ABSTRACT
Bernard Shaw’s long life could be divided into three phases. In the first, which lasted till he was about forty, he was known to a fairly wide circle as a musical critic, and to a much more restricted circle as a Fabian controversialist, an admirable novelist, and a dangerously witty enemy of humbug. Then came his second phase, as a writer of comedies. At first he could not get his plays performed, because they were not exactly like those of Pinero, but at last even theatrical managers realized that they were amusing, and he achieved a very well-deserved success. He had, I believe, cherished throughout his earlier life the hope that, when he had acquired an audience as a joker, he would be able effectively to deliver his serious message. Accordingly, in his third and last phase, he appeared as a prophet demanding equal admiration for St. Joan of Orleans and St. Joseph of Moscow. I knew him in all three phases, and in his first two I thought him both delightful and useful. In his third phase, however, I found that my admiration had limits.
