eings are born stronger
than others he would not have fallen back on elaborate tricks of weapon
and costume for conquering an ogre. He would simply have let the ogre
conquer. I will not speak of my own emotions in connection with this
incredibly caddish doctrine that the strength of the strong is
admirable, but not the valour of the weak. It is enough to say that I
have to summon up the physical presence of Shaw, his frank gestures,
kind eyes, and exquisite Irish voice, to cure me of a mere sensation of
contempt. But I do not dwell upon the point for any such purpose; but
merely to show how we must be always casting back to those concrete
foundations with which we began. Bernard Shaw, as I have said, was never
national enough to be domestic; he was never a part of his past; hence
when he tries to interpret tradition he comes a terrible cropper, as in
this case. Bernard Shaw (I strongly suspect) began to disbelieve in
Santa Claus at a discreditably early age. And by this time Santa Claus
has avenged himself by taking away the key of all the prehistoric
scriptures; so that a noble and honourable artist flounders about like
any German professor. Here is a whole fairy literature which is almost
exclusively devoted to the unexpected victory of the weak over the
strong; and Bernard Shaw manages to make it mean the inevitable victory
of the strong over the weak--which, among other things, would not make a
story at all. It all comes of that mistake about not keeping his
birthday. A man should be always tied to his mother's apron strings; he
should always have a hold on his childhood, and be ready at intervals to
start anew from a childish standpoint. Theologically the thing is best
expressed by saying, "You must be born again." Secularly it is best
expressed by saying, "You must keep your birthday." Even if you will not
be born again, at least remind yourself occasionally that you were born
once.

Some of the incidental wit in the Caesarian drama is excellent although
it is upon the whole less spontaneous and perfect than in the previous
plays. One of its jests may be mentioned in passing, not merely to draw
attention to its failure (though Shaw is brilliant enough to afford many
failures) but because it is the best opportunity for mentioning one of
the writer's minor notions to which he obstinately adheres. He
describes the Ancient Briton in Caesar's train as being exactly like a
modern respectable Englishman. As a joke for a