Man And Superman

- By George Bernard Shaw
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Irish playwright, critic, and polemicist (1856–1950) "Bernard Shaw" redirects here. For other uses, see Bernard Shaw (disambiguation). George Bernard ShawShaw in 1911, by Alvin Langdon CoburnBorn(1856-07-26)26 July 1856Portobello, Dublin, IrelandDied2 November 1950(1950-11-02) (aged 94)Ayot St Lawrence, Hertfordshire, EnglandResting placeShaw's Corner, Ayot St LawrencePen nameBernard ShawOccupationWriterpolitical activistCitizenshipUnited Kingdom (1856–1950)Ireland (dual citizenship, 1934–1950)Spouse Charlotte Payne-Townshend ​ ​(m. 1898; died 1943)​Signature George Bernard Shaw (26 July 1856 – 2 November 1950), known at his insistence as Bernard Shaw, was an Irish playwright, critic, polemicist and political activist. His influence on Western theatre, culture and politics extended from the 1880s to his death and beyond. He wrote more than sixty plays, including major works such as Man and Superman (1902), Pygmalion (1913) and Saint Joan (1923). With a range incorporating both contemporary satire and historical allegory, Shaw became the leading dramatist of his generation, and in 1925 was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. Born in Dublin, Shaw moved to London in 1876, where he struggled to establish himself as a writer and novelist, and embarked on a rigorous process of self-education. By the mid-1880s he had become a respected theatre and music critic. Following a political awakening, he joined the gradualist Fabian Society and became its most prominent pamphleteer. Shaw had been writing plays for years before his first public success, Arms and the Man in 1894. Influenced by Henrik Ibsen, he sought to introduce a new realism into English-language drama, using his plays as vehicles to disseminate his political, social and religious ideas. By the early twentieth century his reputation as a dramatist was secured with a series of critical and popular successes that included Major Barbara, The Doctor's Dilemma, and Caesar and Cleopatra. Shaw's expressed views were often contentious; he promoted eugenics and alphabet reform, and opposed vaccination and organised religion. He courted unpopularity by denouncing both sides in the First World War as equally culpable, and although not a republican, castigated British policy on Ireland in the postwar period. These stances had no lasting effect on his standing or productivity as a dramatist; the inter-war years saw a series of often ambitious plays, which achieved varying degrees of popular success. In 1938 he provided the screenplay for a filmed version of Pygmalion for which he received an Academy Award. His appetite for politics and controversy remained undiminished; by the late 1920s, he had largely renounced Fabian Society gradualism, and often wrote and spoke favourably of dictatorships of the right and left—he expressed admiration for both Mussolini and Stalin. In the final decade of his life, he made fewer public statements but continued to write prolifically until shortly before his death, aged ninety-four, having refused all state honours, including the Order of Merit in 1946. Since Shaw's death scholarly and critical opinion about his works has varied, but he has regularly been rated among British dramatists as second only to Shakespeare; analysts recognise his extensive influence on generations of English-language playwrights. The word Shavian has entered the language as encapsulating Shaw's ideas and his means of expressing them. Life[edit] Early years[edit] Shaw's birthplace (2012 photograph). The plaque reads "Bernard Shaw, author of many plays, was born in this house, 26 July 1856". Shaw was born at 3 Upper Synge Street[n 1] in Portobello, a lower-middle-class part of Dublin.[2] He was the youngest child and only son of George Carr Shaw (1814–1885) and Lucinda Elizabeth (Bessie) Shaw (née Gurly; 1830–1913). His elder siblings were Lucinda (Lucy) Frances (1853–1920) and Elinor Agnes (1855–1876). The Shaw family was of English descent and belonged to the dominant Protestant Ascendancy in Ireland;[n 2] George Carr Shaw, an ineffectual alcoholic, was among the family's less successful members.[3] His relatives secured him a sinecure in the civil service, from which he was pensioned off in the early 1850s; thereafter he worked irregularly as a corn merchant.[2] In 1852 he married Bessie Gurly; in the view of Shaw's biographer Michael Holroyd she married to escape a tyrannical great-aunt.[4] If, as Holroyd and others surmise, George's motives were mercenary, then he was disappointed, as Bessie brought him little of her family's money.[5] She came to despise her ineffectual and often drunken husband, with whom she shared what their son later described as a life of "shabby-genteel poverty".[4] By the time of Shaw's birth, his mother had become close to George John Lee, a flamboyant figure well known in Dublin's musical circles. Shaw retained a lifelong obsession that Lee might have been his biological father;[6] there is no consensus among Shavian scholars on the likelihood of this.[7][8][9][10] The young Shaw suffered no harshness from his mother, but he later recalled that her indifference and lack of affection hurt him deeply.[11] He found solace in the music that abounded in the house. Lee was a conductor and teacher of singing; Bessie had a fine mezzo-soprano voice and was much influenced by Lee's unorthodox method of vocal production. The Shaws' house was often filled with music, with frequent gatherings of singers and players.[2] In 1862, Lee and the Shaws agreed to share a house, No. 1 Hatch Street, in an affluent part of Dublin, and a country cottage on Dalkey Hill, overlooking Killiney Bay.[12] Shaw, a sensitive boy, found the less salubrious parts of Dublin shocking and distressing, and was happier at the cottage. Lee's students often gave him books, which the young Shaw read avidly;[13] thus, as well as gaining a thorough musical knowledge of choral and operatic works, he became familiar with a wide spectrum of literature.[14] Between 1865 and 1871, Shaw attended four schools, all of which he hated.[15][n 3] His experiences as a schoolboy left him disillusioned with formal education: "Schools and schoolmasters", he later wrote, were "prisons and turnkeys in which children are kept to prevent them disturbing and chaperoning their parents."[16] In October 1871 he left school to become a junior clerk in a Dublin firm of land agents, where he worked hard, and quickly rose to become head cashier.[6] During this period, Shaw was known as "George Shaw"; after 1876, he dropped the "George" and styled himself "Bernard Shaw".[n 4] In June 1873, Lee left Dublin for London and never returned. A fortnight later, Bessie followed him; the two girls joined her.[6][n 5] Shaw's explanation of why his mother followed Lee was that without the latter's financial contribution the joint household had to be broken up.[20] Left in Dublin with his father, Shaw compensated for the absence of music in the house by teaching himself to play the piano.[6] London[edit] Early in 1876 Shaw learned from his mother that Agnes was dying of tuberculosis. He resigned from the land agents, and in March travelled to England to join his mother and Lucy at Agnes's funeral. He never again lived in Ireland, and did not visit it for twenty-nine years.[2] Shaw in 1879 Initially, Shaw refused to seek clerical employment in London. His mother allowed him to live free of charge in her house in South Kensington, but he nevertheless needed an income. He had abandoned a teenage ambition to become a painter, and had not yet thought of writing for a living, but Lee found a little work for him, ghost-writing a musical column printed under Lee's name in a satirical weekly, The Hornet.[2] Lee's relations with Bessie deteriorated after their move to London.[n 6] Shaw maintained contact with Lee, who found him work as a rehearsal pianist and occasional singer.[21][n 7] Eventually Shaw was driven to applying for office jobs. In the interim he secured a reader's pass for the British Museum Reading Room (the forerunner of the British Library) and spent most weekdays there, reading and writing.[25] His first attempt at drama, begun in 1878, was a blank-verse satirical piece on a religious theme. It was abandoned unfinished, as was his first try at a novel. His first completed novel, Immaturity (1879), was too grim to appeal to publishers and did not appear until the 1930s.[6] He was employed briefly by the newly formed Edison Telephone Company in 1879–80 and, as in Dublin, achieved rapid promotion. Nonetheless, when the Edison firm merged with the rival Bell Telephone Company, Shaw chose not to seek a place in the new organisation.[26] Thereafter he pursued a full-time career as an author.[27] For the next four years Shaw made a negligible income from writing, and was subsidised by his mother.[28] In 1881, for the sake of economy, and increasingly as a matter of principle, he became a vegetarian.[6] In the same year he suffered an attack of smallpox; eventually he grew a beard to hide the resultant facial scar.[29][n 8] In rapid succession he wrote two more novels: The Irrational Knot (1880) and Love Among the Artists (1881), but neither found a publisher; each was serialised a few years later in the socialist magazine Our Corner.[32][n 9] In 1880 Shaw began attending meetings of the Zetetical Society, whose objective was to "search for truth in all matters affecting the interests of the human race".[35] Here he met Sidney Webb, a junior civil servant who, like Shaw, was busy educating himself. Despite difference of style and temperament, the two quickly recognised qualities in each other and developed a lifelong friendship. Shaw later reflected: "You knew everything that I didn't know and I knew everything you didn't know ... We had everything to learn from one another and brains enough to do it".[36] William Archer, colleague and benefactor of Shaw Shaw's next attempt at drama was a one-act playlet in French, Un Petit Drame, written in 1884 but not published in his lifetime.[37] In the same year the critic William Archer suggested a collaboration, with a plot by Archer and dialogue by Shaw.[38] The project foundered, but Shaw returned to the draft as the basis of Widowers' Houses in 1892,[39] and the connection with Archer proved of immense value to Shaw's career.[40] Political awakening: Marxism, socialism, Fabian Society[edit] On 5 September 1882 Shaw attended a meeting at the Memorial Hall, Farringdon, addressed by the political economist Henry George.[41] Shaw then read George's book Progress and Poverty, which awakened his interest in economics.[42] He began attending meetings of the Social Democratic Federation (SDF), where he discovered the writings of Karl Marx, and thereafter spent much of 1883 reading Das Kapital. He was not impressed by the SDF's founder, H. M. Hyndman, whom he found autocratic, ill-tempered and lacking leadership qualities. Shaw doubted the ability of the SDF to harness the working classes into an effective radical movement and did not join it—he preferred, he said, to work with his intellectual equals.[43] After reading a tract, Why Are The Many Poor?, issued by the recently formed Fabian Society,[n 10] Shaw went to the society's next advertised meeting, on 16 May 1884.[45] He became a member in September,[45] and before the year's end had provided the society with its first manifesto, published as Fabian Tract No. 2.[46] He joined the society's executive committee in January 1885, and later that year recruited Webb and also Annie Besant, a fine orator.[45] "The most striking result of our present system of farming out the national Land and capital to private individuals has been the division of society into hostile classes, with large appetites and no dinners at one extreme, and large dinners and no appetites at the other" Shaw, Fabian Tract No. 2: A Manifesto (1884).[47] From 1885 to 1889 Shaw attended the fortnightly meetings of the British Economic Association; it was, Holroyd observes, "the closest Shaw had ever come to university education". This experience changed his political ideas; he moved away from Marxism and became an apostle of gradualism.[48] When in 1886–87 the Fabians debated whether to embrace anarchism, as advocated by Charlotte Wilson, Besant and others, Shaw joined the majority in rejecting this approach.[48] After a rally in Trafalgar Square addressed by Besant was violently broken up by the authorities on 13 November 1887 ("Bloody Sunday"), Shaw became convinced of the folly of attempting to challenge police power.[49] Thereafter he largely accepted the principle of "permeation" as advocated by Webb: the notion whereby socialism could best be achieved by infiltration of people and ideas into existing political parties.[50] Throughout the 1880s the Fabian Society remained small, its message of moderation frequently unheard among more strident voices.[51] Its profile was raised in 1889 with the publication of Fabian Essays in Socialism, edited by Shaw who also provided two of the essays. The second of these, "Transition", details the case for gradualism and permeation, asserting that "the necessity for cautious and gradual change must be obvious to everyone".[52] In 1890 Shaw produced Tract No. 13, What Socialism Is,[46] a revision of an earlier tract in which Charlotte Wilson had defined socialism in anarchistic terms.[53] In Shaw's new version, readers were assured that "socialism can be brought about in a perfectly constitutional manner by democratic institutions".[54] Novelist and critic[edit] The mid-1880s marked a turning point in Shaw's life, both personally and professionally: he lost his virginity, had two novels published, and began a career as a critic.[55] He had been celibate until his twenty-ninth birthday, when his shyness was overcome by Jane (Jenny) Patterson, a widow some years his senior.[56] Their affair continued, not always smoothly, for eight years. Shaw's sex life has caused much speculation and debate among his biographers, but there is a consensus that the relationship with Patterson was one of his few non-platonic romantic liaisons.[n 11] The published novels, neither commercially successful, were his two final efforts in this genre: Cashel Byron's Profession written in 1882–83, and An Unsocial Socialist, begun and finished in 1883. The latter was published as a serial in To-Day magazine in 1884, although it did not appear in book form until 1887. Cashel Byron appeared in magazine and book form in 1886.[6] William Morris (left) and John Ruskin: important influences on Shaw's aesthetic views In 1884 and 1885, through the influence of Archer, Shaw was engaged to write book and music criticism for London papers. When Archer resigned as art critic of The World in 1886, he secured the succession for Shaw.[61] The two figures in the contemporary art world whose views Shaw most admired were William Morris and John Ruskin, and he sought to follow their precepts in his criticisms.[61] Their emphasis on morality appealed to Shaw, who rejected the idea of art for art's sake, and insisted that all great art must be didactic.[62] Of Shaw's various reviewing activities in the 1880s and 1890s it was as a music critic that he was best known.[63] After serving as deputy in 1888, he became musical critic of The Star in February 1889, writing under the pen-name Corno di Bassetto.[64][n 12] In May 1890 he moved back to The World, where he wrote a weekly column as "G.B.S." for more than four years. In the 2016 version of the Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, Robert Anderson writes, "Shaw's collected writings on music stand alone in their mastery of English and compulsive readability."[66] Shaw ceased to be a salaried music critic in August 1894, but published occasional articles on the subject throughout his career, his last in 1950.[67] From 1895 to 1898, Shaw was the theatre critic for The Saturday Review, edited by his friend Frank Harris. As at The World, he used the by-line "G.B.S." He campaigned against the artificial conventions and hypocrisies of the Victorian theatre and called for plays of real ideas and true characters. By this time he had embarked in earnest on a career as a playwright: "I had rashly taken up the case; and rather than let it collapse I manufactured the evidence".[6] Playwright and politician: 1890s[edit] After using the plot of the aborted 1884 collaboration with Archer to complete Widowers' Houses (it was staged twice in London, in December 1892), Shaw continued writing plays. At first he made slow progress; The Philanderer, written in 1893 but not published until 1898, had to wait until 1905 for a stage production. Similarly, Mrs Warren's Profession (1893) was written five years before publication and nine years before reaching the stage.[n 13] Shaw in 1894 at the time of Arms and the Man Shaw's first play to bring him financial success was Arms and the Man (1894), a mock-Ruritanian comedy satirising conventions of love, military honour and class.[6] The press found the play overlong, and accused Shaw of mediocrity,[69] sneering at heroism and patriotism,[70] heartless cleverness,[71] and copying W. S. Gilbert's style.[69][n 14] The public took a different view, and the management of the theatre staged extra matinée performances to meet the demand.[73] The play ran from April to July, toured the provinces and was staged in New York.[72] It earned him £341 in royalties in its first year, a sufficient sum to enable him to give up his salaried post as a music critic.[74] Among the cast of the London production was Florence Farr, with whom Shaw had a romantic relationship between 1890 and 1894, much resented by Jenny Patterson.[75] The success of Arms and the Man was not immediately replicated. Candida, which presented a young woman making a conventional romantic choice for unconventional reasons, received a single performance in South Shields in 1895;[76] in 1897 a playlet about Napoleon called The Man of Destiny had a single staging at Croydon.[77] In the 1890s Shaw's plays were better known in print than on the West End stage; his biggest success of the decade was in New York in 1897, when Richard Mansfield's production of the historical melodrama The Devil's Disciple earned the author more than £2,000 in royalties.[2] In January 1893, as a Fabian delegate, Shaw attended the Bradford conference which led to the foundation of the Independent Labour Party.[78] He was sceptical about the new party,[79] and scorned the likelihood that it could switch the allegiance of the working class from sport to politics.[80] He persuaded the conference to adopt resolutions abolishing indirect taxation, and taxing unearned income "to extinction".[81] Back in London, Shaw produced what Margaret Cole, in her Fabian history, terms a "grand philippic" against the minority Liberal administration that had taken power in 1892. To Your Tents, O Israel! excoriated the government for ignoring social issues and concentrating solely on Irish Home Rule, a matter Shaw declared of no relevance to socialism.[80][82][n 15] In 1894 the Fabian Society received a substantial bequest from a sympathiser, Henry Hunt Hutchinson—Holroyd mentions £10,000. Webb, who chaired the board of trustees appointed to supervise the legacy, proposed to use most of it to found a school of economics and politics. Shaw demurred; he thought such a venture was contrary to the specified purpose of the legacy. He was eventually persuaded to support the proposal, and the London School of Economics and Political Science (LSE) opened in the summer of 1895.[83] By the later 1890s Shaw's political activities lessened as he concentrated on making his name as a dramatist.[84] In 1897 he was persuaded to fill an uncontested vacancy for a "vestryman" (parish councillor) in London's St Pancras district. At least initially, Shaw took to his municipal responsibilities seriously;[n 16] when London government was reformed in 1899 and the St Pancras vestry became the Metropolitan Borough of St Pancras, he was elected to the newly formed borough council.[86] In 1898, as a result of overwork, Shaw's health broke down. He was nursed by Charlotte Payne-Townshend, a rich Anglo-Irish woman whom he had met through the Webbs. The previous year she had proposed that she and Shaw should marry.[87] He had declined, but when she insisted on nursing him in a house in the country, Shaw, concerned that this might cause scandal, agreed to their marriage.[2] The ceremony took place on 1 June 1898, in the register office in Covent Garden.[88] The bride and bridegroom were both aged forty-one. In the view of the biographer and critic St John Ervine, "their life together was entirely felicitous".[2] There were no children of the marriage, which it is generally believed was never consummated; whether this was wholly at Charlotte's wish, as Shaw liked to suggest, is less widely credited.[89][90][91][92][93] In the early weeks of the marriage Shaw was much occupied writing his Marxist analysis of Wagner's Ring cycle, published as The Perfect Wagnerite late in 1898.[94] In 1906 the Shaws found a country home in Ayot St Lawrence, Hertfordshire; they renamed the house "Shaw's Corner", and lived there for the rest of their lives. They retained a London flat in the Adelphi and later at Whitehall Court.[95] Stage success: 1900–1914[edit] Gertrude Elliott and Johnston Forbes-Robertson in Caesar and Cleopatra, New York, 1906 During the first decade of the twentieth century, Shaw secured a firm reputation as a playwright. In 1904 J. E. Vedrenne and Harley Granville-Barker established a company at the Royal Court Theatre in Sloane Square, Chelsea to present modern drama. Over the next five years they staged fourteen of Shaw's plays.[96][n 17] The first, John Bull's Other Island, a comedy about an Englishman in Ireland, attracted leading politicians and was seen by Edward VII, who laughed so much that he broke his chair.[97] The play was withheld from Dublin's Abbey Theatre, for fear of the affront it might provoke,[6] although it was shown at the city's Royal Theatre in November 1907.[98] Shaw later wrote that William Butler Yeats, who had requested the play, "got rather more than he bargained for ... It was uncongenial to the whole spirit of the neo-Gaelic movement, which is bent on creating a new Ireland after its own ideal, whereas my play is a very uncompromising presentment of the real old Ireland."[99][n 18] Nonetheless, Shaw and Yeats were close friends; Yeats and Lady Gregory tried unsuccessfully to persuade Shaw to take up the vacant co-directorship of the Abbey Theatre after J. M. Synge's death in 1909.[102] Shaw admired other figures in the Irish Literary Revival, including George Russell[103] and James Joyce,[104] and was a close friend of Seán O'Casey, who was inspired to become a playwright after reading John Bull's Other Island.[105] Man and Superman, completed in 1902, was a success both at the Royal Court in 1905 and in Robert Loraine's New York production in the same year. Among the other Shaw works presented by Vedrenne and Granville-Barker were Major Barbara (1905), depicting the contrasting morality of arms manufacturers and the Salvation Army;[106] The Doctor's Dilemma (1906), a mostly serious piece about professional ethics;[107] and Caesar and Cleopatra, Shaw's counterblast to Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra, seen in New York in 1906 and in London the following year.[108] Now prosperous and established, Shaw experimented with unorthodox theatrical forms described by his biographer Stanley Weintraub as "discussion drama" and "serious farce".[6] These plays included Getting Married (premiered 1908), The Shewing-Up of Blanco Posnet (1909), Misalliance (1910), and Fanny's First Play (1911). Blanco Posnet was banned on religious grounds by the Lord Chamberlain (the official theatre censor in England), and was produced instead in Dublin; it filled the Abbey Theatre to capacity.[109] Fanny's First Play, a comedy about suffragettes, had the longest initial run of any Shaw play—622 performances.[110] Androcles and the Lion (1912), a less heretical study of true and false religious attitudes than Blanco Posnet, ran for eight weeks in September and October 1913.[111] It was followed by one of Shaw's most successful plays, Pygmalion, written in 1912 and staged in Vienna the following year, and in Berlin shortly afterwards.[112] Shaw commented, "It is the custom of the English press when a play of mine is produced, to inform the world that it is not a play—that it is dull, blasphemous, unpopular, and financially unsuccessful. ... Hence arose an urgent demand on the part of the managers of Vienna and Berlin that I should have my plays performed by them first."[113] The British production opened in April 1914, starring Sir Herbert Tree and Mrs Patrick Campbell as, respectively, a professor of phonetics and a cockney flower-girl. There had earlier been a romantic liaison between Shaw and Campbell that caused Charlotte Shaw considerable concern, but by the time of the London premiere it had ended.[114] The play attracted capacity audiences until July, when Tree insisted on going on holiday, and the production closed. His co-star then toured with the piece in the US.[115][116][n 19] Fabian years: 1900–1913[edit] Shaw in 1914, aged 57 In 1899, when the Boer War began, Shaw wished the Fabians to take a neutral stance on what he deemed, like Home Rule, to be a "non-Socialist" issue. Others, including the future Labour prime minister Ramsay MacDonald, wanted unequivocal opposition, and resigned from the society when it followed Shaw.[118] In the Fabians' war manifesto, Fabianism and the Empire (1900), Shaw declared that "until the Federation of the World becomes an accomplished fact we must accept the most responsible Imperial federations available as a substitute for it".[119] As the new century began, Shaw became increasingly disillusioned by the limited impact of the Fabians on national politics.[120] Thus, although a nominated Fabian delegate, he did not attend the London conference at the Memorial Hall, Farringdon Street in February 1900, that created the Labour Representation Committee—precursor of the modern Labour Party.[121] By 1903, when his term as borough councillor expired, he had lost his earlier enthusiasm, writing: "After six years of Borough Councilling I am convinced that the borough councils should be abolished".[122] Nevertheless, in 1904 he stood in the London County Council elections. After an eccentric campaign, which Holroyd characterises as "[making] absolutely certain of not getting in", he was duly defeated. It was Shaw's final foray into electoral politics.[122] Nationally, the 1906 general election produced a huge Liberal majority and an intake of 29 Labour members. Shaw viewed this outcome with scepticism; he had a low opinion of the new prime minister, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, and saw the Labour members as inconsequential: "I apologise to the Universe for my connection with such a body".[123] In the years after the 1906 election, Shaw felt that the Fabians needed fresh leadership, and saw this in the form of his fellow-writer H. G. Wells, who had joined the society in February 1903.[124] Wells's ideas for reform—particularly his proposals for closer cooperation with the Independent Labour Party—placed him at odds with the society's "Old Gang", led by Shaw.[125] According to Cole, Wells "had minimal capacity for putting [his ideas] across in public meetings against Shaw's trained and practised virtuosity".[126] In Shaw's view, "the Old Gang did not extinguish Mr Wells, he annihilated himself".[126] Wells resigned from the society in September 1908;[127] Shaw remained a member, but left the executive in April 1911. He later wondered whether the Old Gang should have given way to Wells some years earlier: "God only knows whether the Society had not better have done it".[128][129] Although less active—he blamed his advancing years—Shaw remained a Fabian.[130] In 1912 Shaw invested £1,000 for a one-fifth share in the Webbs' new publishing venture, a socialist weekly magazine called The New Statesman, which appeared in April 1913. He became a founding director, publicist, and in due course a contributor, mostly anonymously.[131] He was soon at odds with the magazine's editor, Clifford Sharp, who by 1916 was rejecting his contributions—"the only paper in the world that refuses to print anything by me", according to Shaw.[132] First World War[edit] "I see the Junkers and Militarists of England and Germany jumping at the chance they have longed for in vain for many years of smashing one another and establishing their own oligarchy as the dominant military power of the world." Shaw: Common Sense About the War (1914).[133] After the First World War began in August 1914, Shaw produced his tract Common Sense About the War, which argued that the warring nations were equally culpable.[6] Such a view was anathema in an atmosphere of fervent patriotism, and offended many of Shaw's friends; Ervine records that "[h]is appearance at any public function caused the instant departure of many of those present."[134] Despite his errant reputation, Shaw's propagandist skills were recognised by the British authorities, and early in 1917 he was invited by Field Marshal Haig to visit the Western Front battlefields. Shaw's 10,000-word report, which emphasised the human aspects of the soldier's life, was well received, and he became less of a lone voice. In April 1917 he joined the national consensus in welcoming America's entry into the war: "a first class moral asset to the common cause against junkerism".[135] Three short plays by Shaw were premiered during the war. The Inca of Perusalem, written in 1915, encountered problems with the censor for burlesquing not only the enemy but the British military command; it was performed in 1916 at the Birmingham Repertory Theatre.[136] O'Flaherty V.C., satirising the government's attitude to Irish recruits, was banned in the UK and was presented at a Royal Flying Corps base in Belgium in 1917. Augustus Does His Bit, a genial farce, was granted a licence; it opened at the Royal Court in January 1917.[137] Ireland[edit] Dublin city centre in ruins after the Easter Rising, April 1916 Shaw had long supported the principle of Irish Home Rule within the British Empire (which he thought should become the British Commonwealth).[138] In April 1916 he wrote scathingly in The New York Times about militant Irish nationalism: "In point of learning nothing and forgetting nothing these fellow-patriots of mine leave the Bourbons nowhere."[139] Total independence, he asserted, was impractical; alliance with a bigger power (preferably England) was essential.[139] The Dublin Easter Rising later that month took him by surprise. After its suppression by British forces, he expressed horror at the summary execution of the rebel leaders, but continued to believe in some form of Anglo-Irish union. In How to Settle the Irish Question (1917), he envisaged a federal arrangement, with national and imperial parliaments. Holroyd records that by this time the separatist party Sinn Féin was in the ascendency, and Shaw's and other moderate schemes were forgotten.[140] In the postwar period, Shaw despaired of the British government's coercive policies towards Ireland,[141] and joined his fellow-writers Hilaire Belloc and G. K. Chesterton in publicly condemning these actions.[142] The Anglo-Irish Treaty of December 1921 led to the partition of Ireland between north and south, a provision that dismayed Shaw.[141] In 1922 civil war broke out in the south between its pro-treaty and anti-treaty factions, the former of whom had established the Irish Free State.[143] Shaw visited Dublin in August, and met Michael Collins, then head of the Free State's Provisional Government.[144] Shaw was much impressed by Collins, and was saddened when, three days later, the Irish leader was ambushed and killed by anti-treaty forces.[145] In a letter to Collins's sister, Shaw wrote: "I met Michael for the first and last time on Saturday last, and am very glad I did. I rejoice in his memory, and will not be so disloyal to it as to snivel over his valiant death".[146] Shaw remained a British subject all his life, but took dual British-Irish nationality in 1934.[147] 1920s[edit] The rotating hut in the garden of Shaw's Corner, Ayot St Lawrence, where Shaw wrote most of his works after 1906 Shaw's first major work to appear after the war was Heartbreak House, written in 1916–17 and performed in 1920. It was produced on Broadway in November, and was coolly received; according to The Times: "Mr Shaw on this occasion has more than usual to say and takes twice as long as usual to say it".[148] After the London premiere in October 1921 The Times concurred with the American critics: "As usual with Mr Shaw, the play is about an hour too long", although containing "much entertainment and some profitable reflection".[149] Ervine in The Observer thought the play brilliant but ponderously acted, except for Edith Evans as Lady Utterword.[150] Shaw's largest-scale theatrical work was Back to Methuselah, written in 1918–20 and staged in 1922. Weintraub describes it as "Shaw's attempt to fend off 'the bottomless pit of an utterly discouraging pessimism'".[6] This cycle of five interrelated plays depicts evolution, and the effects of longevity, from the Garden of Eden to the year 31,920 AD.[151] Critics found the five plays strikingly uneven in quality and invention.[152][153][154] The original run was brief, and the work has been revived infrequently.[155][156] Shaw felt he had exhausted his remaining creative powers in the huge span of this "Metabiological Pentateuch". He was now sixty-seven, and expected to write no more plays.[6] This mood was short-lived. In 1920 Joan of Arc was proclaimed a saint by Pope Benedict XV; Shaw had long found Joan an interesting historical character, and his view of her veered between "half-witted genius" and someone of "exceptional sanity".[157] He had considered writing a play about her in 1913, and the canonisation prompted him to return to the subject.[6] He wrote Saint Joan in the middle months of 1923, and the play was premiered on Broadway in December. It was enthusiastically received there,[158] and at its London premiere the following March.[159] In Weintraub's phrase, "even the Nobel prize committee could no longer ignore Shaw after Saint Joan". The citation for the literature prize for 1925 praised his work as "... marked by both idealism and humanity, its stimulating satire often being infused with a singular poetic beauty".[160] He accepted the award, but rejected the monetary prize that went with it, on the grounds that "My readers and my audiences provide me with more than sufficient money for my needs".[161][n 20] After Saint Joan, it was five years before Shaw wrote a play. From 1924, he spent four years writing what he described as his "magnum opus", a political treatise entitled The Intelligent Woman's Guide to Socialism and Capitalism.[163] The book was published in 1928 and sold well.[2][n 21] At the end of the decade Shaw produced his final Fabian tract, a commentary on the League of Nations. He described the League as "a school for the new international statesmanship as against the old Foreign Office diplomacy", but thought that it had not yet become the "Federation of the World".[165] Shaw returned to the theatre with what he called "a political extravaganza", The Apple Cart, written in late 1928. It was, in Ervine's view, unexpectedly popular, taking a conservative, monarchist, anti-democratic line that appealed to contemporary audiences. The premiere was in Warsaw in June 1928, and the first British production was two months later, at Sir Barry Jackson's inaugural Malvern Festival.[2] The other eminent creative artist most closely associated with the festival was Sir Edward Elgar, with whom Shaw enjoyed a deep friendship and mutual regard.[166] He described The Apple Cart to Elgar as "a scandalous Aristophanic burlesque of democratic politics, with a brief but shocking sex interlude".[167] During the 1920s Shaw began to lose faith in the idea that society could be changed through Fabian gradualism, and became increasingly fascinated with dictatorial methods. In 1922 he had welcomed Mussolini's accession to power in Italy, observing that amid the "indiscipline and muddle and Parliamentary deadlock", Mussolini was "the right kind of tyrant".[168] Shaw was prepared to tolerate certain dictatorial excesses; Weintraub in his ODNB biographical sketch comments that Shaw's "flirtation with authoritarian inter-war regimes" took a long time to fade, and Beatrice Webb thought he was "obsessed" about Mussolini.[169] 1930s[edit] "We the undersigned are recent visitors to the USSR ... We desire to record that we saw nowhere evidence of economic slavery, privation, unemployment and cynical despair of betterment. ... Everywhere we saw [a] hopeful and enthusiastic working-class ... setting an example of industry and conduct which would greatly enrich us if our systems supplied our workers with any incentive to follow it." Letter to The Manchester Guardian, 2 March 1933, signed by Shaw and 20 others.[170] Shaw's enthusiasm for the Soviet Union dated to the early 1920s when he had hailed Lenin as "the one really interesting statesman in Europe".[171] Having turned down several chances to visit, in 1931 he joined a party led by Nancy Astor.[172] The carefully managed trip culminated in a lengthy meeting with Stalin, whom Shaw later described as "a Georgian gentleman" with no malice in him.[173] At a dinner given in his honour, Shaw told the gathering: "I have seen all the 'terrors' and I was terribly pleased by them".[174] In March 1933, he was a co-signatory to a letter in The Manchester Guardian protesting at the continuing misrepresentation of Soviet achievements: "No lie is too fantastic, no slander is too stale ... for employment by the more reckless elements of the British press."[170] Shaw's admiration for Mussolini and Stalin demonstrated his growing belief that dictatorship was the only viable political arrangement. When the Nazi Party came to power in Germany in January 1933, Shaw described Hitler as "a very remarkable man, a very able man",[175] and professed himself proud to be the only writer in England who was "scrupulously polite and just to Hitler";[176][n 22] though his principal admiration was for Stalin, whose regime he championed uncritically throughout the decade.[174] Shaw saw the 1939 Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact as a triumph for Stalin who, he said, now had Hitler under his thumb.[179] Shaw's first play of the decade was Too True to Be Good, written in 1931 and premiered in Boston in February 1932. The reception was unenthusiastic. Brooks Atkinson of The New York Times commenting that Shaw had "yielded to the impulse to write without having a subject", judged the play a "rambling and indifferently tedious conversation". The correspondent of the New York Herald Tribune said that most of the play was "discourse, unbelievably long lectures" and that although the audience enjoyed the play it was bewildered by it.[180] Shaw in 1936, aged 80 During the decade Shaw travelled widely and frequently. Most of his journeys were with Charlotte; she enjoyed voyages on ocean liners, and he found peace to write during the long spells at sea.[181] Shaw met an enthusiastic welcome in South Africa in 1932, despite his strong remarks about the racial divisions of the country.[182] In December 1932 the couple embarked on a round-the-world cruise. In March 1933 they arrived at San Francisco, to begin Shaw's first visit to the US. He had earlier refused to go to "that awful country, that uncivilized place", "unfit to govern itself ... illiberal, superstitious, crude, violent, anarchic and arbitrary".[181] He visited Hollywood, with which he was unimpressed, and New York, where he lectured to a capacity audience in the Metropolitan Opera House.[183] Harried by the intrusive attentions of the press, Shaw was glad when his ship sailed from New York harbour.[184] New Zealand, which he and Charlotte visited the following year, struck him as "the best country I've been in"; he urged its people to be more confident and loosen their dependence on trade with Britain.[185] He used the weeks at sea to complete two plays—The Simpleton of the Unexpected Isles and The Six of Calais—and begin work on a third, The Millionairess.[186] Despite his contempt for Hollywood and its aesthetic values, Shaw was enthusiastic about cinema, and in the middle of the decade wrote screenplays for prospective film versions of Pygmalion and Saint Joan.[187][188] The latter was never made, but Shaw entrusted the rights to the former to the unknown Gabriel Pascal, who produced it at Pinewood Studios in 1938. Shaw was determined that Hollywood should have nothing to do with the film, but was powerless to keep it from winning one Academy Award ("Oscar"); he described his award for "best-written screenplay" as an insult, coming from such a source.[189][n 23] He became the first person to have been awarded both a Nobel Prize and an Oscar.[192] In a 1993 study of the Oscars, Anthony Holden observes that Pygmalion was soon spoken of as having "lifted movie-making from illiteracy to literacy".[193] Shaw's final plays of the 1930s were Cymbeline Refinished (1936), Geneva (1936) and In Good King Charles's Golden Days (1939). The first, a fantasy reworking of Shakespeare, made little impression, but the second, a satire on European dictators, attracted more notice, much of it unfavourable.[194] In particular, Shaw's parody of Hitler as "Herr Battler" was considered mild, almost sympathetic.[177][179] The third play, an historical conversation piece first seen at Malvern, ran briefly in London in May 1940.[195] James Agate commented that the play contained nothing to which even the most conservative audiences could take exception, and though it was long and lacking in dramatic action only "witless and idle" theatregoers would object.[195] After their first runs none of the three plays were seen again in the West End during Shaw's lifetime.[196] Towards the end of the decade, both Shaws began to suffer ill health. Charlotte was increasingly incapacitated by Paget's disease of bone, and he developed pernicious anaemia. His treatment, involving injections of concentrated animal liver, was successful, but this breach of his vegetarian creed distressed him and brought down condemnation from militant vegetarians.[197] Second World War and final years[edit] Although Shaw's works since The Apple Cart had been received without great enthusiasm, his earlier plays were revived in the West End throughout the Second World War, starring such actors as Edith Evans, John Gielgud, Deborah Kerr and Robert Donat.[198] In 1944 nine Shaw plays were staged in London, including Arms and the Man with Ralph Richardson, Laurence Olivier, Sybil Thorndike and Margaret Leighton in the leading roles. Two touring companies took his plays all round Britain.[199] The revival in his popularity did not tempt Shaw to write a new play, and he concentrated on prolific journalism.[200] A second Shaw film produced by Pascal, Major Barbara (1941), was less successful both artistically and commercially than Pygmalion, partly because of Pascal's insistence on directing, to which he was unsuited.[201] "The rest of Shaw's life was quiet and solitary. The loss of his wife was more profoundly felt than he had ever imagined any loss could be: for he prided himself on a stoical fortitude in all loss and misfortune." St John Ervine on Shaw, 1959[2] Following the outbreak of war on 3 September 1939 and the rapid conquest of Poland, Shaw was accused of defeatism when, in a New Statesman article, he declared the war over and demanded a peace conference.[202] Nevertheless, when he became convinced that a negotiated peace was impossible, he publicly urged the neutral United States to join the fight.[201] The London blitz of 1940–41 led the Shaws, both in their mid-eighties, to live full-time at Ayot St Lawrence. Even there they were not immune from enemy air raids, and stayed on occasion with Nancy Astor at her country house, Cliveden.[203] In 1943, the worst of the London bombing over, the Shaws moved back to Whitehall Court, where medical help for Charlotte was more easily arranged. Her condition deteriorated, and she died in September.[203] Shaw's final political treatise, Everybody's Political What's What, was published in 1944. Holroyd describes this as "a rambling narrative ... that repeats ideas he had given better elsewhere and then repeats itself".[204] The book sold well—85,000 copies by the end of the year.[204] After Hitler's suicide in May 1945, Shaw approved of the formal condolences offered by the Irish Taoiseach, Éamon de Valera, at the German embassy in Dublin.[205] Shaw disapproved of the postwar trials of the defeated German leaders, as an act of self-righteousness: "We are all potential criminals".[206] Pascal was given a third opportunity to film Shaw's work with Caesar and Cleopatra (1945). It cost three times its original budget and was rated "the biggest financial failure in the history of British cinema".[207] The film was poorly received by British critics, although American reviews were friendlier. Shaw thought its lavishness nullified the drama, and he considered the film "a poor imitation of Cecil B. de Mille".[208] Garden of Shaw's Corner In 1946, the year of Shaw's ninetieth birthday, he accepted the freedom of Dublin and became the first honorary freeman of the borough of St Pancras, London.[2] In the same year the British government asked Shaw informally whether he would accept the Order of Merit. He declined, believing that an author's merit could only be determined by the posthumous verdict of history.[209][n 24] 1946 saw the publication, as The Crime of Imprisonment, of the preface Shaw had written 20 years previously to a study of prison conditions. It was widely praised; a reviewer in the American Journal of Public Health considered it essential reading for any student of the American criminal justice system.[210] Shaw continued to write into his nineties. His last plays were Buoyant Billions (1947), his final full-length work; Farfetched Fables (1948) a set of six short plays revisiting several of his earlier themes such as evolution; a comic play for puppets, Shakes versus Shav (1949), a ten-minute piece in which Shakespeare and Shaw trade insults;[211] and Why She Would Not (1950), which Shaw described as "a little comedy", written in one week shortly before his ninety-fourth birthday.[212] During his later years, Shaw enjoyed tending the gardens at Shaw's Corner. He died at the age of ninety-four of renal failure precipitated by injuries incurred when falling while pruning a tree.[212] He was cremated at Golders Green Crematorium on 6 November 1950. His ashes, mixed with those of Charlotte, were scattered along footpaths and around the statue of Saint Joan in their garden.[213][214] Works[edit] See also: List of works by George Bernard Shaw Plays[edit] Shaw published a collected edition of his plays in 1934, comprising forty-two works.[215] He wrote a further twelve in the remaining sixteen years of his life, mostly one-act pieces. Including eight earlier plays that he chose to omit from his published works, the total is sixty-two.[n 25] Early works[edit] 1890s Full-length plays Widowers' Houses The Philanderer Mrs Warren's Profession Arms and the Man Candida You Never Can Tell The Devil's Disciple Caesar and Cleopatra Captain Brassbound's Conversion Adaptation The Gadfly Short play The Man of Destiny Shaw's first three full-length plays dealt with social issues. He later grouped them as "Plays Unpleasant".[216] Widowers' Houses (1892) concerns the landlords of slum properties, and introduces the first of Shaw's New Women—a recurring feature of later plays.[217] The Philanderer (1893) develops the theme of the New Woman, draws on Ibsen, and has elements of Shaw's personal relationships, the character of Julia being based on Jenny Patterson.[218] In a 2003 study Judith Evans describes Mrs Warren's Profession (1893) as "undoubtedly the most challenging" of the three Plays Unpleasant, taking Mrs Warren's profession—prostitute and, later, brothel-owner—as a metaphor for a prostituted society.[219] Shaw followed the first trilogy with a second, published as "Plays Pleasant".[216] Arms and the Man (1894) conceals beneath a mock-Ruritanian comic romance a Fabian parable contrasting impractical idealism with pragmatic socialism.[220] The central theme of Candida (1894) is a woman's choice between two men; the play contrasts the outlook and aspirations of a Christian Socialist and a poetic idealist.[221] The third of the Pleasant group, You Never Can Tell (1896), portrays social mobility, and the gap between generations, particularly in how they approach social relations in general and mating in particular.[222] The "Three Plays for Puritans"—comprising The Devil's Disciple (1896), Caesar and Cleopatra (1898) and Captain Brassbound's Conversion (1899)—all centre on questions of empire and imperialism, a major topic of political discourse in the 1890s.[223] The three are set, respectively, in 1770s America, Ancient Egypt, and 1890s Morocco.[224] The Gadfly, an adaptation of the popular novel by Ethel Voynich, was unfinished and unperformed.[225] The Man of Destiny (1895) is a short curtain raiser about Napoleon.[226] 1900–1909[edit] 1900–1909 Full-length plays Man and Superman John Bull's Other Island Major Barbara The Doctor's Dilemma Getting Married Misalliance Short plays The Admirable Bashville How He Lied to Her Husband Passion, Poison, and Petrifaction The Shewing-Up of Blanco Posnet Press Cuttings The Fascinating Foundling The Glimpse of Reality Shaw's major plays of the first decade of the twentieth century address individual social, political or ethical issues. Man and Superman (1902) stands apart from the others in both its subject and its treatment, giving Shaw's interpretation of creative evolution in a combination of drama and associated printed text.[227] The Admirable Bashville (1901), a blank verse dramatisation of Shaw's novel Cashel Byron's Profession, focuses on the imperial relationship between Britain and Africa.[228] John Bull's Other Island (1904), comically depicting the prevailing relationship between Britain and Ireland, was popular at the time but fell out of the general repertoire in later years.[229] Major Barbara (1905) presents ethical questions in an unconventional way, confounding expectations that in the depiction of an armaments manufacturer on the one hand and the Salvation Army on the other the moral high ground must invariably be held by the latter.[230] The Doctor's Dilemma (1906), a play about medical ethics and moral choices in allocating scarce treatment, was described by Shaw as a tragedy.[231] With a reputation for presenting characters who did not resemble real flesh and blood,[232] he was challenged by Archer to present an on-stage death, and here did so, with a deathbed scene for the anti-hero.[233][234] Getting Married (1908) and Misalliance (1909)—the latter seen by Judith Evans as a companion piece to the former—are both in what Shaw called his "disquisitionary" vein, with the emphasis on discussion of ideas rather than on dramatic events or vivid characterisation.[235] Shaw wrote seven short plays during the decade; they are all comedies, ranging from the deliberately absurd Passion, Poison, and Petrifaction (1905) to the satirical Press Cuttings (1909).[236] 1910–1919[edit] 1910–1919 Full-length plays Fanny's First Play Androcles and the Lion Pygmalion Heartbreak House Short plays The Dark Lady of the Sonnets Overruled The Music Cure Great Catherine The Inca of Perusalem O'Flaherty V.C. Augustus Does His Bit Annajanska, the Bolshevik Empress In the decade from 1910 to the aftermath of the First World War Shaw wrote four full-length plays, the third and fourth of which are among his most frequently staged works.[237] Fanny's First Play (1911) continues his earlier examinations of middle-class British society from a Fabian viewpoint, with additional touches of melodrama and an epilogue in which theatre critics discuss the play.[77] Androcles and the Lion (1912), which Shaw began writing as a play for children, became a study of the nature of religion and how to put Christian precepts into practice.[238] Pygmalion (1912) is a Shavian study of language and speech and their importance in society and in personal relationships. To correct the impression left by the original performers that the play portrayed a romantic relationship between the two main characters Shaw rewrote the ending to make it clear that the heroine will marry another, minor character.[239][n 26] Shaw's only full-length play from the war years is Heartbreak House (1917), which in his words depicts "cultured, leisured Europe before the war" drifting towards disaster.[241] Shaw named Shakespeare (King Lear) and Chekhov (The Cherry Orchard) as important influences on the piece, and critics have found elements drawing on Congreve (The Way of the World) and Ibsen (The Master Builder).[241][242] The short plays range from genial historical drama in The Dark Lady of the Sonnets and Great Catherine (1910 and 1913) to a study of polygamy in Overruled; three satirical works about the war (The Inca of Perusalem, O'Flaherty V.C. and Augustus Does His Bit, 1915–16); a piece that Shaw called "utter nonsense" (The Music Cure, 1914) and a brief sketch about a "Bolshevik empress" (Annajanska, 1917).[243] 1920–1950[edit] 1920–1950 Full-length plays Back to Methuselah Saint Joan The Apple Cart Too True to Be Good On the Rocks The Simpleton of the Unexpected Isles The Millionairess Geneva In Good King Charles's Golden Days Buoyant Billions Short plays Village Wooing The Six of Calais Cymbeline Refinished Farfetched Fables Shakes versus Shav Why She Would Not Saint Joan (1923) drew widespread praise both for Shaw and for Sybil Thorndike, for whom he wrote the title role and who created the part in Britain.[244] In the view of the commentator Nicholas Grene, Shaw's Joan, a "no-nonsense mystic, Protestant and nationalist before her time" is among the 20th century's classic leading female roles.[240] The Apple Cart (1929) was Shaw's last popular success.[245] He gave both that play and its successor, Too True to Be Good (1931), the subtitle "A political extravaganza", although the two works differ greatly in their themes; the first presents the politics of a nation (with a brief royal love-scene as an interlude) and the second, in Judith Evans's words, "is concerned with the social mores of the individual, and is nebulous."[246] Shaw's plays of the 1930s were written in the shadow of worsening national and international political events. Once again, with On the Rocks (1933) and The Simpleton of the Unexpected Isles (1934), a political comedy with a clear plot was followed by an introspective drama. The first play portrays a British prime minister considering, but finally rejecting, the establishment of a dictatorship; the second is concerned with polygamy and eugenics and ends with the Day of Judgement.[247] The Millionairess (1934) is a farcical depiction of the commercial and social affairs of a successful businesswoman. Geneva (1936) lampoons the feebleness of the League of Nations compared with the dictators of Europe. In Good King Charles's Golden Days (1939), described by Weintraub as a warm, discursive high comedy, also depicts authoritarianism, but less satirically than Geneva.[6] As in earlier decades, the shorter plays were generally comedies, some historical and others addressing various political and social preoccupations of the author. Ervine writes of Shaw's later work that although it was still "astonishingly vigorous and vivacious" it showed unmistakable signs of his age. "The best of his work in this period, however, was full of wisdom and the beauty of mind often displayed by old men who keep their wits about them."[2] Music and drama reviews[edit] Music[edit] Shaw's collected musical criticism, published in three volumes, runs to more than 2,700 pages.[248] It covers the British musical scene from 1876 to 1950, but the core of the collection dates from his six years as music critic of The Star and The World in the late 1880s and early 1890s. In his view music criticism should be interesting to everyone rather than just the musical élite, and he wrote for the non-specialist, avoiding technical jargon—"Mesopotamian words like 'the dominant of D major'".[n 27] He was fiercely partisan in his columns, promoting the music of Wagner and decrying that of Brahms and those British composers such as Stanford and Parry whom he saw as Brahmsian.[66][250] He campaigned against the prevailing fashion for performances of Handel oratorios with huge amateur choirs and inflated orchestration, calling for "a chorus of twenty capable artists".[251] He railed against opera productions unrealistically staged or sung in languages the audience did not speak.[252] Drama[edit] In Shaw's view, the London theatres of the 1890s presented too many revivals of old plays and not enough new work. He campaigned against "melodrama, sentimentality, stereotypes and worn-out conventions".[253] As a music critic he had frequently been able to concentrate on analysing new works, but in the theatre he was often obliged to fall back on discussing how various performers tackled well-known plays. In a study of Shaw's work as a theatre critic, E. J. West writes that Shaw "ceaselessly compared and contrasted artists in interpretation and in technique". Shaw contributed more than 150 articles as theatre critic for The Saturday Review, in which he assessed more than 212 productions.[254] He championed Ibsen's plays when many theatregoers regarded them as outrageous, and his 1891 book Quintessence of Ibsenism remained a classic throughout the twentieth century.[255] Of contemporary dramatists writing for the West End stage he rated Oscar Wilde above the rest: "... our only thorough playwright. He plays with everything: with wit, with philosophy, with drama, with actors and audience, with the whole theatre".[256] Shaw's collected criticisms were published as Our Theatres in the Nineties in 1932.[257] Shaw maintained a provocative and frequently self-contradictory attitude to Shakespeare (whose name he insisted on spelling "Shakespear").[258] Many found him difficult to take seriously on the subject; Duff Cooper observed that by attacking Shakespeare, "it is Shaw who appears a ridiculous pigmy shaking his fist at a mountain."[259] Shaw was, nevertheless, a knowledgeable Shakespearian, and in an article in which he wrote, "With the single exception of Homer, there is no eminent writer, not even Sir Walter Scott, whom I can despise so entirely as I despise Shakespear when I measure my mind against his," he also said, "But I am bound to add that I pity the man who cannot enjoy Shakespear. He has outlasted thousands of abler thinkers, and will outlast a thousand more".[258] Shaw had two regular targets for his more extreme comments about Shakespeare: undiscriminating "Bardolaters", and actors and directors who presented insensitively cut texts in over-elaborate productions.[260][n 28] He was continually drawn back to Shakespeare, and wrote three plays with Shakespearean themes: The Dark Lady of the Sonnets, Cymbeline Refinished and Shakes versus Shav.[264] In a 2001 analysis of Shaw's Shakespearian criticisms, Robert Pierce concludes that Shaw, who was no academic, saw Shakespeare's plays—like all theatre—from an author's practical point of view: "Shaw helps us to get away from the Romantics' picture of Shakespeare as a titanic genius, one whose art cannot be analyzed or connected with the mundane considerations of theatrical conditions and profit and loss, or with a specific staging and cast of actors."[265] Political and social writings[edit] Shaw's political and social commentaries were published variously in Fabian tracts, in essays, in two full-length books, in innumerable newspaper and journal articles and in prefaces to his plays. The majority of Shaw's Fabian tracts were published anonymously, representing the voice of the society rather than of Shaw, although the society's secretary Edward Pease later confirmed Shaw's authorship.[46] According to Holroyd, the business of the early Fabians, mainly under the influence of Shaw, was to "alter history by rewriting it".[266] Shaw's talent as a pamphleteer was put to immediate use in the production of the society's manifesto—after which, says Holroyd, he was never again so succinct.[266] After the turn of the twentieth century, Shaw increasingly propagated his ideas through the medium of his plays. An early critic, writing in 1904, observed that Shaw's dramas provided "a pleasant means" of proselytising his socialism, adding that "Mr Shaw's views are to be sought especially in the prefaces to his plays".[267] After loosening his ties with the Fabian movement in 1911, Shaw's writings were more personal and often provocative; his response to the furore following the issue of Common Sense About the War in 1914, was to prepare a sequel, More Common Sense About the War. In this, he denounced the pacifist line espoused by Ramsay MacDonald and other socialist leaders, and proclaimed his readiness to shoot all pacifists rather than cede them power and influence.[268] On the advice of Beatrice Webb, this pamphlet remained unpublished.[269] The Intelligent Woman's Guide, Shaw's main political treatise of the 1920s, attracted both admiration and criticism. MacDonald considered it the world's most important book since the Bible;[270] Harold Laski thought its arguments outdated and lacking in concern for individual freedoms.[163][n 29] Shaw's increasing flirtation with dictatorial methods is evident in many of his subsequent pronouncements. A New York Times report dated 10 December 1933 quoted a recent Fabian Society lecture in which Shaw had praised Hitler, Mussolini and Stalin: "[T]hey are trying to get something done, [and] are adopting methods by which it is possible to get something done".[271] As late as the Second World War, in Everybody's Political What's What, Shaw blamed the Allies' "abuse" of their 1918 victory for the rise of Hitler, and hoped that, after defeat, the Führer would escape retribution "to enjoy a comfortable retirement in Ireland or some other neutral country".[272] These sentiments, according to the Irish philosopher-poet Thomas Duddy, "rendered much of the Shavian outlook passé and contemptible".[273] "Creative evolution", Shaw's version of the new science of eugenics, became an increasing theme in his political writing after 1900. He introduced his theories in The Revolutionist's Handbook (1903), an appendix to Man and Superman, and developed them further during the 1920s in Back to Methuselah. A 1946 Life magazine article observed that Shaw had "always tended to look at people more as a biologist than as an artist".[274] By 1933, in the preface to On the Rocks, he was writing that "if we desire a certain type of civilization and culture we must exterminate the sort of people who do not fit into it";[275] critical opinion is divided on whether this was intended as irony.[174][n 30] In an article in the American magazine Liberty in September 1938, Shaw included the statement: "There are many people in the world who ought to be liquidated".[274] Many commentators assumed that such comments were intended as a joke, although in the worst possible taste.[277] Otherwise, Life magazine concluded, "this silliness can be classed with his more innocent bad guesses".[274][n 31] Fiction[edit] Shaw's fiction-writing was largely confined to the five unsuccessful novels written in the period 1879–1885. Immaturity (1879) is a semi-autobiographical portrayal of mid-Victorian England, Shaw's "own David Copperfield" according to Weintraub.[6] The Irrational Knot (1880) is a critique of conventional marriage, in which Weintraub finds the characterisations lifeless, "hardly more than animated theories".[6] Shaw was pleased with his third novel, Love Among the Artists (1881), feeling that it marked a turning point in his development as a thinker, although he had no more success with it than with its predecessors.[278] Cashel Byron's Profession (1882) is, says Weintraub, an indictment of society which anticipates Shaw's first full-length play, Mrs Warren's Profession.[6] Shaw later explained that he had intended An Unsocial Socialist as the first section of a monumental depiction of the downfall of capitalism. Gareth Griffith, in a study of Shaw's political thought, sees the novel as an interesting record of conditions, both in society at large and in the nascent socialist movement of the 1880s.[279] Shaw's only subsequent fiction of any substance was his 1932 novella The Adventures of the Black Girl in Her Search for God, written during a visit to South Africa in 1932. The eponymous girl, intelligent, inquisitive, and converted to Christianity by insubstantial missionary teaching, sets out to find God, on a journey that after many adventures and encounters, leads her to a secular conclusion.[280] The story, on publication, offended some Christians and was banned in Ireland by the Board of Censors.[281] Letters and diaries[edit] "The strenuous literary life—George Bernard Shaw at work": 1904 caricature by Max Beerbohm Shaw was a prolific correspondent throughout his life. His letters, edited by Dan H. Laurence, were published between 1965 and 1988.[282] Shaw once estimated his letters would occupy twenty volumes; Laurence commented that, unedited, they would fill many more.[283] Shaw wrote more than a quarter of a million letters, of which about ten per cent have survived; 2,653 letters are printed in Laurence's four volumes.[284] Among Shaw's many regular correspondents were his childhood friend Edward McNulty; his theatrical colleagues (and amitiés amoureuses) Mrs Patrick Campbell and Ellen Terry; writers including Lord Alfred Douglas, H. G. Wells and G. K. Chesterton; the boxer Gene Tunney; the nun Laurentia McLachlan; and the art expert Sydney Cockerell.[285][n 32] In 2007 a 316-page volume consisting entirely of Shaw's letters to The Times was published.[286] Shaw's diaries for 1885–1897, edited by Weintraub, were published in two volumes, with a total of 1,241 pages, in 1986. Reviewing them, the Shaw scholar Fred Crawford wrote: "Although the primary interest for Shavians is the material that supplements what we already know about Shaw's life and work, the diaries are also valuable as a historical and sociological document of English life at the end of the Victorian age." After 1897, pressure of other writing led Shaw to give up keeping a diary.[287] Miscellaneous and autobiographical[edit] Through his journalism, pamphlets and occasional longer works, Shaw wrote on many subjects. His range of interest and enquiry included vivisection, vegetarianism, religion, language, cinema and photography,[n 33] on all of which he wrote and spoke copiously. Collections of his writings on these and other subjects were published, mainly after his death, together with volumes of "wit and wisdom" and general journalism.[286] Despite the many books written about him (Holroyd counts 80 by 1939)[289] Shaw's autobiographical output, apart from his diaries, was relatively slight. He gave interviews to newspapers—"GBS Confesses", to The Daily Mail in 1904 is an example[290]—and provided sketches to would-be biographers whose work was rejected by Shaw and never published.[291] In 1939 Shaw drew on these materials to produce Shaw Gives Himself Away, a miscellany which, a year before his death, he revised and republished as Sixteen Self Sketches (there were seventeen). He made it clear to his publishers that this slim book was in no sense a full autobiography.[292] Beliefs and opinions[edit] Shaw was a poseur and a puritan; he was similarly a bourgeois and an antibourgeois writer, working for Hearst and posterity; his didacticism is entertaining and his pranks are purposeful; he supports socialism and is tempted by fascism. —Leonard Feinberg, The Satirist (2006)[293] Throughout his lifetime Shaw professed many beliefs, often contradictory. This inconsistency was partly an intentional provocation—the Spanish scholar-statesman Salvador de Madariaga describes Shaw as "a pole of negative electricity set in a people of positive electricity".[294] In one area at least Shaw was constant: in his lifelong refusal to follow normal English forms of spelling and punctuation. He favoured archaic spellings such as "shew" for "show"; he dropped the "u" in words like "honour" and "favour"; and wherever possible he rejected the apostrophe in contractions such as "won't" or "that's".[295] In his will, Shaw ordered that, after some specified legacies, his remaining assets were to form a trust to pay for fundamental reform of the English alphabet into a phonetic version of forty letters.[6] Though Shaw's intentions were clear, his drafting was flawed, and the courts initially ruled the intended trust void. A later out-of-court agreement provided a sum of £8,300 for spelling reform; the bulk of his fortune went to the residuary legatees—the British Museum, the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art and the National Gallery of Ireland.[296][n 34] Most of the £8,300 went on a special phonetic edition of Androcles and the Lion in the Shavian alphabet, published in 1962 to a largely indifferent reception.[299] Shaw in 1905 Shaw's views on religion and Christianity were less consistent. Having in his youth proclaimed himself an atheist, in middle age he explained this as a reaction against the Old Testament image of a vengeful Jehovah. By the early twentieth century, he termed himself a "mystic", although Gary Sloan, in an essay on Shaw's beliefs, disputes his credentials as such.[300] In 1913 Shaw declared that he was not religious "in the sectarian sense", aligning himself with Jesus as "a person of no religion".[301] In the preface (1915) to Androcles and the Lion, Shaw asks "Why not give Christianity a chance?" contending that Britain's social order resulted from the continuing choice of Barabbas over Christ.[301] In a broadcast just before the Second World War, Shaw invoked the Sermon on the Mount, "a very moving exhortation, and it gives you one first-rate tip, which is to do good to those who despitefully use you and persecute you".[300] In his will, Shaw stated that his "religious convictions and scientific views cannot at present be more specifically defined than as those of a believer in creative revolution".[302] He requested that no one should imply that he accepted the beliefs of any specific religious organisation, and that no memorial to him should "take the form of a cross or any other instrument of torture or symbol of blood sacrifice".[302] Shaw espoused racial equality, and inter-marriage between people of different races.[303] Despite his expressed wish to be fair to Hitler,[176] he called anti-Semitism "the hatred of the lazy, ignorant fat-headed Gentile for the pertinacious Jew who, schooled by adversity to use his brains to the utmost, outdoes him in business".[304] In The Jewish Chronicle he wrote in 1932, "In every country you can find rabid people who have a phobia against Jews, Jesuits, Armenians, Negroes, Freemasons, Irishmen, or simply foreigners as such. Political parties are not above exploiting these fears and jealousies."[305] In 1903 Shaw joined in a controversy about vaccination against smallpox. He called vaccination "a peculiarly filthy piece of witchcraft";[306] in his view immunisation campaigns were a cheap and inadequate substitute for a decent programme of housing for the poor, which would, he declared, be the means of eradicating smallpox and other infectious diseases.[29] Less contentiously, Shaw was keenly interested in transport; Laurence observed in 1992 a need for a published study of Shaw's interest in "bicycling, motorbikes, automobiles, and planes, climaxing in his joining the Interplanetary Society in his nineties".[307] Shaw published articles on travel, took photographs of his journeys, and submitted notes to the Royal Automobile Club.[307] Shaw strove throughout his adult life to be referred to as "Bernard Shaw" rather than "George Bernard Shaw", but confused matters by continuing to use his full initials—G.B.S.—as a by-line, and often signed himself "G. Bernard Shaw".[308] He left instructions in his will that his executor (the Public Trustee) was to license publication of his works only under the name Bernard Shaw.[6] Shaw scholars including Ervine, Judith Evans, Holroyd, Laurence and Weintraub, and many publishers have respected Shaw's preference, although the Cambridge University Press was among the exceptions with its 1988 Cambridge Companion to George Bernard Shaw.[257] Legacy and influence[edit] Theatrical[edit] Shaw, arguably the most important English-language playwright after Shakespeare, produced an immense oeuvre, of which at least half a dozen plays remain part of the world repertoire. ... Academically unfashionable, of limited influence even in areas such as Irish drama and British political theatre where influence might be expected, Shaw's unique and unmistakable plays keep escaping from the safely dated category of period piece to which they have often been consigned. Oxford Encyclopedia of Theatre (2003)[240] Shaw did not found a school of dramatists as such, but Crawford asserts that today "we recognise [him] as second only to Shakespeare in the British theatrical tradition ... the proponent of the theater of ideas" who struck a death-blow to 19th-century melodrama.[309] According to Laurence, Shaw pioneered "intelligent" theatre, in which the audience was required to think, thereby paving the way for the new breeds of twentieth-century playwrights from Galsworthy to Pinter.[310] Crawford lists numerous playwrights whose work owes something to that of Shaw. Among those active in Shaw's lifetime he includes Noël Coward, who based his early comedy The Young Idea on You Never Can Tell and continued to draw on the older man's works in later plays.[311][312] T. S. Eliot, by no means an admirer of Shaw, admitted that the epilogue of Murder in the Cathedral, in which Becket's slayers explain their actions to the audience, might have been influenced by Saint Joan.[313] The critic Eric Bentley comments that Eliot's later play The Confidential Clerk "had all the earmarks of Shavianism ... without the merits of the real Bernard Shaw".[314] Among more recent British dramatists, Crawford marks Tom Stoppard as "the most Shavian of contemporary playwrights";[315] Shaw's "serious farce" is continued in the works of Stoppard's contemporaries Alan Ayckbourn, Henry Livings and Peter Nichols.[316] Shaw's complete plays Shaw's influence crossed the Atlantic at an early stage. Bernard Dukore notes that he was successful as a dramatist in America ten years before achieving comparable success in Britain.[317] Among many American writers professing a direct debt to Shaw, Eugene O'Neill became an admirer at the age of seventeen, after reading The Quintessence of Ibsenism.[318] Other Shaw-influenced American playwrights mentioned by Dukore are Elmer Rice, for whom Shaw "opened doors, turned on lights, and expanded horizons";[319] William Saroyan, who empathised with Shaw as "the embattled individualist against the philistines";[320] and S. N. Behrman, who was inspired to write for the theatre after attending a performance of Caesar and Cleopatra: "I thought it would be agreeable to write plays like that".[321] Assessing Shaw's reputation in a 1976 critical study, T. F. Evans described Shaw as unchallenged in his lifetime and since as the leading English-language dramatist of the (twentieth) century, and as a master of prose style.[322] The following year, in a contrary assessment, the playwright John Osborne castigated The Guardian's theatre critic Michael Billington for referring to Shaw as "the greatest British dramatist since Shakespeare". Osborne responded that Shaw "is the most fraudulent, inept writer of Victorian melodramas ever to gull a timid critic or fool a dull public".[323] Despite this hostility, Crawford sees the influence of Shaw in some of Osborne's plays, and concludes that though the latter's work is neither imitative nor derivative, these affinities are sufficient to classify Osborne as an inheritor of Shaw.[315] In a 1983 study, R. J. Kaufmann suggests that Shaw was a key forerunner—"godfather, if not actually finicky paterfamilias"—of the Theatre of the Absurd.[324] Two further aspects of Shaw's theatrical legacy are noted by Crawford: his opposition to stage censorship, which was finally ended in 1968, and his efforts which extended over many years to establish a National Theatre.[316] Shaw's short 1910 play The Dark Lady of the Sonnets, in which Shakespeare pleads with Queen Elizabeth I for the endowment of a state theatre, was part of this campaign.[325] Writing in The New Statesman in 2012 Daniel Janes commented that Shaw's reputation had declined by the time of his 150th anniversary in 2006 but had recovered considerably. In Janes's view, the many current revivals of Shaw's major works showed the playwright's "almost unlimited relevance to our times".[326] In the same year, Mark Lawson wrote in The Guardian that Shaw's moral concerns engaged present-day audiences, and made him—like his model, Ibsen—one of the most popular playwrights in contemporary British theatre.[327] The Shaw Festival in Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario, Canada is the second largest repertory theatre company in North America. It produces plays by or written during the lifetime of Shaw as well as some contemporary works.[328] The Gingold Theatrical Group, founded in 2006, presents works by Shaw and others in New York City that feature the humanitarian ideals that his work promoted.[329] It became the first theatre group to present all of Shaw's stage work through its monthly concert series Project Shaw.[330] General[edit] Bust by Jacob Epstein, 1934 In the 1940s the author Harold Nicolson advised the National Trust not to accept the bequest of Shaw's Corner, predicting that Shaw would be totally forgotten within fifty years.[331] In the event, Shaw's broad cultural legacy, embodied in the widely used term "Shavian", has endured and is nurtured by Shaw Societies in various parts of the world. The original society was founded in London in 1941 and survives; it organises meetings and events, and publishes a regular bulletin The Shavian. The Shaw Society of America began in June 1950; it foundered in the 1970s but its journal, adopted by Penn State University Press, continued to be published as Shaw: The Annual of Bernard Shaw Studies until 2004. A second American organisation, founded in 1951 as "The Bernard Shaw Society", remains active as of 2016[update]. More recent societies have been established in Japan and India.[332] Besides his collected music criticism, Shaw has left a varied musical legacy, not all of it of his choosing. Despite his dislike of having his work adapted for the musical theatre ("my plays set themselves to a verbal music of their own")[333] two of his plays were turned into musical comedies: Arms and the Man was the basis of The Chocolate Soldier in 1908, with music by Oscar Straus, and Pygmalion was adapted in 1956 as My Fair Lady with book and lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner and music by Frederick Loewe.[66] Although he had a high regard for Elgar, Shaw turned down the composer's request for an opera libretto, but played a major part in persuading the BBC to commission Elgar's Third Symphony, and was the dedicatee of The Severn Suite (1930).[66][334] The substance of Shaw's political legacy is uncertain. In 1921 Shaw's erstwhile collaborator William Archer, in a letter to the playwright, wrote: "I doubt if there is any case of a man so widely read, heard, seen, and known as yourself, who has produced so little effect on his generation."[335] Margaret Cole, who considered Shaw the greatest writer of his age, professed never to have understood him. She thought he worked "immensely hard" at politics, but essentially, she surmises, it was for fun—"the fun of a brilliant artist".[336] After Shaw's death, Pearson wrote: "No one since the time of Tom Paine has had so definite an influence on the social and political life of his time and country as Bernard Shaw."[335] In its obituary tribute to Shaw, The Times Literary Supplement concluded: He was no originator of ideas. He was an insatiable adopter and adapter, an incomparable prestidigitator with the thoughts of the forerunners. Nietzsche, Samuel Butler (Erewhon), Marx, Shelley, Blake, Dickens, William Morris, Ruskin, Beethoven and Wagner all had their applications and misapplications. By bending to their service all the faculties of a powerful mind, by inextinguishable wit, and by every artifice of argument, he carried their thoughts as far as they would reach—so far beyond their sources that they came to us with the vitality of the newly created.[337] Notes[edit] ^ Now (2016) known as 33 Synge Street.[1] ^ Shaw's biographer Michael Holroyd records that in 1689 Captain William Shaw fought for William III at the Battle of the Boyne, for which service he was granted a substantial estate in Kilkenny.[3] ^ The four schools were the Wesleyan Connexional School, run by the Methodist Church in Ireland; a private school near Dalkey; Dublin Central Model Boys' School; and the Dublin English Scientific and Commercial Day School.[15] ^ Shaw's loathing of the name George began in his childhood.[17] He never succeeded in persuading his mother and sister to stop calling him by the name, but he made it known that everyone else who had any respect for his wishes should refrain from using it—"I hate being George-d".[18] ^ By Shaw's account, Lee left Ireland because he had outgrown the musical possibilities of Dublin; in fact, Lee had overreached himself by trying to oust Sir Robert Stewart as the city's leading conductor. Stewart, professor of music at Trinity College, denounced him as a charlatan, and succeeded in driving him out.[19] ^ Shaw attributed the breach to Bessie's disillusion when Lee abandoned his distinctive teaching methods to pursue a cynically commercial exploitation of gullible pupils; others, including Holroyd, have suggested that Bessie was resentful that Lee's affections were turning elsewhere, not least to her daughter Lucy.[20][21] ^ Shaw had a passable baritone voice,[22] though he admitted that he was far outclassed as a singer by his sister Lucy, who had a career as a soprano with the Carl Rosa and D'Oyly Carte opera companies.[23][24] ^ Vegetarianism and the luxuriant beard were among the things with which Shaw became associated by the general public. He was also a teetotaller and non-smoker, and was known for his habitual costume of unfashionable woollen clothes, made for him by Jaeger.[6][30][31] ^ The Irrational Knot was eventually published in book form by Constable, in 1905;[33] Love Among the Artists was first published as a book in 1900, by H. S. Stone of Chicago.[34] ^ The Fabian Society was founded in January 1884 as a splinter group from the Fellowship of the New Life, a society of ethical socialists founded in 1883 by Thomas Davidson.[44] ^ Some writers, including Lisbeth J. Sachs, Bernard Stern and Sally Peters, believe Shaw was a repressed homosexual, and that after Jenny Patterson all his relationships with women, including his marriage, were platonic.[57] Others, such as Maurice Valency, suggest that at least one other of Shaw's relationships—that with Florence Farr—was consummated.[58] Evidence came to light in 2004 that a well-documented relationship between the septuagenarian Shaw and the young actress Molly Tompkins was not, as had been generally supposed, platonic.[59] Shaw himself stressed his own heterosexuality to St John Ervine ("I am the normal heterosexual man") and Frank Harris ("I was not impotent: I was not sterile; I was not homosexual; and I was extremely, though not promiscuously, susceptible").[60] ^ A corno di bassetto is the Italian name for an obsolete musical instrument, the basset horn. Shaw chose it as his pen name because he thought it seemed dashing: "it sounded like a foreign title and nobody knew what a corno di bassetto was". Only later did he hear one played, after which he declared it "a wretched instrument [of] peculiar watery melancholy. ... The devil himself could not make a basset horn sparkle".[65] ^ The first British production was at a private theatre club in 1902; the play was not licensed for public performance until 1925.[68] ^ Shaw was sensitive to the charge of emulating Gilbert. He insisted that it was Gilbert who was heartless, while he himself was constructive.[72] ^ With another election looming in 1895, the text of To Your Tents was modified, to become Fabian Tract No. 49, A Plan of Campaign For Labor.[46][80] ^ Shaw served on the vestry's Health Committee, the Officers Committee and the Committee for Public Lighting.[85] ^ At the Royal Court and then at the Savoy, the Shaw plays presented by the partnership between 1905 and 1908 were You Never Can Tell (177 performances), Man and Superman (176), John Bull's Other Island (121), Captain Brassbound's Conversion (89), Arms and the Man (77), Major Barbara (52), The Doctor's Dilemma (50), The Devil's Disciple (42), Candida (31), Caesar and Cleopatra (28), How He Lied to Her Husband (9), The Philanderer (8), Don Juan in Hell (8) and The Man of Destiny (8).[96] ^ Shaw often mocked the pretensions of the Gaelic League to represent modern-day Ireland—the League had, he said, been "invented in Bedford Park, London."[100] In a 1950 study of the Abbey Theatre, Peter Kavanagh wrote: "Yeats and Synge did not feel that Shaw belonged to the real Irish tradition. His plays would thus have no place in the Irish theatre movement". Kavanagh added, "an important part of Shaw's plays was political argument, and Yeats detested this quality in dramatic writing."[101] ^ In Tree's absence from the American production, his role, Professor Higgins, was successfully taken by Philip Merivale, who had played Colonel Pickering in London.[117] Campbell continued to romanticise the piece, contrary to Shaw's wishes.[115] ^ Shaw had been considered and rejected for a Nobel Prize four or five times before this.[162] He arranged for the prize money to be used to sponsor a new Anglo-Swedish Literary Foundation, for the translation into English of Swedish literature, including August Strindberg's plays.[2] ^ In 1937 the book was reissued, with additional chapters and an extended title, The Intelligent Woman's Guide to Socialism, Capitalism, Sovietism and Fascism, and was published by Penguin Books as the first in the new paperback series called Pelicans.[164] ^ Shaw was not alone in being initially deceived by Hitler. The former British prime minister David Lloyd George described the Führer in 1936 as "unquestionably a great leader".[177] A year later the former Labour Party leader George Lansbury recorded that Hitler "could listen to reason", and that "Christianity in its purest sense might have a chance with him".[178] ^ This did not prevent him from putting the award—a golden figurine—on his mantelpiece.[190] Shaw was one of four to receive the award, along with Ian Dalrymple, Cecil Lewis and W. P. Lipscomb, who had also worked on adapting Shaw's text.[191] ^ In the early 1920s Lloyd George had considered putting Shaw's name forward for the award, but concluded that it would be more prudent to offer it to J. M. Barrie, who accepted it. Shaw later said he would have refused it if offered, just as he refused the offer of a knighthood.[209] ^ The works Shaw omitted from his Complete Plays were Passion Play; Un Petit Drame; The Interlude at the Playhouse; Beauty's Duty; an untitled parody of Macbeth; A Glimpse of the Domesticity of Franklyn Barnabas and How These Doctors Love One Another!.[215] ^ In a 2003 encyclopaedia article on Shaw, Nicholas Grene writes, "The Cinderella story of the flower-girl turned into a lady by a professor of phonetics resulted in a lifelong struggle by Shaw, first with ... Tree and then with film producers, to prevent it being returned to stock with a 'happy' ending. This was a battle Shaw was to lose posthumously when the sugar-coated musical comedy adaptation, Lerner and Loewe's My Fair Lady (1956), went on to make more money for the Shaw estate than all his plays put together."[240] ^ In 1893 Shaw's column included his parody of music critics' idiom in a mock-academic analysis of Hamlet's "To be or not to be" soliloquy: "Shakespear, dispensing with the customary exordium, announces his subject at once in the infinitive, in which mood it is presently repeated after a short connecting passage in which, brief as it is, we recognize the alternative and negative forms on which so much of the significance of repetition depends. Here we reach a colon; and a pointed pository phrase, in which the accent falls decisively on the relative pronoun, brings us to the first full stop."[249] ^ In a 1969 study, John F. Matthews credits Shaw with a successful campaign against the two-hundred-year-old tradition of editing Shakespeare into "acting versions", often designed to give star actors greater prominence, to the detriment of the play as a whole.[261][262] Shaw was in favour of cuts intended to enhance the drama by omitting what he saw as Shakespearean rhetoric.[263] ^ In 1937 the book was reissued, with additional chapters and an extended title, The Intelligent Woman's Guide to Socialism, Capitalism, Sovietism and Fascism, and was published by Penguin Books as the first in the new paperback series called Pelicans.[164] ^ The science historian Daniel Kevles writes: "Shaw ... did not spare the eugenics movement his unpredictable mockery ... [he] acted the outrageous buffoon at times."[276] ^ In the 21st century Shaw's 1930s flirtations with fascism and his association with eugenics have been resurrected by American TV talk-show hosts to depict him as a "monster" and to similarly disparage the causes and institutions with which he was associated, most particularly the Fabian Society and socialism.[174] ^ Individual volumes have been published of the correspondence with Terry (issued 1931), Tunney (1951), Campbell (1952), Douglas (1982) and Wells (1995).[286] ^ Shaw was an enthusiastic amateur photographer from 1898 until his death, amassing about 10,000 prints and more than 10,000 negatives documenting his friends, travels, politics, plays, films and home life. The collection is archived at the London School of Economics; an exhibition of his photography, "Man & Cameraman", opened in 2011 at the Fox Talbot Museum in conjunction with an online exhibition presented by the LSE.[288] ^ The estate was officially assessed as worth £367,233 at the time of Shaw's death. Although death duties severely reduced the residuary sum, royalties from My Fair Lady later boosted the income of the estate by several million pounds.[297][298] References[edit] Citations[edit] ^ Peters 1996, p. 5. ^ a b c d e f g h i j k l m n Ervine 1959 DNB archive. ^ a b Holroyd 1997, p. 2. ^ a b Shaw 1969, p. 22. ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 5–6. ^ a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v Weintraub ODNB online 2013. ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 13–14. ^ Rosset 1964, pp. 105 and 129. ^ Dervin 1975, p. 56. ^ O'Donovan 1965, p. 108. ^ Bosch 1984, pp. 115–117. ^ Holroyd 1990, pp. 27–28. ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 23–24. ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 24 (literature) and 25 (music). ^ a b Holroyd 1997, pp. 19–21. ^ Shaw 1949, pp. 89–90. ^ Nothorcot 1964, p. 3. ^ Nothorcot 1964, pp. 3–4 and 9. ^ O'Donovan 1965, p. 75. ^ a b Westrup 1966, p. 58. ^ a b Holroyd 1997, pp. 40–41. ^ Pharand 2000, p. 24. ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 25 and 68. ^ Rollins and Witts 1962, pp. 54–55 and 58. ^ Laurence 1976, p. 8. ^ Peters 1996, pp. 56–57. ^ Holroyd 1997, p. 48. ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 48–49. ^ a b Holroyd 1997, pp. 55–56. ^ Peters 1996, pp. 102–103. ^ Pearce 1997, p. 127. ^ Holroyd 1990, p. 120. ^ Rodenbeck 1969, p. 67. ^ Love Among the Artists: WorldCat. ^ Bevir 2011, p. 155. ^ Holroyd 1990, pp. 172–173. ^ Pharand 2000, p. 6. ^ Adams 1971, p. 64. ^ Yde 2013, p. 46. ^ Holroyd 1997, p. 79. ^ Pearson 1964, p. 68. ^ Holroyd 1990, pp. 127–128. ^ Holroyd 1990, pp. 129–131. ^ Diniejko 2013. ^ a b c Cole 1961, pp. 7–8. ^ a b c d Fabian Tracts: 1884–1901. ^ Shaw: A Manifesto 1884. ^ a b Holroyd 1990, pp. 178–180. ^ Pelling 1965, p. 50. ^ Preece 2011, p. 53. ^ Holroyd 1990, pp. 182–183. ^ Shaw: Fabian Essays in Socialism 1889, pp. 182–183. ^ Holroyd 1990, p. 182. ^ Shaw: What Socialism Is 1890, p. 3. ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 72, 81 and 94. ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 92–94. ^ Peters 1996, p. 289. ^ Valency 1973, p. 89. ^ Owen 2004, p. 3. ^ Peters 1996, p. 171. ^ a b Holroyd 1997, pp. 81–83. ^ Crawford 1982, pp. 21 and 23. ^ Shaw and Laurence (Vol 1) 1981, p. 22. ^ Shaw and Laurence (Vol 1) 1981, pp. 16–17. ^ Shaw and Laurence (Vol 1) 1981, pp. 30–31. ^ a b c d Anderson: Grove Music Online. ^ Shaw and Laurence (Vol 3) 1981, p. 767. ^ The Times, 29 September 1925, p. 12. ^ a b The Standard, 23 April 1894, p. 2. ^ Fun, 1 May 1894, p. 179. ^ The Observer, 22 April 1894, p. 5. ^ a b Holroyd 1997, pp. 172–173. ^ The Sporting Times, 19 May 1894, p. 3. ^ Holroyd 1997, p. 173. ^ Peters 1998, pp. 138 and 210. ^ The Daily News, 1 April 1895, p. 2. ^ a b Evans 2003, pp. 75–78. ^ Pelling 1965, pp. 115–116. ^ Adelman 1996, p. 22. ^ a b c Holroyd 1990, pp. 270–272. ^ Pelling 1965, pp. 119–120. ^ Cole 1961, pp. 46–48. ^ Holroyd 1990, pp. 409–411. ^ Pelling 1965, p. 184. ^ Holroyd 1990, p. 414. ^ Holroyd 1990, p. 416. ^ Holroyd 1997, p. 249. ^ Holroyd 1997, p. 263. ^ Adams 1971, p. 154. ^ Carr 1976, p. 10. ^ Peters 1996, p. 218. ^ Weintraub 1982, p. 4. ^ Crawford 1975, p. 93. ^ Holroyd 1989, pp. 11–13. ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 261, 356 and 786. ^ a b The Observer, 8 March 1908, p. 8. ^ Holroyd 1997, p. 311. ^ Merriman 2010, pp. 219–20. ^ Broad and Broad 1929, p. 53. ^ Shaw 1998, p. 64. ^ Kavanagh 1950, p. 55. ^ Gahan 2010, pp. 10–11. ^ Gahan 2010, p. 8. ^ Gahan 2010, p. 14. ^ Gahan 2010, p. 1. ^ The Observer, 3 December 1905, p. 5. ^ The Manchester Guardian, 21 November 1906, p. 7. ^ Holroyd 1997, p. 217. ^ Laurence 1955, p. 8. ^ Gaye 1967, p. 1531. ^ Wearing 1982, p. 379. ^ Holroyd 1997, p. 440. ^ The New York Times, 23 November 1913, p. X6. ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 426–430. ^ a b Holroyd 1997, pp. 443–444. ^ The New York Times, 10 October 1914. ^ The New York Times, 13 October 1914. ^ Pelling 1965, pp. 187–188. ^ Shaw: Fabianism and the Empire 1900, p. 24. ^ McBriar 1962, p. 83. ^ Cole 1961, p. 90. ^ a b Holroyd 1989, pp. 46–47. ^ Holroyd 1989, pp. 125–126. ^ Holroyd 1989, pp. 129–133. ^ Holroyd 1989, pp. 142–145. ^ a b Cole 1961, p. 123. ^ Holroyd 1989, p. 259. ^ Cole 1961, p. 144. ^ Holroyd 1989, pp. 267–268. ^ Holroyd 1989, p. 318. ^ Smith 2013, pp. 38–42. ^ Holroyd 1989, pp. 319–321. ^ Shaw: Common Sense About the War 1914, p. 12. ^ Ervine 1956, p. 464. ^ Holroyd 1989, pp. 371–374. ^ Evans 2003, p. 110. ^ Evans 2003, pp. 112–113. ^ Clare 2016, p. 176. ^ a b Shaw: "Irish Nonsense About Ireland" 1916. ^ Holroyd 1989, pp. 390–391. ^ a b Holroyd 1993, p. 60. ^ Bennett 2010, p. 60. ^ Mackay 1997, pp. 251–254. ^ Mackay 1997, p. 280. ^ Holroyd 1993, p. 62. ^ Mackay 1997, pp. 296–297. ^ Holroyd 1989, p. 384. ^ The Times, 12 November 1920, p. 11. ^ The Times, 19 October 1921, p. 8. ^ Ervine 1921, p. 11. ^ Shaw 1934, pp. 855, 869, 891, 910–911, 938. ^ Ervine 1923, p. 11. ^ The Times, 15 October 1923, p. 11. ^ Rhodes 1923, p. 8. ^ Gaye 1967, p. 1357. ^ Drabble et al. 2007 "Back to Methuselah: A Metabiological Pentateuch". ^ Holroyd 1997, p. 520. ^ The Times, 9 December 1923, p. 8. ^ The Times, 27 March 1924, p. 12. ^ The Nobel Prize in Literature 1925. ^ Quoted in Kamm 1999, p. 74. ^ Holroyd 1997, p. 530. ^ a b Holroyd 1993, pp. 128–131. ^ a b Holroyd 1993, p. 373. ^ Shaw: The League of Nations 1929, pp. 6 and 11. ^ Young 1973, p. 240. ^ Weintraub 2002, p. 7. ^ Holroyd 1993, p. 143. ^ Holroyd 1993, p. 146. ^ a b Shaw et al.: "Social Conditions in Russia", 2 March 1933. ^ Holroyd 1993, p. 226. ^ Holroyd 1993, pp. 233–234. ^ Weintraub: "GBS and the Despots", 22 August 2011. ^ a b c d Nestruck 2011. ^ Geduld 1961, pp. 11–12. ^ a b Holroyd 1993, p. 421. ^ a b Holroyd 1993, p. 404. ^ Shepherd 2002, p. 341. ^ a b Geduld 1961, pp. 15–16. ^ The Manchester Guardian, 2 March 1932, p. 12. ^ a b Laurence 1985, pp. 279–282. ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 640–642. ^ Laurence 1985, p. 288. ^ Laurence 1985, p. 292. ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 668 and 670. ^ Holroyd 1997, p. 667. ^ Laurence 1985, p. 285. ^ Weales 1969, p. 80. ^ Holroyd 1997, p. 715. ^ Pascal 1971, p. 86. ^ Burton and Chibnall 2013, p. 715. ^ Peters 1998, p. 257. ^ Holden 1993, p. 141. ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 718 and 724. ^ a b Evans 1976, p. 360. ^ Gaye 1967, pp. 1391 and 1406. ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 698 and 747. ^ Holroyd 1997, p. 737. ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 737–738. ^ Holroyd 1997, p. 738. ^ a b Holroyd 1997, pp. 742–743. ^ Holroyd 1993, p. 427. ^ a b Holroyd 1997, pp. 744–747. ^ a b Holroyd 1993, pp. 480–481. ^ Geduld 1961, p. 18. ^ Holroyd 1993, p. 483. ^ Holroyd 1993, p. 477. ^ Holroyd 1997, p. 768. ^ a b Martin 2007, p. 484. ^ Broughton 1946, p. 808. ^ Holroyd 1993, pp. 486–488. ^ a b Holroyd 1993, pp. 508–511. ^ Holroyd 1993, p. 515. ^ Tyson 1982, p. 116. ^ a b Shaw 1934, pp. vii–viii. ^ a b Holroyd 1990, pp. 400–405. ^ Powell 1998, pp. 74–78. ^ Evans 2003, pp. 28–30. ^ Evans 2003, p. 31. ^ Evans 2003, pp. 34–35. ^ Peters 1998, p. 18. ^ Evans 2003, pp. 38–39. ^ Evans 2003, p. 41. ^ Shaw 1934, pp. 218, 250 and 297. ^ Innes "Introduction" 1998, p. xxi. ^ Wikander 1998, p. 196. ^ Evans 2003, p. 49. ^ Evans 2003, pp. 46–47. ^ Gaye 1967, p. 1410. ^ Evans 2003, pp. 62–65. ^ Shaw 1934, p. 503. ^ Beerbohm 1962, p. 8. ^ Shaw 1934, p. 540. ^ Holroyd 2012. ^ Sharp 1959, pp. 103 and 105. ^ Evans 2003, pp. 80 and 82. ^ Gaye 1967, pp. 1366 and 1466. ^ Evans 2003, pp. 99–101. ^ Evans 2003, pp. 101 and 104. ^ a b c Grene 2003 Oxford Encyclopedia of Theatre. ^ a b Dervin 1975, p. 286. ^ Holroyd 1993, p. 10. ^ Evans 2003, pp. 106–114. ^ Croall 2008, pp. 166 and 169. ^ Holroyd 1993, p. 161. ^ Evans 2003, p. 154. ^ Evans 2003, pp. 163–168. ^ Shaw and Laurence (Vol 3) 1981, pp. 805–925. ^ Shaw and Laurence (Vol 2) 1981, p. 898. ^ Shaw and Laurence (Vol 2) 1981, p. 429. ^ Shaw and Laurence (Vol 2) 1981, pp. 245–246. ^ Shaw and Laurence (Vol 1) 1981, p. 14. ^ Berst 1998, p. 71. ^ West 1952, p. 204. ^ Berst 1998, p. 56. ^ Berst 1998, pp. 67–68. ^ a b Evans 2003, pp. 210–211. ^ a b Pierce 2011, pp. 118–119. ^ Cooper 1953, p. 40. ^ Pierce 2011, pp. 121 and 129. ^ Matthews 1969, pp. 16–17. ^ Pierce 2011, pp. 120–121. ^ Pierce 2011, p. 127. ^ Pierce 2011, p. 131. ^ Pierce 2011, p. 129. ^ a b Holroyd 1989, p. 132. ^ Hoffsten 1904, p. 219. ^ Griffith 1993, p. 228. ^ Holroyd 1989, p. 361. ^ Wallis 1991, p. 185. ^ The New York Times, 10 December 1933. ^ Shaw: Everybody's Political What's What 1944, pp. 137 and 249. ^ Merriman 2010, pp. 219–220. ^ a b c Life editorial: "All honor to his genius ...", 12 August 1946, p. 26. ^ Shaw: Preface, On the Rocks (Section: "Previous Attempts miss the Point") 1933. ^ Kevles 1995, p. 86. ^ Searle 1976, p. 92. ^ Holroyd 1989, pp. 96–97. ^ Griffith 1993, p. 26. ^ Kent 2008, pp. 278–279. ^ Kent 2008, p. 291. ^ Wisenthal 1998, p. 305. ^ Weales, p. 520. ^ Crawford 1990, p. 148. ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 94–95 (McNulty), 197–198 (Terry), 534 (Chesterton), 545–547 (Campbell), 604–606 (Tunney), 606–610 (Cockerell and McLachlan), and 833 (Wells). ^ a b c Pharand: Shaw chronology 2015. ^ Crawford 1988, pp. 142–143. ^ Kennedy, The Guardian, 5 July 2011. ^ Holroyd 1993, p. 367. ^ Hugo 1999, pp. 22–23. ^ Leary 1971, pp. 3–11. ^ Holroyd 1993, p. 495. ^ Feinberg 2006, p. 164. ^ Evans 1976, p. 365. ^ Conolly 2005, pp. 80–81. ^ Holroyd 1992, pp. 16–21. ^ The Times, 24 March 1951, p. 8. ^ The Times, 7 April 1992, p. 1(S). ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 800–804. ^ a b Sloan: The religion of George Bernard Shaw 2004. ^ a b Holroyd 1989, p. 287. ^ a b Religion: Creative Revolutionary: Time, December 1950. ^ Holroyd 1997, pp. 643–647. ^ Holroyd 1997, p. 543. ^ Holroyd 1997, p. 733. ^ Shaw and Laurence 1965, p. 448. ^ a b Dukore et al. 1994, p. 268. ^ Nothorcot 1964, pp. 3–5. ^ Crawford 1993, p. 103. ^ Crawford 1993, p. 103 (Crawford quotes Laurence, but does not state the source). ^ Crawford 1993, pp. 104–105. ^ Coward 2004, pp. 114–115. ^ Crawford 1993, p. 107. ^ Bentley 1968, p. 144. ^ a b Crawford 1993, p. 108. ^ a b Crawford 1993, p. 109. ^ Dukore 1992, p. 128. ^ Alexander 1959, p. 307. ^ Dukore 1992, p. 132. ^ Dukore 1992, p. 133. ^ Dukore 1992, p. 134. ^ Evans 1976, p. 1. ^ Osborne 1977, p. 12. ^ Kaufmann 1965, p. 11. ^ Holroyd 1989, pp. 270–71. ^ Janes, New Statesman, 20 July 2012. ^ Lawson, The Guardian, 11 July 2012. ^ Walker, Craig S.; Wise, Jennifer (9 July 2003). The Broadview Anthology of Drama, Volume 2: The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries. Broadview Press. p. 205. ^ Smith, Wendy. "The Shaw Must Go On: David Staller Makes the Case for the Writer’s Many Facets", American Theatre, November 2014, accessed 3 June 2018 ^ Keddy, Genevieve Rafter. "Project Shaw Presents Super Shaw Women, 18 July 2017, accessed 3 June 2018 ^ Dukore et al. 1994, p. 266. ^ Weintraub: Shaw Societies Once and Now. ^ Reed 1939, p. 142. ^ Reed 1939, pp. 138 and 142. ^ a b Morgan 1951, p. 100. ^ Cole 1949, p. 148. ^ Tomlinson 1950, p. 709. Sources[edit] Books[edit] Adams, Elsie Bonita (1971). Bernard Shaw and the Aesthetes. Columbus: Ohio State University Press. ISBN 978-0-8142-0155-8. Adelman, Paul (1996). The Rise of the Labour Party 1880–1945. Abingdon, Oxfordshire: Routledge. ISBN 978-0-582-29210-9. Bennett, Richard (2010). The Black and Tans. Barnsley, Yorkshire: Pen & Sword Books. ISBN 978-1-84884-384-4. Bentley, Eric (1968). What is Theatre?. New York: Atheneum. OCLC 237869445. Berst, Charles. "New theatres for old". In Innes (1998). Bevir, Mark (2011). The Making of British Socialism. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press. ISBN 978-0-691-15083-3. Broad, Charlie Lewis; Broad, Violet M. (1929). Dictionary to the Plays and Novels of Bernard Shaw. New York: Haskell House. OCLC 2410241. Burton, Alan; Chibnall, Steve (2013). Historical Dictionary of British Cinema. London: Scarecrow Press. ISBN 978-0-8108-8026-9. Carr, Pat (1976). Bernard Shaw. New York: Ungar. OCLC 2073986. Clare, David (2016). Bernard Shaw's Irish Outlook. Basingstoke, Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan. ISBN 978-1-349-55433-1. Cole, Margaret (1949). Growing up into Revolution. London and New York: Longmans, Green. OCLC 186313752. Cole, Margaret (1961). The Story of Fabian Socialism. London: Heinemann. ISBN 978-0-8047-0091-7. OCLC 314706123. Conolly, L. W. (2005). "Introduction". Bernard Shaw: "Mrs Warren's Profession". Peterborough, Ontario: Broadview Press. ISBN 978-1-55111-627-3. Cooper, Duff (1953). Old Men Forget. London: Rupert Hart-Davis. OCLC 5748826. Coward, Noël (2004) [1932]. Present Indicative – Autobiography to 1931. London: Methuen. ISBN 978-0-413-77413-2. Crawford, Fred D. (1993). "Shaw's British Inheritors". In Bertolini, John Anthony (ed.). Shaw and Other Playwrights. University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press. ISBN 978-0-271-00908-7. Croall, Jonathan (2008). Sybil Thorndike. London: Haus. ISBN 978-1-905791-92-7. Dervin, Daniel (1975). Bernard Shaw: A Psychological Study. Lewisburg, Pennsylvania: Bucknell University Press. ISBN 978-0-8387-1418-8. Dukore, Bernard F. (1992). "Shaw and American Drama". Shaw and the Last Hundred Years. University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press. ISBN 978-0-271-01324-4. Ervine, St John (1956). Bernard Shaw: His Life, Work and Friends. London: Constable. OCLC 37129043. Drabble, Margaret; Stringer, Jemmy; Hahn, Daniel (2007). "Back to Methuselah: A Metabiological Pentateuch". The Concise Oxford Companion to English Literature. Oxford: Oxford University Press. ISBN 978-0-19-921492-1. Evans, Judith (2003). The Politics and Plays of Bernard Shaw. London: McFarland. ISBN 978-0-7864-1323-2. Evans, T.F. (1976). George Bernard Shaw: The Critical Heritage. London: Routledge. ISBN 978-0-415-15953-1. Feinberg, Leonard (2006). The Satirist. New Brunswick, New Jersey: Transaction Publishers. ISBN 978-1-4128-0562-9. Gaye, Freda, ed. (1967). Who's Who in the Theatre (fourteenth ed.). London: Sir Isaac Pitman and Sons. OCLC 5997224. Griffith, Gareth (1993). Socialism and Superior Brains: The Political Thought of George Bernard Shaw. London: Routledge. ISBN 978-0-203-21083-3. Holden, Anthony (1993). Behind the Oscar: The Secret History of the Academy Awards. New York: Simon & Schuster. ISBN 978-0-671-70129-1. Holroyd, Michael (1990). Bernard Shaw, Volume 1: 1856–1898: The Search for Love. London: Penguin. ISBN 978-0-14-012441-5. Holroyd, Michael (1989). Bernard Shaw, Volume 2: 1898–1918: The Pursuit of Power. London: Chatto & Windus. ISBN 978-0-7011-3350-4. Holroyd, Michael (1993). Bernard Shaw, Volume 3: 1918–1950: The Lure of Fantasy. London: Penguin. ISBN 978-0-14-012443-9. Holroyd, Michael (1992). Bernard Shaw, Volume 4: The Last Laugh. London: Chatto & Windus. ISBN 978-0-7011-4583-5. Holroyd, Michael (1997). Bernard Shaw: The One-Volume Definitive Edition. London: Chatto & Windus. ISBN 978-0-7011-6279-5. Hugo, Leon (1999). Edwardian Shaw: The Writer and his Age. London: Macmillan. ISBN 978-1-349-40737-8. Innes, Christopher (1998). Christopher Innes (ed.). The Cambridge Companion to George Bernard Shaw. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. ISBN 978-0-521-56633-9. Innes, Christopher. Introduction. In Innes (1998). Kamm, Jürgen (1999). Twentieth-century Theatre and Drama. Trier, Germany: WVT. ISBN 978-3-88476-333-9. Kaufmann, R.J. (1965). G.B. Shaw: A Collection of Critical Essays. Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice Hall. OCLC 711587. Kavanagh, Peter (1950). The Story of the Abbey Theatre: From its Origins in 1899 to the Present. New York: Devin-Adair. OCLC 757711. Kevles, Daniel J. (1995). In the Name of Eugenics: Genetics and the Uses of Human Heredity. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. ISBN 978-0-520-05763-0. Laurence, Dan (1976). Shaw, Books, and Libraries. Austin: University of Texas. ISBN 978-0-87959-022-2. McBriar, A. M. (1962). Fabian Socialism and English Politics, 1884–1918. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. OCLC 266090. Mackay, James (1997). Michael Collins: A Life. Edinburgh: Mainstream Publications. ISBN 978-1-85158-949-4. Martin, Stanley (2007). "George Bernard Shaw". The Order of Merit. London: Taurus. ISBN 978-1-86064-848-9. Matthews, John F. (1969). George Bernard Shaw. New York: Columbia University Press. ISBN 978-0-231-03145-5. O'Donovan, John (1965). Shaw and the Charlatan Genius. Dublin: Dolman Press and Oxford University Press. OCLC 923954974. Pascal, Valerie (1971). The Disciple and his Devil: Gabriel Pascal and Bernard Shaw. London: Michael Joseph. OCLC 740749440. Pearce, Joseph (1997). Wisdom and Innocence: A Life of G. K. Chesterton. London: Hodder & Stoughton. ISBN 978-0-340-69434-3. Pearson, Hesketh (1964). Bernard Shaw. London: Four Square Books. OCLC 222140216. Pelling, Henry (1965). The Origins of the Labour Party. Oxford: Oxford University Press. OCLC 502185. Peters, Sally (1996). Bernard Shaw: The Ascent of the Superman. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. ISBN 978-0-300-06097-3. Peters, Sally. "Shaw's life: a feminist in spite of himself". In Innes (1998). Pharand, Michel (2000). Bernard Shaw and the French. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. ISBN 978-0-8130-1828-7. Powell, Kerry. "New Women, new plays, and Shaw in the 1890s". In Innes (1998). Preece, Rod (2011). Animal Sensibility and Inclusive Justice in the Age of Bernard Shaw. Vancouver: UBC Press. ISBN 978-0-7748-2109-4. Reed, W.H. (1939). Elgar. London: Dent. OCLC 8858707. Rollins, Cyril; R. John Witts (1962). The D'Oyly Carte Opera Company in Gilbert and Sullivan Operas: A Record of Productions, 1875–1961. London: Michael Joseph. OCLC 504581419. Rosset, Benjamin (1964). Shaw of Dublin: The Formative Years. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press. OCLC 608833. Searle, Geoffrey Russell (1976). Eugenics and Politics in Britain, 1900–1914. Groningen, Netherlands: Noordhoff International. ISBN 978-90-286-0236-6. Shepherd, John (2002). George Lansbury. Oxford: Oxford University Press. ISBN 978-0-19-820164-9. Smith, Adrian (2013). The New Statesman: Portrait of a Political Weekly 1913–1931. London: Routledge. ISBN 978-0-7146-4645-9. Tyson, Brian (1982). The Story of Shaw's Saint Joan. Montreal: McGill-Queen's Press. ISBN 978-0-7735-8513-3. Valency, Maurice (1973). The Cart and the Trumpet: The Plays of George Bernard Shaw. New York: Oxford University Press. OCLC 248056662. Wearing, J.P. (1982). The London Stage, 1910–1919: A Calendar of Plays and Players. Metuchen, New Jersey: Scarecrow Press. ISBN 978-0-8108-1596-4. Weintraub, Stanley (1982). The Unexpected Shaw. New York: Ungar. ISBN 978-0-8044-2974-0. Wikander, Martin. "Reinventing the history play". In Innes (1998). Wisenthal, J. L. "Shaw's plays as music-drama". In Innes (1998). Yde, Matthew (2013). Bernard Shaw and Totalitarianism: Longing for Utopia. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. ISBN 978-1-137-33020-8. Young, Percy (1973). Elgar O.M. London: White Lion. ISBN 978-0-85617-333-2. Shaw's writings[edit] Shaw, Bernard (1884). A Manifesto (Fabian Tract No. 2). London: Grant Richards. OCLC 4674581. Shaw, Bernard, ed. (1889). Fabian Essays in Socialism. London: The Fabian Society. OCLC 867941203. Shaw, Bernard (1890). What Socialism Is (Fabian Tract No. 13). London: Grant Richards. OCLC 4674562. Shaw, Bernard (1900). Fabianism and the Empire. London: Grant Richards. OCLC 2688559. Shaw, Bernard (December 1914). "Common Sense About the War". Current History of the European War. Vol. 1, no. 1. The New York Times. Shaw, G. Bernard (9 April 1916). "Irish Nonsense About Ireland" (PDF). The New York Times. Archived (PDF) from the original on 6 November 2018. Shaw, Bernard (1929). The League of Nations Fabian Tract No. 226. London: The Fabian Society. OCLC 612985. Shaw, Bernard (1934). The Complete Plays of Bernard Shaw. London: Odhams. OCLC 492566054. Shaw, Bernard (1944). Everybody's Political What's What. London: Constable. OCLC 892140394. Shaw, Bernard (1949). "Biographers' Blunders Corrected". Sixteen Self Sketches. London: Constable. OCLC 185519922. Shaw, Bernard (1965). Dan Laurence (ed.). Collected Letters, Volume 1: 1874–1897. London: Reinhardt. OCLC 185512253. Shaw, Bernard (1969). Stanley Weintraub (ed.). Shaw: An Autobiography, 1856–1898. London: Reinhardt. ISBN 978-0-370-01328-2. Shaw, Bernard (1981). Dan Laurence (ed.). Shaw's Music: The Complete Music Criticism of Bernard Shaw, Volume 1 (1876–1890). London: The Bodley Head. ISBN 978-0-370-30247-8. Shaw, Bernard (1981). Dan Laurence (ed.). Shaw's Music: The Complete Music Criticism of Bernard Shaw, Volume 2 (1890–1893). London: The Bodley Head. ISBN 978-0-370-30249-2. Shaw, Bernard (1981). Dan Laurence (ed.). Shaw's Music: The Complete Music Criticism of Bernard Shaw, Volume 3 (1893–1950). London: The Bodley Head. ISBN 978-0-370-30248-5. Shaw, Bernard (1998). "Shaw's advice to Irishmen". In Crawford, Fred D. (ed.). Shaw: The Annual of Bernard Shaw Studies, Volume 18. University Park, Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University Press. pp. 63–66. ISBN 978-0-271-01779-2. JSTOR 40681536. Shaw, Bernard (2003). "On the Rocks (ebook)". Project Gutenberg Australia. Retrieved 13 February 2016. Journals[edit] Alexander, Doris M. (April 1959). "Captain Brant and Captain Brassbound: The Origin of an O'Neill Character". Modern Language Notes. 74 (4): 306–310. JSTOR 3040068. Beerbohm, Max (January 1962). "Mr Shaw's Profession". The Shaw Review. 5 (1): 5–9. JSTOR 40681959. (subscription required) Bosch, Marianne (1984). "Mother, Sister, and Wife in The Millionairess". Shaw: The Annual of Bernard Shaw Studies. 4: 113–127. JSTOR 40681122. (subscription required) Broughton, Philip S. (July 1946). "Book Review: The Crime of Imprisonment". American Journal of Public Health. 36 (7): 808. doi:10.2105/AJPH.36.7.808-a. PMC 1625829. Crawford, Fred D. (September 1975). "Journals to Stella". The Shaw Review. 18 (3): 93–109. JSTOR 40682408. (subscription required) Crawford, Fred D. (Spring 1982). "Bernard Shaw's Theory of Literary Art". Journal of General Education. 34 (1): 20. Crawford, Fred D. (1988). "The Shaw Diaries". Shaw: The Annual of Bernard Shaw Studies. 8: 139–143. JSTOR 40681240. (subscription required) Crawford, Fred D. (1990). "Ways Pleasant and Unpleasant: Collected Letters Four". Shaw: The Annual of Bernard Shaw Studies. 10: 148–154. JSTOR 40681299. (subscription required) Dukore, Bernard; et al. (1994). "From Symposium: What May Lie Ahead for Shaw After the First Hundred Years?". Shaw: The Annual of Bernard Shaw Studies. 14: 265–276. JSTOR 40655127. (subscription required) Gahan, Peter (2010). "Bernard Shaw and the Irish Literary Tradition". Shaw: The Annual of Bernard Shaw Studies. 30: 1–26. doi:10.5325/shaw.30.1.0001. JSTOR 10.5325/shaw.30.1.0001. (subscription required) Geduld, H. M. (January 1961). "Bernard Shaw and Adolf Hitler". The Shaw Review. 4 (1): 11–20. JSTOR 40682385. (subscription required) Hoffsten, Ernest (2 April 1904). "The Plays of Bernard Shaw". The Sewanee Review. 12 (2): 217–222. JSTOR 27530625. (subscription required) Kent, Brad (Autumn 2008). "The Banning of George Bernard Shaw's 'The Adventures of the Black Girl in Her Search for God' and the Decline of the Irish Academy of Letters". Irish University Review. 38 (2): 274–291. JSTOR 40344299. (subscription required) Laurence, Dan, ed. (January 1955). "The Blanco Posnet Controversy". Shaw Society of America Bulletin: 1–9. JSTOR 40681313. (subscription required) Laurence, Dan (1985). "'That Awful Country': Shaw in America". Shaw: The Annual of Bernard Shaw Studies. 5: 279–297. JSTOR 40681161. (subscription required) Leary, Daniel J. (November 1971). "How Shaw Destroyed his Irish Biographer" (PDF). Columbia Library Columns. 21 (2): 3–11. Archived (PDF) from the original on 29 September 2015. Time Inc. (12 August 1946). "All Honor to his Genius; But his Message is Irrelevant to our Problems Today". Life. p. 26. Merriman, Victor (2010). "Shaw in Contemporary Irish Studies: Passé or Contemptible?". Shaw. 30: 216–235. doi:10.5325/shaw.30.1.0216. JSTOR 10.5325/shaw.30.1.0216. (subscription required) Morgan, L. N. (Spring 1951). "Bernard Shaw the Playwright". Books Abroad. 25 (2): 100–104. JSTOR 40089890. (subscription required) Nothorcot, Arthur (January 1964). "A Plea for Bernard Shaw". The Shaw Review. 7 (1): 2–9. JSTOR 40682015. (subscription required) Pierce, Robert B. (2011). "Bernard Shaw as Shakespeare Critic". Shaw: The Annual of Bernard Shaw Studies. 31 (1): 118–132. doi:10.5325/shaw.31.1.0118. JSTOR 10.5325/shaw.31.1.0118. (subscription required) "Religion: Creative Revolutionary". Time. 4 December 1950. Rodenbeck, John (May 1969). "The Irrational Knot: Shaw and The Uses of Ibsen". The Shaw Review. 12 (2). JSTOR 40682171. (subscription required) Sharp, William (May 1959). "'Getting Married' New Dramaturgy in Comedy". Educational Theatre Journal. 11 (2): 103–109. JSTOR 3204732. (subscription required) Sloan, Gary (Autumn 2004). "The Religion of George Bernard Shaw: When is an Atheist?". American Atheist. Retrieved 18 February 2016. Wallis, Eric (1991). "The Intelligent Woman's Guide: Some Contemporary Opinions". Shaw: The Journal of Bernard Shaw Studies. 11: 185–193. JSTOR 40681331. Weales, Gerald. "A Hand at Shaw's Curtain". The Hudson Review. 19 (Autumn 1966): 518–522. JSTOR 3849269. (subscription required) Weales, Gerald (May 1969). "Shaw as Screenwriter". The Shaw Review. 12 (2): 80–82. JSTOR 40682173. (subscription required) Weintraub, Stanley (2002). "Shaw's Musician: Edward Elgar". Shaw: The Annual of Bernard Shaw Studies. 22: 1–88. doi:10.1353/shaw.2002.0017. (subscription required) Weintraub, Stanley (22 August 2011). "GBS and the Despots". The Times Literary Supplement. Retrieved 4 February 2016. West, E.J. (October 1952). "The Critic as Analyst: Bernard Shaw as Example". Educational Theatre Journal. 4 (3): 200–205. JSTOR 3203744. (subscription required) Westrup, Sir Jack (January 1966). "Shaw and the Charlatan Genius". Music & Letters. 47 (1): 57–58. JSTOR 732134. (subscription required) Newspapers[edit] "At the Play: Mr Shaw's Major Barbara". The Observer. 3 December 1905. p. 5. (subscription required) "Avenue Theatre". The Standard. London. 29 April 1894. p. 2. Ervine, St John (23 October 1921). "At the Play: Mr Shaw In Despair". The Observer. p. 11. (subscription required) Ervine, St John (14 October 1923). "At the Play: Back To Methuselah". The Observer. p. 11. (subscription required) "Heartbreak House". The Times. 19 October 1921. p. 8. "Heartbreak House in New York". The Times. 12 November 1920. p. 11. Holroyd, Michael (7 April 1992). "Abuse of Shaw's literary legacy". The Times. p. 1. Holroyd, Michael (13 July 2012). "Bernard Shaw and his lethally absurd doctor's dilemma". The Guardian. Janes, Daniel (20 July 2012). "The Shavian Moment". New Statesman. Kennedy, Maev (5 July 2011). "George Bernard Shaw photographs uncover man behind myth". The Guardian. Lawson, Mark (11 July 2012). "Timing is everything: how plays find their moments". The Guardian. "Mr Bernard Shaw's £367,000 Estate". The Times. 24 March 1951. p. 8. "Mr Shaw's Play". The Times. 15 October 1923. p. 10. "Mr Shaw's Saint Joan". The Times. 29 December 1923. p. 8. "Mrs Warren's Profession". The Times. 29 September 1925. p. 12. "Mrs Pat Campbell Here" (PDF). The New York Times. 10 October 1914. Archived (PDF) from the original on 6 November 2018. (subscription required) Nestruck, J. Kelly (1 July 2011). "Was George Bernard Shaw a Monster?". The Globe and Mail. Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario. "News Report". The New York Times. 10 December 1933. Retrieved 13 February 2016. "New Theatre". The Times. 27 March 1924. p. 12. Osborne, John (23 June 1977). "Superman? A look lack in anguish". The Guardian. p. 12. (subscription required) Owen, Richard (14 June 2004). "Shaw's secret fair lady revealed at last". The Times. p. 3. Rhodes, Crompton (16 October 1923). "Back To Methuselah at Birmingham". The Manchester Guardian. p. 8. (subscription required) "Shaw's Pygmalion Has Come to Town". The New York Times. 13 October 1914. p. 11. (subscription required) "Social Conditions in Russia: Recent Visitor's Tribute". The Manchester Guardian. 2 March 1933. Retrieved 4 February 2016. "The Avenue Theatre: Arms and the Man". The Observer. 22 April 1894. p. 5. (subscription required) "The Doctor's Dilemma: Mr Bernard Shaw's New Play". The Manchester Guardian. 21 November 1906. p. 7. (subscription required) "The Modest Shaw Again". The New York Times. 23 November 1913. p. X6. (subscription required) "The Drama". The Daily News. 1 April 1895. p. 2. "Things Theatrical". The Sporting Times. 19 May 1894. p. 3. Tomlinson, Philip (10 November 1950). "Bernard Shaw: Obituary". The Times Literary Supplement. London. pp. 709–710. "Too True to Be Good – Mr G. B. Shaw's New Play – America Sees it First". The Manchester Guardian. 2 March 1932. p. 9. (subscription required) "Vedrenne-Barker Plays: Famous Partnership Dissolved". The Observer. 8 March 1908. p. 8. (subscription required) "Waftings from the Wings". Fun. London. 1 May 1894. p. 179. Online[edit] Anderson, Robert. "Shaw, Bernard". Grove Music Online. Retrieved 1 January 2016. Diniejko, Andrzej (September 2013). "The Fabian Society in Late Victorian Britain". The Victorian Web. Retrieved 24 January 2016. Ervine, St John (1959). "Shaw, George Bernard (1856–1950)". Dictionary of National Biography Archive. doi:10.1093/odnb/9780192683120.013.36047. (subscription or UK public library membership required) "Fabian Tracts: 1884–1901". LSE Digital Library. Retrieved 24 January 2016. Grene, Nicholas (2003). "Shaw, George Bernard". Oxford Encyclopedia of Theatre and Performance. doi:10.1093/acref/9780198601746.001.0001. ISBN 978-0-19-860174-6. Shaw, Bernard. Love Among the Artists. H.S. Stone and Company. OCLC 489748. "The Nobel Prize in Literature 1925". Nobelprize.org. Nobel Media AB. 2014. Retrieved 27 July 2014. Pharand, Michael (2015). "A Chronology of Works By and About Bernard Shaw" (PDF). Bernard Shaw. Shaw Society. Archived (PDF) from the original on 21 January 2016. Retrieved 13 February 2016. "Shaw, George Bernard: 1856–1950". Verein SwissEduc. Retrieved 19 December 2019. Weintraub, Stanley. "Shaw, George Bernard (1856–1950)". Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (online ed.). Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/ref:odnb/36047. Weintraub, Stanley. "Shaw Societies: Once and Now". The Shaw Society. Retrieved 18 February 2016. External links[edit] Wikimedia Commons has media related to George Bernard Shaw. Wikiquote has quotations related to George Bernard Shaw. Wikisource has original works by or about:George Bernard Shaw Library resources about George Bernard Shaw Resources in your library Resources in other libraries Works by Shaw in eBook form at Standard Ebooks Works by Shaw at Project Gutenberg (About 50 ebooks of Shaw's works and some additional Shaw-related material) Works by Shaw at Faded Page (Canada) Works by or about Shaw at Internet Archive (More links to Shaw-related material) Works by Shaw at LibriVox (public domain audiobooks) (19 downloads for audiobooks) Shaw at the Internet Broadway Database (Information on Broadway productions, 1894 to present) Shaw at IMDb (Lists all film and TV versions of Shaw's works since 1921) Shaw photographs held at LSE Library International Shaw Society The Shaw Society, UK, established in 1941 The Bernard Shaw Society, New York Shaw collection at the Harry Ransom Center at The University of Texas at Austin Newspaper clippings about Shaw in the 20th Century Press Archives of the ZBW "Shaw, Bernard" . Thom's Irish Who's Who . Dublin: Alexander Thom and Son Ltd. 1923. pp. 229–230  – via Wikisource. Awards and achievements Preceded byAnton Lang Cover of Time 24 December 1923 Succeeded byAnthony Fokker vteGeorge Bernard ShawBibliographyPlays Passion Play Un Petit Drame Widowers' Houses The Philanderer Mrs. Warren's Profession Arms and the Man Candida The Man of Destiny You Never Can Tell The Devil's Disciple The Gadfly Caesar and Cleopatra Captain Brassbound's Conversion The Admirable Bashville Man and Superman John Bull's Other Island How He Lied to Her Husband Major Barbara Passion, Poison, and Petrifaction The Doctor's Dilemma The Interlude at the Playhouse Getting Married The Shewing-Up of Blanco Posnet Press Cuttings The Fascinating Foundling The Glimpse of Reality Misalliance The Dark Lady of the Sonnets Fanny's First Play Androcles and the Lion Overruled Beauty's Duty Pygmalion Great Catherine The Music Cure O'Flaherty V.C. The Inca of Perusalem Augustus Does His Bit Macbeth Skit Annajanska, the Bolshevik Empress Heartbreak House Back to Methuselah A Glimpse of the Domesticity of Franklyn Barnabas Jitta's Atonement Saint Joan The Apple Cart Too True to Be Good How These Doctors Love One Another! Village Wooing On the Rocks The Simpleton of the Unexpected Isles The Six of Calais The Millionairess Arthur and the Acetone Cymbeline Refinished Geneva In Good King Charles's Golden Days The British Party System Buoyant Billions Farfetched Fables Shakes versus Shav Why She Would Not Novels Immaturity Love Among the Artists Cashel Byron's Profession An Unsocial Socialist Short stories The Adventures of the Black Girl in Her Search for God Non-fiction The Perfect Wagnerite The Intelligent Woman's Guide to Socialism and Capitalism Quintessence of Ibsenism Related Charlotte Payne-Townshend (wife) Shaw's Corner Shaw Theatre Shavian alphabet Shaw Festival (production history) George Bernard Shaw: His Plays Great Contemporaries SHAW: The Annual of Bernard Shaw Studies Twain and Shaw Do Lunch Awards for George Bernard Shaw vteAcademy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay1928–1950 Benjamin Glazer (1928) Hanns Kräly (1929) Frances Marion (1930) Howard Estabrook (1931) Edwin J. Burke (1932) Victor Heerman and Sarah Y. Mason (1933) Robert Riskin (1934) Dudley Nichols (1935) Pierre Collings and Sheridan Gibney (1936) Heinz Herald, Geza Herczeg, and Norman Reilly Raine (1937) Ian Dalrymple, Cecil Arthur Lewis, W. P. Lipscomb, and George Bernard Shaw (1938) Sidney Howard (1939) Donald Ogden Stewart (1940) Sidney Buchman and Seton I. Miller (1941) George Froeschel, James Hilton, Claudine West, and Arthur Wimperis (1942) Philip G. Epstein, Julius J. Epstein, and Howard Koch (1943) Frank Butler and Frank Cavett (1944) Charles Brackett and Billy Wilder (1945) Robert Sherwood (1946) George Seaton (1947) John Huston (1948) Joseph L. Mankiewicz (1949) Joseph L. Mankiewicz (1950) 1951–1975 Harry Brown and Michael Wilson (1951) Charles Schnee (1952) Daniel Taradash (1953) George Seaton (1954) Paddy Chayefsky (1955) John Farrow, S. J. Perelman, and James Poe (1956) Pierre Boulle, Carl Foreman and Michael Wilson (1957) Alan Jay Lerner (1958) Neil Paterson (1959) Richard Brooks (1960) Abby Mann (1961) Horton Foote (1962) John Osborne (1963) Edward Anhalt (1964) Robert Bolt (1965) Robert Bolt (1966) Stirling Silliphant (1967) James Goldman (1968) Waldo Salt (1969) Ring Lardner Jr. (1970) Ernest Tidyman (1971) Francis Ford Coppola and Mario Puzo (1972) William Peter Blatty (1973) Francis Ford Coppola and Mario Puzo (1974) Bo Goldman and Lawrence Hauben (1975) 1976–2000 William Goldman (1976) Alvin Sargent (1977) Oliver Stone (1978) Robert Benton (1979) Alvin Sargent (1980) Ernest Thompson (1981) Costa-Gavras and Donald E. Stewart (1982) James L. Brooks (1983) Peter Shaffer (1984) Kurt Luedtke (1985) Ruth Prawer Jhabvala (1986) Bernardo Bertolucci and Mark Peploe (1987) Christopher Hampton (1988) Alfred Uhry (1989) Michael Blake (1990) Ted Tally (1991) Ruth Prawer Jhabvala (1992) Steven Zaillian (1993) Eric Roth (1994) Emma Thompson (1995) Billy Bob Thornton (1996) Curtis Hanson and Brian Helgeland (1997) Bill Condon (1998) John Irving (1999) Stephen Gaghan (2000) 2001–present Akiva Goldsman (2001) Ronald Harwood (2002) Philippa Boyens, Peter Jackson, and Fran Walsh (2003) Alexander Payne and Jim Taylor (2004) Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana (2005) William Monahan (2006) Joel Coen and Ethan Coen (2007) Simon Beaufoy (2008) Geoffrey S. Fletcher (2009) Aaron Sorkin (2010) Alexander Payne, Jim Rash, and Nat Faxon (2011) Chris Terrio (2012) John Ridley (2013) Graham Moore (2014) Adam McKay and Charles Randolph (2015) Barry Jenkins and Tarell Alvin McCraney (2016) James Ivory (2017) Charlie Wachtel, David Rabinowitz, Kevin Willmott and Spike Lee (2018) Taika Waititi (2019) Christopher Hampton and Florian Zeller (2020) Sian Heder (2021) Sarah Polley (2022) Cord Jefferson (2023) vteLaureates of the Nobel Prize in Literature1901–1920 1901: Sully Prudhomme 1902: Theodor Mommsen 1903: Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson 1904: Frédéric Mistral / José Echegaray 1905: Henryk Sienkiewicz 1906: Giosuè Carducci 1907: Rudyard Kipling 1908: Rudolf Eucken 1909: Selma Lagerlöf 1910: Paul Heyse 1911: Maurice Maeterlinck 1912: Gerhart Hauptmann 1913: Rabindranath Tagore 1914 1915: Romain Rolland 1916: Verner von Heidenstam 1917: Karl Gjellerup / Henrik Pontoppidan 1918 1919: Carl Spitteler 1920: Knut Hamsun 1921–1940 1921: Anatole France 1922: Jacinto Benavente 1923: W. B. Yeats 1924: Władysław Reymont 1925: George Bernard Shaw 1926: Grazia Deledda 1927: Henri Bergson 1928: Sigrid Undset 1929: Thomas Mann 1930: Sinclair Lewis 1931: Erik Axel Karlfeldt (posthumously) 1932: John Galsworthy 1933: Ivan Bunin 1934: Luigi Pirandello 1935 1936: Eugene O'Neill 1937: Roger Martin du Gard 1938: Pearl S. Buck 1939: Frans Eemil Sillanpää 1940 1941–1960 1941 1942 1943 1944: Johannes V. Jensen 1945: Gabriela Mistral 1946: Hermann Hesse 1947: André Gide 1948: T. S. Eliot 1949: William Faulkner 1950: Bertrand Russell 1951: Pär Lagerkvist 1952: François Mauriac 1953: Winston Churchill 1954: Ernest Hemingway 1955: Halldór Laxness 1956: Juan Ramón Jiménez 1957: Albert Camus 1958: Boris Pasternak 1959: Salvatore Quasimodo 1960: Saint-John Perse 1961–1980 1961: Ivo Andrić 1962: John Steinbeck 1963: Giorgos Seferis 1964: Jean-Paul Sartre (declined award) 1965: Mikhail Sholokhov 1966: Shmuel Yosef Agnon / Nelly Sachs 1967: Miguel Ángel Asturias 1968: Yasunari Kawabata 1969: Samuel Beckett 1970: Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn 1971: Pablo Neruda 1972: Heinrich Böll 1973: Patrick White 1974: Eyvind Johnson / Harry Martinson 1975: Eugenio Montale 1976: Saul Bellow 1977: Vicente Aleixandre 1978: Isaac Bashevis Singer 1979: Odysseas Elytis 1980: Czesław Miłosz 1981–2000 1981: Elias Canetti 1982: Gabriel García Márquez 1983: William Golding 1984: Jaroslav Seifert 1985: Claude Simon 1986: Wole Soyinka 1987: Joseph Brodsky 1988: Naguib Mahfouz 1989: Camilo José Cela 1990: Octavio Paz 1991: Nadine Gordimer 1992: Derek Walcott 1993: Toni Morrison 1994: Kenzaburō Ōe 1995: Seamus Heaney 1996: Wisława Szymborska 1997: Dario Fo 1998: José Saramago 1999: Günter Grass 2000: Gao Xingjian 2001–2020 2001: V. S. Naipaul 2002: Imre Kertész 2003: J. M. Coetzee 2004: Elfriede Jelinek 2005: Harold Pinter 2006: Orhan Pamuk 2007: Doris Lessing 2008: J. M. G. Le Clézio 2009: Herta Müller 2010: Mario Vargas Llosa 2011: Tomas Tranströmer 2012: Mo Yan 2013: Alice Munro 2014: Patrick Modiano 2015: Svetlana Alexievich 2016: Bob Dylan 2017: Kazuo Ishiguro 2018: Olga Tokarczuk 2019: Peter Handke 2020: Louise Glück 2021–present 2021: Abdulrazak Gurnah 2022: Annie Ernaux 2023: Jon Fosse 2024: to be announced vte1925 Nobel Prize laureatesChemistry Richard Adolf Zsigmondy (Germany) Literature (1925) George Bernard Shaw (United Kingdom) Peace Austen Chamberlain (United Kingdom) Charles G. Dawes (United States) Physics James Franck (Germany) Gustav Ludwig Hertz (Germany) Physiology or Medicine None Nobel Prize recipients 1920 1921 1922 1923 1924 1925 1926 1927 1928 1929 1930 vteLondon School of EconomicsCampus, buildings and collections British Library of Political and Economic Science Women's Library Clare Market Hall–Carpenter Archives Lincoln's Inn Fields Sir Arthur Lewis Building Peacock Theatre Research centres Centre for the Analysis of Social Exclusion Centre for Climate Change Economics and Policy Centre for Economic Performance Centre for the Economics of Education Centre for Philosophy of Natural and Social Science Crisis States Research Centre Grantham Research Institute Greater London Group International Bibliography of the Social Sciences International Growth Centre LSE Cities LSE IDEAS Polis Department of Social Policy STICERD TRIUM EMBA Student life Athletics Union The Beaver Clare Market Review LSE Students' Union Pulse! Radio History Fabian Society Fabian Window PeopleGovernance The Princess Royal (Chancellor) Eric Neumayer (Director (interim)) Dame Shirley Pearce (Chair of Court and Council) Lord President of the Council (Visitor) Other Sidney Webb Beatrice Webb George Bernard Shaw Graham Wallas H. G. Wells List of London School of Economics people Montague Burton Professor of International Relations Affiliates Association of Commonwealth Universities CEMS European University Association G5 The General Course Golden triangle Russell Group Universities UK University of London Authority control databases International FAST ISNI VIAF National Norway 2 Chile Spain France BnF data Argentina Catalonia Germany Italy Israel Finland Belgium 2 United States Sweden Latvia Japan Czech Republic Australia Greece Korea Croatia Netherlands Poland Portugal Vatican 2 Academics CiNii Artists MusicBrainz Museum of Modern Art Musée d'Orsay Photographers' Identities RKD Artists People Ireland Deutsche Biographie Trove Other NARA RISM SNAC IdRef
You once asked me why I did not write a Don Juan play. The levity with which you assumed this frightful responsibility has probably by this time enabled you to forget it; but the day of reckoning has arrived: here is your play! I say your play, because qui facit per alium facit per se. Its profits, like its labor, belong to me: its morals, its manners, its philosophy, its influence on the young, are for you to justify. You were of mature age when you made the suggestion; and you knew your man. It is hardly fifteen years since, as twin pioneers of the New Journalism of that time, we two, cradled in the same new sheets, made an epoch in the criticism of the theatre and the opera house by making it a pretext for a propaganda of our own views of life. So you cannot plead ignorance of the character of the force you set in motion. You meant me to epater le bourgeois; and if he protests, I hereby refer him to you as the accountable party.
I warn you that if you attempt to repudiate your responsibility, I shall suspect you of finding the play too decorous for your taste. The fifteen years have made me older and graver. In you I can detect no such becoming change. Your levities and audacities are like the loves and comforts prayed for by Desdemona: they increase, even as your days do grow. No mere pioneering journal dares meddle with them now: the stately Times itself is alone sufficiently above suspicion to act as your chaperone; and even the Times must sometimes thank its stars that new plays are not produced every day, since after each such event its gravity is compromised, its platitude turned to epigram, its portentousness to wit, its propriety to elegance, and even its decorum into naughtiness by criticisms which the traditions of the paper do not allow you to sign at the end, but which you take care to sign with the most extravagant flourishes between the lines. I am not sure that this is not a portent of Revolution. In eighteenth century France the end was at hand when men bought the Encyclopedia and found Diderot there. When I buy the Times and find you there, my prophetic ear catches a rattle of twentieth century tumbrils.
However, that is not my present anxiety. The question is, will you not be disappointed with a Don Juan play in which not one of that hero's mille e tre adventures is brought upon the stage? To propitiate you, let me explain myself. You will retort that I never do anything else: it is your favorite jibe at me that what I call drama is nothing but explanation. But you must not expect me to adopt your inexplicable, fantastic, petulant, fastidious ways: you must take me as I am, a reasonable, patient, consistent, apologetic, laborious person, with the temperament of a schoolmaster and the pursuits of a vestryman. No doubt that literary knack of mine which happens to amuse the British public distracts attention from my character; but the character is there none the less, solid as bricks. I have a conscience; and conscience is always anxiously explanatory. You, on the contrary, feel that a man who discusses his conscience is much like a woman who discusses her modesty. The only moral force you condescend to parade is the force of your wit: the only demand you make in public is the demand of your artistic temperament for symmetry, elegance, style, grace, refinement, and the cleanliness which comes next to godliness if not before it. But my conscience is the genuine pulpit article: it annoys me to see people comfortable when they ought to be uncomfortable; and I insist on making them think in order to bring them to conviction of sin. If you don't like my preaching you must lump it. I really cannot help it.
In the preface to my Plays for Puritans I explained the predicament of our contemporary English drama, forced to deal almost exclusively with cases of sexual attraction, and yet forbidden to exhibit the incidents of that attraction or even to discuss its nature. Your suggestion that I should write a Don Juan play was virtually a challenge to me to treat this subject myself dramatically. The challenge was difficult enough to be worth accepting, because, when you come to think of it, though we have plenty of dramas with heroes and heroines who are in love and must accordingly marry or perish at the end of the play, or about people whose relations with one another have been complicated by the marriage laws, not to mention the looser sort of plays which trade on the tradition that illicit love affairs are at once vicious and delightful, we have no modern English plays in which the natural attraction of the sexes for one another is made the mainspring of the action. That is why we insist on beauty in our performers, differing herein from the countries our friend William Archer holds up as examples of seriousness to our childish theatres. There the Juliets and Isoldes, the Romeos and Tristans, might be our mothers and fathers. Not so the English actress. The heroine she impersonates is not allowed to discuss the elemental relations of men and women: all her romantic twaddle about novelet-made love, all her purely legal dilemmas as to whether she was married or "betrayed," quite miss our hearts and worry our minds. To console ourselves we must just look at her. We do so; and her beauty feeds our starving emotions. Sometimes we grumble ungallantly at the lady because she does not act as well as she looks. But in a drama which, with all its preoccupation with sex, is really void of sexual interest, good looks are more desired than histrionic skill.
Let me press this point on you, since you are too clever to raise the fool's cry of paradox whenever I take hold of a stick by the right instead of the wrong end. Why are our occasional attempts to deal with the sex problem on the stage so repulsive and dreary that even those who are most determined that sex questions shall be held open and their discussion kept free, cannot pretend to relish these joyless attempts at social sanitation? Is it not because at bottom they are utterly sexless? What is the usual formula for such plays? A woman has, on some past occasion, been brought into conflict with the law which regulates the relations of the sexes. A man, by falling in love with her, or marrying her, is brought into conflict with the social convention which discountenances the woman. Now the conflicts of individuals with law and convention can be dramatized like all other human conflicts; but they are purely judicial; and the fact that we are much more curious about the suppressed relations between the man and the woman than about the relations between both and our courts of law and private juries of matrons, produces that sensation of evasion, of dissatisfaction, of fundamental irrelevance, of shallowness, of useless disagreeableness, of total failure to edify and partial failure to interest, which is as familiar to you in the theatres as it was to me when I, too, frequented those uncomfortable buildings, and found our popular playwrights in the mind to (as they thought) emulate Ibsen.
I take it that when you asked me for a Don Juan play you did not want that sort of thing. Nobody does: the successes such plays sometimes obtain are due to the incidental conventional melodrama with which the experienced popular author instinctively saves himself from failure. But what did you want? Owing to your unfortunate habit-you now, I hope, feel its inconvenience-of not explaining yourself, I have had to discover this for myself. First, then, I have had to ask myself, what is a Don Juan? Vulgarly, a libertine. But your dislike of vulgarity is pushed to the length of a defect (universality of character is impossible without a share of vulgarity); and even if you could acquire the taste, you would find yourself overfed from ordinary sources without troubling me. So I took it that you demanded a Don Juan in the philosophic sense.
Philosophically, Don Juan is a man who, though gifted enough to be exceptionally capable of distinguishing between good and evil, follows his own instincts without regard to the common statute, or canon law; and therefore, whilst gaining the ardent sympathy of our rebellious instincts (which are flattered by the brilliancies with which Don Juan associates them) finds himself in mortal conflict with existing institutions, and defends himself by fraud and farce as unscrupulously as a farmer defends his crops by the same means against vermin. The prototypic Don Juan, invented early in the XVI century by a Spanish monk, was presented, according to the ideas of that time, as the enemy of God, the approach of whose vengeance is felt throughout the drama, growing in menace from minute to minute. No anxiety is caused on Don Juan's account by any minor antagonist: he easily eludes the police, temporal and spiritual; and when an indignant father seeks private redress with the sword, Don Juan kills him without an effort. Not until the slain father returns from heaven as the agent of God, in the form of his own statue, does he prevail against his slayer and cast him into hell. The moral is a monkish one: repent and reform now; for to-morrow it may be too late. This is really the only point on which Don Juan is sceptical; for he is a devout believer in an ultimate hell, and risks damnation only because, as he is young, it seems so far off that repentance can be postponed until he has amused himself to his heart's content.
But the lesson intended by an author is hardly ever the lesson the world chooses to learn from his book. What attracts and impresses us in El Burlador de Sevilla is not the immediate urgency of repentance, but the heroism of daring to be the enemy of God. From Prometheus to my own Devil's Disciple, such enemies have always been popular. Don Juan became such a pet that the world could not bear his damnation. It reconciled him sentimentally to God in a second version, and clamored for his canonization for a whole century, thus treating him as English journalism has treated that comic foe of the gods, Punch. Moliere's Don Juan casts back to the original in point of impenitence; but in piety he falls off greatly. True, he also proposes to repent; but in what terms? "Oui, ma foi! il faut s'amender. Encore vingt ou trente ans de cette vie-ci, et puis nous songerons a nous." After Moliere comes the artist-enchanter, the master of masters, Mozart, who reveals the hero's spirit in magical harmonies, elfin tones, and elate darting rhythms as of summer lightning made audible. Here you have freedom in love and in morality mocking exquisitely at slavery to them, and interesting you, attracting you, tempting you, inexplicably forcing you to range the hero with his enemy the statue on a transcendant plane, leaving the prudish daughter and her priggish lover on a crockery shelf below to live piously ever after.
After these completed works Byron's fragment does not count for much philosophically. Our vagabond libertines are no more interesting from that point of view than the sailor who has a wife in every port, and Byron's hero is, after all, only a vagabond libertine. And he is dumb: he does not discuss himself with a Sganarelle-Leporello or with the fathers or brothers of his mistresses: he does not even, like Casanova, tell his own story. In fact he is not a true Don Juan at all; for he is no more an enemy of God than any romantic and adventurous young sower of wild oats. Had you and I been in his place at his age, who knows whether we might not have done as he did, unless indeed your fastidiousness had saved you from the empress Catherine. Byron was as little of a philosopher as Peter the Great: both were instances of that rare and useful, but unedifying variation, an energetic genius born without the prejudices or superstitions of his contemporaries. The resultant unscrupulous freedom of thought made Byron a greater poet than Wordsworth just as it made Peter a greater king than George III; but as it was, after all, only a negative qualification, it did not prevent Peter from being an appalling blackguard and an arrant poltroon, nor did it enable Byron to become a religious force like Shelley. Let us, then, leave Byron's Don Juan out of account. Mozart's is the last of the true Don Juans; for by the time he was of age, his cousin Faust had, in the hands of Goethe, taken his place and carried both his warfare and his reconciliation with the gods far beyond mere lovemaking into politics, high art, schemes for reclaiming new continents from the ocean, and recognition of an eternal womanly principle in the universe. Goethe's Faust and Mozart's Don Juan were the last words of the XVIII century on the subject; and by the time the polite critics of the XIX century, ignoring William Blake as superficially as the XVIII had ignored Hogarth or the XVII Bunyan, had got past the Dickens-Macaulay Dumas-Guizot stage and the Stendhal-Meredith-Turgenieff stage, and were confronted with philosophic fiction by such pens as Ibsen's and Tolstoy's, Don Juan had changed his sex and become Dona Juana, breaking out of the Doll's House and asserting herself as an individual instead of a mere item in a moral pageant.
Now it is all very well for you at the beginning of the XX century to ask me for a Don Juan play; but you will see from the foregoing survey that Don Juan is a full century out of date for you and for me; and if there are millions of less literate people who are still in the eighteenth century, have they not Moliere and Mozart, upon whose art no human hand can improve? You would laugh at me if at this time of day I dealt in duels and ghosts and "womanly" women. As to mere libertinism, you would be the first to remind me that the Festin de Pierre of Moliere is not a play for amorists, and that one bar of the voluptuous sentimentality of Gounod or Bizet would appear as a licentious stain on the score of Don Giovanni. Even the more abstract parts of the Don Juan play are dilapidated past use: for instance, Don Juan's supernatural antagonist hurled those who refuse to repent into lakes of burning brimstone, there to be tormented by devils with horns and tails. Of that antagonist, and of that conception of repentance, how much is left that could be used in a play by me dedicated to you? On the other hand, those forces of middle class public opinion which hardly existed for a Spanish nobleman in the days of the first Don Juan, are now triumphant everywhere. Civilized society is one huge bourgeoisie: no nobleman dares now shock his greengrocer. The women, "marchesane, principesse, cameriere, cittadine" and all, are become equally dangerous: the sex is aggressive, powerful: when women are wronged they do not group themselves pathetically to sing "Protegga il giusto cielo": they grasp formidable legal and social weapons, and retaliate. Political parties are wrecked and public careers undone by a single indiscretion. A man had better have all the statues in London to supper with him, ugly as they are, than be brought to the bar of the Nonconformist Conscience by Donna Elvira. Excommunication has become almost as serious a business as it was in the X century.
As a result, Man is no longer, like Don Juan, victor in the duel of sex. Whether he has ever really been may be doubted: at all events the enormous superiority of Woman's natural position in this matter is telling with greater and greater force. As to pulling the Nonconformist Conscience by the beard as Don Juan plucked the beard of the Commandant's statue in the convent of San Francisco, that is out of the question nowadays: prudence and good manners alike forbid it to a hero with any mind. Besides, it is Don Juan's own beard that is in danger of plucking. Far from relapsing into hypocrisy, as Sganarelle feared, he has unexpectedly discovered a moral in his immorality. The growing recognition of his new point of view is heaping responsibility on him. His former jests he has had to take as seriously as I have had to take some of the jests of Mr W. S. Gilbert. His scepticism, once his least tolerated quality, has now triumphed so completely that he can no longer assert himself by witty negations, and must, to save himself from cipherdom, find an affirmative position. His thousand and three affairs of gallantry, after becoming, at most, two immature intrigues leading to sordid and prolonged complications and humiliations, have been discarded altogether as unworthy of his philosophic dignity and compromising to his newly acknowledged position as the founder of a school. Instead of pretending to read Ovid he does actually read Schopenhaur and Nietzsche, studies Westermarck, and is concerned for the future of the race instead of for the freedom of his own instincts. Thus his profligacy and his dare-devil airs have gone the way of his sword and mandoline into the rag shop of anachronisms and superstitions. In fact, he is now more Hamlet than Don Juan; for though the lines put into the actor's mouth to indicate to the pit that Hamlet is a philosopher are for the most part mere harmonious platitude which, with a little debasement of the word-music, would be properer to Pecksniff, yet if you separate the real hero, inarticulate and unintelligible to himself except in flashes of inspiration, from the performer who has to talk at any cost through five acts; and if you also do what you must always do in Shakespear's tragedies: that is, dissect out the absurd sensational incidents and physical violences of the borrowed story from the genuine Shakespearian tissue, you will get a true Promethean foe of the gods, whose instinctive attitude towards women much resembles that to which Don Juan is now driven. From this point of view Hamlet was a developed Don Juan whom Shakespear palmed off as a reputable man just as he palmed poor Macbeth off as a murderer. To-day the palming off is no longer necessary (at least on your plane and mine) because Don Juanism is no longer misunderstood as mere Casanovism. Don Juan himself is almost ascetic in his desire to avoid that misunderstanding; and so my attempt to bring him up to date by launching him as a modern Englishman into a modern English environment has produced a figure superficially quite unlike the hero of Mozart.
And yet I have not the heart to disappoint you wholly of another glimpse of the Mozartian dissoluto punito and his antagonist the statue. I feel sure you would like to know more of that statue-to draw him out when he is off duty, so to speak. To gratify you, I have resorted to the trick of the strolling theatrical manager who advertizes the pantomime of Sinbad the Sailor with a stock of second-hand picture posters designed for Ali Baba. He simply thrusts a few oil jars into the valley of diamonds, and so fulfils the promise held out by the hoardings to the public eye. I have adapted this simple device to our occasion by thrusting into my perfectly modern three-act play a totally extraneous act in which my hero, enchanted by the air of the Sierra, has a dream in which his Mozartian ancestor appears and philosophizes at great length in a Shavio-Socratic dialogue with the lady, the statue, and the devil.
But this pleasantry is not the essence of the play. Over this essence I have no control. You propound a certain social substance, sexual attraction to wit, for dramatic distillation; and I distil it for you. I do not adulterate the product with aphrodisiacs nor dilute it with romance and water; for I am merely executing your commission, not producing a popular play for the market. You must therefore (unless, like most wise men, you read the play first and the preface afterwards) prepare yourself to face a trumpery story of modern London life, a life in which, as you know, the ordinary man's main business is to get means to keep up the position and habits of a gentleman, and the ordinary woman's business is to get married. In 9,999 cases out of 10,000, you can count on their doing nothing, whether noble or base, that conflicts with these ends; and that assurance is what you rely on as their religion, their morality, their principles, their patriotism, their reputation, their honor and so forth.
On the whole, this is a sensible and satisfactory foundation for society. Money means nourishment and marriage means children; and that men should put nourishment first and women children first is, broadly speaking, the law of Nature and not the dictate of personal ambition. The secret of the prosaic man's success, such as it is, is the simplicity with which he pursues these ends: the secret of the artistic man's failure, such as that is, is the versatility with which he strays in all directions after secondary ideals. The artist is either a poet or a scallawag: as poet, he cannot see, as the prosaic man does, that chivalry is at bottom only romantic suicide: as scallawag, he cannot see that it does not pay to spunge and beg and lie and brag and neglect his person. Therefore do not misunderstand my plain statement of the fundamental constitution of London society as an Irishman's reproach to your nation. From the day I first set foot on this foreign soil I knew the value of the prosaic qualities of which Irishmen teach Englishmen to be ashamed as well as I knew the vanity of the poetic qualities of which Englishmen teach Irishmen to be proud. For the Irishman instinctively disparages the quality which makes the Englishman dangerous to him; and the Englishman instinctively flatters the fault that makes the Irishman harmless and amusing to him. What is wrong with the prosaic Englishman is what is wrong with the prosaic men of all countries: stupidity. The vitality which places nourishment and children first, heaven and hell a somewhat remote second, and the health of society as an organic whole nowhere, may muddle successfully through the comparatively tribal stages of gregariousness; but in nineteenth century nations and twentieth century empires the determination of every man to be rich at all costs, and of every woman to be married at all costs, must, without a highly scientific social organization, produce a ruinous development of poverty, celibacy, prostitution, infant mortality, adult degeneracy, and everything that wise men most dread. In short, there is no future for men, however brimming with crude vitality, who are neither intelligent nor politically educated enough to be Socialists. So do not misunderstand me in the other direction either: if I appreciate the vital qualities of the Englishman as I appreciate the vital qualities of the bee, I do not guarantee the Englishman against being, like the bee (or the Canaanite) smoked out and unloaded of his honey by beings inferior to himself in simple acquisitiveness, combativeness, and fecundity, but superior to him in imagination and cunning.
The Don Juan play, however, is to deal with sexual attraction, and not with nutrition, and to deal with it in a society in which the serious business of sex is left by men to women, as the serious business of nutrition is left by women to men. That the men, to protect themselves against a too aggressive prosecution of the women's business, have set up a feeble romantic convention that the initiative in sex business must always come from the man, is true; but the pretence is so shallow that even in the theatre, that last sanctuary of unreality, it imposes only on the inexperienced. In Shakespear'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. She may do it by blandishment, like Rosalind, or by stratagem, like Mariana; but in every case the relation between the woman and the man is the same: she is the pursuer and contriver, he the pursued and disposed of. When she is baffled, like Ophelia, she goes mad and commits suicide; and the man goes straight from her funeral to a fencing match. No doubt Nature, with very young creatures, may save the woman the trouble of scheming: Prospero knows that he has only to throw Ferdinand and Miranda together and they will mate like a pair of doves; and there is no need for Perdita to capture Florizel as the lady doctor in All's Well That Ends Well (an early Ibsenite heroine) captures Bertram. But the mature cases all illustrate the Shakespearian law. The one apparent exception, Petruchio, is not a real one: he is most carefully characterized as a purely commercial matrimonial adventurer. Once he is assured that Katharine has money, he undertakes to marry her before he has seen her. In real life we find not only Petruchios, but Mantalinis and Dobbins who pursue women with appeals to their pity or jealousy or vanity, or cling to them in a romantically infatuated way. Such effeminates do not count in the world scheme: even Bunsby dropping like a fascinated bird into the jaws of Mrs MacStinger is by comparison a true tragic object of pity and terror. I find in my own plays that Woman, projecting herself dramatically by my hands (a process over which I assure you I have no more real control than I have over my wife), behaves just as Woman did in the plays of Shakespear.
And so your Don Juan has come to birth as a stage projection of the tragi-comic love chase of the man by the woman; and my Don Juan is the quarry instead of the huntsman. Yet he is a true Don Juan, with a sense of reality that disables convention, defying to the last the fate which finally overtakes him. The woman's need of him to enable her to carry on Nature's most urgent work, does not prevail against him until his resistance gathers her energy to a climax at which she dares to throw away her customary exploitations of the conventional affectionate and dutiful poses, and claim him by natural right for a purpose that far transcends their mortal personal purposes.
Among the friends to whom I have read this play in manuscript are some of our own sex who are shocked at the "unscrupulousness," meaning the total disregard of masculine fastidiousness, with which the woman pursues her purpose. It does not occur to them that if women were as fastidious as men, morally or physically, there would be an end of the race. Is there anything meaner then to throw necessary work upon other people and then disparage it as unworthy and indelicate. We laugh at the haughty American nation because it makes the negro clean its boots and then proves the moral and physical inferiority of the negro by the fact that he is a shoeblack; but we ourselves throw the whole drudgery of creation on one sex, and then imply that no female of any womanliness or delicacy would initiate any effort in that direction. There are no limits to male hypocrisy in this matter. No doubt there are moments when man's sexual immunities are made acutely humiliating to him. When the terrible moment of birth arrives, its supreme importance and its superhuman effort and peril, in which the father has no part, dwarf him into the meanest insignificance: he slinks out of the way of the humblest petticoat, happy if he be poor enough to be pushed out of the house to outface his ignominy by drunken rejoicings. But when the crisis is over he takes his revenge, swaggering as the breadwinner, and speaking of Woman's "sphere" with condescension, even with chivalry, as if the kitchen and the nursery were less important than the office in the city. When his swagger is exhausted he drivels into erotic poetry or sentimental uxoriousness; and the Tennysonian King Arthur posing as Guinevere becomes Don Quixote grovelling before Dulcinea. You must admit that here Nature beats Comedy out of the field: the wildest hominist or feminist farce is insipid after the most commonplace "slice of life." The pretence that women do not take the initiative is part of the farce. Why, the whole world is strewn with snares, traps, gins and pitfalls for the capture of men by women. Give women the vote, and in five years there will be a crushing tax on bachelors. Men, on the other hand, attach penalties to marriage, depriving women of property, of the franchise, of the free use of their limbs, of that ancient symbol of immortality, the right to make oneself at home in the house of God by taking off the hat, of everything that he can force Woman to dispense with without compelling himself to dispense with her. All in vain. Woman must marry because the race must perish without her travail: if the risk of death and the certainty of pain, danger and unutterable discomforts cannot deter her, slavery and swaddled ankles will not. And yet we assume that the force that carries women through all these perils and hardships, stops abashed before the primnesses of our behavior for young ladies. It is assumed that the woman must wait, motionless, until she is wooed. Nay, she often does wait motionless. That is how the spider waits for the fly. But the spider spins her web. And if the fly, like my hero, shows a strength that promises to extricate him, how swiftly does she abandon her pretence of passiveness, and openly fling coil after coil about him until he is secured for ever!
If the really impressive books and other art-works of the world were produced by ordinary men, they would express more fear of women's pursuit than love of their illusory beauty. But ordinary men cannot produce really impressive art-works. Those who can are men of genius: that is, men selected by Nature to carry on the work of building up an intellectual consciousness of her own instinctive purpose. Accordingly, we observe in the man of genius all the unscrupulousness and all the "self-sacrifice" (the two things are the same) of Woman. He will risk the stake and the cross; starve, when necessary, in a garret all his life; study women and live on their work and care as Darwin studied worms and lived upon sheep; work his nerves into rags without payment, a sublime altruist in his disregard of himself, an atrocious egotist in his disregard of others. Here Woman meets a purpose as impersonal, as irresistible as her own; and the clash is sometimes tragic. When it is complicated by the genius being a woman, then the game is one for a king of critics: your George Sand becomes a mother to gain experience for the novelist and to develop her, and gobbles up men of genius, Chopins, Mussets and the like, as mere hors d'oeuvres.
I state the extreme case, of course; but what is true of the great man who incarnates the philosophic consciousness of Life and the woman who incarnates its fecundity, is true in some degree of all geniuses and all women. Hence it is that the world's books get written, its pictures painted, its statues modelled, its symphonies composed, by people who are free of the otherwise universal dominion of the tyranny of sex. Which leads us to the conclusion, astonishing to the vulgar, that art, instead of being before all things the expression of the normal sexual situation, is really the only department in which sex is a superseded and secondary power, with its consciousness so confused and its purpose so perverted, that its ideas are mere fantasy to common men. Whether the artist becomes poet or philosopher, moralist or founder of a religion, his sexual doctrine is nothing but a barren special pleading for pleasure, excitement, and knowledge when he is young, and for contemplative tranquillity when he is old and satiated. Romance and Asceticism, Amorism and Puritanism are equally unreal in the great Philistine world. The world shown us in books, whether the books be confessed epics or professed gospels, or in codes, or in political orations, or in philosophic systems, is not the main world at all: it is only the self-consciousness of certain abnormal people who have the specific artistic talent and temperament. A serious matter this for you and me, because the man whose consciousness does not correspond to that of the majority is a madman; and the old habit of worshipping madmen is giving way to the new habit of locking them up. And since what we call education and culture is for the most part nothing but the substitution of reading for experience, of literature for life, of the obsolete fictitious for the contemporary real, education, as you no doubt observed at Oxford, destroys, by supplantation, every mind that is not strong enough to see through the imposture and to use the great Masters of Arts as what they really are and no more: that is, patentees of highly questionable methods of thinking, and manufacturers of highly questionable, and for the majority but half valid representations of life. The schoolboy who uses his Homer to throw at his fellow's head makes perhaps the safest and most rational use of him; and I observe with reassurance that you occasionally do the same, in your prime, with your Aristotle.
Fortunately for us, whose minds have been so overwhelmingly sophisticated by literature, what produces all these treatises and poems and scriptures of one sort or another is the struggle of Life to become divinely conscious of itself instead of blindly stumbling hither and thither in the line of least resistance. Hence there is a driving towards truth in all books on matters where the writer, though exceptionally gifted is normally constituted, and has no private axe to grind. Copernicus had no motive for misleading his fellowmen as to the place of the sun in the solar system: he looked for it as honestly as a shepherd seeks his path in a mist. But Copernicus would not have written love stories scientifically. When it comes to sex relations, the man of genius does not share the common man's danger of capture, nor the woman of genius the common woman's overwhelming specialization. And that is why our scriptures and other art works, when they deal with love, turn from honest attempts at science in physics to romantic nonsense, erotic ecstasy, or the stern asceticism of satiety ("the road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom" said William Blake; for "you never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough").
There is a political aspect of this sex question which is too big for my comedy, and too momentous to be passed over without culpable frivolity. It is impossible to demonstrate that the initiative in sex transactions remains with Woman, and has been confirmed to her, so far, more and more by the suppression of rapine and discouragement of importunity, without being driven to very serious reflections on the fact that this initiative is politically the most important of all the initiatives, because our political experiment of democracy, the last refuge of cheap misgovernment, will ruin us if our citizens are ill bred.
When we two were born, this country was still dominated by a selected class bred by political marriages. The commercial class had not then completed the first twenty-five years of its new share of political power; and it was itself selected by money qualification, and bred, if not by political marriage, at least by a pretty rigorous class marriage. Aristocracy and plutocracy still furnish the figureheads of politics; but they are now dependent on the votes of the promiscuously bred masses. And this, if you please, at the very moment when the political problem, having suddenly ceased to mean a very limited and occasional interference, mostly by way of jobbing public appointments, in the mismanagement of a tight but parochial little island, with occasional meaningless prosecution of dynastic wars, has become the industrial reorganization of Britain, the construction of a practically international Commonwealth, and the partition of the whole of Africa and perhaps the whole of Asia by the civilized Powers. Can you believe that the people whose conceptions of society and conduct, whose power of attention and scope of interest, are measured by the British theatre as you know it to-day, can either handle this colossal task themselves, or understand and support the sort of mind and character that is (at least comparatively) capable of handling it? For remember: what our voters are in the pit and gallery they are also in the polling booth. We are all now under what Burke called "the hoofs of the swinish multitude." Burke's language gave great offence because the implied exceptions to its universal application made it a class insult; and it certainly was not for the pot to call the kettle black. The aristocracy he defended, in spite of the political marriages by which it tried to secure breeding for itself, had its mind undertrained by silly schoolmasters and governesses, its character corrupted by gratuitous luxury, its self-respect adulterated to complete spuriousness by flattery and flunkeyism. It is no better to-day and never will be any better: our very peasants have something morally hardier in them that culminates occasionally in a Bunyan, a Burns, or a Carlyle. But observe, this aristocracy, which was overpowered from 1832 to 1885 by the middle class, has come back to power by the votes of "the swinish multitude." Tom Paine has triumphed over Edmund Burke; and the swine are now courted electors. How many of their own class have these electors sent to parliament? Hardly a dozen out of 670, and these only under the persuasion of conspicuous personal qualifications and popular eloquence. The multitude thus pronounces judgment on its own units: it admits itself unfit to govern, and will vote only for a man morphologically and generically transfigured by palatial residence and equipage, by transcendent tailoring, by the glamor of aristocratic kinship. Well, we two know these transfigured persons, these college passmen, these well groomed monocular Algys and Bobbies, these cricketers to whom age brings golf instead of wisdom, these plutocratic products of "the nail and sarspan business as he got his money by." Do you know whether to laugh or cry at the notion that they, poor devils! will drive a team of continents as they drive a four-in-hand; turn a jostling anarchy of casual trade and speculation into an ordered productivity; and federate our colonies into a world-Power of the first magnitude? Give these people the most perfect political constitution and the soundest political program that benevolent omniscience can devise for them, and they will interpret it into mere fashionable folly or canting charity as infallibly as a savage converts the philosophical theology of a Scotch missionary into crude African idolatry.
I do not know whether you have any illusions left on the subject of education, progress, and so forth. I have none. Any pamphleteer can show the way to better things; but when there is no will there is no way. My nurse was fond of remarking that you cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, and the more I see of the efforts of our churches and universities and literary sages to raise the mass above its own level, the more convinced I am that my nurse was right. Progress can do nothing but make the most of us all as we are, and that most would clearly not be enough even if those who are already raised out of the lowest abysses would allow the others a chance. The bubble of Heredity has been pricked: the certainty that acquirements are negligible as elements in practical heredity has demolished the hopes of the educationists as well as the terrors of the degeneracy mongers; and we know now that there is no hereditary "governing class" any more than a hereditary hooliganism. We must either breed political capacity or be ruined by Democracy, which was forced on us by the failure of the older alternatives. Yet if Despotism failed only for want of a capable benevolent despot, what chance has Democracy, which requires a whole population of capable voters: that is, of political critics who, if they cannot govern in person for lack of spare energy or specific talent for administration, can at least recognize and appreciate capacity and benevolence in others, and so govern through capably benevolent representatives? Where are such voters to be found to-day? Nowhere. Promiscuous breeding has produced a weakness of character that is too timid to face the full stringency of a thoroughly competitive struggle for existence and too lazy and petty to organize the commonwealth co-operatively. Being cowards, we defeat natural selection under cover of philanthropy: being sluggards, we neglect artificial selection under cover of delicacy and morality.
Yet we must get an electorate of capable critics or collapse as Rome and Egypt collapsed. At this moment the Roman decadent phase of panem et circenses is being inaugurated under our eyes. Our newspapers and melodramas are blustering about our imperial destiny; but our eyes and hearts turn eagerly to the American millionaire. As his hand goes down to his pocket, our fingers go up to the brims of our hats by instinct. Our ideal prosperity is not the prosperity of the industrial north, but the prosperity of the Isle of Wight, of Folkestone and Ramsgate, of Nice and Monte Carlo. That is the only prosperity you see on the stage, where the workers are all footmen, parlourmaids, comic lodging-letters and fashionable professional men, whilst the heroes and heroines are miraculously provided with unlimited dividends, and eat gratuitously, like the knights in Don Quixote's books of chivalry. The city papers prate of the competition of Bombay with Manchester and the like. The real competition is the competition of Regent Street with the Rue de Rivoli, of Brighton and the south coast with the Riviera, for the spending money of the American Trusts. What is all this growing love of pageantry, this effusive loyalty, this officious rising and uncovering at a wave from a flag or a blast from a brass band? Imperialism: Not a bit of it. Obsequiousness, servility, cupidity roused by the prevailing smell of money. When Mr Carnegie rattled his millions in his pockets all England became one rapacious cringe. Only, when Rhodes (who had probably been reading my Socialism for Millionaires) left word that no idler was to inherit his estate, the bent backs straightened mistrustfully for a moment. Could it be that the Diamond King was no gentleman after all? However, it was easy to ignore a rich man's solecism. The ungentlemanly clause was not mentioned again; and the backs soon bowed themselves back into their natural shape.

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Word Lists:

Text : a book or other written or printed work, regarded in terms of its content rather than its physical form

Uxorious : having or showing an excessive or submissive fondness for one's wife

Acquisitiveness : excessive interest in acquiring money or material things

Fecundity : the ability to produce an abundance of offspring or new growth; fertility

Prosaic : having the style or diction of prose; lacking poetic beauty

Libertine : a person, especially a man, who behaves without moral principles or a sense of responsibility, especially in sexual matters

Mistrustful : lacking in trust; suspicious

Irrelevance : the quality or state of being irrelevant

Solecism : a grammatical mistake in speech or writing.

Priggish : self-righteously moralistic and superior

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Additional Information:

Rating: Words in the Passage: 7329 Unique Words: 2,277 Sentences: 241
Noun: 2056 Conjunction: 743 Adverb: 388 Interjection: 8
Adjective: 578 Pronoun: 624 Verb: 1011 Preposition: 953
Letter Count: 34,143 Sentiment: Positive / Positive / Positive Tone: Neutral Difficult Words: 1691
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