inherited influence of the Christian
religion that any adequate play whose motive is self-sacrifice is almost
certain to succeed. Even when the self-sacrifice is unwise and ignoble, as
in the first act of _Frou-Frou_, the crowd will give it vehement approval.
Countless plays have been made upon the man who unselfishly assumes
responsibility for another's guilt. The great tragedies have familiar
themes,--ambition in _Macbeth_, jealousy in _Othello_, filial ingratitude
in _Lear_; there is nothing in these motives that the most unthinking
audience could fail to understand. No crowd can resist the fervor of a
patriot who goes down scornful before many spears. Show the audience a flag
to die for, or a stalking ghost to be avenged, or a shred of honor to
maintain against agonizing odds, and it will thrill with an enthusiasm as
ancient as the human race. Few are the plays that can succeed without the
moving force of love, the most familiar of all emotions. These themes do
not require that the audience shall think.

But for the speculative, the original, the new, the crowd evinces little
favor. If the dramatist holds ideas of religion, or of politics, or of
social law, that are in advance of his time, he must keep them to himself
or else his plays will fail. Nimble wits, like Mr. Shaw, who scorn
tradition, can attain a popular success only through the crowd's inherent
love of fads; they cannot long succeed when they run counter to inherited
ideas. The great successful dramatists, like Moliere and Shakespeare, have
always thought with the crowd on all essential questions. Their views of
religion, of morality, of politics, of law, have been the views of the
populace, nothing more. They never raise questions that cannot quickly be
answered by the crowd, through the instinct of inherited experience. No
mind was ever, in the philosophic sense, more commonplace than that of
Shakespeare. He had no new ideas. He was never radical, and seldom even
progressive. He was a careful money-making business man, fond of food and
drink and out-of-doors and laughter, a patriot, a lover, and a gentleman.
Greatly did he know things about people; greatly, also, could he write. But
he accepted the religion, the politics, and the social ethics of his time,
without ever bothering to wonder if these things might be improved.

The great speculative spirits of the world, those who overturn tradition
and discover new ideas, have had minds far different from