That Shaw will ever become a popular dramatist, in the sense that
Sardou and Pinero are popular, seems to be beyond all probability.
The vogue that his plays have had of late in the United States is
to be ascribed, in the main, to the yearning to appear “advanced”
and “intellectual” which afflicts Americans of a certain class. The
very fact that they do not understand him makes him seem worthy of
admiration to these virtuously ambitious folks. Were his aims and
methods obvious, they would probably vote him tiresome. As it is, a
performance of “Candida” delights them as much as an entertainment by
Henry Kellar, the magician, and for the same reason.
But even among those who approach Shaw more honestly, there is little
likelihood that he will ever grow more popular, in the current sense,
than he is at present. In the first place, some of his plays are
wellnigh impossible of performance in a paying manner without elaborate
revision and expurgation. “Man and Superman,” for instance, would
require five hours if presented as it was written. And “Mrs. Warren’s
Profession,” because of its subject-matter, will be unsuitable for a
good many years to come. In the second place, Shaw’s extraordinary
dexterity as a wit, which got him his first hearing and keeps him
before the public almost constantly to-day, is a handicap of crushing
weight. As long as he exercises it, the great majority will continue to
think of him as a sort of glorified and magnificent buffoon. As soon as
he abandons it, he will cease to be Shaw.
The reason of this lies in the fact that the average man clings fondly
to two ancient delusions: (_a_) that wisdom is always solemn, and (_b_)
that he himself is never ridiculous. Shaw outrages both of these ideas,
the first by placing his most searching and illuminating observations
in the mouths of such persons as Frank Gardner and Sidney Trefusis,
and the second by drawing characters such as Finch McComas and Roebuck
Ramsden. The average spectator laughs at Frank’s impertinences and
at Trefusis’ satire, and by gradual stages, comes to laugh at Frank
and Trefusis. Beginning as comedians, they become butts. And so,
conversely, McComas and Ramsden, as their opponents fall, rise
themselves. In the first act of “Man and Superman,” the battle seems to
be all in favor of John Tanner and so the unthinking reader concludes
that Tanner is Shaw’s personal spokesman and that the Tanner doctrines
constitute the Shavian creed. Later on, when Tanner falls before the
forces of inexorable law, this same reader is vastly puzzled and
perplexed, and in the end he is left wondering what it is all about.
If he would but remember the reiterated axiom that a dramatist’s
purpose is to present a picture of life as he sees it, without
reference to any particular moral conclusions, he would better enjoy
and appreciate the play as a work of art. Playwrights of Shaw’s
calibre do not think it necessary to plainly label every character or
to reward their heroes and kill their villains in the last act. It is
utterly immaterial whether Tanner is dragged into a marriage with Ann
or escapes scot free. The important thing is that the battle between
the two be depicted naturally and plausibly and that it afford some
tangible material for reflection.
The average citizen’s disinclination to see the ridiculous side of his
own pet doctrines and characteristics has been noted by Shaw in his
preface to Ibsen’s plays. Ibsen has drawn several characters intended
to satirize the typical self-satisfied business man and tax-payer--the
type greatly in the majority in the usual theater audience. These
characters, very naturally, have failed utterly to impress the said
gentlemen. One cannot expect a man, however keen his sense of humor,
to laugh at the things he considers eminently proper and honorable.
Shaw’s demand that he do so has greatly restricted the size of the
Shaw audience. To appreciate “The Devil’s Disciple,” for instance, a
religious man would have to lift himself bodily from his accustomed
rut of thought and look down upon himself from the same distance that
separates him in his meditations from the rest of humanity. This, it is
obvious, is possible only to man given to constant self-analysis and
introspection--the 999th man in the thousand.
Even when the average spectator does not find himself the counterpart
of a definite type in a Shaw play, he is confused by the handling of
some of his ideals and ideas. No doubt the men who essayed to stone
the Magdalen were infinitely astounded when the Messiah called their
attention to the fact that they themselves were not guiltless. But it
is precisely this establishment of new view-points that makes Shaw
as an author worth the time and toil of study. In “Mrs. Warren’s
Profession,” the heroine’s picturesque fall from grace is shown in
literally a multitude of aspects. We have her own antipodal changes in
self-valuation and self-depreciation, we have her daughter’s varying
point of view, and we have the more constant judgments of Frank
Gardner, his father, Crofts, and the rest. It is kaleidoscopic and
puzzling, but it is not sermonizing. You pay your money and you take
your choice.