order　of　cause　and　effect　a　sufficient　body　of　fact　and
  experience　to　be　interesting　to　you；　if　not　to　the　play…going
  public　of　London。　I　have　certainly　shown　little　consideration　for
  that　public　in　this　enterprise；　but　I　know　that　it　has　the
  friendliest　disposition　towards　you　and　me　as　far　as　it　has　any
  consciousness　of　our　existence；　and　quite　understands　that　what　I
  write　for　you　must　pass　at　a　considerable　height　over　its　simple
  romantic　head。　It　will　take　my　books　as　read　and　my　genius　for
  granted；　trusting　me　to　put　forth　work　of　such　quality　as　shall
  bear　out　its　verdict。　So　we　may　disport　ourselves　on　our　own
  plane　to　the　top　of　our　bent；　and　if　any　gentleman　points　out
  that　neither　this　epistle　dedicatory　nor　the　dream　of　Don　Juan　in
  the　third　act　of　the　ensuing　comedy　is　suitable　for　immediate
  production　at　a　popular　theatre　we　need　not　contradict　him。
  Napoleon　provided　Talma　with　a　pit　of　kings；　with　what　effect　on
  Talma's　acting　is　not　recorded。　As　for　me；　what　I　have　always
  wanted　is　a　pit　of　philosophers；　and　this　is　a　play　for　such　a
  pit。
  I　should　make　formal　acknowledgment　to　the　authors　whom　I　have
  pillaged　in　the　following　pages　if　I　could　recollect　them　a11。
  The　theft　of　the　brigand…poetaster　from　Sir　Arthur　Conan　Doyle　is
  deliberate；　and　the　metamorphosis　of　Leporello　into　Enry　Straker；
  motor　engineer　and　New　Man；　is　an　intentional　dramatic　sketch　for
  the　contemporary　embryo　of　Mr　H。　G。　Wells's　anticipation　of　the
  efficient　engineering　class　which　will；　he　hopes；　finally　sweep
  the　jabberers　out　of　the　way　of　civilization。　Mr　Barrio　has　also；
  whilst　I　am　correcting　my　proofs；　delighted　London　with　a　servant
  who　knows　more　than　his　masters。　The　conception　of　Mendoza
  Limited　I　trace　back　to　a　certain　West　Indian　colonial　secretary；
  who；　at　a　period　when　he　and　I　and　Mr　Sidney　Webb　were　sowing　our
  political　wild　oats　as　a　sort　of　Fabian　Three　Musketeers；　without
  any　prevision　of　the　surprising　respectability　of　the　crop　that
  followed；　recommended　Webb；　the　encyclopedic　and　inexhaustible；
  to　form　himself　into　a　company　for　the　benefit　of　the
  shareholders。　Octavius　I　take　over　unaltered　from　Mozart；　and　I
  hereby　authorize　any　actor　who　impersonates　him；　to　sing　〃Dalla
  sua　pace〃　（if　he　can）　at　any　convenient　moment　during　the
  representation。　Ann　was　suggested　to　me　by　the　fifteenth　century
  Dutch　morality　called　Everyman；　which　Mr　William　Poel　has　lately
  resuscitated　so　triumphantly。　I　trust　he　will　work　that　vein
  further；　and　recognize　that　Elizabethan　Renascence　fustian　is　no
  more　bearable　after　medieval　poesy　than　Scribe　after　Ibsen。　As　I
  sat　watching　Everyman　at　the　Charterhouse；　I　said　to　myself　Why
  not　Everywoman？　Ann　was　the　result：　every　woman　is　not　Ann；　but
  Ann　is　Everywoman。
  That　the　author　of　Everyman　was　no　mere　artist；　but　an
  artist…philosopher；　and　that　the　artist…philosophers　are　the　only
  sort　of　artists　I　take　quite　seriously；　will　be　no　news　to　you。
  Even　Plato　and　Boswell；　as　the　dramatists　who　invented　Socrates
  and　Dr　Johnson；　impress　me　more　deeply　than　the　romantic
  playwrights。　Ever　since；　as　a　boy；　I　first　breathed　the　air　of
  the　transcendental　regions　at　a　performance　of　Mozart's
  Zauberflote；　I　have　been　proof　against　the　garish　splendors　and
  alcoholic　excitements　of　the　ordinary　stage　combinations　of
  Tappertitian　romance　with　the　police　intelligence。　Bunyan；　Blake；
  Hogarth　and　Turner　（these　four　apart　and　above　all　the　English
  Classics）；　Goethe；　Shelley；　Schopenhaur；　Wagner；　Ibsen；　Morris；
  Tolstoy；　and　Nietzsche　are　among　the　writers　whose　peculiar　sense
  of　the　world　I　recognize　as　more　or　less　akin　to　my　own。　Mark　the
  word　peculiar。　I　read　Dickens　and　Shakespear　without　shame　or
  stint；　but　their　pregnant　observations　and　demonstrations　of　life
  are　not　co…ordinated　into　any　philosophy　or　religion：　on　the
  contrary；　Dickens's　sentimental　assumptions　are　violently
  contradicted　by　his　observations；　and　Shakespear's　pessimism　is
  only　his　wounded　humanity。　Both　have　the　specific　genius　of　the
  fictionist　and　the　common　sympathies　of　human　feeling　and　thought
  in　pre…eminent　degree。　They　are　often　saner　and　shrewder　than　the
  philosophers　just　as　Sancho…Panza　was　often　saner　and　shrewder
  than　Don　Quixote。　They　clear　away　vast　masses　of　oppressive
  gravity　by　their　sense　of　the　ridiculous；　which　is　at　bottom　a
  combination　of　sound　moral　judgment　with　lighthearted　good
  humor。　But　they　are　concerned　with　the　diversities　of　the　world
  instead　of　with　its　unities：　they　are　so　irreligious　that　they
  exploit　popular　religion　for　professional　purposes　without
  delicacy　or　scruple　（for　example；　Sydney　Carton　and　the　ghost　in
  Hamlet！）：　they　are　anarchical；　and　cannot　balance　their　exposures
  of　Angelo　and　Dogberry；　Sir　Leicester　Dedlock　and　Mr　Tite
  Barnacle；　with　any　portrait　of　a　prophet　or　a　worthy　leader：　they
  have　no　constructive　ideas：　they　regard　those　who　have　them　as
  dangerous　fanatics：　in　all　their　fictions　there　is　no　leading
  thought　or　inspiration　for　which　any　man　could　conceivably　risk
  the　spoiling　of　his　hat　in　a　shower；　much　less　his　life。　Both　are
  alike　forced　to　borrow　motives　for　the　more　strenuous　actions　of
  their　personages　from　the　common　stockpot　of　melodramatic　plots；
  so　that　Hamlet　has　to　be　stimulated　by　the　prejudices　of　a
  policeman　and　Macbeth　by　the　cupidities　of　a　bushranger。　Dickens；
  without　the　excuse　of　having　to　manufacture　motives　for　Hamlets
  and　Macbeths；　superfluously　punt　his　crew　down　the　stream　of　his
  monthly　parts　by　mechanical　devices　which　I　leave　you　to
  describe；　my　own　memory　being　quite　baffled　by　the　simplest
  question　as　to　Monks　in　Oliver　Twist；　or　the　long　lost　parentage
  of　Smike；　or　the　relations　between　the　Dorrit　and　Clennam
  families　so　inopportunely　discovered　by　Monsieur　Rigaud　Blandois。
  The　truth　is；　the　world　was　to　Shakespear　a　great　〃stage　of
  fools〃　on　which　he　was　utterly　bewildered。　He　could　see　no　sort
  of　sense　in　living　at　all；　and　Dickens　saved　himself　from　the
  despair　of　the　dream　in　The　Chimes　by　taking　the　world　for
  granted　and　busying　himself　with　its　details。　Neither　of　them
  could　do　anything　with　a　serious　positive　character：　they　could
  place　a　human　figure　before　you　with　perfect　verisimilitude；　but
  when　the　moment　came　for　making　it　live　and　move；　they　found；
  unless　it　made　them　laugh；　that　they　had　a　puppet　on　their　hands；
  and　had　to　invent　some　artificial　external　stimulus　to　make　it
  work。　This　is　what　is　the　matter　with　Hamlet　all　through：　he　has
  no　will　except　in　his　bursts　of　temper。　Foolish　Bardolaters　make
  a　virtue　of　this　after　their　fashion：　they　declare　that　the　play
  is　the　tragedy　of　irresolution；　but　all　Shakespear's　projections
  of　the　deepest　humanity　he　knew　have　the　same　defect：　their
  characters　and　manners　are　lifelike；　but　their　actions　are　forced
  on　them　from　without；　and　the　external　force　is　grotesquely
  inappropriate　except　when　it　is　quite　conventional；　as　in　the
  case　of　Henry　V。　Falstaff　is　more　vivid　than　any　of　these　serious
  reflective　characters；　because　he　is　self…acting：　his　motives　are
  his　own　appetites　and　instincts　and　humors。　Richard　III；　too；　is
  delightful　as　the　whimsical　comedian　who　stops　a　funeral　to　make
  love　to　the　corpse's　widow；　but　when；　in　the　next　act；　he　is
  replaced　by　a　stage　villain　who　smothers　babies　and　offs　with
  people's　heads；　we　are　revolted　at　the　imposture　and　repudiate
  the　changeling。　Faulconbridge；　Coriolanus；　Leontes　are　admirable
  descriptions　of　instinctive　temperaments：　indeed　the　play　of
  Coriolanus　is　the　greatest　of　Shakespear's　comedies；　but
  description　is　not　philosophy；　and　comedy　neither　compromises　the
  author　nor　reveals　him。　He　must　be　judged　by　those　characters
  into　which　he　puts　what　he　knows　of　himself；　his　Hamlets　and
  Macbeths　and　Lears　and　Prosperos。　If　these　characters　are
  agonizing　in　a　void　about　factitious　melodramatic　murders　and
  revenges　and　the　like；　whilst　the　comic　characters　walk　with
  their　feet　on　solid　ground；　vivid　and　amusing；　you　know　that　the
  author　has　much　to　show　and　nothing　to　teach。　The　comparison
  between　Falstaff　and　Prospero　is　like　the　comparison　between
  Micawber　and　David　Copperfield。　At　the　end　of　the　book　you　know
  Micawber；　whereas　you　only　know　what　has　happened　to　David；　and
  are　not　interested　enough　in　him　to　wonder　what　his　politics　or
  religion　might　be　if　anything　so　stupendous　as　a　religious　or
  political　idea；　or　a　general　idea　of　any　sort；　were　to　occur　to
  him。　He　is　tolerable　as　a　child；　but　he　never　becomes　a　man；　and
  might　be　left　out　of　his　own　biography　altogether　but　for　his
  usefulness　as　a　stage　confidant；　a　Horatio　or　〃Charles　his
  friend〃　what　they　call　on　the　stage　a　feeder。
  Now　you　cannot　say　this　of　the　works　of　the　artist…philosophers。
  You　cannot　say　it；　for　instance；　of　The　Pilgrim's　Progress。　Put
  your　Shakespearian　hero　and　coward；　Henry　V　and　Pistol　or
  Parolles；　beside　Mr　Valiant　and　Mr　Fearing；　and　you　have　a　sudden
  revelation　of　the　abyss　that　lies　between　the　fashionable　author
  who　could　see　nothing　in　the　world　but　personal　aims　and　the
  tragedy　of　their　disappointment　or　the　comedy　of　their
  incongruity；　and　the　field　preacher　who　achieved　virtue　and
  courage　by　identifying　himself　with