Great Drama Research Articles

Miss Julie and O'Neill

Miss Julie and O'Neill EGIL TORNQVIST • STRINDBERG'S IMPORTANCE for Eugene O'Neill has often been pointed out, not least by O'Neill himself. His best known statement on the matter is his Nobel Prize speech in 1936. About half the speech was devoted to Strindberg: It was reading his plays when I first started to write back in the winter of 1913-14 that, above all else, first gave me the vision of what modern drama could be, and first inspired me with the urge to write for the theatre myself. If there is anything of lasting worth in my work, it is due to that original impulse from him, which has continued as my inspiration down all the years since then - to the ambition I received then to follow in the footsteps of his genius as worthily as my talent might permit, and with the same integrity of purpose. Of course, it will be no news to you in Sweden that my work owes much to the influence of Strindberg. That influence runs clearly through more than a few of my plays and is plain for everyone to see. Neither will it be news for anyone who has ever known me, for I have always stressed it myself .... No, I am only too proud of my debt to Strindberg, only too happy to have this opportunity of proclaiming him to his people. For me, he remains , as Nietzsche remains in his sphere, the Master, still to this day more modern than any of us, still our leader. And it is my pride to imagine that perhaps his spirit, musing over this year's Nobel award for literature, may smile with a little satisfaction, and find the follower not too unworthy of his Master.! Before the speech was sent away to Stockholm, O'Neill read it to his friend, the critic Sophus Keith Winther. As he was reading, he suddenly 351 352 EGIL TORNQVIST interrupted himself with the comment: "I wish immortality were a fact, for then some day I would meet Strindberg." When Winther replied that "that would scarcely be enough to justify immortality," O'Neill answered quickly and firmly: "It would be enough for me."2 Already in the mid-twenties O'Neill had lauded the Swedish playwright in a program note for the Provincetown Players' production of The Spook Sonata. He then declared that Strindberg was "the precursor of all modernity in our present theater" and "the greatest interpreter in the theater of the characteristic spiritual conflicts which constitute the drama - the blood - of our lives today."3 At about the same time he told a newspaper reporter that he considered Strindberg "the last undeniably great playwright."4 His first acquaintance with Strindberg's work took place in the spring of 1913 (if we are to believe his statement to a reporter in the 1940s5). O'Neill was then a patient at the Gaylord sanatorium in Connecticut . The six months he spent there meant, he has said, a spiritual awakening.6 It was either during his stay at the san, or shortly after he had left it, that he composed his first play, A Wife for a Life,7 which does not, however, show any traces of his reading of Strindberg. It was apparently when he stayed with a certain Rippin family in New London - from Steptember 1913 to March 19148 - that O'Neill seriously began to devote himself to the Swedish dramatist; about his time with the Rippins he has said: "I read about everything I could lay hands on: the Greeks, the Elizabethans - practically all the classics - and of course all the moderns. Ibsen and Strindberg, especially Strindberg."9 It is likely that he was stimulated in his interest in Strindberg by Clayton Hamilton, drama editor of The Bookman and Vogue and lecturer in playwriting at Columbia.IO Hamilton had written an article on Strindberg a year earlier.11 He was a friend both of the O'Neills and the Rippins and he often met the young Eugene around this time. In several ways he influenced the fledging playwright. It was Hamilton who advised O'Neill to write dramas about the life he...

James and John Stuart Mill. Father and Son in the Nineteenth Century.

The story of James and John Stuart Mill is one of the great dramas of the 19thcentury. In the tense yet loving struggle of this extraordinarily influential father and son, we can see the genesis of evolution of Liberal ideas-about love, sex, and women, wealth and work, authority and rebellion-which ushered in the modern age. The result of more than a decade of research and reflection, this is a study of the relationship between James Mill, the self-made utilitarian philosopher who tried (with only partial success) to shape his son in his own image. Mazlish integrates psychology and intellectual history as part of his larger and continuing effort to spur deeper understanding of the character, limitations, and possibilities of the social sciences.John Stuart Mill's rebellion against a joyless, loveless upbringing, one in strict accordance with the principles of Utilitarianism, was rooted ina powerful Oedipal struggle against his father's authority. Mazlish describes this rebellion as playing an important role in the genesis of classical nineteenth century liberalism. Behind this intellectual development were the women in Mills' life: Harriet the mother, never mentioned by her son in his autobiography, and Harriet Taylor, with whom Mill lived in a scandalous, if chaste, menage a trois. It was this long relationship which informed his famous essay 'The Subjection of Women,' one of the most eloquent feminist statements ever written. A work of brilliant historical research and psychological insights, James and John Stuart Mill shows how the nineteenth-century struggle of fathers and sons shaped the social transformation of society.

Nashville and America in one dimension

The movie Nashville continues to be a prime topic of conversation among New York writers half a year after its release, according to John Leonard of the New York Times news service. Impressive for any movie, what accounts for the staying power of this musical set among the denizens of country music city? One of the fascinations is surely the film's structure. In it a large number of characters act out their parts without ever once interacting. No one character touches another; none learns from experience. Like two-year-olds in a sand box, they only coact. Since the great engine drama in Western society from soap opera to grand opera is character development, the coaction strategy of Nashville is singularly arresting. The coacting strategy is strongly reminiscent of King Kong. In that 1933 minor classic it is an artistic device intended to facilitate the action; in the 1975 film coaction has become a representation of how people re-

Juan Ruiz de Alarcón (review)

life? (Hesse does not define "good.") These questions enter the area of philosophy , as all ultimate questions about the meaning of life and its record we call literature must do. Hesse makes clear (p. 11 and elsewhere) his desire to interpret the comedia for our own time, although he does not deny the need to see it as the seventeenth-century playgoer and reader saw it, insofar as this may be possible for our twentieth -century eyes. The plays chosen by Hesse for analysis are well known, and have had previous comment by scholars. Those by Calderón, the dramatist he most admires, are used more often than others. La devoción de la cruz is favored by two analyses (pp. 93-96 and 188-207. The second of the two is repeated in English translation on pp. 361-381 of the Revista de estudios hispánicos, vol. 7 [1973]. One may question the suitability of Calderón's plays as representative of the comedia as a genre if, as Parker observes (p. 51 of his article of reference), he is indeed "the most unrealistic of the Spanish dramatists." Margaret Wilson Borland seems to agree with Parker when, as Hesse recalls (p. 141) she finds that neither Lope nor Tirso follow the principles on which Calderón based his theater. It is apparent from even this brief review that Hesse has opened up for a fresh scrutiny many of the major and very difficult questions the study of the comedia engenders. Like all good books, his volume, explicitly or implicitly , poses many more questions than it — or any other book on the subject — can answer. Nashville, Tenn.gebald e. wade ^6.3^ POESSE, WALTER. Juan Ruiz de Alarcón. New York: Twayne, 1972. 185 pp. $5.95. Ruiz de Alarcón, by conventional wisdom one of Golden Age Spain's four greatest dramatists, spent only some ten years writing for the stage and his posthumous fame rests on La verdad sospechosa and a handful of other successes . Professor Poesse's recent book for TWAS brings together with commendable concision and clarity the sum of our present knowledge of the playwright 's life, as well as individual studies of all the authentic comedias in the two partes (1628 and 1634), thus directing overdue attention to the residual merits of Alarcón's neglected works. Professor Poesse's five chapters begin with the life, a particularly strong section that welds the (customarily!) scanty facts of the playwright's life into a highly readable and absorbing biography. The heart of the book — one lengthy chapter devoted to each parte and taking the plays in their printed sequence — offers a succinct account of every comedia, including problems of dating and sources, together with an excellent exposition of plot, characterization and motivations (Alarcón's strong points). Here Poesse freely uses and acknowledges the past contributions of Fernández - Guerra, Castro Leal and Millares Carlo in matters both critical and aesthetic. "His fourth chapter discusses questionable attributions (the majority rejected, correctly one feels) and the sparse minor works. The final chapter surveys some ninteen individual topics covering Alarcón's craft, style, favorite themes and intellectual complexion. Dr. Poesse argues that Alarcón was an unimaginative versifier, perhaps not always as careful a craftsman as he is held to be, but justly renowned for his 36 powers of character drawing. The main motivating forces in Alarcón, Poesse views as being, in descending order: honor, loyalty, friendship and love. The writer also deemphasizes Alarcón's moralist leanings, hints at his misogyny, and shows that his interest in the occult was stronger than his rather conventional Catholicism. Poesse, while conceding La verdad sospechosa its due, offers the stimulating view in his Conclusion that La prueba de las promesas was structurally and thematically Alarcón's masterpiece. As one would expect of a bibliographer of Professor Poesse's distinction, the critical apparatus and notes are thorough and much more extensive than is usual in this series (some 25% of the total pagination). However, could not all footnotes consisting merely of a page reference have been incorporated into the text itself? One also wonders at the bibliographical...

Canada’s Great Theatre Prophet: Roy Who?

“We can deny words and paint and music utterly and still have a good theatre. Deny motion and we have no theatre at all.” “No playwright ever altered the house by so much as a single brick. The greatest playwright we ever had wrote for the innyard he found.” “Vocal sound is often most eloquent when there are no words at all, only sighs, groans, grunts, laughter, weeping, or the little inarticulate sounds with which skilful actors open, break or close a speech.”

Henry Moore'sNuclear Energy: The Genesis of a Monument

Until 1967 a simple bronze plaque hung on a fence at the University of Chicago stating that “On December 2, 1942, man achieved here the first self-sustaining chain reaction and thereby initiated the controlled release of nuclear energy.” On the 25th anniversary of this event the plaque was replaced by a monument of great drama and suggestive force—the large sculpture by Henry Moore known as Nuclear Energy.

The great cable drama

Federal Communications Commission has made local government the regulator of cable TV. Local efforts to date have largely been failures. The industry has a laissez-faire attitude. Together they are the actors in the drama which could produce exciting new concepts or another runaway technology.

Voltaire and the Patronage of Pierre Corneille

THE GENERAL OUTLINES of Voltaire's position with regard to the baleful effects of patronage on France's national and cultural life are familiar to most students of the French literary scene in the eighteenth century. Voltaire's proposals for the reform of French traditions of patronising the arts were radical, and over the years he developed an angry polemic around the general problem of the continuing subservience of French artists to the private pursestrings of the rich amateur, and to the vagaries of his taste, or lack of taste.' Voltaire was concerned primarily, of course, with the other side of the patronage coin, namely with the status and dignity of the artist.2 The twoyear English experience, itself a consequence of the ambiguities of the artist's position in French society,3 had been a dazzling revelation which had exposed for him the wider political and social implications of the French situation. In England talent was publicly recognised, not privately purchased. Whoever had merit in London was a great man, irrespective of his birth. In France he was socially unrecognised, a guest at the table of a duke at one moment, and thrashed by the hired thugs of an offended young nobleman at the next. National festivals were held in honour of England's greatest dramatist.4 The

Ibsen in Seattle

by SVERRE ARESTAD 7 Ibsen in Seattle The ground purpose for the of interest this article shown is in to Ibsen present by some Norwegian background for the interest shown in Ibsen by Norwegian Americans and others in Seattle, to record as accurately as available sources permit the statistical data on performances of his plays, to assess Ibsen's impact on theater-goers, to evaluate in general the presentation of his dramas, to discuss in detail the Seattle Repertory Playhouse production of Peer Gynt , and, finally, to give some indication of the continuing interest in Ibsen in the area. i Some statistics concerning the performances of Ibsen's plays in Seattle will be given later, but let us begin with three Peer Gynt productions during the period 1931-1965. In the 1930's, the Seattle Repertory Playhouse, under the direction of Florence Bean and Burton James, gave 92 presentations of Peer Gynt before more than 29,000 spectators. The University of Washington Showboat Theatre, under the direction of Drama Professor Donald Harrington, staged the play 33 times for audiences totaling 6,600 in the spring of 1951. In June, 1965, the late John Rustad, associate professor of humanistic-social studies at the University of Washington, assisted by Ralph Rosinbum, associate professor of music, directed and acted the leading role in a spectacular staging of the drama. Four per167 Sverre Atestad formances attracted 12,000 spectators to the outdoor Aqua Theatre. Thus in three decades there have been 129 performances of Peer Gynt before more than 48,000 people. How does one account for this popularity? Many factors contributed to the initial reception accorded Peer Gynt in Seattle. One might suggest that the deep depression of the 1930's, and the ugly unrest in many areas of the world during the same period - not least of all in Europe may well have helped to create a climate receptive to the charms of this play. These specific factors, however, would not have been operative in 1951 or in 1965, although other external circumstances, equally valid, could be advanced to account for its success in later years. No doubt the intrinsic appeal of Peer Gynt , as good theater, to widely disparate audiences and the local orientation toward Ibsen, which I shall develop below, really account for the play's overwhelmingly favorable reception. I shall concentrate, as far as theater performances are concerned , on the production by the Seattle Repertory Playhouse (hereafter referred to as the Playhouse) . I do not thereby disparage the fine presentation of Peer Gynt by the Showboat Theatre or its enthusiastic acceptance by the large Aqua Theatre audiences. Nor do I slight the numerous other successful performances of Ibsen's plays both in commercial and noncommercial Seattle theaters. A detailed consideration of other notable showings of the great playwright's works would be repetitive and beyond the scope of this article. Founded in 1929 by Florence Bean and Burton James, who had been members of the drama faculty at the University of Washington, the Playhouse contributed substantially for more than a decade to the theater and the general cultural life of the city. To my knowledge, no theater outside Norway had performed Peer Gynt as often as the Playhouse. Although a number of years have passed since this achievement, it is worthwhile to record it as an unusual contribution to the Ibsen tradition. 168 IBSEN IN SEATTLE After the thirty-ninth presentation of Peer Gynt , Mrs. Florence Bean James remarked to Washington-Posten (now Western Viking ) , Seattle Norwegian-language weekly, that the Norwegians in Seattle and on the Pacific coast had contributed substantially to the success of the play through attendance and in other ways. Her statement may well contain an element of truth - 12,000 people had attended the 39 performances - but Peer Gynt was revived by the Playhouse and shown before an additional 17,000 spectators. The total figure of 29,000 far exceeds the number of Norwegians in the area. It follows, therefore, that not only members of this ethnic group, but others as well - indeed, in larger numbers - supported the ambitious undertaking. It can be assumed that Peer Gynt was familiar to most Norwegians in the...

The 1971 Season at Stratford, Connecticut

Journal Article The 1971 Season at Stratford, Connecticut Get access Errol G. Hill Errol G. Hill Dartmouth College Search for other works by this author on: Oxford Academic Google Scholar Shakespeare Quarterly, Volume 22, Issue 4, Autumn 1971, Pages 371–375, https://doi.org/10.2307/2868913 Published: 01 October 1971

The Alcoholism of Eugene O'Neill

Two psychiatrists have won the Nobel Prize for medicine—Julius Wagner-Jauregg for the malarial treatment of neurosyphilis, and Antonio Moniz for promoting lobotomy. More deserving than either, perhaps, was Gilbert V. Hamilton. As a young New York psychoanalyst in the mid 1920s, Hamilton converted America's greatest playwright from a ferocious alcoholic into a dedicated teetotaler, and did it all in six weeks. In the process he may also have transformed his patient, Eugene O'Neill, from a spectacularly productive playwright into a recluse who went 12 years without having a play on Broadway, but this cannot be proven. His cure of O'Neill's drinking problem, on the other hand, surely must represent one of the outstanding medical triumphs of the century. It all happened in a most peculiar manner. Hamilton had received a grant to survey the sexual practices of married people. His subjects included Mr. and Mrs. Eugene O'Neill. Hamilton later received

Sean O'Casey:

THE NINETIENTH ANNIVERSARY of Sean O'Casey's birth and the recent acquisition by the New York Public Library of the papers of his literary estate afford an opportunity to view, once more, the remarkable achievements of a dramatist of universal distinction. A passionate believer in the cause of man's dignity and freedom, whose plays touched off riots and sparked off controversies, whose works wrung the beauty and passion and heartaches from the experiences of everyday life and ‘whose lips were royally touched’—to quote J. C. Trewin's recent colourful phrase—O'Casey was, with Shaw, one of the few incomparably great playwrights of the present century. Not without his detractors: one critic's jibe that O'Casey is ‘an extremely overrated writer with two or three competent Naturalist plays to his credit, followed by a lot of ideological bloat and embarrassing bombast’ is the kind of factitious reaction one expects from critically immature minds. Shaw's plays, at first, were slighted, but they survived, and today are flourishing; predictably, O'Casey's will enjoy a similar fate. O'Casey is a world dramatist in the widest sense, because he viewed the theatre in the same epic way as Shakespeare and the rest of the Elizabethans.

Thalia in Dublin: Some Suggestions about the Relationships between O’Casey and Classical Comedy

Thalia in Dublin: Some Suggestions About the Relationships Between O’Casey and Classical Comedy James Coakley and Marvin Felheim I Standard interpretations of O ’Casey’s early successes—The Shadow of a Gunman (1923), Juno and the Paycock (1924) and The Plough and the Stars (1926)— emphasize the remarkable combination of real­ ism and humor, the tragicomic quality, which he achieved in these works; the prevailing attitude is also that these plays are somewhat fumbling efforts, made memorable, however, by extraordinary language and characterization. Then, with The Silver Tassie (1928), say the critics, O ’Casey changed his manner and thus began to utilize the symbolism so characteristic of his later plays. So much for the easy, handbook classification of a very great dramatist. But any serious student of the theatre, when confronted with these early plays, whether on the printed page or in actual performance, is genuinely impressed with their power, and, upon closer analysis, their subtlety and sophistication. What we propose to do, in this brief study of Juno and the Paycock, taking our cue from the title itself, is to relate the play to its larger context, to some of the more significant traditions of Western drama, specifically to the Roman stage and the comedies of Plautus and, more remotely, of Terence. Some generalizations may be set forth first, however. Plautus and O ’Casey, for example, were both writing for audiences familiar with war: among the spectators in Plautus’ audience were certainly veterans of the Second Punic War (218-201 B.C.), while the Irish for whom O ’Casey was making his observations had been literally living through rebellion (against the British) and civil war; hence, the subject of war, long borne, could become, and was, both ludicrous and searing. It is possible, though perhaps a bit far-fetched, to see a neat parallel here: as the Dubliners of O ’Casey’s day were to the British, so Plautus’ Romans were to the Greeks. Both audiences were, in addition, urban dwellers. Plautus, it is 265 266 Comparative Drama true, probably because he was adapting many of his works from Greek models, generally chose Athens as his setting, but he left no doubt at all that he intended his references and his barbs for his fellow Roman citizens. O ’Casey, too, set his plays in the urban scene, specifically the tenements of Dublin (as opposed to the practices of his great pre­ decessor, Synge, who used the Irish countryside for his locales). Both Roman and Irish playwrights, however, depended a great deal upon the city dweller’s sense of humor about himself and his condition; and for the achieving of many of these effects both depended heavily upon certain devices: puns, word plays, and a particular kind of joke: the offering of a wholly unexpected reply to a question (perhaps another aspect of the absurd). II O ’Casey reveals his debts to Roman comedy in the title of his play (as Shaw had done before him in his pointedly Vergilian title, Arms and the M an) . It is the point of debarkation from which a rich symbology colors and shapes the text. The obvious allusion to the Queen of the Gods, traditionally surrounded by peacocks, firmly plants the central symbol of the play’s action. Yet O ’Casey, in mock heroic fashion, distorts the legend by surrounding his Juno with a peacock neither noble nor beautiful, but vain and bibulous. Juno Boyle is, to be sure, heroic, a tenement housewife capable of sustaining the home at all costs. But she is also a Plautine matrona and goddess undone by the strutting vanity of her supposed protector. O ’Casey’s Rome is Dublin, site of a newly-born republic, seemingly on the threshold of a golden age. Yet the deities which surround this city provide none of their usual protection. Constantly invoked in the dialogue, the gods are not friendly, merely impassive. A votive light to the Virgin Mary, the Boyle’s household goddess, is prominent in the setting, but flickers out once the soldiers come to take Johnny to his death. Yet constant invocation is not unquestioned devotion; for these people, unlike their Roman ancestors, betray a healthy dis...

Schiller's William Tell: A Folkloristic Perspective

IN A RECENT WORK On Friedrich Schiller, Frederick Ungar laments the dimming glory of a German Golden Age and the inexorable decline in popularity of Friedrich Schiller's greatest dramas, whose messages are as pertinent to our unsettled times as they were to the Napoleonic days which fathered them.' Though it is only too obvious that Schiller's voice of rational idealism becomes increasingly muted by the growing clamor of the present, the same cannot be said of the sound of battle among Schiller scholars, especially with reference to the poet's last completed play, William Tell ( 804), and its enigmatic Alpine hero. One can state with assurance that the alchemy of time has not transmuted critical dissent into either silence or accord. Indeed, as one samples the many scholarly assessments of William Tell, he realizes that in the last half-century the contenders in the Tell Problem seem -to have maintained their armies and their

Suicide, Sex, and the Discovery of the German Adolescent

I'FOR THE GREAT DRAMATISTS of the late nineteenth century, writes the critic, Eric Bentley, play was a bomb to drop on the respectable middle classses. (i) In the winter of 1890-1891, the young playwright Frank Wedekind created his bomb, the explosive drama, Spring's Awakening (Friiuhlingserwachen), in which he bitterly attacked the moral hypocrisy of his day. In dealing with the sexual problems of adolescence, Wedekind harshly condemned middle-class prudery and an education that taught German children the facts of German history, but not the facts of life. In one frank scene after another, he explored the tragedy of this situation. Fourteenyear-old Wendla becomes pregnant without ever discovering how she conceived. She finally dies from the effects of abortion pills. Her lover, Melchior, searches for answers to his sexual questions and finds dishonor instead. He commits suicide. His friend, Moritz, is unable to help and wanders in despair at the final curtain. Only the self-righteous parents and teachers, who have crushed 'spring's awakening, survive. Not unexpectedly, German censors retaliated by banning Wedekind's play. The exasperated author then published it in Switzerland at his own expense. Yet, it was not produced. German producers apparently feared that its frank treatment of adolescent sexual problems was too shocking for theatergoers in the 1890os. But it was not to remain in oblivion for long. By 19o00, the play began to find a

Ts’ao Yu: Dramatist in Communist China

Ts’ao Yu: Dramatist in Communist China Walter J. & Ruth I. Meserve Called the “greatest playwright” of the modern theatre in China,1 Ts’ao Yu, pseudonym of Wan Chai-pao (1910- ), was most pro­ ductive during the 1930’s and early 1940’s when he wrote six major plays. Then, in 1949, Mao Tse-tung and the Communist Party came into power. As a student at Tsing Hua University, from which he graduated in 1934, Ts’ao Yu had been greatly impressed by Western literature. He knew the drama of the Greeks and that of Shakespeare, Chekhov, Ibsen, and O ’Neill; he even acted in two of Ibsen’s plays as well as in Chinese plays. In Ts’ao Yu the modern day struggle of Eastern Communism and Western Philosophy is dramatically personi­ fied. His first play, Thunderstorm (1934), also called Thunder and Rain, brought unbelievable success. Reprinted several times (the Communist press says thirty times and a Western source claims nine editions), Thunderstorm played before enthusiastic audiences as late as 1960. In the history of Chinese drama it is also significant for continuing the influence of Western drama upon Eastern drama which began with a performanec of Uncle Tom’s Cabin in 1907. Concerned with the downfall of a family because of its past sins, the play clearly reflects Aeschylus’ Orestia and Eugene O ’Neill’s Mourning Becomes Electra. But Thunderstorm still remains indigenous to China: the characters are Chinese in every way, while actions and customs reflect the culture of China. As originally written Thunderstorm included a prologue and an epilogue which take place in a Catholic Hospital ten years after the action of the play and dramatize the pathetic existence of those who first sinned, the old woman having lost contact with the real world and the old man trying to reach her. The main plot tells of the family of Chou Pu-yuan, owner of a coal mine, prosperous, strict, and a cold-hearted man. In the past he had had two sons by a household servant who turns out to be the mother of his present servant girl, Ssu-feng, and wife to her father, Lu Kuei. One son, Ping, was raised by Chou Pu-yuan, and when his father married, had an affair with this step-mother, Fan-yi, which he now regrets, having fallen in love with Ssu-feng. The drama is intensified when it is evident that Chung, the son of Chou Pu-yuan and Fan-yi, also loves Ssu-feng. Reminiscent of the ancient Greek drama, the evils of the past are cleverly revealed 115 116 Comparative Drama through two incidents: a strike at the coal mine which brings Lu Ta-hai (the second son of Chou Pu-yuan and half-brother of Ssu-feng) to the Chou household as the miners’ representative; and the jealous anger of Fan-yi who, discovering Ping’s love for Ssu-feng, requests a visit from Mrs. Lu. As a consequence, all concerned are brought together in the Chou household for one day. In good Aristotelian fashion Mrs. Lu discovers who Chou Pu-yuan really is as they see the results of their love turn into horror: brother fights brother with murderous intent, and Ssu-feng reveals she is going to have Chou Ping’s child. Then the thunderstorm which has been growing in intensity throughout the play becomes a device of the fates. There is no escape. A loose wire electrocutes Ssu-feng as she tries to run from her disaster, and Chung is killed when he tries to save her; Fan-yi loses her mind; and Ping shoots himself. The epilogue shows the continuing work of the furies. The influence of the Greek drama upon Thunderstorm is evident in various ways. Two Greek themes are dramatized: the sins of the past visited upon the present (the House of Atreus), and the deter­ mined love of a woman for her step-son (Phaedra-Hippolytus). Both themes are resolved as they were by the Greek dramatists. Revelations of the past bring horror and disaster to the present unknowing genera­ tion while those who started the action are relentlessly pursued. Chou Pu-yuan is a stern...

Politics, Comedy, Character, and Dialectic: The Shavian World of John Bull's Other Island

John bull's other island, Shaw once said, is one of “a group of three plays of exceptional weight and magnitude on which the reputation of the author as a serious dramatist was first established, and still mainly rests.” The other two plays are Major Barbara and Man and Superman. John Bull's Other Island was popular at the Court Theatre from 1904 to 1907 and established Shaw as a great and popular dramatist. Since then, however, this play has not been esteemed as much as Man and Superman and Major Barbara, although I would argue that in humor and insight it is their equal. It has been revived only twice in London in the last forty years—in 1938 and 1947; and it is far less known to the public or to scholarship than are the other two plays. Opinions to the contrary notwithstanding, Shaw's estimate of his play should, I think, be taken seriously. Some critics have seen the play as original in method, as still pertinent to the Irish situation, and as universal in its significance. “Shaw made out of this topical subject a masterpiece,” Reuben Brower has written, “one of his purest and most sustained comedies.” I believe this view can be upheld.

The Columbian Complex: The Impulse to National Consolidation

ON OCTOBER 19, 1781, at Yorktown, Virginia, in a military setting framed by symmetrical rows of soldiers bearing colors of three nations, Charles Cornwallis, Major General of British forces in South Carolina, surrendered his army to George Washington. As news spread up and down coast and westward to inland villages and farms, citizens congregated for impromptu celebrations. No longer colonials, victors now could transmute hardships and tragedies of war into memories of heroic deeds and patriotic sacrifices, and, for moment, forget uncertainties of peace and independence. Gradually, however, as men began to assess implications of their Revolution, euphoria of triumph receded before a wave of doubts about future. What could unify such a widely scattered and diverse population? The answer seemed to lie in a new and total republican way of life which could blot out memory of a British culture that had carried with it subtle stigma of colonialism and subservience. Clearly, military triumph was but first mile, and road to complete independence could be rough indeed, unless it was paved with more than slogans and speeches. The Revolution, wrote Benjamin Rush a decade after he had signed Declaration of Independence, was only the first act of great drama. We have changed our

Mr. Shaw on Doctors

When the eminent playwright George Bernard Shaw was beginning to age, he wrote a play called<i>Back to Methuselah</i>which he considered to be his masterpiece since in it he portrayed his idea of Utopia. The elite characters in this play lived to be 300 years old and all were brilliant conversationalists just like the author. They apparently did little else but converse. An aging man is likely to regard young adults as mere children. Shaw at this time believed that a proper adolescence lasted 78 years and that a man could not become an adult unless he turned 100. However, when the great dramatist reached his 90's he seems to have lost his zest for a three-century life span. In fact, he lost his enthusiasm for most of the opinions that he had propounded during his career. But his antagonism towards doctors persisted. In the preface to<i>Far Fetched</i>

The Revolutionary Character of the American Revolution

FOR so great an event, the American Revolution is downright elusive. Nothing seems certain about it: what it about, how and why it happened, when or perhaps even whether it happened.' Lest one suppose this inconclusiveness to result merely from the confusion of historians, consider these two familiar quotations from such clear-headed men of the Revolution as John Adams and Benjamin Rush: The Adams wrote Thomas Jefferson, was in the Minds of the People, and this effected, from I760 to 1775, in the course of fifteen Years before a drop of blood drawn at Lexington.2 The American war is over, Rush wrote in 1787, this is far from being the case with the American Revolution. On the contrary, nothing but the first act of the great drama is closed.3 One can, of course, by putting these statements in context, easily see that their authors were not in disagreement, but were only considering different features of the Revolution. Looking back on it long afterward, Adams found the heart of the Revolution in the alienation of American feeling toward Britain and the British connection. Rush, on the other hand, concerned with the necessity for a new national government, a need shortly to be met by the adoption of the Constitution, and, further, with the need to educate a republican citizenry: It remains, he continued, yet to establish and perfect our new forms of government; and to prepare the principles, morals, and manners of our citizens, for these forms of government.` Leaving aside, for the moment, some further implications of both Adams' and Rush's words, it is enough here to note, not that they differed about the Revolution, for their views were complementary, but that they could so easily and so