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Shaw
The fact is, you look on an author as a sort of god. I look on him as a man I pay to do a certain
thing for me. . . . Who and what is an author that he should be privileged to take liberties that
are not allowed to other men?
—Misalliance1
In his final speech in The Tempest, Prospero, bereft of his “potent art” and
the aid of his “demi-puppets,” pleads with the audience to set him free.3
Particularly in light of the Victorian sentimental tradition that elided the
character with the retiring Shakespeare, the image of the magician ulti-
mately subject to the pull of commerce is startling yet prophetic, given the
industry the Bard would become in subsequent centuries, his works per-
petually refinished to suit popular taste. Our last glimpse of the author/
character is as a puppet trapped within his own text, the authority shifted
from the producer to the consumers. Mortality’s effects on authorial con-
trol were also on Bernard Shaw’s mind late in his life when he concluded
a 1949 op-ed piece about tax-code discrimination against writers with
the questions: “Why is property in our creations communized after less
than two lifetimes and that of simple distributors made perpetual? Why
is property in turnips made eternal and absolute when property in ideas is
shaw, Vol. 33, 2013 | Copyright © 2013 The Pennsylvania State University, University Park, pa
Mechanic slaves
With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall
Uplift us to the view.
—Antony and Cleopatra10
I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see the
puppets dallying.
—Hamlet24
The presence of gbs on the page as narrator/author is both direct and profuse;
on stage, it is less tangible and evasive, even as critics compulsively attempt
to pin it down, locate it in a single character or speech. Indeed, the critic is
another primary combatant in the interpretive field, attempting to replace the
writer as the text’s origin in divining its intended meaning. Shaw wrote eight
plays while still working for the Saturday Review, and his published volumes
are expressions of the “critic-dramatist” codependence, “G.B.S.” the nexus of
the mutual exegetical investment of the two roles. Donald Pease posits that
“[similar to] the division of industrial labor within the economic realm[,] what
alienated the author from his work’s means of production . . . was not a factory
owner but the literary critic who claimed a power to understand it greater
than the author’s own.”25 Harley Granville Barker attributes culpability to the
playwright, writing in 1934 about plays that “criticism will kill” as “full of fine
poetry, clever ideas, striking characters [and flawed only by] the failure of the
dramatist to eliminate himself from the play, [the audience] unceasingly con-
scious of the author, of his poetry, his ideas, his characters.”26
To the writer, Barker prescribes self-effacement for the sake of the art
to stave off the cancerous critical invasion hellbent on interpolating the
author through the play. In light of Shaw’s usual self-assertive strategy to
ward off misinterpretations, the preface to Shakes Versus Shav surprisingly
praises the inclination toward discretionary inconspicuousness in puppets
(and, by analogical extension, in playwrights), what Shaw describes as an
unfailing instinct to remain “invisible” when another performer is “speaking
or tumbling.” The playwright adopted this tactic in his puckish conceal-
ment of Fanny’s First Play’s authorship from its opening night audience so
as to provide “a measure of relief to those critics and playgoers who are so
obsessed by my strained legendary reputation that they approach my plays
in a condition which is really one of derangement.”27
Indeed, a frequent assumption in both media reviews of productions and
academic scholarship on his plays is that a single character is simply the
author’s mouthpiece, a premise that sometimes infuriated Shaw. In 1932, for
instance, Aubrey Bagot, Too True to Be Good’s notorious magician preacher,
was quickly interpreted as Shaw’s “satirical self-portrait . . . [a] confession
of the bankruptcy of his own thought.”28 Shaw complained first in the
Malvern Festival Book about American critics who elided playwright and
character: “They annoyed me by . . . informing the world that I am finishing
The second half of Shakes Versus Shav’s preface focuses on the Shakespeare
authorship question whose persistent existence attests that vaulted acclaim
does not dispel the exigencies of authorship. As Peters notes, in spite of the
fact that “Shakespeare alone has the place in history that Shaw supposedly
longs for,” Shakes is “the aggressor” in the play, the “prosecuting plaintiff.”55
The dangers of open textual borders are nowhere more starkly realized than
in the baleful trespasses against the work of that most institutionalized
and idolized of playwrights. At times, Shaw objected to those who altered
the plays, often as if their crimes were perpetrated against the man as well
as the work. For instance, he characterized Henry Irving’s Cymbeline as a
“disemboweling,” a word that conflates the author’s body with the play’s
textual body, and more generally described the process of stage adaptation
of Shakespeare’s works as “one of debasement and mutilation,” an “extrem-
ity of misrepresentation” from which only the “living author can protect
himself.”56 By contrast, as Sonya Freeman Loftis remarks, “Shaw’s sustained
attack on Shakespeare’s canon attempts to erase elements of Shakespeare’s
works with which Shaw disagreed,”57 situating him within the long tradition
of Shakespearean refashioning that he frequently repudiated. For instance,
Shaw’s 1937 revision of Cymbeline results in a last act that, as Joseph Wood
Krutch put it, “all of the characters talk like Shaw rather than like them-
selves.”58 Reconceiving the fifth act “as Shakespear might have written it if
he had been post-Ibsen and post-Shaw instead of post-Marlowe,”59 Shaw’s
desire to fashion a post-Shaw Shakespeare masks a fantasy of producing
the Author he wants as critic as well as the ability, writing as a “post-Shaw
Shakespeare,” of extending authorial control postmortem to craft his legacy.
A decade later, aiming to affirm the figure of the single author, Shaw in the
preface to Shakes Versus Shav delivers a “knockout [to] B acon-Shakespear and
all the other fables founded on that entirely fictitious figure.”60 Destroying the
image of the Bard, he argues, underwrites all rival claims, that of “an illiterate
clown and poacher who could hardly write his own name,”61 Shaw wishes to
restore the authority of the “authentic” Shakespeare, a “well read grammar-
schooled son in a family of good middle-class standing.”62 Yet the writing
is mindful enough to realize that the latter, like characters in his Cymbeline
revision, is a thinly disguised, self-serving Shavian simulacrum: “Nothing
can extinguish my interest in Shakespeare [because his biographical details]
are just like my own[,] Stratford-upon-Avon . . . a supplementary birthplace
of my own.”63
This identity-blending extends into the play as well in that the grappling
authorial effigies are not as distinct as the binary title would suggest. Shakes’s
complaints against Shav, for example, sound awfully similar to gbs’s early
criticisms of Shakespeare when he accuses the Bard of being a “pretentiously
platitudinous pilferer of other men’s stories and ideas.”64 If Shakes is a self-
caricature of the angry critic-dramatist, Shav is a version of his Stratfordian
target, the reified author getting credit for other people’s stories. Although the
preface concludes with confirmation that Shaw and Shakespeare are separate,
their surrogates embody their fortune as Time’s puppets, when authors them-
selves become text and are not immune to refinishing. For Bernard Dukore,
the protracted fray “concludes without a victor[, moving] from litigation to [an]
accommodation between the disputants [that] places [Shaw] in Shakespeare’s
company, but not surpassing him.”65 What begins as a squabble over plagia-
rism and evolves into a contest of artistic superiority ends in the recognition of
the irreversible succession of the future, replete with an ever-advancing army
of ambitious younger playwrights and the promise of eventual self-extinction.
If Shakes Versus Shav in the end is a reluctant concession to forces that seek
to challenge the author’s master control, the loss is offset by a more expan-
sive perspective in the form of Shav’s vision of the future, itself a patchwork
repurposing of lines from three Shakespeare plays:
Shaw extinguishing the “feeling that the real Shakespear might have been
myself.”69 But, rather than modeling a fantasy wielding of authorial author-
ity in perpetuity, Shakes Versus Shav deftly undercuts what appears to be a
triumph of the will.
Shakes Versus Shav is complicit with those literary scholars crafting the
author’s obituary in its satire of the quixotic vanity of playwrights and their
futile mucking around for mastery. Shav’s lines contain the distant echo
of Othello’s angry renunciation of his former self and faith, when he refers
to cannons who “counterfeit . . . immortal Jove’s dread clamours.” Shaw’s
interpolation casts the overreaching authorial claims emerging from the
“rude throats” of playwrights as the arrogant bounding of “mortal engines.”70
The poor author struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard
no more, his fury drowned out by the sound of his own swirling authorless
language. Their vain short-sightedness is illustrated when Shakes’s blowing
out of the candle vanquishes both figures, not simply Shav, and quite literally
ends the play with what Sally Peters refers to as a “[nihilistic] curse of darkness
and final silence.”71 Within this genre, there is finally no room for playwrights.
According to Speaight, puppetry produces “a drama that has no author, for—
as every puppeteer knows—the puppets have a way of imposing their actions
and their own personalities upon the performance.”72 Granville Barker argued
that point about all theater, noting that “drama’s peculiar and triumphant gift
to us—that hour or so of complete illusion—is only to be gained by the dra-
matist’s suppression of himself for the time being in favour of his characters
and the actors of them.”73 Shaw’s claim to have learned “part of [his] craft as
conductor of rehearsals . . . from puppets” intimates that they embodied for
him the rough magic of stage creation.74 In Shakes Versus Shav, the puppets
incorporate at once playwrights, critics, actors, character, and even audience,
all the players with a stake in the theatrical text at and in play.75 Conspicuously
lacking Macbeth’s sense of futility, Shav’s forward reaching “tomorrows” sug-
gest that the future of drama lies within the endless replaying of the puppets’
scene, what Shaw calls, the “marvel that never pales.”76
In the foreword to his revision of Cymbeline, Shaw reflects that he
“[stands] in the same time relation to Shakespear as Mozart to Handel, or
Wagner to Beethoven”: “Like Mozart, I have not confined myself to the
journeyman’s ‘additional accompaniments’; I have luxuriated in varia-
tions.”77 Shakes Versus Shav leaves behind the pretense of intact intention
and implies that true durability lies within the theatrical encounter itself,
the vital luxury of its infinite variations. It intimates that the erasure of liv-
ing playwrights animates rather than inhibits textual play, sets the puppets
in motion, and recasts individual mandate into collaborative and sundry
meanings. As the plays enter the public domain in the twenty-first century,
we are faced with the same question that confronted the playwright at the
end of his life: What will Shaw look like post-Shaw? Rather than providing
a specific answer, Shakes Versus Shav refuses to affirm the possibility of mas-
ter control and instead celebrates contention itself. Without Shav’s pilfering
advances, Shakes and theater itself cease to endure. Forgoing the dead-end
pursuit of hermetically packaged artistic texts, the play expresses a renewed
faith in the political and artistic productivity of the wrangling revisions, in
the vigorous acrobatics of stage signification. Put another way, as we ponder
the implications and witness the contemporary permutations of “Immortal
Bernard Dead,” for Shaw, the thing’s the play.
N ot e s
1. Bernard Shaw, Heartbreak House and Misalliance (New York: Bantam, 1995),
38–39.
2. Bernard Shaw, “Preface” in Plays Pleasant, ed. Dan H. Laurence (New York:
Penguin, 1993), 14.
3. Shakespeare, The Tempest, in The Norton Shakespeare, 2nd ed., ed.
Stephen Greenblatt, Walter Cohen, Jean E. Howard, and Katharine Eisaman Maus
(New York: W. W. Norton, 2008), 5.1.36, 50.
4. Bernard Shaw, “The Author’s Gamble,” in The Times (1/18/1949, Issue 51282),
5. In the letter, Shaw asks the Exchequer to either harmonize rates for all gamblers
or restore an earlier arrangement in which authors were taxed based on averaged
income and excused from a crippling surtax.
5. Bernard Shaw, Shakes Versus Shav, in The Portable Bernard Shaw, ed.
Stanley Weintraub (New York: Penguin, 1985), 691. Shakes Versus Shav was first per-
formed in August 1949 at the Malvern Festival, opening in London two years later
for eight posthumous performances at the Riverside Theater in June 1951 and later
at the Lyric Theatre in December 1953.
6. Ibid., 694, 693.
7. Ibid., 696. The allusion also slyly recalls Shaw’s 1907 statement at Brighton:
“Life’s no ‘brief candle’ for me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of
for the moment; and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it
on to future generations.”
8. P. A. W. Collins, “Shaw on Shakespeare,” in Shakespeare Quarterly 8, no.
(Winter 1957): 1.
9. As examples, Bernard F. Dukore and John Bertolini both provide solid critical
overviews of the short play; see Dukore, Shaw’s Theater (Gainesville: University of
Florida Press, 2005), 226–68, and Bertolini, The Playwrighting Self of Bernard Shaw
(Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1991), 169–71. Sally Peters’s thor-
ough and articulate commentary posits Shakes Versus Shav as “the culmination of a