your -money and you take your choice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxviii">xxviii</span></p> - -<h3>VII</h3> - -<p>But even if Shaw’s plays were not performed at all, -he would be a world-figure in the modern drama, just -as Ibsen is a world-figure and Maeterlinck another. Very -frequently it happens, in literature as well as in other -fields of metaphysical endeavor, that a master is unknown -to the majority except through his disciples. -Until Huxley began lecturing about it, no considerable -number of laymen read “The Origin of Species.” Fielding -is not even a name to thousands who know and love -Thackeray. And Adam Smith—how many citizens of -to-day read “The Wealth of Nations”? Yet it is undeniable -that the Scotch schoolmaster’s conclusions have -colored the statutes of the entire English-speaking world -and that they are dished up to us, with new sauces, in -every political campaign.</p> - -<p>And so it is with playwrights. Ibsen is far less popular -than Clyde Fitch, but Ibsen’s ideas are fast becoming -universal. Persons who would, under no consideration, -pay $2 a seat to see “Ghosts,” pay that sum willingly -when “The Second Mrs. Tanqueray” or “The -Climbers” is the bill. From these plays, unknowingly, -they absorb Ibsenism in a palatable and diluted form, -like children who take castor oil in taffy. That either -is a conscious imitation of any Ibsen drama I do not intend -to affirm. What I mean is that the Norwegian -is that model of practically every contemporary play-maker<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxix">xxix</span> -worth considering, just as plainly as Molière was -the model of Congreve, Wycherley, and Sheridan. A -commanding personality, in literature as well as in -statecraft, creates an atmosphere, and lesser men, -breathing it, take on its creator’s characteristics.</p> - -<p>Shaw himself, a follower of Ibsen, has shown variations -sufficiently marked to bring him followers of his -own. In all the history of the English stage, no man has -exceeded him in technical resources nor in nimbleness -of wit. Some of his scenes are fairly irresistible, and -throughout his plays his avoidance of the old-fashioned -machinery of the drama gives even his wildest extravagances -an air of reality. So far but two men have -exhibited skill in this regard at all measurable with his. -They are Israel Zangwill and James M. Barrie. Perhaps -neither of them consciously admires Shaw: but the fact -is of small importance. The essential thing is that “The -Admirable Crichton” is of Shaw, Shavian, and that -“Agnes-Sit-By-The Fire,” in conception, development -and treatment, might be one of the “Plays Pleasant.”</p> - -<p>And now let us proceed to a consideration of the -Shaw plays.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">1</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="GEORGE_BERNARD_SHAW"><span class="larger">GEORGE BERNARD SHAW:<br /> -HIS PLAYS</span></h2> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="MRS_WARRENS_PROFESSION">“MRS. WARREN’S PROFESSION.”</h2> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_001.png" width="199" height="202" alt="M"/> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="firstword">Mrs. “Kitty” Warren</span>, the central character -of Shaw’s most remarkable play (and -it is one of the most remarkable plays, in -many ways, of the time) is a successful practitioner -of what Kipling calls the oldest profession in the -world. She is no betrayed milkmaid or cajoled governess, -this past mistress of the seventh unpardonable sin, but a -wide-awake and deliberate sinner, who has studied the -problem thoroughly and come to the conclusion, like -Huckleberry Finn, that it is better, by far, to sin and be -damned than to remain virtuous and suffer. The conflict -in the play is between Mrs. Warren and her daughter, -and in developing it, Shaw exhibits his insight into the -undercurrents of human nature to a superlative degree. -Mrs. Warren, though she is a convention smasher, does -not stand for heterodoxy. In truth despite all her elaborate -defense of herself and her bitter arraignment of -the social conditions that have made her what she is, -she is a worshiper of respectability and the only true<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">2</span> -believer, save one, in the play. It is Vivie, her daughter, -a virgin, who holds the brief against orthodoxy.</p> - -<p>“If I had been you, mother,” says Vivie, in the last -scene, when the two part forever, “I might have done -as you did; but I should not have lived one life and believed -another. You are a conventional woman at heart. -That is why I am leaving you now.”</p> - -<p>This complexity of character has puzzled a good many -readers of the play, but though there is a complexity, -there is no real confusion. Mrs. Warren, despite her -ingenious reasoning, is a vulgar, ignorant woman, little -capable of analyzing her own motives. Vivie, on the -other hand, is a girl of quick intelligence and extraordinary -education—a Cambridge scholar, a mathematician -and a student of the philosophies. As the play -opens Mrs. Warren seems to have all the best of it. She -is the rebel and Vivie is the slave. But in the course of -the strangely searching action, there is a readjustment. -Convention overcomes the mother and crushes her; her -daughter, on the other hand, strikes off her shackles -and is free.</p> - -<p>At the beginning Vivie is home from Cambridge, -where she has tied with the third wrangler—for and in -consideration of a purse of $250 offered by Mrs. Warren. -For years she has seen very little of her mother, -and now, on the eve of a reunion, she is curious and inquisitive. -They set up housekeeping in a small cottage -in the country, near the parsonage of the Rev. Samuel<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span> -Gardner, “a pretentious, booming, noisy person,” and -the friend of Mrs. Warren. There come, too, Sir George -Crofts, “a gentlemanly combination of the most brutal -types of city man, sporting man and man-about-town,” -and one Praed, a sort of Greek chorus to the drama. -The Rev. Mr. Gardner’s son, Frank, “an entirely good-for-nothing -young fellow,” is attracted to Vivie, and -so when Crofts casts his eye upon her, there begins the -action of a drama.</p> - -<p>Vivie, beginning by wondering at her mother’s long -absence from home, ends by harboring a sickening sense -of suspicion. The elder woman’s unconscious vulgarities, -her bizarre view-point, her championing of Crofts—all -add fuel to the flame of doubt. At first Mrs. Warren -tries browbeating, after the orthodox custom of parents, -but to her horror she finds that Vivie will not submit -to such an exercise of authority. And soon they -are face to face in a mighty struggle and there is no -quarter on either side.</p> - -<p>Finally Vivie demands to know the name of her father. -Mrs. Warren blusters, threatens, begs, evades, lies—and -ends by breaking down and telling the truth. Vivie is disgusted, -horrified, appalled; Mrs. Warren, at first in -tears, returns to her browbeating.</p> - -<p>“What right have you to set yourself above me like -this?” she demands. “You boast of what you are to -me—to me who gave you the chance of being what you -are....”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span></p> - -<p>“You attack me with the conventional authority of -a mother,” replies Vivie calmly. “I defend myself with -the conventional superiority of a respectable woman....”</p> - -<p>But for the present, it is Mrs. Warren who triumphs. -She has reasons, arguments, causes, theories: Vivie’s -shields are merely custom, authority, the law. Mrs. -Warren sees her advantage and hastens to seize it. She -tells Vivie all—of the squalor that she knew, of her temptation, -of the lure of comfort—“a lovely house, plenty -of servants and the choicest of eating and drinking”—and -finally, of her strong and resolute determination to -yield and of the fruits of her yielding.</p> - -<p>“Do you think,” she says, “that I was such a fool -as to let other people trade in my good looks by employing -me as a shopgirl, a barmaid or a waitress, when -I could trade in them myself and get all the profits, instead -of starvation wages...?”</p> - -<p>Vivie is visibly impressed, and herein Shaw shows -his skill in laying open the human animal. His iconoclasts -sometimes go to mass and his saints sometimes -sin, exactly as saint and sinner sin and pray in real -life. Vivie, we learn in the end, is the real sham-smasher -of the two, but in this scene she seems to change places -with her mother. Mrs. Warren, alert to the slightest -advantage, drives home her logic. It is a scene that -exhibits the play of mind upon mind as no other scene -in a contemporary play exhibits it, saving only that -marvellous one between Marikka and George in “Johnnisfeuer.”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span> -Mrs. Warren’s picture of the forces that -overcame her, her sturdy defense of her philosophy of -life; her contempt for those who fear to risk their all—it -would take a girl more than human to resist these -things.</p> - -<p>But the season of sentiment and pathos is destined to -be brief. Crofts, who is Mrs. Warren’s partner in her -chain of brothels, resumes his siege of Vivie. Even -Mrs. Warren grows nauseated and Vivie’s own disgust -is undisguised. Then, for a moment, Crofts becomes -the conventional villain and hurls the sins of the mother -into the daughter’s teeth. It is all melodrama here—Crofts -grows “black with rage,” and Frank, bobbing up, -rifle in hand, proposes to shoot him. And then comes -the climax.</p> - -<p>“Allow me, Mister Frank,” says Crofts, “to introduce -you to your half-sister, the eldest daughter of -the Reverend Samuel Gardner. Miss Vivie: your half-brother. -Good morning.”</p> - -<p>As he turns on his heel, Frank raises the rifle and -takes aim at his back.</p> - -<p>“You’ll testify before the coroner that it’s an accident?” -he says to Vivie.</p> - -<p>She “seizes the muzzle and pulls it round against her -breast.”</p> - -<p>“Fire now,” she says. “You may.”</p> - -<p>After that the play goes downhill to its inevitable -conclusion. Vivie, admitting her mother’s justification,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</span> -revolts against her effort to distort it into a grotesque -sort of respectability. So there is a parting and the -daughter goes off to London, to begin life anew as a -public accountant and conveyancer. Mrs. Warren, now -sunk to the wailing, snivelling stage, follows her. The -final scene between mother and daughter is strangely -impressive. Mrs. Warren pleads and begs and screams. -At the end of her rope she turns, and like an animal at -bay shows her teeth.</p> - -<p>“From this time forth,” she shrieks, with the air -of a tragedy queen, “I’ll do wrong, and nothing but -wrong! And I’ll prosper on it!”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Vivie philosophically, “it’s better to choose -your line and go through with it. If I had been you, -mother, I might have done as you did; but I should not -have lived one life and believed another.... That -is why I am bidding you good-bye now....”</p> - -<p>And so ends the play of “Mrs. Warren’s Profession.” -Posing as a smasher of shams, Mrs. Warren is the most -abject devotee in the whole synagogue. Fenced within -her virtue, Vivie is a true iconoclast—with seasons of -backsliding, it is true (for she is supremely human), -but with no permanent slacking of her unfaith.</p> - -<p>William Archer, the translator of Ibsen, says that the -play is “intellectually and dramatically, one of the most -remarkable of the age,” and Cunninghame Graham calls -it “the best that has been written in English in our -generation.” And yet James Huneker finds Mrs. Warren<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span> -“a bore” and Vivie “a chilly, waspish pig,” and -Max Beerbohm, confused by the fact that Vivie runs -the whole gamut of passions, up and down again, in -the four acts, complains that the play exhibits no change -in the characters and that Vivie ends as she begins—“determined -to go out into the world to work.” Certainly -it seems wellnigh incredible that a man of Mr. -Beerbohm’s discernment should be blind to the vast -battles that rage in the girl’s soul—her horror at the -beginning, her yielding to sentimentality and her declaration -for sincerity and truth at the close. Were the -play ended with the extraordinary second act, his objections -would probably seem fatuous even to himself.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Warren’s Profession,” as a bit of theatrical -mechanics, is unsurpassed. Its events proceed with the -inevitable air that marks the work of a thoroughly -capable journeyman: not a scene is out of place; not -a line is without its meaning and purpose. The characters -are sketched in rapidly and vividly and before the -first act is half over we have each of them clearly in -our eye—Mrs. Warren and her ancient profession, her -vulgarities and her string of “private hotels” from -Brussels to Buda Pesth; the Rev. Samuel Gardner and -his shallow, commonplace hypocrisy; Frank Gardner -and his utter worthlessness and blasphemy; Crofts and -his mellow lewdness; Vivie and her progress from undergraduate -cynicism and spectacular cigar-smoking to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span> -real individualism; and Praed and his soft chanting -in the background.</p> - -<p>Taken as a play, the drama is wellnigh faultless. It -might well serve, indeed, as a model to all who aspire -to place upon the stage plausible records of human -transactions.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="ARMS_AND_THE_MAN">“ARMS AND THE MAN”</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0 b2"> -“Arms and the man I sing.”<br /> - -<span class="in8">—<cite>The Aeneid.</cite></span> -</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_009.png" width="203" height="202" alt="A"/> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="firstword">Arms</span> and the Man,” on its face, is a military -satire, not unrelated to “A Milk -White Flag,” and Shaw himself hints -that he tried to keep it within the sphere -of popular comprehension, but under the burlesque and -surface wit there lies an idea that the author later elaborated -in “Man and Superman.” This idea concerns the -relationship of the sexes and particularly the matter of -mating. Ninety-nine men in every hundred, when they -go a-courting, fancy that they are the aggressors in the -ancient game and rather pride themselves upon their -enterprise and their daring. Hence we find Don Juan a -popular hero. As a matter of fact, says Shaw, it is the -woman that ordinarily makes the first advances and the -woman that lures, forces, or drags the man on to the climax -of marriage. You will find this theory set forth in -detail in the preface of “Man and Superman” and elaborated -in the play itself. In “Arms and the Man” it is -overshadowed by the satire, but even a casual study of -the drama will reveal its outlines.</p> - -<p>The scene of “Arms and the Man” is a small town<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span> -in Bulgaria and the time is the winter of the Balkan -War, 1885–6. Captain Bluntschli, the hero, is a Swiss -soldier of fortune, who takes service with the Servians -because war is his trade and Servia happens to be nearer -his home than Bulgaria. A machine gun detachment -under his command is overwhelmed by a sudden and -unscientific charge of blundering Bulgarian horsemen, -and he swiftly takes to the woods, being little desirous -of shedding his blood unnecessarily. He and his comrades -are pursued by Bulgarians bent upon finishing -them, and, passing through a small town at night at a -gallop, he shins up a rainspout and takes refuge in the -bed-chamber of a young woman, Raina Petkoff, the -daughter of a Bulgarian officer.</p> - -<p>The ensuing scene between the two is a masterpiece -of comedy and Richard Mansfield’s performances of the -play have made it familiar to most American theater-goers. -Bluntschli, as Shaw depicts him, is a soldier -entirely devoid of the heroics associated in the popular -imagination with men of war. He has no yearning to -die for his country or any other country, and, after bullying -his unwilling hostess with an unloaded revolver, he -frankly confesses that he is hungry and sleepy, and that, -as a general proposition, he prefers a good dinner to a -forlorn hope. She is a young woman suffering from -much romanticism and undigested French fiction, and -very naturally she is tremendously astonished. Her -heavy-eyed intruder, as a matter of fact, fairly appals<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span> -her. His common-sense seems idiocy and his callous -realism sacrilege.</p> - -<p>But, nevertheless, the theatricality of his appearance -makes an overwhelming appeal to her and she shelters -him and conceals him from his enemies—her countrymen—and -when he goes away, she sends after him a -portrait of herself, just as any other romantic young -woman might do. To her the incident is epochal, but -Bluntschli himself gives little thought to it. As he says -afterwards, a soldier soon forgets such things: “He -is always getting his life saved in all sorts of ways by -all sorts of people.” So he fights a bit, forages a bit, -perspires a bit, draws his pay, eats his meals, and waits, -in patience, for the war to end.</p> - -<p>But Raina does not forget. Even when peace comes -at last and her betrothed, Major Sergius Saranoff, -comes home, she still remembers her “chocolate-cream -soldier.” Sergius was the blundering ass whose reckless -charge sent Bluntschli flying through the night into -Raina’s chamber. He is a queer mixture of romanticist -and realist, of aristocrat and blackguard, with the ideals -alternately of a Cæsar and a potman. One moment he -revels in a Byronic ecstacy with Raina, the next moment -he is making Mulvaney-like advances to Louka, -her maid.</p> - -<p>This Louka is one of Shaw’s peculiarly human characters—a -sort of refined and developed Regina, taken -from “Ghosts” and given an essentially Shavian cast.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span> -She has a soul above servility, though she answers -Raina’s bell, and when Saranoff, awakening to his own -grotesque hypocrisy, revolts against Raina’s idealization -of his very tawdry heroics, Louka is ready to enmesh -him in her net. She will be a fine lady, this superwoman -in a maid’s cap, and like Raina she will go to -Belgrade for the opera and to Vienna for frocks -and frills.</p> - -<p>Bluntschli, returning, helps to set the stage for her. -Raina’s father and Sergius, her betrothed, have met -the Swiss and invited him to the Petkoff home, not connecting -him with the intruder who invaded Raina’s bed-chamber. -They want him to give them aid in the prosaic -business of putting up the shutters of war—to show -them how to get their men home and feed them on the -way. This is his true forte and he comes to the domicile -of the Petkoffs—and again meets Raina. She is now -twenty-three, and the usual physiological revulsion against -Byronic sentiment is beginning to stir her. She sees that -Sergius, with all his gallant cavalry charges and play-acting, -is rather a cheap sort after all, and in the same light -she sees that Bluntschli, despite his frank running away -and his fondness for chocolate-creams, is the more honest -of the two. The Swiss himself still gives little thought -to her. His business is to show old Petkoff how to bring -his regiments home, and after that, to return to Switzerland -and take over the management of his deceased -father’s chain of Alpine hotels.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span></p> - -<p>But, as Shaw hints, the man in the case has little to do -with the ordering of such dramas. Raina and Louka, -each with her prey in sight, fall to the chase. Sergius -wavers, holds himself together, essays a flight, is -dragged back, and capitulates. As Louka carries him -into camp, the innocent and romantic little Raina is left -free to bag Bluntschli. He walks into the net with eyes -wide open and, as it were, sword in hand. When he -finds himself enmeshed he is surprised beyond measure, -but he is a good soldier, is Bluntschli, and this time it -is too late to run away.</p> - -<p>“Major Petkoff,” he says to the old man, “I beg to -propose formally to become a suitor for your daughter’s -hand.”</p> - -<p>And that is the end of the drama.</p> - -<p>A detailed description would spoil the charm of the -play’s exuberant and boundless humor. As a comedy it -is capital, from the scene of Bluntschli’s entrance into -Raina’s chamber to the last scene of all, wherein the -Petkoffs cross-examine him as to his finances. Bluntschli -is no mere burlesque. In him Shaw has tried to -depict a real soldier as opposed to a soldier of the grand -opera or Ivanhoe type. He has succeeded, in his way, -as admirably as Cervantes, albeit a great many persons—like -Raina herself—whose idea of soldierly bearing -is expressed in St. Louis and of heroism in the charge -of the Light Brigade, have been vastly puzzled by -Bluntschli.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span></p> - -<p>Raina is drawn boldly and with what artists call an -open line, and her revolt against romantic tomfoolery -and humbug is shown with excellent art. Sergius, with -his surface civilization and complex personality—“the -half dozen Sergiuses who keep popping in and out of this -handsome figure of mine”—and his keen self-analysis, -is naturally a less obvious type, but even he is perfectly -consistent in his inconsistency. Louka is the female -Don Juan—the Donna Anna of “Man and Superman,”—to -the life. Her deliberate ensnarement of Sergius, -in itself would make a drama well worth the writing. -The Petkoffs, Raina’s parents, are simple-minded barbarians, -and Nicola, their man-servant, who willingly -resigns Louka to Sergius, is of a breed not peculiar to -Bulgaria.</p> - -<p>The play, despite its abounding humor and excellent -characterizations, is not to be numbered among Shaw’s -best. The second act, which should be the strongest, -is the weakest, and the remarkable originality and -humor of the first scene rather detract from those that -follow. Shaw describes the play as his first attempt -at writing a drama comprehensible to the general public. -With this object in view, he lavished upon it a -wealth of wit, but it is to be doubted if the real, inner -humor of the action has ever gone home. Mansfield -still has it in his repertory, but he seldom presents it. -Persons who admire “Beaucaire” and “Dr. Jekyl and -Mr. Hyde” are not apt to demand it.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_DEVILS_DISCIPLE">“THE DEVIL’S DISCIPLE”</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_015.png" width="199" height="202" alt="I"/> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="firstword in05">In</span> “Mrs. Warren’s Profession” we saw individuals -battling against the law and in -“Arms and the Man” we observed romanticism -in an <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">opera-bouffe</i> catch-as-catch-can -struggle with realism. In “The Devil’s Disciple” we have -revealed religion bruising its fists upon the hard head of -impious doubt. Dick Dudgeon, the hero (and he is a -hero of the good old white-shirted, bare-necked, melodramatic -sort) laughs at the commandments and the -beatitudes—and then puts the virtuous to rout by an act -of supreme nobility that few of them, with all their -faith in post-mortem reward, would dare to venture.</p> - -<p>It is a problem in human motives that looks formidable. -Why does Dick, the excommunicated, brave Hell -to save another? Why does he face death, dishonor, -shame and damnation, with no hope of earthly recompense -and less of glory in the beyond? For the same -reason, in truth, that moved Huckleberry Finn to save -the nigger Jim at the cost of his immortal soul. “I -had no motive,” says Dick, in an attempt at self-analysis, -“and no interest. All I can tell you is that when it -came to the point whether I would take my neck out of -the noose and put another man’s into it, I couldn’t do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span> -it.” You will find the psychology of this worked out -in the writings of Friedrich Nietzsche, the mad German. -If you think well of your belief in the good and the -beautiful, don’t read them.</p> - -<p>The scene of “The Devil’s Disciple” is a small town -in New England and the time is the first year of the -Revolutionary War. Shaw set the action back this far -because he wanted to display Dick against a background -of peculiarly steadfast and rock-ribbed faith, and the -present, alackaday! has little of it that isn’t wobbly. -Dick’s mother is a Puritan of the Puritans—a fetich -worshiper whose fetich is the mortification of the flesh. -She flays her body, her mind and her soul and in the -end essays to flay the souls of those about her. Against -all of this Dick revolts. He doesn’t know exactly why, -for Darwin is unborn and doubt is still indecent, but -he revolts, nevertheless. And so he becomes a disciple -of the devil.</p> - -<p>King George’s red-coats are abroad in the land, on -the hunt for rebels, and Dick’s uncle, a blasphemer and -sinner like himself, is nabbed by them and hanged for -treason. Dick sees the hanging and enjoys it as a spectacle, -but it fails to make him a tory, and he comes -home as much an enemy of church and king as ever. -Then the soldiers come nearer and the rumor spreads -that they propose to hang Dick as horrible example the -second. Anthony Anderson, the village pastor, undertakes -to warn him, and incidentally to counsel him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span> -against his sacrilege and his sins. Dick, in turn, warns -Anderson. King George’s men, he says, will not choose -the village heretic the next time. The uselessness of -such a course has been shown in the case of his late and -unlamented uncle. When they come to hang again, he -points out, they will select a patriot whose taking off -will leave a profound impression and something approaching -regret—to wit, Anderson himself. The pastor -laughs at this. He is a holy man and a truly good -one. He fears no military but the hosts of darkness.</p> - -<p>But Dick is right after all. One morning he goes to -the Anderson home and while he is there the pastor -is called away to the bedside of his (Dick’s) mother. -Dick does not think it is worth while to go himself. His -mother has tortured and preached at him from birth -and he frankly hates her. During the pastor’s absence -soldiers come to the door. They have a warrant for the -good dominie, charging him with treason. The sergeant -sees Dick, <span class="locked">and—</span></p> - -<p>“Anthony Anderson,” he says, “I arrest you in King -George’s name as a rebel.... Put on your coat -and come along....”</p> - -<p>And so Dick faces his Calvary, with no faith to lead -him on. By all the books he should seek shelter behind -the truth and leave self-sacrifice to the godly. But he -is a man, this devil’s disciple, and he doesn’t.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he says, “I’ll come.”</p> - -<p>The whole drama is played in this first act of the play<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span> -and the rest of it is chiefly rather commonplace melodrama. -Judith, the pastor’s wife, finds her anchors of -faith and virtue swept away by Dick’s stupendous sacrifice. -At the beginning it seems her duty to hate him. -She ends by loving him. But Shaw complains pathetically -of the stupidity which made an actor account for -Dick’s heroism by exhibiting him as in love with her -in turn. “From the moment that this fatally plausible -explanation was launched,” he says, “my play ... -was not mine.... But, then, where is the motive? -On the stage, it appears, people do things for reasons. -Off the stage they don’t.”... Herein the dramatist -reads his orders aright. It is his business to set the -stage and give the show. The solution of its problems -and the pointing of its morals—these things are the business -of those who pay to see it. Let each work it out -for himself—with such incidental help as he may obtain -from the aforesaid Friedrich Nietzsche.</p> - -<p>Dick is by no means the only full-length figure in the -drama. Anderson, the parson, is, in many ways, a creation -of equal subtlety and interest. He is a true believer -to the outward eye, and he plays his part honestly and -conscientiously, but when the supreme moment comes, -the man springs out from the cleric’s black coat and we -have Captain Anthony Anderson, of the Springtown -Militia. The colonists, so far, have fought the king’s -red-coats with threats and curses. When Dick’s sacrifice -spurs him to hot endeavor, Anderson is found to be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span> -the leader foreordained. Off come his sable trappings -and out come his pistols—and he leads his embattled -farmers to Dick’s rescue and to the war for freedom. It -is a transformation supremely human, and in addition, -vociferously dramatic. A wary builder of scenes is this -man Shaw! A Sardou peeping from behind Ibsen’s -whiskers!</p> - -<p>One of the minor characters is General Burgoyne, that -strange mixture of medieval romance and modern common-sense -who met his doom at the hands of the Yankee -farm-hands at Saratoga. Shaw pictures him as a sort -of aristocratic and foppish Captain Bluntschli and devotes -seven pages of a remarkably interesting appendix -to defending the consequent battering of tradition. “He -is not a conventional stage soldier,” says Shaw, “but as -faithful a portrait as it is in the nature of stage portraits -to be.”</p> - -<p>The same may be said of most of Shaw’s characters. -Dick Dudgeon is certainly not a conventional stage hero, -despite his self-sacrifice, his white shirt, his bare neck, -and his melodramatic rescue in the nick of time. But -he is a living figure, for all that, because his humanity is -fundamental. As Shaw himself says, some enemy of -the gods has always been a popular hero, from the days -of Prometheus. That such an enemy may be truly -heroic, and even godlike, is evident, but evident facts -are not always obvious ones, and it requires plays like -“The Devil’s Disciple” to remind us of them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span></p> - -<p>“Dick Dudgeon,” says Shaw in his preface, “is a -Puritan of the Puritans. He is brought up in a household -where the Puritan religion has died and become, in its -corruption, an excuse for his mother’s master-passion -of hatred in all its phases of cruelty and envy. In such -a home he finds himself starved of religion, which is the -most clamorous need of his nature. With all his mother’s -indomitable selfishness, but with pity instead of hatred as -his master-passion, he pities the devil, takes his side, -and champions him, like a true Covenanter, against the -world. He thus becomes, like all genuinely religious -men, a reprobate and an outcast. Once this is understood, -the play becomes straightforwardly simple.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="WIDOWERS_HOUSES">“WIDOWERS’ HOUSES”</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_021.png" width="201" height="201" alt="J"/> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="firstword in05">Just</span> as Ibsen, when he set up shop as a -dramatist, began by imitating the great men -of his time, so Shaw, when he abandoned -novel-writing for play-making, modeled -his <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">opus</i> upon the dramas then in fashion. Ibsen’s -first play was a one-act melodrama of the old school -called “Kiaempehöien” and it has been forgotten, -happily, these fifty years. Shaw’s bow was made -in “Widowers’ Houses,” a three-act comedy. Begun -in 1885, in collaboration with William Archer, the -incompleted manuscript was dusted, revamped and -pushed to “finis” in 1892. It is not a masterpiece, but -its production by the Independent Theater Company of -London, served to introduce Shaw to the public, and -thus it had a respectable purpose. Admittedly modeled -upon the early comedies of Pinero and Jones, it shows -plain evidences that it was produced during the imitative -stage of the author’s growth. It has scenes of orthodox -build, it has an “emotional” climax at the end and there -are even soliloquys—but the mark of Shaw is plainly -upon every line of it. The “grand” scene between the -hero and the heroine might be from “Man and Superman.” -There is imitation in it, as there is in the earlier<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span> -works of most men of creative genius, but there is also a -vast deal of originality.</p> - -<p>At the time the play was begun Shaw was engrossed -in the propaganda of the Fabian Society and so it was -not unnatural that, when he set out to write a play he -made a social problem the foundation stone of it. Harry -Trench, a young Englishman but twice removed from the -lesser aristocracy and with the traditional ideals and ideas -of his caste, is the tortured Prince of this little “Hamlet.” -Happening in his travels upon two fellow Britishers—father -and daughter—he falls in love with the latter -and in due course makes his honorable proposals. The -father, scenting the excellent joys of familiar association -with Harry’s titled relatives, gives his paternal blessing, -and the affair bobs along in a manner eminently -commonplace and refined. The clan Sartorius has money; -the clan Trench has blood. An alliance between Harry -and the fair Miss Sartorius is one obviously desirable.</p> - -<p>But before the wedding day is set, there comes trouble -aplenty. By accident Harry is led into an investigation -of the manner in which the Sartorius pounds, shillings -and pence reach the wide pockets of his <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">fiancée’s</i> father. -What he discovers fairly horrifies him. Papa Sartorius -wrings his thousands from the people of the gutter. -Down in the slums of St. Giles, of Marylebone and of -Bethnal Green lie his estates—rows upon rows of filthy, -tumble-down tenements. The pound saved on repairs -kills a slum baby—and buys Blanche Sartorius a new<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span> -pair of gloves. The shillings dragged from reluctant -costermongers and washerwomen give Sartorius his -excellent cigars. He is the worst slum landlord in London—the -most heartless, the most grasping, the most -murderous and the most prosperous. His millions pile -up as his tenants shuffle off to the potter’s field.</p> - -<p>Harry’s disgust is unspeakable. He will have nothing -of the Sartorius hoard. Rather starve upon his miserable -$3500 a year! He will work—he has a license to practise -upon his fellow-men as physician and surgeon—and -he and Blanche will face the world bravely. But Blanche, -unfortunately, does not see it in that light. Harry’s -income is regular and safe, but seven hundred pounds is -no revenue for the daughter and son-in-law of a millionaire. -And when she discovers the reason for Harry’s -singular self-sacrifice and modesty, her pride rages high. -After all, Sartorius is her father. He may squeeze his -tenants for the last farthing, but he has been good to her. -His money has been hers, and even when she fathoms -the depths of his heartlessness, her shame does not break -her loyalty. So she sends Harry about his business and -seeks consolation in maidenly tears. Thus they remain -for a space—he sacrificing his love to his ideals of honesty -and honor, and she offering her virtuous affection -upon the altar of filial allegiance and pride.</p> - -<p>It is Sartorius who solves the problem. He is not -shocked by Harry’s revolt, by any means. The world, -as he knows, is full of such silly scruples and senseless<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span> -ideas of altruism. And, at any rate, he is willing to give -his tenants as much as he can afford. He explains it all -to Blanche.</p> - -<p>“I have made up my mind,” he says, “to improve the -property and get in a new class of tenants.... I am -only waiting for the consent of the ground landlord, -Lady Roxdale.”</p> - -<p>Lady Roxdale is Harry’s aristocratic aunt and -Blanche’s face shows her surprise.</p> - -<p>“Lady Roxdale!” she exclaims.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” replies her fond papa. “But I shall expect -the mortgagee to take his share of the risk.”</p> - -<p>“The mortgagee!” says Blanche. “Do you -<span class="locked">mean——”</span></p> - -<p>“Harry Trench,” says Sartorius blandly, finishing the -sentence for her.</p> - -<p>And so the melancholy fact is laid bare that Harry’s -safe and honorable $3500 a year, upon which he proposed -to Blanche that they board and lodge in lieu of her -father’s tainted thousands, is just as dirty, penny for -penny, as the latter. Sartorius puts it before Harry, too, -and very plainly.</p> - -<p>“When I,” he says, “to use your own words, screw -and bully and drive those people to pay what they have -freely undertaken to pay me, I cannot touch one penny -of the money they give me until I have first paid you -your seven hundred pounds out of it....”</p> - -<p>Of course, that puts a new face upon the situation.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span> -Thinking over it calmly, Harry comes to the conclusion -that the oppression of slum dwellers is a thing regrettable -and deplorable, but, on the whole, inevitable and necessary. -As Sartorius shows him, they would not appreciate -generosity if it were accorded them. Ethically, they -are to be pitied; practically, pity would do them no good. -In matters of money a man must make some sacrifice of -his ideals and look out for himself. And so Harry and -Blanche are united with benefit of clergy and the Sartorius -money and the Trench blood enters upon an -honorable and—let us hope—happy and permanent -alliance.</p> - -<p>In incident and character-drawing the play is rather -elemental. Sartorius is the stock capitalist of drama—a -figure as invariable as the types in Jerome K. Jerome’s -“Stageland.” And the other persons of the play—Harry -Trench, the altruist with reservations; William -de Burgh Cokane, his mentor in orthodox hypocrisy; -Lickcheese, Sartorius’ rent-collector and rival, and -Blanche herself—all rather impress us as beings we have -met before. Nevertheless, an occasional flash reveals the -fine Italian hand of Shaw—a hand albeit, but yet half -trained. That Blanche is a true daughter to Sartorius, -psychologically as well as physically, is shown in a brief -scene wherein she and a serving maid are the only players. -And the “grand” scene at the close of the play, -between Blanche and Harry, smells of the latter-day -Shaw to high heaven. Harry has come to her father’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span> -house to discuss their joint affairs and she goes at him -savagely:</p> - -<p>“Well? So you have come back here. You have had -the meanness to come into this house again. (<em>He blushes -and retreats a step.</em>) What a poor-spirited creature you -must be! Why don’t you go? (<em>Red and wincing, he -starts huffily to get his hat from the table, but when he -turns to the door with it she deliberately gets in his way, -so that he has to stop.</em>) <em>I</em> don’t want you to stay. (<em>For -a moment they stand face to face, quite close to one another, -she provocative, taunting, half-defying, half-inviting -him to advance, in a flush of undisguised animal -excitement. It suddenly flashes upon him that all this -ferocity is erotic—that she is making love to him. His -eye lights up; a cunning expression comes into the corner -of his mouth; with a heavy assumption of indifference -he walks straight back to his chair and plants -himself in it with his arms folded. She comes down the -room after him.</em>)...”</p> - -<p>It is too late for poor Harry to beat a retreat. He is -lost as hopelessly as John Tanner in “Man and Superman” -and in the same way.</p> - -<p>The scene savors strongly of Nietzsche, particularly -in its frank acceptance of the doctrine that, when all the -poets have had their say, plain physical desire is the -chief basis of human mating. No doubt Shaw’s interest -in Marx and Schopenhauer led him to make a pretty -thorough acquaintance with all the German metaphysicians<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span> -of the early eighties. “Widowers’ Houses” was -begun in 1885, four years before Nietzsche was dragged -off to an asylum. In 1892, when the play was completed -and the last scene written, the mad German’s theories of -life were just beginning to gain a firm foothold in -England.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_PHILANDERER">“THE PHILANDERER”</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_028.png" width="202" height="202" alt="S"/> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="firstword in05">Shaw</span> calls “The Philanderer” a topical -comedy, which describes it exactly. Written -in 1893, at the height of the Ibsen craze, -it served a purpose like that of the excellent -<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">revues</i> which formerly adorned the stage of -the New York Casino. Frankly, a burlesque upon fads -of the moment, its interest now is chiefly archeological. -For these many moons we have ceased to regard Ibsen -as a man of subterranean mystery—who has heard any -talk of “symbolic” plays for two years?—and have -learned to accept his dramas as dramas and his heroines -as human beings. Those Ibsenites of ’93 who haven’t -grown civilized and cut their hair are now buzzing about -the head of Maeterlinck or D’Annunzio or some other -new god. To enjoy “A Doll’s House” is no longer -a sign of extraordinary intellectual muscularity. The -stock companies of Peoria and Oil City now present it as -a matter of course, between “The Henrietta” and -“Camille.”</p> - -<p>But when Shaw wrote “The Philanderer” a wave of -groping individualism was sweeping over Europe, the -United States and other more or less Christian lands. -Overeducated young women of the middle class, with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span> -fires of discontent raging within them, descended upon -Nora Helmer with a whoop and became fearsome Ibsenites. -They formed clubs, they pleaded for freedom, for -a wider area of development, for an equal chance; -they demanded that the word “obey” be removed from -their lines in the marriage comedy; they wrote letters to -the newspapers; they patronized solemn pale-green matinées: -some of them even smoked cigarettes. Poor old -Nietzsche had something to do with this uprising. His -ideas regarding the orthodox virtues, mangled in the -mills of his disciples, appeared on every hand. Iconoclasts, -amateur and professional, grew as common as -policemen.</p> - -<p>Very naturally, this series of phenomena vastly amused -our friend from Ireland. Himself a devoted student of -Ibsen’s plays and a close friend to William Archer, their -translator, he saw the absurdity and pretense in the popular -excitement, and so set about making fun of it.</p> - -<p>In “The Philanderer” he shows a pack of individualists -at war with the godly. Grace Tranfield and Julia -Craven, young women of the period, agree that marriage -is degrading and enslaving, and so join an Ibsen club, -spout stale German paradoxes and prepare to lead the -intellectual life. But before long both fall in love, and -with the same man, and thereafter, in plain American, -there is the devil to pay. Julia tracks the man—his -name is Leonard Charteris—to Grace’s home and fairly -drags him out of her arms, at the same time, yelling,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span> -shouting, weeping, howling and gnashing her teeth. -Charteris, barricading himself behind furniture, politely -points out the inconsistency of her conduct.</p> - -<p>“As a woman of advanced views,” he says, “you determined -to be free. You regarded marriage as a degrading -bargain, by which a woman sold herself to a -man for the social status of a wife and the right to be -supported and pensioned out of his income in her old age. -That’s the advanced view—our view....”</p> - -<p>“I am too miserable to argue—to think,” wails Julia. -“I only know that I love you....”</p> - -<p>And so a fine temple of philosophy, built of cards, -comes fluttering down.</p> - -<p>As the struggle for Charteris’ battle-scarred heart -rages, other personages are drawn into the trenches, unwillingly -and greatly to their astonishment. Grace’s -papa, a dramatic critic of the old school, and Julia’s fond -parent, a retired military man, find themselves members -of the Ibsen club and participants in the siege of their -daughters’ reluctant Romeo. Percy Paramore, a highly -respectable physician, also becomes involved in the fray. -In the end he serves the useful peace-making purpose -delegated to axmen and hangmen in the ancient drama. -Charteris, despairing of eluding the erotic Julia shunts -her off into Paramore’s arms. Then Grace, coming out -of her dream, wisely flings him the mitten and the curtain -falls.</p> - -<p>It is frankly burlesque and in places it is Weberfieldian<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span> -in its extravagance. It was not presented in London in -1893 because no actors able to understand it could be -found. When it was published it made a great many -honest folk marvel that a man who admired Ibsen as -warmly as Shaw could write such a lampoon on the -Ibsenites. This was the foundation of Shaw’s present -reputation as a most puzzling manufacturer of paradoxes. -The simple fact that the more a man understood -and admired Ibsen the more he would laugh at the grotesqueries -of the so-called Ibsenites did not occur to the -majority, for the reason that an obvious thing of that -sort always strikes the majority as unintellectual and -childish and, in consequence, unthinkable. So Shaw got -fame as a paradoxical sleight-of-hand man, as Ibsen did -with “The Wild Duck” in 1884, and it has clung to -him ever since. At present every time he rises to utterances -a section of the public quite frankly takes it for -granted that he means exactly the opposite of what he -says.</p> - -<p>It is unlikely that “The Philanderer” will ever take -the place of “East Lynne” or “Charley’s Aunt” in the -popular repertoire. In the first place, as has been mentioned, -it is archaic and, in the second place, it is not a -play at all, but a comic opera libretto in prose, savoring -much of “Patience” and “The Princess Ida.” In the -whole drama there is scarcely a scene even remotely possible.</p> - -<p>Every line is vastly amusing,—even including the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span> -sermonizing of which Mr. Huneker complains,—but all -remind one of the “I-am-going-away-from-here” colloquy -between “Willie” Collier and Miss Louise Allen -in a certain memorable entertainment of Messrs. Weber -and Fields.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CAPTAIN_BRASSBOUNDS_CONVERSION">“CAPTAIN BRASSBOUND’S CONVERSION”</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_033.png" width="202" height="200" alt="C"/> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="firstword">Captain Brassbound’s Conversion</span>” -is a fantastic comedy, written with -no very ponderous ulterior purpose and -without the undercurrents that course -through some of Shaw’s plays, but nevertheless, it is by -no means a bit of mere foolery. The play of character -upon character is shown with excellent skill, and if the -drama has never attracted much attention from aspiring -comedians it is because the humor is fine-spun, and not -because it is weak.</p> - -<p>The scene is the coast of Morocco and the hero, Captain -Brassbound, is a sort of refined, latter-day pirate, -who has a working arrangement with the wild natives of -the interior and prospers in many ventures. To his field -of endeavor come two jaded English tourists—Sir -Howard Hallam, a judge of the criminal bench, and -Lady Cicely Waynflete, his sister-in-law. Lady Cicely -is a queer product of her sex’s unrest. She has traveled -often and afar; she has held converse with cannibal -kings; she has crossed Africa alone. Hearing that it -is well-nigh suicidal to venture into the Atlas Mountains, -which rear their ancient peaks from the eastern -skyline, she is seized by a yearning to explore them. Sir<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span> -Howard expostulates, pleads, argues, and storms—and -in the end consents to go with her.</p> - -<p>It is here that Brassbound enters upon the scene—in -the capacity of guide and commander of the expedition. -He is a strange being, this gentleman pirate, a person of -“olive complexion, dark southern eyes ... grim -mouth ... and face set to one tragic purpose....” -A man of blood and iron. A hero of scarlet romance, -red-handed and in league with the devil.</p> - -<p>And so the little caravan starts off—Sir Howard, -Lady Cicely, Brassbound and half a dozen of Brassbound’s -thugs and thieves. They have little adventures -and big adventures and finally they reach an ancient -Moorish castle in the mountains, heavy with romance -and an ideal scene for a tragedy. And here Brassbound -reveals his true colors. Pirate no longer, he becomes -traitor—and betrays his charges to a wild Moroccan -chieftain.</p> - -<p>But it is not gold that leads him into this crime, nor -anything else so prosaic or unworthy. Revenge is his -motive—dark, red-handed revenge of the sort that went -out of fashion with shirts of mail. He has been seeking -a plan for Sir Howard’s destruction for years and years, -and now, at last, providence has delivered his enemy -into his hands.</p> - -<p>To see the why and wherefore of all this, it is necessary -to know that Sir Howard, before reaching his present -eminence, had a brother who fared upon the sea to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span> -the West Indies and there acquired a sugar estate and a -yellow Brazilian wife. When he died the estate was -seized by his manager and his widow took to drink. -With her little son she proceeded to England, to seek -Sir Howard’s aid in her fight for justice. Disgusted by -her ill-favored person and unladylike habits, he turned -her out of doors and she, having no philosophy, straightway -drank herself to death. And then, after many years, -Sir Howard himself, grown rich and influential, used -his riches and his influence to dispossess the aforesaid -dishonest manager of his brother’s estate. Of the bibulous -widow’s son he knew nothing, but this son, growing -up, remembered. In the play he bobs into view again. -He is Captain Brassbound, pirate.</p> - -<p>Brassbound has cherished his elaborate scheme of vengeance -for so many years that it has become his other -self. Awake and sleeping he thinks of little else, and -when, at last, the opportunity to execute it arrives, he -goes half mad with exultation. That such revenges have -come to seem ridiculous to civilized men, he does not -know. His life has been cast along barren coasts and -among savages and outcasts, and ethically he is a brother -to the crusaders. His creed still puts the strong arm -above the law, and here is his chance to make it destroy -one of the law’s most eminent ornaments. Viewed from -his standpoint the stage is set for a stupendous and overpowering -drama.</p> - -<p>But the saturnine captain reckons without the fair Lady<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span> -Cicely. In all his essentials, he is a half-savage hairy-armed -knight of the early thirteenth century. Lady -Cicely, calm, determined and cool, is of the late nineteenth. -The conflict begins furiously and rages furiously -to the climax. When the end comes Brassbound -feels his heroics grow wabbly and pitiful; he sees himself -mean and ridiculous.</p> - -<p>“Damn you!” he cries in a final burst of rage. “You -have belittled my whole life to me!”</p> - -<p>There is something pathetic in the figure of the pirate -as his ideals come crashing down about his head and he -blindly gropes in the dark.</p> - -<p>“It was vulgar—vulgar,” he says. “I see that now; -for you have opened my eyes to the past; but what good -is that for the future? What am I to do? Where am I -to go?”</p> - -<p>It is not enough that he undoes his treason and helps -to save Sir Howard. What he wants is some rule of life -to take the place of the smashed ideals of his wasted -years. He gropes in vain and ends, like many another -man, by idealizing a woman.</p> - -<p>“You seem to be able to make me do pretty well what -you like,” he says to Lady Cicely, “but you cannot make -me marry anybody but yourself.”</p> - -<p>“Do you really want a wife?” asks Cicely archly.</p> - -<p>“I want a commander,” replies the reformed Brassbound. -“I am a good man when I have a good leader.”</p> - -<p>He is not the first man that has fallen beneath the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span> -spell of her dominating and masterful ego, to mistake -his obedience for love, and she bluntly tells him so. And -thus they part—Brassbound to return to his ship and -his smuggling, and Cicely to go home to England.</p> - -<p>As will be observed, this is no ordinary farce, but a -play of considerable depth and beam. Shaw is a master -of the art of depicting such conflicts as that here outlined, -and Brassbound and Cicely are by no means the -least of his creations. With all the extravagance of the -play, there is something real and human about each, and -the same may be said of the lesser characters—Sir Howard; -the Rev. Leslie Rankin, missionary and philosopher; -Drinkwater, Brassbound’s recruit from the slums -of London; the Moorish chiefs; Captain Hamlin Kearney -of the U. S. S. <i>Santiago</i>, who comes to Sir Howard’s -rescue, and the others.</p> - -<p>The chief fault of the play is the fact that the exposition, -in the first act, requires an immense amount of talk -without action. The whole act, in truth, might be played -with all of the characters standing still. Later on, there -is plenty of movement, but the play as a whole is decidedly -inferior to the majority of the Shaw dramas. The -dialogue lacks the surface brilliancy of “You Never -Can Tell” and “Candida” and the humor, in places, is -too delicate, almost, for the theme. The piece, in fact, -is a satirical melodrama disguised as a farce—a melodrama -of the true Shaw brand, in which the play of mind -upon mind overshadows the play of club upon skull.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="C_SAR_AND_CLEOPATRA">“CÆSAR AND CLEOPATRA”</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_038.png" width="206" height="203" alt="B"/> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="firstword">Because</span> he put it forth as a rival to -“Julius Cæsar” and “Anthony and Cleopatra,” -Shaw’s “Cæsar and Cleopatra” has -been the football in an immense number of -sanguinary critical rushes. His preface to it is headed -“Better than Shakespeare?” and he frankly says that he -thinks it <em>is</em> better. But that he means thereby to elbow -himself into the exalted position occupied by William of -Avon for 300 years does not follow. “In manner and -art,” he said, in a recent letter to the London <cite>Daily News</cite>, -“nobody can write better than Shakespeare, because, -carelessness apart, he did the thing as well as it can be -done within the limits of human faculty.” Shaw, in other -words, by no means lacks a true appreciation of Shakespeare’s -genius. What he endeavors to maintain is simply -the claim that, to modern audiences, <em>his</em> Cæsar and -<em>his</em> Cleopatra should seem more human and more logical -than Shakespeare’s. That this is a thesis susceptible of -argument no one who has read “Cæsar and Cleopatra” -will deny.</p> - -<p>“The sun do move,” said the Rev. Mr. Jasper. Shaw -says the same thing of the world. In Shakespeare’s day -knighthood was still in flower and the popular ideals of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span> -military perfection were medieval. A hero was esteemed -in proportion as he approached Richard Cœur de Lion. -Chivalry was yet a very real thing and the masses of the -people were still influenced by the transcendentalism of -the Crusades. And so, when Shakespeare set out to -draw a conqueror and hero of the first rank, he evolved -an incarnation of these far-fetched and rather grotesque -ideals and called it Julius Cæsar.</p> - -<p>To-day men have very different notions. In these -piping times of common-sense, were a Joan of Arc to -arise, she would be packed off to a home for feeble-minded -children. People admire, not Chevalier Bayard, -but Lord Kitchener and U. S. Grant; not so much lofty -purposes as tangible achievements; not so much rhetoric -as accomplishment. For a man to occupy to-day the -position held by Cæsar at the beginning of the year 44 -B.C. he would have to possess traits far different from -those Shakespeare gave his hero. Shaw endeavors to -draw a Cæsar with just such modern marks of heroism—to -create a Roman with the attributes that might exalt -a man, in this prosaic twentieth century, to the eminence -attained by the immortal Julius 1900 years ago. In other -words, Shaw tries to reconstruct Shakespeare’s Cæsar -(and incidentally, of course, his Cleopatra) just as a -latter-day stage manager must reconstruct the scenes and -language of Shakespeare to make them understandable -to-day. That his own Cæsar, in consequence, is a more -comprehensible, a more human and, on the whole, a more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span> -possible hero than Shakespeare’s is the substance of his -argument.</p> - -<p>The period of the play is the year 48 B.C., when Cleopatra -was a girl of sixteen and Cæsar an oldster of fifty-two, -with a widening bald spot beneath his laurel and a -gradually lessening interest in the romantic side of life. -Shaw depicts the young queen as an adolescent savage: -ignorant, cruel, passionate, animal, impulsive, selfish and -blood-thirsty. She is monarch in name only and spends -her time as any child might. Egypt is torn by the feud -that finally leads to the Alexandrine war, and, Cleopatra, -perforce, is the nominal head of one of the two parties. -But she knows little of the wire-pulling and intriguing, -and the death of her brother and rival, Ptolemy Dionysius, -interests her merely as an artistic example of -murder. The health of a sacred cat seems of far more -consequence to her than the welfare of Asia Minor.</p> - -<p>Cæsar comes to Alexandria to take a hand in the affairs -of Egypt and, incidentally, to collect certain moneys -due him for past services as a professional conqueror. -Cleopatra fears him at first, as a most potent and evil -bogey-man, and is so vastly surprised when she finds him -quite human, and even commonplace, that she straightway -falls in love with him. Cæsar, in return, regards -her with a mild and cynical interest. “He is an important -public man,” says Max Beerbohm, “who knows that -a little chit of a girl-queen has taken a fancy to him and -is tickled by the knowledge, and behaves very kindly to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span> -her and rather wishes he were young enough to love -her.” He needs 1600 talents in cash and tries to collect -the money. In truth, he has little time to waste in listening -to her sighs. Pothinus, of the palace—an early Roman -Polonius—is appalled.</p> - -<p>“Is it possible,” he gasps, “that Cæsar, the conqueror -of the world, has time to occupy himself with such a -trifle as our taxes?”</p> - -<p>“My friend,” replies Cæsar affably, “taxes are the -chief business of a conqueror of the world.”</p> - -<p>And so there comes fighting and the burning of the -Alexandrine library and the historic heaving of Cleopatra -into the sea and other incidents more or less familiar. -Through it all the figure of Cæsar looms calm and -unromantic. To him this business of war has become a -pretty dull trade: he longs for the time when he may retire -and nurse his weary bones. He fishes Cleopatra out -of the water—and complains of a touch of rheumatism. -He sits down to a gorgeous banquet of peacock’s brains -and nightingale’s tongues—and asks for oysters and barley -water. Now and then Cleopatra’s blandishments tire -him. Again, her frank savagery startles and enrages -him. In the end, when his work is done and his fee -pocketed, when Cleopatra’s throne is safe, with Roman -soldiers on guard about it, he goes home.</p> - -<p>“I will send you a beautiful present from Rome,” he -tells the volcanic girl-queen.</p> - -<p>She demands to know what Rome can offer Egypt.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span></p> - -<p>“I will send you a man,” says Cæsar, “Roman from -head to heel and Roman of the noblest; not old and ripe -for the knife; not lean in the arms and cold in the heart; -not hiding a bald head under his conqueror’s laurels; not -stooped with the weight of the world on his shoulders; -but brisk and fresh, strong and young, hoping in the -morning, fighting in the day and revelling in the evening. -Will you take such an one in exchange for Cæsar?”</p> - -<p>“His name? His name?” breathes the palpitating -Cleopatra.</p> - -<p>“Shall it be Mark Anthony?” says Cæsar.</p> - -<p>And the erotic little Cleopatra, who has a vivid remembrance -of Anthony’s manly charms, born of a fleeting -glimpse of him, falls into her elderly friend’s arms, -speechless with gratitude.</p> - -<p>Unlike most of Shaw’s plays, “Cæsar and Cleopatra” -is modelled upon sweeping and spectacular lines. In its -five acts there are countless scenes that recall Sardou at -his most magnificent—scenes that would make “Ben -Hur” seem pale and “The Darling of the Gods” a -parlor play. And so, too, there is plenty of the more exciting -sort of action—stabbings, rows, bugle-calls, shouts -and tumults. What opportunity it would give to the -riotous, purple fancy of Klaw and Erlanger or the pomp -and pageantry of David Belasco!</p> - -<p>Shaw makes Cleopatra a much more human character -than Cæsar. In the latter there appears rather too much -of the icy <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">sang froid</i> we have grown accustomed to encounter<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span> -in the heroes of the brigade commanded by “The -Prisoner of Zenda.” Some of Cæsar’s witticisms are -just a bit too redolent of the professional epigrammatist. -Reading the play we fancy him in choker collar and silk -hat, with his feet hoisted upon a club window-sill and an -Havana cigar in his mouth,—the cynical man-of-the-world -of the women novelists. In other words, Shaw, -in attempting to bring the great conqueror down to date, -has rather expatriated him. He is scarcely a Roman.</p> - -<p>Cleopatra, on the contrary, is admirable. Shaw very -frankly makes her an animal and her passion for Cæsar -is the backbone of the play. She is fiery, lustful and -murderous; a veritable she-devil; and all the while an -impressionable, superstitious, shadow-fearing child. In -his masterly gallery of women’s portraits—Mrs. Warren, -Blanche Sartorius, Candida, Ann Whitefield and their -company—Cleopatra is by no means the least.</p> - -<p>The lesser characters—Brittanus, the primitive Briton -(a parody of the latter-day Britisher); Apollodorus, the -Sicilian dilletante; Ftatateeta, Cleopatra’s menial and -mistress; Rufio, the Roman general (a sort of Tiber-bred -William Dobbin); and the boy Ptolemy—all remain -in the memory as personages clearly and certainly -drawn.</p> - -<p>In view of the chances that the play affords the player -and the stage manager it seems curious that it was so -long neglected by the Frohmans of the day. Between -Shaw’s Cæsar and Shakespeare’s Cæsar there is a difference<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span> -wide enough to make a choice necessary. That -a great many persons, pondering the matter calmly, -would cast their ballots for the former is a prophecy not -altogether absurd. Just as the world has outgrown, in -succession, the fairy tale, the morality play, the story in -verse, the epic and the ode, so it has outgrown many -ideas and ideals regarding humanity that once appeared -as universal truths. Shakespeare, says Shaw, was far -ahead of his time. This is shown by his Lear. But the -need for earning his living made him write down to its -level. As a result those of his characters that best -pleased his contemporaries—Cæsar, Rosalind, Brutus, -etc.—now seem obviously and somewhat painfully -Elizabethan.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_MAN_OF_DESTINY">“A MAN OF DESTINY”</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_045.png" width="204" height="204" alt="T"/> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="firstword in03">That</span> characteristic tendency to look at the -under side of things and to explore the -depths beneath the obvious surface markings, -which Shaw displays in “Cæsar and -Cleopatra,” “Arms and the Man” and “The Devil’s -Disciple,” is shown at the full in “The Man of Destiny.” -The play is in one act and in intent it is a mere bravura -piece, written, as the author says, “to display the virtuosity -of the two principal performers.” But its picture -of Napoleon Bonaparte, the principal character, is a -startlingly novel one, and the little drama is remarkable -alike for its fantastic character drawing, its cameo craftsmanship, -its ingenious incident and its fairly dazzling -dialogue. There is more of the quality called “brilliancy” -in its one scene than in most three-act society -comedies of the day. Some of its episodes are positive -gems.</p> - -<p>The Napoleon of the play is not the emperor of popular -legend and Meissonier’s painting, but the young general -of 1796, but recently come to opportunity and still -far from immortality. The scene is the parlor of a little -inn on the road from Lodi to Milan and the young general—he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span> -is but twenty-seven—is waiting impatiently for -a packet of despatches. He has defeated the Austrians -at Lodi, but they are yet foes to be feared and he is very -eager to know whether General Massena will make his -next stand at Mantua or at Peschiera. A blundering -jackass of a lieutenant, the bearer of the expected despatches, -comes staggering in with the information that -he has been met on the road and outwitted and robbed of -them by a boyish young officer of the enemy’s. Napoleon -flies into a rage, very naturally, but after all it is an -incident of the wars and, the papers being lost, he resigns -himself to doing without them.</p> - -<p>Almost simultaneously there appears from upstairs a -handsome young woman. The lieutenant, seeing her, is -instantly struck with her remarkable resemblance to the -youthful officer who cajoled and robbed him. Napoleon -pricks up his ears and orders the half-witted lieutenant -out of the room. And then begins a struggle of wits. -The young woman and the young officer are one person. -Bonaparte knows it and demands the dispatches. But -she is a nimble one, this patriot in skirts, and it seems -for a while that he will have to play the dragoon and -tear them from her bodice. Even when she yields and -he has the papers in his hands, she is the victor. There -is one letter that he dare not read. It is a <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">billet-doux</i> -from a woman to a man who is not her husband and it -has been sent from Paris by a well-meaning blunderer -that the husband may read it and learn. Josephine is the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span> -woman, the director Barras is the other man—and Napoleon -himself is the husband.</p> - -<p>Here we have Bonaparte the man, facing a crisis in -his affairs more appalling than any he has ever encountered -on the field of war. There is no gleam of a crown -ahead to cheer him on and no crash of artillery to hearten -him. It is a situation far more terrifying than the fight -about the bridge at Lodi, but he meets it squarely and -resolutely. And in the end he outplays and vanquishes -his fair conqueror.</p> - -<p>She tells the blundering lieutenant that the officer boy -who outwitted him was her brother.</p> - -<p>“If I undertake to place him in your hands, a prisoner,” -she says, “will you promise me on your honor -as an officer and a gentleman not to fight with him or -treat him unkindly in any way?”</p> - -<p>The simple-minded lieutenant promises—and the -young woman slips out and once more discards her skirts -for the uniform of a young officer. Then she reappears -and surrenders.</p> - -<p>“Where are the dispatches?” demands Napoleon, with -heavy dissembling.</p> - -<p>“My sister has bewitched the general,” says the protean -stranger. “General: open your coat; you will find -the dispatches in the breast of it....”</p> - -<p>And lo! they are even there—and all agree that as -papers bearing the gristly finger-prints of a witch, they -must be burnt. Cæsar’s wife must be above suspicion.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span></p> - -<p>“I read them the first thing....” whispers the -witch’s alter ego; “So you see I know what’s in them; -and you don’t.”</p> - -<p>“Excuse me,” replies Napoleon blandly. “I read -them when I was out there in the vineyard ten minutes -ago.”</p> - -<p>It would be impossible to exaggerate the humor and -delicacy of this little play. Napoleon, it must be remembered, -is still a youngster, who has scarcely dared to confess -to himself the sublime scope of his ambitions. But -the man of Austerlitz and St. Helena peeps out, now and -then, from the young general’s flashing eyes, and the -portrait, in every detail, is an admirable one. Like -Thackeray, Shaw is fond of considering great men in -their ordinary everyday aspects. He knows that Marengo -was but a day, and that there were thousands of -other days in the Little Corporal’s life. It is such week-days -of existence that interest him, and in their light he -has given us plays that offer amazingly searching studies -of Cæsar and of Bonaparte, not to speak of General Sir -John Burgoyne.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_ADMIRABLE_BASHVILLE">“THE ADMIRABLE BASHVILLE”</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_049.png" width="202" height="203" alt="T"/> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="firstword in03">The Admirable Bashville</span>, or Constancy -Rewarded,” a blank verse farce in -two tableaux, is a dramatization by Shaw of -certain incidents in his novel, “Cashel -Byron’s Profession.” Cashel Byron, the hero of the -novel, is a prize-fighter who wins his way to the hand -and heart of Lydia Carew, a young woman of money, -education and what Mulvaney calls “theouries.” Cashel -sees in Lydia a remarkably fine girl; Lydia sees in -Cashel an idealist and a philosopher as well as a bruiser. -The race of Carew, she decides, needs an infusion of -healthy red blood. And so she marries Byron—and they -live happily ever after.</p> - -<p>Bashville is Lydia’s footman and factotum, and he -commits the unpardonable solecism of falling in love -with her. Very frankly he confesses his passion and -resigns his menial portfolio.</p> - -<p>“If it is to be my last word,” he says, “I’ll tell you -that the ribbon round your neck is more to me,” etc., -etc.... “I am sorry to inconvenience you by a -short notice, but I should take it as a particular favor if -I might go this evening.”</p> - -<p>“You had better,” says Lydia, rising quite calmly and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span> -keeping resolutely away from her the strange emotional -result of being astonished, outraged and loved at one -unlooked-for stroke. “It is not advisable that you should -stay after what you have <span class="locked">just——”</span></p> - -<p>“I knew that when I said it,” interposes Bashville, -hastily and doggedly.</p> - -<p>“In going away,” continues Lydia, “you will be taking -precisely the course that would be adopted by any -gentleman who had spoken to the same effect. I am not -offended by your declaration; I recognize your right to -make it. If you need my testimony to further your future -arrangements, I shall be happy to say that I believe -you to be a man of honor.”</p> - -<p>An American pugilist-actor, struck by the possibilities -of the story, engaged a journeyman playwright to make -a play of it, and Shaw, to protect his rights, put together -“The Admirable Bashville.” The one performance -required by the English copyright law was given -by the Stage Society at the Imperial Theater, London, -in the summer of 1903.</p> - -<p>“It was funny,” says James Huneker, who witnessed -the performance. “It gibed at Shakespeare, at the modern -drama, at Parliament, at social snobbery, at Shaw -himself, and at almost everything else within reach. The -stage setting was a mockery of the Elizabethan stage, -with two venerable beef-eaters in Tower costume, who -hung up placards bearing the legend, ‘A Glade in Wiltstoken -Park,’ etc. Ben Webster as Cashel Byron and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span> -James Hearn as the Zulu King (whom Cashel entertains -by an exhibition of his fistic prowess) carried off the -honors. Aubrey Smith, made up as Mr. Shaw in the -costume of a policeman with a brogue, caused merriment, -especially at the close, when he informed his audience -that the author had left the house. And so he had. -He was standing at the corner when I accosted him.”</p> - -<p>Shaw explains that he wrote the extravaganza in blank -verse because he had to hurry over it and “hadn’t time -to write it in the usual prose.” To anyone “with the -requisite ear and command of words,” he says in another -place, “blank verse, written under the amazingly loose -conditions which Shakespeare claimed, with full liberty -to use all sorts of words, colloquial, technical, rhetorical -and even obscurely technical, to indulge in the most far-fetched -ellipses, and to impress ignorant people with -every possible extremity of fantasy and affectation, is -the easiest of all known modes of literary expression, -and this is why whole oceans of dull bombast and drivel -have been emptied on the head of England since Shakespeare’s -time in this form by people who could not have -written ‘Box and Cox’ to save their lives.”</p> - -<p>“The Admirable Bashville” may be seen in the United -States before long. Not long ago the London <cite>Daily -Mail</cite> reported that the eminent comedian and gladiator, -Mr. James J. Corbett, was casting eager eyes upon it -and that Shaw rather liked the idea of his appearing -in it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span></p> - -<p>“He is a man who has made a success in one profession,” -the dramatist is reported to have said, “and will -therefore understand that there are difficulties to be encountered -in making a success in another. Look at the -books written to-day, and then consider which you would -rather have—a man who can do nothing or a really capable -prize-fighter.”</p> - -<p>All of which you will find, much elaborated, in “Cashel -Byron’s Profession,” which was written in 1882.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CANDIDA">“CANDIDA”</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_053.png" width="202" height="200" alt="C"/> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="firstword">Candida</span>” is a latter-day essay in feminine -psychology after the fashion of “A Doll’s -House,” “Monna Vanna” and “Hedda -Gabler.” Candida Morell, the heroine, is a -clergyman’s wife, who, lacking an acquaintance with the -philosophies and face to face with the problem of earning -her daily bread, might have gone the muddy way of -Mrs. Warren. As it is, she exercises her fascinations -upon a moony poet, arouses him to the mad-dog stage -of passion, drives her husband to the verge of suicide—and -then, with bland complacency and unanswerable -logic, reads both an excellent lecture, turns the poet out -of doors, and falls into her husband’s arms, still chemically -pure. It is an edifying example of the influence -of mind over matter.</p> - -<p>Arnold Daly’s heroic production of the play, at the -little Berkeley Lyceum, in New York City, served as the -foundation of the present vogue of Shaw in the United -States, and in consequence “Candida” has been the -theme of many metropolitan and provincial philosophers -and critics. At the start the vast majority of them muddled -the play hopelessly. Candida, they decided, was a -sublime type of the virtuous wife and mother—a good -woman whose thoughts were as innocent as her acts. It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span> -remained for Shaw—and he is usually his own best -critic—to set them right. Candida, he explained, was -a “very immoral female ... who, without brains -and strength of mind ... would be a wretched -slattern or voluptuary.” In other words (as he tried -to make clear) she remained virtuous, not because there -was aught of the vestal or altruist about her, but because -she had discovered that it was possible to enjoy all of -the ecstatic excitement of a fall from grace, and still, -by holding back at the actual brink of the precipice, to -retain, in full measure, her reputation as a pattern of -fidelity and virtue. She solved the problem of being -immoral and respectable at the same time.</p> - -<p>The play is well built and thoroughly balanced and -mature. Its every scene shows that it is the work of a -dramatist whose genius has been mellowed and whose -hand has been made sure by experience. The action -moves with that certain, natural air peculiar to many of -Ibsen’s plays. The characters are not sketches, but -definitive, finished portraits. They are not obvious types, -perhaps, but even the poet, with all his extravagances, -is strangely human.</p> - -<p>The Rev. James Morell, Candida’s husband, is a -Christian-socialist of a sort not uncommon on either side -of the Atlantic. He has a parish in an unfashionable -part of London, and beside the usual futilities of a conscientious -clergyman’s daily labor, finds time to make -frequent addresses to the masses and classes upon the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span> -problems of the hour. In his make-up, there is much -of the unconscious make-believe of the actor off the -stage, though his own belief in himself is unshaken. -Public speaking seems to have this uncanny effect upon -many men. Beginning in all sincerity, they gradually -lay stress upon the manner of saying a thing at the -expense of the matter. Their aim is to make an effect -by means of the spoken word and in the end, without -realizing it, they become stagey and unnatural. Such -a man is Morell. By no means, it will be observed, is -he to be mistaken for a hypocrite.</p> - -<p>Into his home, by some mad, altruistic impulse, he -brings Eugene Marchbanks, a moon-struck young man -with the romantic ideals and day dreams of a medieval -Edgar Allan Poe and the practical common-sense of an -infant. Eugene is eighteen. He inhabits a world a mile -or so above the pink clouds of the sunset and writes -vague, immaterial verses of the sort that all of us invent -and some of us set down in pen-and-ink when we are -young. At the start, in all probability, Candida regards -him as a nuisance. But by the time the play opens she -has already lured him on to the rocks. It is pleasant to -sit by the fire and listen to his hazy verses. He is a -relief from the honest beefiness of Morell. And so -Candida has her entertainment and Eugene, poor boy! -falls in love with her.</p> - -<p>Now, loving another man’s wife, since the beginning -of written history, has always presupposed or developed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span> -a rather ungenial attitude toward that other man, and -Eugene, studying Morell, comes to the conclusion that -he is a mere vaporish windbag—a silly bundle of stale -platitudes, trite ponderosities and pulpit puerilities. Having -the valor of youth, he makes open confession.</p> - -<p>“I love your wife,” he says to Morell, “... a -woman with a great soul craving reality, truth, freedom, -and being fed on metaphors, sermons, stale perorations, -mere rhetoric. Do you think a woman’s soul can live -on your talent for preaching?...”</p> - -<p>Morell is staggered, not by Eugene’s frank avowal -of his love for Candida, but by the other things he has -said. What if it is true that she is stifled by the -atmosphere of the Morell home? What if it is true that -she has tired of being shadow and drudge to an obscure, -over-earnest clergyman in a semi-slum and has turned -her fancy toward the poet?</p> - -<p>“It is easy, terribly easy,” he says pathetically, “to -break a man’s faith in himself. To take advantage of -that to break a man’s spirit is devil’s work. Take care -of what you are doing. Take care....”</p> - -<p>It is a time of torment for the preacher and he sees -his house of cards trembling as if for a fall. Eugene, -all the while, is defiant and belligerent. He adds the -virtue of rescuing Candida to the pleasure of possessing -her, and the two together work his swift undoing.</p> - -<p>“Send for her!” he roars. “Send for her and let -her choose between us!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span></p> - -<p>Aha, my masters! what a scene is this!—what a scene -of mad passion for the gallery to linger over breathlessly, -for the orchestra to greet with stares and for the critics -to belabor and dissect in the morning!</p> - -<p>Candida comes in and the two bid for her heart and -helping hand.</p> - -<p>“I have nothing to offer you,” says Morell, with proud -humility, “but my strength for your defense, my honesty -of purpose for your surety, my ability and industry for -your livelihood, and my authority and position for -your dignity. That is all it becomes a man to offer a -woman.”</p> - -<p>“And you, Eugene?” asks Candida quietly. “What -do you offer?”</p> - -<p>“My weakness!” exclaims the poet passionately. -“My desolation! My heart’s need!”</p> - -<p>“That’s a good bid,” says Candida judicially. “Now -I know how to make my choice.”</p> - -<p>Then she pauses and looks curiously from one to the -other, as if weighing them. Morell, whose lofty confidence -has once more changed into heart-breaking dread, -loses all power over himself and in a suffocating voice—the -appeal bursting from the depths of his anguish—cries -“Candida!”</p> - -<p>“Coward!” shrieks Eugene, divining the victory in -the surrender. And Candida—O most virtuous of wives!—says -blandly, “I give myself to the weaker of the two” -and falls into her husband’s arms. It is a situation that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span> -struck the first night audience at the Berkeley Lyceum -as one eminently agreeable and refined.</p> - -<p>As Shaw explains, the poet, despite the fact that -“his face whitens like steel in a furnace that cannot -melt it,” is a gainer by Candida’s choice. He enters the -Morell home a sentimental boy yearning for an emotional -outlet. He leaves it a man who has shouldered -his cross and felt the unutterable stimulus of sacrifice. -Candida makes a man of him, says Shaw, by showing -him his strength. David finds that he must do without -Uriah’s wife.</p> - -<p>The dramatist makes Candida essay a most remarkable -analysis of her own motives. It is after Morell has reproached -her, sick at heart and consumed by a nameless -fear, to learn if Eugene’s fiery onslaught has been born -of any unrest that may be stirring within her. She -explains freely and frankly, with more genuine honesty -and self-revelation, perhaps, than she knows. Eugene, -she says, is like a shivering beggar asking for her shawl. -He needs love but scarcely knows it, and she conceives -it her duty to teach him the value of love, that no worse -woman may teach him its pains later on.</p> - -<p>“Will he forgive me,” she says, “for not teaching -him myself? For abandoning him to the bad women for -the sake of my goodness—my purity, as you call it? -Ah, James, how little you understand me, to talk of your -confidence in my goodness and purity. <em>I would give -them both to Eugene as willingly as I would give my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span> -shawl to a beggar dying of cold</em>, if there was nothing -else to restrain me....”</p> - -<p>“Here,” says Huneker, “is one of the most audacious -speeches in any modern play. It has been passed over by -most critics who saw in ‘Candida’ merely an attempt to -make a clergyman ridiculous, not realizing that the theme -is profound and far-reaching, the question put being -no more or no less than: Shall a married man expect -his wife’s love without working for it, without deserving -it?” To this may be added another and more -familiar question: May not the woman who lives in the -odor of sanctity be more thoroughly immoral, at heart, -than the worst of her erring sisters?</p> - -<p>The play has a number of extremely exciting “grand” -scenes and in general is admirably suitable for public -performance. The minor characters are but three in -number—Candida’s wine-buying vulgarian of a father, -Morell’s curate and Proserpine, his typewriter. Proserpine -is admirable, and her hopeless love for Morell—a -complaint not uncommon among the women he -knows—gives the play a note of homely sentiment that -keeps it to earth.</p> - -<p>As a piece of workmanship “Candida” is Shaw at his -best; as a study in the workings of the feminine mind it -deserves to rank with some of the best plays the modern -stage has to offer.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="HOW_HE_LIED_TO_HER_HUSBAND">“HOW HE LIED TO HER HUSBAND”</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_060.png" width="200" height="201" alt="H"/> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="firstword in01">How</span> He Lied to Her Husband” is a one-act -bit of foolery that Shaw wrote for -Arnold Daly after “Candida” had made -a success in New York. It was presented -for the first time on the evening of Sept. 26, 1904, and -during the ensuing week was more vociferously discussed -than any other one-act play that ever graced the -boards of an American theater.</p> - -<p>As he made fun of the vaporing Ibsenites of the early -’90’s in “The Philanderer,” just so Shaw got his joke -at the expense of his own ecstatic followers in this little -appendix to “Candida.” The latter had been presented -with huge profit, and thousands of honest playgoers, alert -for mysterious “symbolism” and subtle “purposes” had -seen in its heroine a great many of the qualities they -formerly sought and discovered in the much-mauled -Ibsen women. Candida, in brief, became the high priestess -of the advanced cult, in all its warring denominational -variety. It became a sign of intellectual vigor -to go to the Berkeley Lyceum and compare her with Nora -Helmer, Hedda Gabler and their company. And so -Shaw indited “How He Lied to Her Husband.”</p> - -<p>The characters in the little farce are a fashionable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span> -young poet named Henry Upjohn, an untamed American -husband named Bumpus, and his wife, Aurora Bumpus, -a young woman with yearnings. Aurora and Henry -have seen a performance of “Candida” and have come -away with a feeling that an intrigue after the fashion -of Candida and Eugene, is one of those things that no -really advanced poet or modern wife should be without. -So Henry writes a sheaf of sonnets to Aurora and being -determined to play the game according to the rules, proposes -that they run off together. They are about to -depart, conscientiously leaving the Bumpus diamonds -behind, when Aurora, at the brink of the precipice, draws -back.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Bumpus happens upon Henry’s sonnets -and confronts the poet with the charge of having written -them. Henry, determined to save Aurora, “lies like -a gentleman”—and incidentally overdoes it. Bumpus, -mistaking his well-meant prevarication for impolite indifference -to Aurora’s beauty, or denial of it, flies into -a passion, and is on the point of soundly thrashing the -amorous bard when Aurora stays his hand. Then Henry -confesses, and Bumpus is so much pleased by the manner -in which the sonnets celebrate his wife’s charms that he -offers to print them for private circulation among connoisseurs -with broad margins and <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">de luxe</i> binding.</p> - -<p>The play is built upon the lines of broad farce, and in -New York it made an uproarious success. The encounter -between Bumpus and Henry is extraordinarily<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span> -ludicrous. Aurora throughout is the typical enthusiast -of the women’s clubs—filled with vague longings and -ambitions, but intensely practical and commonplace at -bottom. Henry, during one of their tumultuous exchanges, -is about to break her fan. She shrieks the -warning that it cost a dollar. He ventures upon a dark, -melodramatic oath. “How dare you swear in my presence?” -she demands. “One would think you were my -husband!”</p> - -<p>A pretty bit of fooling, <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">à la</i> “The Wild Duck,” “The -Philanderer” and “Alice-Sit-by-the Fire.” Shaw calls -it “a warning to theater-goers.” It is.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="YOU_NEVER_CAN_TELL">“YOU NEVER CAN TELL”</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_063.png" width="200" height="202" alt="Y"/> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="firstword in01">You</span> Never Can Tell,” like many of the -dramas of Shakespeare, was made to order. -Shaw wrote it in 1896 and he calls it “an -attempt to comply with many requests for a -play in which the much paragraphed “brilliancy” of -“Arms and the Man” should be tempered by some consideration -for the requirements of managers, in search of -fashionable comedies for West End theaters.” And so he -laid the scene in England, and made all his characters -English and kept as close to the earth as he could. But -for all that, he failed to make a conventional parlor drama -of it. Shaw is Shaw, and when he set out to build a comedy -<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">à la mode</i> he evolved instead a tragedy covered with a -sugar-coating of farce. On its face it is uproariously -and irresistibly funny; beneath the surface there is as -nasty an undercurrent as that of “Widowers’ Houses.”</p> - -<p>Fergus Crampton, a wealthy English yacht builder, -and his most marvellous family are the chief characters -of the play. Years before the curtain rises Crampton -and his wife agree to disagree and she packs off to -Madeira with their three babies—two girls and a boy. -Subscribing to the heterodox doctrine that a married -woman is entitled to her own home, her own pocket-book -and her own name, Mrs. Crampton assumes the cognomen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span> -of Clandon, bestows it upon her offspring and -brings them up in complete ignorance of the existence -of their paternal progenitor. Also she rears them in -strict accordance with her ultra-advanced ideas of independence -and individualism. In all matters concerning -the emotions and intellect, they have freedom. And so -they become unconscionable egotists, disrespectful to -their elders, self-willed and obstinate, and nuisances in -general.</p> - -<p>As the curtain rises we find the Clandons back in -England. Happening into a small seaside town, Phil -and Dolly, the younger of the three children, scrape an -acquaintance with one Valentine, a struggling young -dentist (and also a being with advanced views of human -events), and Dolly has the honor of paying him his first -fee. Through him they meet his landlord, an irascible -old gentleman in a semi-nautical coat and an habitual -frown. They invite both dentist and landlord to luncheon, -and at the meal the discovery is made that the latter -is none other than the long-lost Mr. Crampton. Like the -leading comedian of a burlesque show afterpiece, Crampton -is in consternation and shrieks “My wife!” in a -hoarse stage whisper.</p> - -<p>“You are very greatly changed,” observes Mrs. Clandon-Crampton.</p> - -<p>“I daresay,” replies the wretched husband and father. -“A man does change in eighteen years.”</p> - -<p>This much of the prologue being accomplished, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span> -personages proceed to the real business of the action. -Crampton, outraged and disgusted beyond measure by -the manners and dress of his progeny, demands that -Phil and Dolly be given over to his care and custody on -the ground that their mother is an unfit person to have -the charge of them. Meanwhile Valentine, the dentist, -has felt a yearning towards Gloria, the elder daughter, -and Gloria, after surviving five previous sieges of her -heart, looks upon him not unkindly. One brief interview, -in fact, serves to advance him to a point whereat -he may safely offer her a chaste caress. Her mother, -greatly astonished by his easy victory over Gloria’s battalions -of modern principles, seeks an explanation. Valentine -very blandly discusses the situation.</p> - -<p>The duel of sex, he says, is much like the contest -between the makers of guns and the makers of ship’s -armor. One year one is ahead and the next year the -other. In the old days, he says, mothers taught their -daughters old-fashioned methods of resisting the wiles -of old-fashioned Romeos, and for a space this method of -defense was successful. But by-and-by the Romeos -learned its weak points, and the fond mammas of England -had to devise some new armor. They hit upon -scientific education, and for awhile it, too, was successful. -But in the end the old story was repeated.</p> - -<p>“What did the man do?” says Valentine. “Just what -the artilleryman does—went one better than the woman—educated -himself scientifically and beat her at that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span> -game just as he had beaten her at the old one. I learned -how to circumvent the Woman’s Rights’ woman before -I was twenty-three....”</p> - -<p>But before the play is done the philosophical duellist -of sex finds himself the vanquished rather than the -victor. He begins to have doubts about his preparedness -for the marriage state and essays a polite withdrawal. -But Gloria, weighted with the wisdom of five previous -amorous encounters, is no easy adversary to lose.</p> - -<p>“Be sensible,” says the valiant Valentine. “It’s no -use. I haven’t a penny in the world.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t you earn one?” demands Gloria. “Other -people do.”</p> - -<p>Valentine, scenting a chance to flee, is half-delighted, -half-frightened.</p> - -<p>“I never could!” he declares. “You’d be unhappy.... -My dearest love, I should be the merest fortune-hunting -adventurer <span class="locked">if——”</span></p> - -<p>She grips his arm and kisses him.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Lord!” he gasps. “O, <span class="locked">I——”</span></p> - -<p>The trap has sprung and he is caught fast.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know anything about women,” wails the -duellist of sex, pathetically. “Twelve years’ experience -is not enough.”</p> - -<p>William, the waiter at the hotel, reads the moral.</p> - -<p>“You never can tell, sir,” he says, “You never can -tell.”</p> - -<p>So much for the love making, which you will find,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span> -in slightly different form in “Widowers’ Houses” and -“Man and Superman.” The battle between the Cramptons, -husband and wife, is a more serious thing. In -some mysterious way the dramatist manages to keep the -spectator from sympathizing with either, but Crampton, -nevertheless, is a character in a tragedy and not in a -comedy. It is all a ghastly horror to him—the flight of -his wife, the cynical, worldwise impudence and grotesque -individualism of his children, the perversity and topsy-turveyness -of the whole domestic drama. He is no -martyr, by any means, for life in his company, it is evident, -would be an excellent imitation of existence in a -cage with a tiger, but if he is not lovable, he at least has -a great capacity for loving. He and Gloria have a -memorable encounter, in which she explains her theory -of conduct in detail.</p> - -<p>“You see,” she says triumphantly, at the end, -“everything comes right if we only <em>think</em> it resolutely -out.”</p> - -<p>“No,” says Crampton sullenly, “I don’t think. I -want you to feel: that’s the only thing that can help -us....”</p> - -<p>In the end he succumbs to the inevitable senilely.</p> - -<p>“Ho! ho! He! he! he!” he laughs, as Gloria bears -Valentine away. And then, say the stage directions, -“he goes into the garden, chuckling at the fun.”</p> - -<p>Somehow the boundless humor of the play is forgotten -long before this undercurrent of ironic pathos.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span></p> - -<p>William, the waiter, is one of Shaw’s most delightful -characters. He is, in truth, the chorus to the drama, and -a man of deep philosophies. To everyone’s consternation -it is discovered that the eminent Mr. Bohun, Q. C., who -is called in as legal adviser to the Clandon-Cramptons -is William’s son.</p> - -<p>“I’ve often wished he was a potman,” he says. -“Would have had him off my hands ever so much -sooner, sir. Yes, sir, had to support him until he was -thirty-seven, sir....”</p> - -<p>William reads Schopenhauer, but he has no intellectual -yearnings.</p> - -<p>“My name is Boon, sir,” he says, “though I am best -known down here as Balmy Walters, sir. By rights I -should spell it with the aitch you, sir, but I think it best -not to take that liberty, sir. There is Norman blood in -it, sir, and Norman blood is not a recommendation to -a waiter.”</p> - -<p>Bohun, the son, is a blustering, roaring legal whale -of the low comedy type. The last act of the play is -made a screaming farce by his elephantine efforts to -smooth out the family tangles of the Clandon-Cramptons. -In the end he reaches a decision worthy -of Solomon.</p> - -<p>“You can do nothing,” he says to Crampton, “but -make a friendly arrangement. If you want your family -more than they want you, you’ll get the worst of the -arrangement; if they want you more than you want them,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span> -you’ll get the better of it. The strength of their position -lies in their being very agreeable personally. The -strength of your position lies in your income....”</p> - -<p>And that is the nearest approach to a solution of the -difficulty that the play offers.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="MAN_AND_SUPERMAN">“MAN AND SUPERMAN”</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_070.png" width="203" height="203" alt="M"/> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="firstword">Measured</span> with rule, plumb-line or hay-scales, -“Man and Superman” is easily -Shaw’s <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">magnum opus</i>. In bulk it is brobdignagian; -in scope it is stupendous; in purpose -it is one with the Odyssey. Like a full-rigged ship before -a spanking breeze, it cleaves deep into the waves, sending -ripples far to port and starboard, and its giant canvases -rise half way to the clouds, with resplendent jibs, sky-sails, -staysails and studdingsails standing out like quills -upon the fretful porcupine. It has a preface as long as -a campaign speech; an interlude in three scenes, with -music and red fire; and a complete digest of the German -philosophers as an appendix. With all its rings and satellites -it fills a tome of 281 closely-printed pages. Its -epigrams, quips, jests, and quirks are multitudinous; it -preaches treason to all the schools; its hero has one -speech of 350 words. No one but a circus press agent -could rise to an adequate description of its innumerable -marvels. It is a three-ring circus, with Ibsen doing running -high jumps; Schopenhauer playing the calliope and -Nietzsche selling peanuts in the reserved seats. And all -the while it is the most entertaining play of its generation.</p> - -<p>Maybe Shaw wrote it in a vain effort to rid himself<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span> -at one fell swoop of all the disquieting doctrines that -infested his innards. Into it he unloaded Kropotkin, -Noyes, Bakounin, Wilde, Marx, Proudhon, Nietzsche, -Netschajew, Wagner, Bunyan, Mozart, Shelley, Ibsen, -Morris, Tolstoi, Goethe, Schopenhauer, Plato—seized -them by the heels and heaved them in, with a sort of -relieved “God help you!” The result is 281 pages of -most diverting farce—farce that only half hides the -tumultuous uproar of the two-and-seventy jarring sects -beneath it. It is a tract cast in an encyclopedic and epic -mold—a stupendous, magnificent colossal effort to make -a dent in the cosmos with a slapstick.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Why, all the saints and sages who discuss’d</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Like foolish Prophets forth: their Words to Scorn</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Are scatter’d, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Shaw explains that he wrote the play in response to -a suggestion by A. B. Walkley, the dramatic critic of the -London <i>Times</i> that he should tackle the subject of Don -Juan. In his 37-page preface he traces, at length, the -process of reasoning which led him to the conclusion that -Juan, as he was depicted by the fathers, was a fraud and -an impostor. In the business of mating, he says (after -Schopenhauer) it is not the man but the woman that -does the pursuing. Man’s function in life is that of food-getting. -Woman’s is that of perpetuating the race. -Hence man’s ordinary occupation is making money, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span> -woman’s is getting married. To protect himself against -“a too aggressive prosecution of woman’s business,” he -says, man has “set up a feeble romantic convention that -the initiative in sex business must always come from -him.” But the pretense is so shallow “that even in the -theater, that last sanctuary of unreality, it imposes only -on the inexperienced. In Shakespeare’s plays the woman -always takes the initiative. In his problem plays and his -popular plays alike the love interest is the interest of -seeing the woman hunt the man down.”</p> - -<p>And so, the hero of this new play, John Tanner (our -old friend Juan Tenorio) is the pursued, and Doña Ana -(Miss Ann Whitefield) is the pursuer. John is a being -of most advanced and startling ideas. He writes a -volume called “The Revolutionist’s Handbook and -Pocket Companion,” full of all sorts of strange doctrines, -from praise of the Oneida Community to speculations -regarding the probable characteristics of the Superman. -He laughs at honor, titles, the law, property, marriage, -liberty, democracy, the golden rule and everything else -that God-fearing folks hold sacred; he has a good word -for Czolgosz; he gives directions for beating children; -he curls his lip at civilization; he ventures the view that -“every man over forty is a scoundrel.” And then, -with all this cargo of nonconformity afloat in his -hold, fate sends him sailing into a haven of staunch -orthodoxy.</p> - -<p>He and Roebuck Ramsden, a gentleman who hangs<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span> -Herbert Spencer’s portrait on his library wall as a sort -of banner of his intellectual modernity, are appointed -guardians for Ann, whose papa has just passed away, and -John, to protect himself against being caught in ambush -by the Life Force, as represented in his ward, endeavors -to marry her off to Octavius Robinson, a harmless young -man who has lived beneath her father’s roof since his -childhood. John is aware of the faults of Ann and has -no yearning to be enmeshed in her web. He notices -that she is a liar and politely calls her attention to the -fact; he observes her pursuit of him and makes open -preparations for flight. Finally, in full cry, he runs -away in an automobile across Europe. But the Life -Force is more powerful than gasoline, and Ann, yielding -to its irresistible impulse, follows him—across the -English channel, to Dover, and across France toward the -Mediterranean. In the Sierra Nevada mountains she -brings her game to bay and in old Grenada poor John -receives his <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">coup de grace</i>. Thus he sinks to earth:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><i>Tanner.</i> ... The trap was laid from the beginning.</p> - -<p><i>Ann</i> (<i>concentrating all her magic</i>). From the beginning—from -our childhood—for both of us—by the Life Force.</p> - -<p><i>Tanner.</i> I will not marry you. I will not marry you.</p> - -<p><i>Ann.</i> Oh, you will, you will.</p> - -<p><i>Tanner.</i> I tell you, no, no, no.</p> - -<p><i>Ann.</i> I tell you, yes, yes, yes.</p> - -<p><i>Tanner.</i> No.</p> - -<p><i>Ann</i> (<i>coaxing—imploring—almost exhausted</i>). Yes. Before -it is too late for repentance. Yes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span></p> - -<p><i>Tanner</i> (<i>struck by an echo from the past</i>). When did all this -happen to me before? Are we two dreaming?</p> - -<p><i>Ann</i> (<i>suddenly losing her courage, with an anguish that she -does not conceal</i>). No. We are awake and you have said no: -that is all.</p> - -<p><i>Tanner</i> (<i>brutally</i>). Well?</p> - -<p><i>Ann.</i> Well, I made a mistake, you do not love me.</p> - -<p><i>Tanner</i> (<i>seizing her in his arms</i>). It is false: I love you. The -Life Force enchants me: I have the whole world in my arms -when I clasp you....</p> -</div> - -<p>And this is the story upon which Shaw hangs his 175 -pages of play—it would take seven hours to perform it -in its entirety—his thirty-seven pages of introduction, and -his sixty-nine pages of appendix.</p> - -<p>The conflict between Tanner and the ethics and traditions -represented by Ramsden is riotously and irresistibly -humorous. The first act of the play, indeed, is the -most gorgeously grotesque in all Shaw. Better fun is -scarcely imaginable. The famous Hell scene, which -forms a sort of movable third act, is also a masterpiece -of comedy. Tanner during his flight from Ann, is -captured by a band of social-anarchist brigands, led by -one Capt. Mendoza, a sentimental Anglo-Hebrew. Mendoza’s -story of his unrequited love for an English lass -sends Tanner to dreamland, and he dreams that he is in -Hell. And then an elaborately comic play within a play -is performed. Mendoza appears as the Devil; Tanner -as Don Juan; and Ann as Doña Ana de Ulloa. It is -long, this episode, and beyond all hope of boiling down,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span> -but the persons who see “Man and Superman” without -it miss two-thirds of the drama. An excellent exposition -by the Devil of the superiority of Hell over Heaven -forms part of it. During the rest of the action the characters -discuss every imaginable subject, from love to -the higher morality.</p> - -<p>“Whatever they say of me in churches on earth,” says -the Devil, “I know that it is universally admitted in good -society that the Prince of Darkness is a gentleman; and -that is enough for me....”</p> - -<p>In the first act Violet Robinson, Octavius’ sister, gives -her family an overwhelming shock by passing to that -moral bourne whence no feminine traveler returns. Her -maiden aunt is for turning her out of doors. Ramsden -is apoplectic. Octavius is speechless. The scandal is -appalling. And here comes Tanner’s chance. He has -preached against marriage and now he will follow his -preaching with practise. Virtuous or unvirtuous, what -are the odds? The Life Force is at it again, and he, -John Tanner, is its champion. So he goes to Violet’s -rescue grandly—a hero, every inch of him.</p> - -<p>“They think to blame you,” he says loftily, “by their -silly superstitions about morality and propriety and so -forth. But I know, and the whole world really knows, -that you are right to follow your instinct; that vitality -and bravery are the greatest qualities a woman can have, -and motherhood her solemn initiation into womanhood, -and that the fact of your not being legally married matters<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span> -not one scrap either to your own worth or to our -real regard for you.”</p> - -<p>The limelight flashes here, but suddenly it goes out -and Violet’s eyes flash instead.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” she exclaims, “you think me a wicked woman, -like the rest! You think that I am not only vile, but that -I share your abominable opinions.... I won’t bear -such a horrible insult.... I have kept my marriage -secret for my husband’s sake. But now I claim my right -as a married woman not to be insulted....”</p> - -<p>And as Tanner wilts his fine theories come crashing -down about his head.</p> - -<p>The play is such a gigantic, ponderous thing that any -effort to summarize it is difficult. The central idea—that, -in mating, the man is pursued by the woman—is -one that we have seen Shaw employ in “Arms and -the Man,” “The Philanderer,” and other plays. As he -himself says, it is not a new conception. Shakespeare had -it, though maybe unconsciously, and its rudiments appear -in the works of other men. Schopenhauer made it classical. -In “Man and Superman” Shaw uses it as an -excuse for airing practically every radical doctrine in the -modern repertoire. “The general impression of the -book,” says Huneker, “causes us to believe there is a -rift in the writer’s lute; not in his mentality, but in his -own beliefs, or scepticisms. Perhaps Shaw no longer -pins his faith to Shaw.” Herein the critic makes the -common mistake of confusing the dramatist and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span> -theorist. Shaw borrows part of the title from Nietzsche -and makes sad sport of the mad German in many a scene, -but that is no evidence that he is insincere when, in his -introduction, he classes Nietzsche with those writers -“whose peculiar sense of the world I recognize as more -or less akin to my own.” “The Revolutionist’s Handbook -and Pocket Companion” at the end of the play -is given, he says, merely to prove that John Tanner, its -author, is really the revolutionist and genius the drama -makes him out to be. Too often, says Shaw, a playwright -is content to say that his hero is a man of parts -without offering any tangible evidence of the fact.</p> - -<p>All in all, “Man and Superman” is a work worth the -two years of effort the title page hints it cost the author. -But it is a pity that Shaw didn’t divide it into two plays, -a volume of essays, two dozen magazine articles and a -book of epigrams. The age of the epic is past. To-day -we sacrifice Fortinbras to get “Hamlet” into two hours -and a half.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="JOHN_BULLS_OTHER_ISLAND">“JOHN BULL’S OTHER ISLAND”</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_078.png" width="203" height="202" alt="T"/> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="firstword in03">This</span> is a political satire in Shaw’s most amusing -manner and, as its title indicates, deals -with the eternal Irish question—a problem -that, in England, rivals in perennial interest -the dispute between capital and labor in the United -States. The author, with characteristic impartiality, -gives all sides a fair hearing, and “though in the end,” -says A. B. Walkley, “all parties are dismissed with costs, -we have a conviction that justice has been done.”</p> - -<p>Two London engineers—Broadbent, an Englishman, -and Larry Doyle, an anglicized Irishman—are the central -characters. Broadbent is a political radical and insatiable -reformer of a very familiar sort. Yearning to lend -a hand in the uplifting of humanity, he turns to the martyred -Irish and proposes to be their champion, without -in the least understanding them. Doyle, on the other -hand, looks upon all reform as so much moonshine. As -far as he is concerned, Ireland may go hang. He is -neither a patriot nor an altruist.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, when Broadbent decides to go to Ireland -to study the problem of saving the Irish on the -ground, Doyle consents to go with him, and together -they arrive at a primitive sort of Irish village. There -they make acquaintance with the folks who constitute<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span> -suffering Ireland—an unfrocked priest whose mysticism -has given him the local character of a lunatic, a peasant -fairly savage in his simple superstitions, the fanatical -parish priest and other types more or less familiar. To -Doyle they are commonplace bores. To Broadbent they -constitute a People yearning for a Moses.</p> - -<p>When Doyle refuses to stand for Parliament for the -district, Broadbent willingly steps into the breach, and -in the ensuing campaign all the multitudinous facets of -the Irish question are revealed. The honest electors, -misunderstanding Broadbent’s altruistic efforts for their -welfare, get a great deal of innocent enjoyment out of -his orations and a great deal more out of his honest -efforts to deal with them as freeman to freeman. He -offers to take a farmer’s pig home in his motor car. The -car runs over the pig and, in addition, knocks out the -window of the village china shop. “There is a jest -in every line,” says the critic of the London <cite>Daily Mail</cite>. -“The play exists for and by the comic spirit alone.”</p> - -<p>In the end, after many farcical situations and excellent -quips, the canny Irish yeomanry accept Broadbent -as a profitable acquaintance, and as the novelty of his -misunderstood good intentions dies, come to regard -him more or less seriously. As the curtain falls they are -looking forward with interest to certain very material -boons he promises to confer upon them—a big hotel in -the village, a new tower for the village landmark and -links for the village golfers. Meanwhile he has fallen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span> -in love with an old sweetheart of Doyle’s and, after an -uphill wooing, has supplanted the latter in the fair -charmer’s affections.</p> - -<p>The play is a characteristically Shavian <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">reductio ad -absurdum</i> of the vast ocean of hair-raising schemes and -startling theories that has so long deluged the Irish question. -Shaw himself is an Irishman, and no doubt the -troubles of his native land are of some interest to him, -despite his vigorous denial that he is a patriot. Probably -the play indicates his subscription to the idea of -many an Irishman whose emotionalism has been tempered -by English common-sense: that Ireland must cease -looking for relief without and seek it within. In so far -as this is true, the play is dialectic. But first of all it is -a farce by the dramatist whom one London critic, at least, -calls “the best living writer of comedy.”</p> - -<p>“It’s all rot,” says Broadbent, the Englishman in the -play, of some speech made by Doyle. “It’s all rot, but -it’s so brilliant, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Here, no doubt,” observed Mr. Walkley of the -<cite>Times</cite>, “Shaw is slyly taking a side glance at the usual -English verdict on his own works. The verdict will need -some slight modification in the case of ‘John Bull’s Other -Island.’ For, in the first place, the play is not <em>all</em> rot. -Further, it has some other qualities than mere brilliancy. -It is at once a delight and a disappointment.... -Shaw takes up the empty bladders of life, the current -commonplaces, the cant phrases, the windbags of rodomontade,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span> -the hollow conventions, and the sham sentiments; -quietly he inserts his pin; and the thing collapses -with a pop.”</p> - -<p>The play was given six special matinée performances -at the London Court Theater in the latter part of 1904, -and Arnold Daly has since presented it in America.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_NOVELS_AND_OTHER_WRITINGS">THE NOVELS AND OTHER WRITINGS</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_082.png" width="202" height="203" alt="S"/> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="firstword in03">Shaw’s</span> four published novels both suffer -and gain by the widespread public interest -in his plays; gain because this interest -serves to keep them somewhat in the foreground, -and suffer because, as the work of a very young -man, they are ill-fitted to stand comparison with the -literary offspring of his maturity. Of the four, “Love -Among the Artists” is the best and “Cashel Byron’s -Profession” the most popular. “An Unsocial Socialist” -is a wild extravaganza that has lived its day and -done its task, and “The Irrational Knot” is forgotten. -The author’s first novel, written in his early twenties, -has never seen the light. The publishers of that time -would have none of it, and later on, when Shaw “copy” -began to find a market and there even arose a mild demand -for it, Shaw wisely decided that the yellowing -manuscript should remain in the twilight of its tomb.</p> - -<p>The hero of “Cashel Byron’s Profession” has become -one of the most familiar characters of latter-day fiction. -References to him are made in the newspapers frequently -and every time a star of the roped arena marries a chorus -girl the love making of Mr. Byron is recalled. He was -not the first bruiser to grace the pages of an English<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span> -romance—as admirers of “Pendennis” and <i>The Spectator</i> -well know—but he has become, by long odds, the -most conspicuous. It is to be deplored that Shaw did -not save him for a play. “The Admirable Bashville,” -a burlesque dramatization of the novel, does not answer. -Cashel should be the hero of a melodrama <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">a la</i> “Arms -and the Man.” What an opportunity he would give to -our Greek god stars!</p> - -<p>Cashel is the son of an actress and becoming tired of -her variable moods and the exactions of his instructors, -runs away from boarding school in England and journeys -to Australia. There, by chance, he is taken into -the household of Mr. “Ned” Skene, an eminent retired -pugilist, as secretary and gymnasium assistant. The -alert Skene discerns in him a rare “find” and before -long he is back in England again, battling his way to -fame and fortune.</p> - -<p>Before long, through one Lord Worthington, a man of -vast acquaintance and catholic taste, Cashel is introduced -to the notice of Miss Lydia Carew, a young Englishwoman -of huge fortune and most marvellous intellectuality. -It is not until page 189—more than half way -through the 330 page book—that Lydia learns that Cashel -is a prize-fighter. Very naturally she recoils from him, -but all the while, half-unconsciously, she has been falling -desperately in love with him, and in the end, despite his -profession, she marries him.</p> - -<p>“I practically believe,” she explains to his rejected<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span> -rival, “in the doctrine of heredity; and as my body is -frail and my brain morbidly active, I think my impulse -toward a man strong in body and untroubled in mind -is a trustworthy one. You can understand that; it is -a plain proposition in eugenics.”</p> - -<p>And so Cashel retires from the ring and gradually, -though never completely, takes on the polish of civilization. -It is a union so happy that it soon descends into -the commonplace.</p> - -<p>The author was born with the dramatic instinct of a -Sardou or a Hal Reid and throughout the book there -are scenes of tremendous excitement and clatter. Cashel -fights fairly terrific battles—among others one with Miss -Carew’s footman, Bashville, who also loves her—and -the general air of the book is distinctly warlike. Most -of the minor characters are commonplace. Skene and -his wife and Lord Worthington are old friends from -Thackeray and Lucian Webber, Lydia’s cousin and unsuccessful -Romeo, is the ready-made rising young statesman -of contemporary English fiction.</p> - -<p>“An Unsocial Socialist” is a tract born of the nights -that Shaw passed in pondering the philosophies. All of -the ten articles in the manifesto of 1845 are preached in it, -and in addition there is much that the Hon. “Tom” -Watson, the Hon. Eugene Debs, and various other -earnest gentlemen were destined to spout forth years -later. “I suppose,” says Max Beerbohm, “that there -is not under heaven a subject on which Shaw has not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span> -thought deeply and indignantly.” “An Unsocial Socialist” -justifies this venture. It is the most riotous -hodge-podge of cart-tail oratory and low comedy in the -language.</p> - -<p>Sidney Trefusis, a millionaire, takes to wife Henriette -Jansenius, the daughter of a millionaire, and after a -brief honeymoon bids her good-bye. He is no ordinary -money-king, this strange young man, but a Rothschild -with the ideas of a Marx. The times, he decides, are -out of joint. Things have grown rotten in Denmark. -To live as men of his fortune live would be to give his -tacit consent to the immoral scheme of things. And so -he deserts his wife, assumes the name of Smilash, and -going to a small country town, sets up shop as the local -jack-of-all-trades.</p> - -<p>From this point on, for a hundred pages, the book -is a socialist tract. To his wife, who pursues him, and -to everyone else he encounters—the faculty and student -body of a refined young ladies’ seminary, the village -politicians, chance passersby, enemies, and friends—he -expounds his theories. Also—and this is what makes -him rise from the common level of propagandists—he -practices many (though not all) of the things he preaches. -In the end, his neglect kills his wife and he goes ranging -England in search of a real affinity. When he finds -her he marries her and the book ends—with a most marvellous -letter from the hero to the author.</p> - -<p>As in the case of “The Philanderer” a great many<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span> -persons have wondered how Shaw could make such a -ridiculous character of a man whose doctrines apparently -coincide with his own. In truth, it is highly improbable -that Shaw, or any other sane man, ever held to the -ideas expressed by Trefusis. The latter’s speech beside -the corpse of his wife is without parallel in fiction. -And some of his other utterances and acts—how royally -and deliciously sacrilegious they are! Certainly an age -that finds Schopenhauer’s essay on women a never-ending -delight should be better acquainted with the ecstatic -shocks of “An Unsocial Socialist.” Trefusis, being -utterly beyond the pale, is as productive of wicked little -thrills to the orthodox and virtuous as McIntosh Jellaludin, -David, Pantagruel, or the latest popular murderer.</p> - -<p>“The Irrational Knot”—the theme of which is evident -from the title—is now but a name. It was one of -a vast multitude of similar books that saw the light at -the time of its birth. Not one of the reviewers, eulogists -or enemies of Shaw seems to think much of it. -“Love Among the Artists,” on the contrary, is a novel -that deserves to rank with the really important fiction -of the time. The theme is not startlingly original and -in the 400-odd pages there are oceans of tiresome talk, -but the work, as a whole, bears the stamp of distinction, -and if only for the admirable searching portrait of the -Polish <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">pianiste</i>, Aurélie Szczympliça, it deserves some -share of attention.</p> - -<p>The story has the amiably discursive cast of the other<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span> -Shaw stories and ill bears translation into a brief summary. -Adrian Herbert, an artist, is a character about -whom others, in a sense, revolve, though, in himself, -he is little interesting. At the start he is affianced to -Mary Sutherland, a young woman of artistic longings. -The chief business of the book is to show how he is -won away from Mary by the Szczympliça and duly and -regularly married by that remarkable young woman. -As for Mary, she finds consolation in the arms of John -Hoskyn, an eminently practical and matter-of-fact gentleman, -who wanders into Bohemia quite by accident, -and is much astonished by what he sees there.</p> - -<p>Shaw was a newcomer in Bohemia himself when he -wrote this book and to this fact may be ascribed the -freshness and virility of some of the characters—the -Szczympliça in particular, and Owen Jack, the eccentric -composer. In the former the vagaries of the artistic -mind are revealed with considerable originality and delicacy. -If he was tempted to make a burlesque of the -soulful little Aurélie, he kept a tight rein upon the impulse. -Jack, on the contrary, is frankly a figure out of -low comedy. Nothing more grotesque than his struggles -with the Philistines is to be found in any of the Shaw -plays. Like Cashel Byron, he and Aurélie deserve to -be translated from the closet to the stage. Jack especially -is sufficiently obvious to give any comedian of -fair talents the opportunity of a lifetime.</p> - -<p>Shaw’s pair of critical pamphlets—“The Perfect<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span> -Wagnerite” and “The Quintessence of Ibsenism”—will -go down into history beside Robert Schumann’s early -reviews of the compositions of Chopin and Huxley’s -opening broadsides for Darwin. Each paved the way -for better knowledge and better understanding. In 1888, -when “The Perfect Wagnerite” was published, the composer -of “The Ring of the Nibelung” was still caviare to -the Britons. The professors of the day knew him and -feared that the great gaping public would come to know -him, and so, like the ancient monks who kept the Scriptures -under lock and key, they greatly desired that he be -ignored. Shaw undertook the vain task of proving the -younger Siegfried a socialist—and succeeded in making -his readers meditate upon Wagner. Thus he earned -whatever money and fame he got from his pains.</p> - -<p>“The Quintessence of Ibsenism” includes some wonderfully -illuminative and searching passages, but on the -whole it is rather out of date. Shaw makes the Norwegian -a social-philosopher of most earnest purposes, -and hangs upon the book an elaborate and ingenious theory -of sham-smashing. As a matter of fact, we have -Ibsen’s own word for it that few of his plays contain -much conscious preaching, and no doubt many of the -alarming doctrines Shaw found in them were not there -before he conjured them up. Nevertheless, the book remains -the best estimate of Ibsen yet written in English.</p> - -<p>Incidentally, it gave birth to the tumultuous discussion -of the so-called “symbolic” play which raged over<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span> -England and America half a dozen years ago. Nowadays -one hears little of “symbolism” and even the comic -papers have ceased to regard Ibsen and his company as -men who write in mysterious cryptograms. But persons -who follow the trend of things dramatic remember -the disputations that once awoke the echoes. You will -find the germ of them in Shaw’s half-forgotten discourses -upon “Brand,” “Peer Gynt,” and “Emperor and -Galilean.”</p> - -<p>In the early ’90’s, when Max Nordau’s mighty tome, -“Degeneration,” was making a stir like a new best-selling -novel, Shaw published a counter-blast to it. Even -exceeding Nordau in the minuteness of his knowledge, -he made an answer that, in the words of one admirer, -“wiped Nordau off the field of discussion.” Unhappily, -this effort at regeneration has been forgotten with “Degeneration.”</p> - -<p>Shaw’s remarkable essay “On Going to Church,” -which was recently republished in book form, is an -earnest plea for less humbug in public worship. The -average church, he argues, is so hopelessly ugly, tawdry, -and irritating, that it straightway dissipates any religious -emotion the stray comer may harbor when he enters.</p> - -<p>The socialistic and political essays, while by no means -unimportant to the students of the Shaw plays, are -scarcely within the province of this book.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="BIOGRAPHICAL_AND_STATISTICAL">BIOGRAPHICAL AND STATISTICAL</h2> -</div> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_090.png" width="202" height="200" alt="G"/> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="firstword in01">George Bernard Shaw</span> was born in -Dublin, July 26, 1856. His paternal grandfather, -Bernard Shaw, was high sheriff of -County Kilkenny, and his maternal grandfather, -Walter Bagnall Gurley, a county ’squire and fox -hunter, with an extensive, but entailed estate. Shaw’s -father was a younger son and, in consequence, no millionaire. -But that he was a pauper or that the dramatist, -in his youth, was attracted to vegetarianism because, -as James Huneker hints, cabbages are cheaper than venison, -there is no reason to believe. When the family -came to London, in 1876, it took up quarters in “a well -furnished house in a pleasant part” of the city. This -upon the authority of Mr. Stanley Shaw, a relative, in -a letter to the New York <cite>Sun</cite>, dated Berlin, April 25, -1905.</p> - -<p>The Shaws then, were country gentlemen, and in all -probability little different from the other Irish gentry -about them. The son of the younger son was educated -and reared in the orthodox fashion. He learned the -speech of the Irish aristocracy and the foreign tongues<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span> -in favor—English, French, and maybe a bit of German; -he mastered the three R’s, he studied the history of -his country, and went to church. “When I was a little -boy,” he says in his essay “On Going to Church,” “I -was compelled to go on Sunday; and though I escaped -from that intolerable bondage before I was ten, it prejudiced -me so violently against church-going that twenty -years elapsed before, in foreign lands and in pursuit of -works of art, I became once more a church-goer. To -this day, my flesh creeps when I recall that genteel -suburban Irish Protestant church, built by Roman Catholic -workmen who would have considered themselves -damned had they crossed its threshold afterward....” -A virtuous, commonplace family. Its present head, says -the Mr. Stanley Shaw aforesaid, “is Major Sir Frederick -Shaw, Bart., D. S. O. of Bushey Park, Dublin.” -A respectable, well-sounding name and address.</p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>Shaw was twenty when he reached London—the -meditative, impressionable, speculative, iconoclastic age. -Apparently he fell an easy prey to the philosophical anarchists -who then held the centre of the stage—Proudhon, -Lassalle, Marx, Louis Blanc, Engels, Liebknecht, and -the lesser Germans. Certainly it was a day of stimulating -stirring about. Huxley and Spencer were up to -their necks in gore; Ibsen, with “The League of Youth” -behind him, was giving form to “The Pillars of Society”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span> -and “A Doll’s House”; Nietzsche was tramping up -and down his garden path; Wagner was hard at work; -“The Principles of Sociology” had just come from the -press. Sham-smashing was in the air. Everything respectable -was under suspicion.</p> - -<p>It didn’t take Shaw long to spring out of the audience -upon the stage. His first novel, in truth, must have been -begun long before he learned to find his way about the -streets of London. Whether it was good or bad the -human race will never know; publishers declined it -without thanks, and the author, when his manuscripts -began to have a value, decided that it should remain unpublished. -“It was a very remarkable work,” he says, -“but hardly one which I should be well advised in letting -loose whilst my livelihood depends on my credit as -a literary workman. I can recall a certain difficulty, experienced -even while I was writing the book, in remembering -what it was about....” Thus heavily did -his theme bear down upon him.</p> - -<p>What the young Irishman did to relieve his imagination -during the next three years is not recorded. That -he learned a great deal, particularly of music and literature, -is very probable. His sister was a professional -singer, and the persons he met were chiefly of the literary-artistic -sort. He was “but an infant of twenty-four, -when, being at that time one of the unemployed” he -essayed to mend his “straitened fortunes” by writing -his second novel, “The Irrational Knot.” It was no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span> -masterpiece, but if the few persons who glanced through -it possessed prophetic eyes they must have seen in it -marks of a genius rather startling. A year later came -“Love Among the Artists”—a volume of nearly 500 -pages. Then, in order, came “Cashel Byron’s Profession” -and “An Unsocial Socialist.” Not one of these -extraordinary tales struck the fancy of the publishers. -“An encouraging compliment or two,” says Shaw, was -his sole reward for the fatiguing labor of writing them. -Not until a good while afterward did any of the five -see the light, and then it was only “to fill up the gaps in -socialist magazines financed by generous friends.” “An -Unsocial Socialist” was the first to reach the dignity of -covers. After it came “Cashel Byron’s Profession” and -“The Irrational Knot.” “Love Among the Artists” -was the last to appear upon the book stalls.</p> - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>Meanwhile Shaw had become engaged in half a dozen -reform crusades. Vegetarianism found in him an early -advocate and socialism won him easily. In 1883, the -year Karl Marx died, Thomas Davidson, an American, -laid the foundation of the Fabian Society at a series of -parlor conferences in London. In 1884 Shaw joined the -society, and four years later, when it began holding public -meetings, he found himself one of its leading lights. He -has told us himself how he delighted to indulge in eloquent -socialistic orations from cart-tails and how he came<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span> -to acquire a bodyguard of faithful auditors whose presence -was assured whenever it was announced that he -would speak. With the pen, too, he labored for the manifesto -of 1845, and even to-day he is still hard at it—despite -prosperity, the approach of middle age and a fair imitation -of the thing called fame. He wrote tracts in great -number and after 1889 edited the Fabian Essays. Incidentally -he wrote “Fabianism and the Empire” (1900), -“Fabianism and the Fiscal Question” (1904), and other -socialistic broadsides. At odd moments he had his say, -too, upon the subjects of vegetarianism, the use of quotation -marks, capitalization, evening clothes, capital punishment, -and the eternal snobbishness of the patriotic -Britisher.</p> - -<p>During all this time he was drawn nearer and nearer -to the theater. As far back as 1885 he began a play -in collaboration with William Archer, the translator of -Ibsen. This drama, rewritten and amplified seven years -later, was the first of his works to be performed in public. -But the need of getting on in the world pressed -gloomily. “The question was,” Shaw has told us, “how -to get a pound a week.” Novel writing was plainly -hopeless and play making seemed equally impossible. -There remained a chance to set up shop as a critic. Shaw -made the plunge and almost immediately his humor and -originality won him an audience. “Soon,” he says, -“my privileges were enormous and my wealth immense.... -The classes patiently read my essays; the masses<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span> -patiently listened to my harangues. I enjoyed the immunities -of impecuniosity with the opportunities of a -millionaire....”</p> - -<p>At the start Shaw’s regular topic was the art pictorial, -but before long he began to dabble in music. According -to Max Beerbohm, his first essay was printed in the first -number of the <i>Star</i> in 1888. This was a highly purposeful -periodical, founded by T. P. O’Connor (“If we enable -the charwoman to put two lumps of sugar in her -tea instead of one,” said “Tay Pay,” in his salutatory, -“we shall not have worked in vain”), and Shaw wrote -over the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">nom de plume</i> of “Corno di Bassetto.” In 1890, -after two years’ service, he transferred his flag to the -<i>World</i>. Then, like his friend Huneker, he abandoned -music for the drama, and from January, 1895, to May, -1898, he was the critic of the <i>Saturday Review</i>—the London -weekly in whose columns the ingenious Mr. Beerbohm -now holds forth.</p> - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>As has been noted, “Widowers’ Houses,” Shaw’s first -play, was completed in 1892. It was given its initial -performance during that year at the Royalty Theater, -London, by the Independent Theater Company, and made -a rather strenuous success. “The socialists and independents,” -says Shaw, “applauded me furiously on -principle; the ordinary play-going first-nighters hooted -me frantically on the same ground; I, being at that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span> -time in some practice as what might be unpolitely called -a mob-orator, made a speech before the curtain; the -newspapers discussed the play for a whole fortnight, not -only in the ordinary theatrical notices and criticisms, -but in leading articles and letters; and finally the text -of the play was published, with an introduction by Mr. -Grein (the manager of the Independent Company), an -amusing account by Mr. Archer of the original collaboration, -and a long preface and several elaborate controversial -appendices in the author’s most energetically -egotistical fighting style.”</p> - -<p>“The Philanderer” was written in 1893, also for -the Independent Theater, and “Mrs. Warren’s Profession” -was completed the same year. The former was -withdrawn because it was found well-nigh impossible to -unearth actors capable of understanding it sufficiently -to play it, and the latter remained in the manager’s desk -because the virtuous English play-censor forbade its -performance. Nine years later—January 12, 1902—it -was presented privately by the Stage Society.</p> - -<p>In 1894 a group of philanthropic play-goers, convinced -that the dramas of the day were intolerable, -financed a series of special performances at the Avenue -Theater, London. The second play presented was Shaw’s -“Arms and the Man.” It was given its premiere April -21, and ran until July 7. Shaw, in his preface to the -second volume of “Plays Pleasant and Unpleasant” -enters upon an elaborate account of its receipts and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span> -philosophy thereof. During its brief season the Londoners -paid $8,500 to see it and the cost of presenting it, -counting salaries, rents, lights, advertising, and royalties, -was nearly $25,000. Soon afterwards Richard Mansfield -presented the play in the United States and it made -a very fair success. It is in the Mansfield repertoire -even to-day, and now and then there is a matinée performance -of it. But apparently the public does not very vigorously -demand it. In translation it has been done in -Germany.</p> - -<p>“The Man of Destiny” was written in 1895. Two -years later it was given one performance at Croydon, -England. Then it slumbered until the last months of -1904, when Arnold Daly played it in New York as an -after-piece to “Candida.” Since then his company has -appeared in it in most of the large cities of the United -States. “Candida” and “You Never Can Tell” were -written in 1896. The former was first played by the Independent -Theater Company, during a tour of the English -provinces, in 1897. Arnold Daly, scraping together -$300, presented it, in association with Winchell Smith, -at the Berkeley Lyceum, a diminutive theater in West -45th street, New York, in 1904. The success of the -drama was so great that before long Daly found himself -a Broadway star under the management of Liebler -& Co., and at present it seems likely that Shaw’s plays -will serve to keep him in the public eye for a good while -to come.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span></p> - -<p>Shaw wrote a one-act piece, “How He Lied to Her -Husband,” for his young American interpreter, and when -it was presented in New York, in the fall of 1904, it -made a great stir. “You Never Can Tell,” which had -been withdrawn by Shaw after being placed in rehearsal -in London, was given at the Garrick Theater by Daly -at the conclusion of the run of “Candida.” The two -volumes of “Plays Pleasant and Unpleasant” were published -in 1898. They included “Widowers’ Houses,” -“The Philanderer,” “Mrs. Warren’s Profession,” “Arms -and the Man,” “You Never Can Tell,” “Candida,” and -“The Man of Destiny”—not to speak of a 37-page preface -dealing with a vast multitude of subjects.</p> - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>“The Devil’s Disciple,” the first of the “Three Plays -for Puritans,” was written early in 1897. Richard Mansfield -presented it in New York in the fall of that year -and it made an excellent success. Like “Arms and the -Man” it is still in his repertoire—pretty far down in the -trunk, it may be mentioned in passing, with many other -plays atop of it. In October, 1899, Murray Carson’s -company played it for a few weeks at Kensington, near -London. “Cæsar and Cleopatra” was written in 1898, -and “Capt. Brassbound’s Conversion” the next year. -The “Three Plays for Puritans” were published in 1900. -“The Admirable Bashville, or Constancy Rewarded”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span> -was given by the Stage Society at the Imperial Theatre -in 1903. Shaw evolved it from the fragments of “Cashel -Byron’s Profession” to protect his rights in the latter, -an unauthorized dramatization having been made for -an American pugilist-actor. The play was printed as an -appendix to the second English edition of “Cashel Byron’s -Profession.”</p> - -<p>“Man and Superman” was written in 1902, and published -the next year, with a gigantic preface, and “The -Revolutionist’s Handbook and Pocket Companion” as -an appendix. Preface, play, and appendix make a volume -of 244 closely-printed pages. The drama saw the -light on the evening of May 23, 1905, at the Court Theater, -London. Granville Barker, made up to resemble -Shaw, played the role of John Tanner, and Miss Lillian -McCarthy was the Ann Whitefield. May 21 and 22 there -were special performances of the play by the Stage Society, -and in September, 1905, Robert Loraine and his -company presented it in New York. The third act with -the scene of Don Juan in Hell was omitted. “John -Bull’s Other Island” was completed in 1904, and presented -at six special matinees at the Court Theater by -the Stage Society in the fall of that year. “Major Barbara” -was written in 1905.</p> - -<p>Shaw’s two critical tracts, “The Perfect Wagnerite” -and “The Quintessence of Ibsenism” were published in -1888 and 1891, respectively. His last scholastic manifesto, -“The Common Sense of Municipal Training” was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span> -issued in 1904. A remarkable essay, “On Going to -Church,” which appeared originally in the <i>Savoy Quarterly</i>—Arthur -Symons’ journal—in 1896, was reprinted -early in 1905, and attained a large sale. In the late ’80’s, -in an English periodical, there appeared his celebrated -answer to Max Nordau’s book, “Degeneration.” In the -opinion of some of his admirers this is, by far, the best -of his controversial works, but, unfortunately, it has not -been reprinted in permanent form.</p> - -<p>“When Arnold Daly visited Shaw,” says Gustav -Kobbé, “he found several indications that cynicism and -Fabian socialism are not unprofitable. Shaw lives in -large apartments in the New Reform Club, overlooking -the Thames embankment, and he has a country place at -Welwin, too.... There is no sham in the interior -of his places of abode. There is a complete absence -of the cheap æsthetic or of superfluous ornamentation. -Simplicity of outline distinguishes such ornaments as -there are. Handles, incrustations and the like are -eschewed. Shaw explained to Daly that he wished nothing -in his abode that would collect dust. Even rugs are -tabooed.... Daly did not find the author a <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">poseur</i>, -but simply a man who was not an ordinary man....”</p> - -<p>That Shaw has a keen eye to business a great many -aspiring managers have discovered. He demands a royalty -of 15 per cent. of the gross receipts of his plays—considerably -more than all but the most famous dramatists -receive—and is careful and unsentimental in his negotiations.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span> -That he is now basking in the sun of prosperity -is very probable. Saving only Shakespeare, no -English author was better represented in the productions -of the winter of 1904–5. In addition Shaw is much in -demand as a lecturer and has no difficulty in finding a -publisher for whatever he chooses to write. In 1898 -he inherited the entailed estate of his maternal grandfather, -Walter Bagnall Gurley. He was married the -same year to Miss Charlotte Frances Payne-Townshend.</p> - -<p>“Who’s Who” says that Shaw’s favorite exercises -are swimming and cycling and that his recreation is “anything -except sport.” He is tall, lanky, and wears a -shaggy, red beard. He affects loose fitting flannel shirts -and heaps his curses upon the dress suit. He is a vegetarian, -a socialist, and many other things of a heterodox, -fearsome sort. He uses the typewriter in preference to -a pen, even for correspondence. He has travelled in -Europe and the Levant, and may soon come to America. -He refuses to use apostrophes in such words as don’t -and can’t, and affects thin spacing, after the German -style, instead of italics, to emphasize words. “Last season,” -says the sapient Mr. Daly, “he was a social freak; -now he is a legitimate amuser (sic!) of the people.”</p> - -<p>And so much for George Bernard Shaw.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="SHAKESPEARE_AND_SHAW">SHAKESPEARE AND SHAW</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_102.png" width="193" height="195" alt="S"/> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="firstword in03">Shaw’s</span> notion that Shakespeare’s plays—or, -at least, some of them—have been left -behind by the evolution of popular philosophy -and ideals is scarcely original with -him. As he himself points out, the Bard of Avon has -been burned in hot critical fire for many years, despite -the “Shakespeare fanciers” who hold him as a god. -Some of his plays, says Shaw, were so far ahead of their -time when they were first presented that it has taken -300 years of theater-goers to tire of the “long line of -disgraceful farces, melodramas, and stage-pageants -which actor-managers, from Garrick and Cibber to our -own contemporaries, have hacked out of them,” and to -understand performances of the texts as the poet wrote -them. By the same token, those plays which Shakespeare -himself “wrote down” to the level of his audience -have grown archaic in sentiment and character. -Dramas like “Anthony and Cleopatra,” says Shaw, will -nevermore be written, “nor relished by men in whose -philosophy guilt and innocence, and, consequently, revenge -and idolatry, have no meaning. Such men must -rewrite all the old plays in terms of their own -philosophy....”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span></p> - -<p>When this was published, as a preface to “Cæsar and -Cleopatra,” in “Three Plays for Puritans,” there was -a volcanic critical eruption, and ever since then the flames -have roared about the ingenious Irishman. He has delivered -lectures explaining his position, he has set forth -his views, elaborately and carefully, in print, and his -admirers have gone to his rescue—but a large party of -Shakespeare worshipers insist on clinging to the belief -that he has attempted to drag the bard from his pedestal -and himself climb upon it. Recently, in London, he delivered -a lecture designed to make clear his idea. Next -morning the London morning papers printed amazingly -confused reports of it, and to set himself right Shaw -wrote a letter to the <cite>Daily News</cite> containing 12 assertions, -which, like the 95 theses Luther nailed upon the -church door at Wittenberg, he desired should -make known the substance of his argument. Here they -are:</p> - -<p>“1. That the idolatry of Shakespeare which prevails -now existed in his own time, and got on the nerve of -Ben Jonson.</p> - -<p>“2. That Shakespeare was not an illiterate poaching -laborer who came up to London to be a horseboy, but a -gentleman with all the social pretensions of our higher -<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">bourgeoisie</i>.</p> - -<p>“3. That Shakespeare, when he became an actor, was -not a rogue and a vagabond, but a member and part proprietor -of a regular company, using, by permission, a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span> -nobleman’s name as its patron, and holding itself as exclusively -above the casual barnstormer as a Harley -Street consultant holds himself above a man with a sarsaparilla -stall.</p> - -<p>“4. That Shakespeare’s aim in business was to make -money enough to acquire land in Stratford, and to retire -as a country gentleman with a coat of arms and a good -standing in the county; and that this was not the ambition -of a <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">parvenu</i>, but the natural course for a member -of the highly respectable, though temporarily impecunious, -family of the Shakespeares.</p> - -<p>“5. That Shakespeare found that the only thing that -paid in the theater was romantic nonsense, and that when -he was forced by this to produce one of the most effective -samples of romantic nonsense in existence—a feat -which he performed easily and well—he publicly disclaimed -any responsibility for its pleasant and cheap falsehood -by borrowing the story and throwing it in the face -of the public with the phrase ‘As You Like It.’</p> - -<p>“6. That when Shakespeare used that phrase he meant -exactly what he said, and that the phrase ‘What You -Will,’ which he applied to ‘Twelfth Night,’ meaning -‘Call it what you please,’ is not, in Shakespearean or -any other English, the equivalent of the perfectly unambiguous -and penetratingly simple phrase ‘As You -Like It.’</p> - -<p>“7. That Shakespeare tried to make the public accept -real studies of life and character in—for instance—‘Measure<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span> -for Measure’ and ‘All’s Well That Ends -Well’; and that the public would not have them, and -remains of the same mind still, preferring a fantastic -sugar doll, like Rosalind, to such serious and dignified -studies of women as Isabella and Helena.</p> - -<p>“8. That the people who spoil paper and waste ink -by describing Rosalind as a perfect type of womanhood -are the descendants of the same blockheads whom -Shakespeare, with the coat of arms and the lands in -Warwickshire in view, had to please when he wrote plays -as they liked them.</p> - -<p>“9. Not, as has been erroneously stated, that I could -write a better play than ‘As You Like It,’ but that I -actually have written much better ones, and in fact, -never wrote anything, and never intend to write anything, -half so bad in matter. (In manner and art nobody -can write better than Shakespeare, because, carelessness -apart, he did the thing as well as it can be done -within the limits of human faculty.)</p> - -<p>“10. That to anyone with the requisite ear and command -of words, blank verse, written under the amazingly -loose conditions which Shakespeare claimed, with full -liberty to use all sorts of words, colloquial, technical, -rhetorical, and even obscurely technical, to indulge in -the most far-fetched ellipses, and to impress ignorant -people with every possible extremity of fantasy and affectation, -is the easiest of all known modes of literary expression, -and that this is why whole oceans of dull bombast<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span> -and drivel have been emptied on the head of England -since Shakespeare’s time in this form by people -who could not have written ‘Box and Cox’ to save their -lives. Also (this on being challenged) that I can write -blank verse myself more swiftly than prose, and that, -too, of full Elizabethan quality plus the Shakespearian -sense of the absurdity of it as expressed in the lines of -Ancient Pistol. What is more, that I have done it, published -it, and had it performed on the stage with huge -applause.</p> - -<p>“11. That Shakespeare’s power lies in his enormous -command of word music, which gives fascination to his -most blackguardly repartees and sublimity to his hollowest -platitudes.</p> - -<p>“12. That Shakespeare’s weakness lies in his complete -deficiency in that highest sphere of thought, in -which poetry embraces religion, philosophy, morality, -and the bearing of these on communities, which is sociology. -That his characters have no religion, no politics, -no conscience, no hope, no convictions of any sort. That -there are, as Ruskin pointed out, no heroes in Shakespeare. -That his test of the worth of life is the vulgar -hedonic test and that since life cannot be justified by -this or any other external test, Shakespeare comes out -of his reflective period a vulgar pessimist, oppressed with -a logical demonstration that life is not worth living, and -only surpassing Thackeray in respect to being fertile -enough, instead of repeating ‘Vanitas vanitatum’ at second<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span> -hand to work the futile doctrine differently and -better in such passages as ‘Out, out, brief candle.’”</p> - -<p>These twelve articles merely serve to arouse a new -storm of discussion and Shaw profited much thereby in -the advertising it gave him. In May, 1905, the controversy -had reached such a height that J. B. Fagan, a young -English dramatist, wrote a burlesque about it. The piece -was called “Shakespeare vs. Shaw” and was presented -at the Haymarket Theater, London. The scene of the -one act was a courtroom, in which the case between the -two playwrights was being tried. James Welsh, Miss -Winifred Emery, Cyril Maude, and other prominent -players were in the cast and the little <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">revue</i> evidently -made a fair success. At all events, its presentation was -a rather significant thing. Few dramatists, in their lifetimes, -see plays written about them.</p> - -<p class="p2 center wspace">THE END</p> - -<div class="chapter"><div class="transnote"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber’s Notes</h2> - -<p>Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made -consistent when a predominant preference was found -in the original book; otherwise they were not changed.</p> - -<p>Simple typographical errors were corrected; missing -quotation marks at the beginnings of chapters were left unbalanced; -a missing one within a paragraph was added.</p> - -<p>The Table of Contents had no page numbers.</p> - -<p>“Major Barbara” is listed in the Table of Contents, -but thereafter is mentioned only once, in a -sentence on <a href="#Page_99">page 99</a>.</p> - -<p>“Johnnisfeuer” may be a misspelling for “Johannisfeuer.”</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_7">Page 7</a>: “a chilly, waspish pig” was printed that way, but it may be -a misprint for “a chilly, waspish prig”.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_15">Page 15</a>: “Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde” was printed that way, but it is a -misprint for “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_49">Pages 49</a> and <a href="#Page_98">98</a>: -“The Admirable Bashville, or Constancy Rewarded” was printed -that way, but is a misprint for “The Admirable Bashville, or Constancy -Unrewarded”.</p> -</div></div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GEORGE BERNARD SHAW: HIS PLAYS ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin-top:1em; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most - other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions - whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms - of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online - at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you - are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this eBook. - </div> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. -</div> - -</div> -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/68209-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 49c45a1..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_000.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_000.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 9673e7e..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_000.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_001.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_001.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 164765c..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_001.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_009.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_009.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 47594be..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_009.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_015.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_015.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a90ae79..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_015.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_021.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_021.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 4e52b25..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_021.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_028.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_028.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index da466a6..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_028.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_033.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_033.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 4d38799..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_033.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_038.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_038.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7a368cc..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_038.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_045.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_045.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0e95222..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_045.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_049.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_049.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index bcd6537..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_049.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_053.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_053.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3818d7b..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_053.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_060.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_060.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 40d2f96..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_060.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_063.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_063.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 1cd6208..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_063.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_070.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_070.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8bc4d90..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_070.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_078.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_078.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0ac1430..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_078.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_082.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_082.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ab6d573..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_082.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_090.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_090.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 433b687..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_090.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68209-h/images/i_102.png b/old/68209-h/images/i_102.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index c97d70c..0000000 --- a/old/68209-h/images/i_102.png +++ /dev/null |
