George Bernard Shaw, himself a famous playwright, of course, in a review (which appeared in the May 13, 1916 edition of the New Statesman) of Julius West's G.K. Chesterton: A Critical Study, in which Shaw describes his thoughts on Chesterton's play Magic (You can read Magic at this link.)
I agree very heartily with Mr. West as to Mr. Chesterton's success in his single essay as a playwright. I shirk the theatre so lazily that I have lost the right to call myself a playgoer; but circumstances led to my seeing Magic performed several times, and I enjoyed it more and more every time. Mr. Chesterton was born with not only brains enough to see something more in the world than sexual intrigue, but with all the essential tricks of the stage at his fingers' ends; and it was delightful to find that the characters which seem so fantastic and even ragdolly (stage characters are usually waxdolly) in his romances became credible and solid behind the footlights, just the opposite of what his critics expected. The test is a searching one; an exposure to it of many moving and popular scenes in novels would reveal the fact that they are physically impossible and morally absurd. Mr Chesterton is in the English tradition of Shakespeare and Fielding and Scott and Dickens, in which you must grip your character so masterfully that you can play with it in the most extravagant fashion...The Duke in Magic is much better than Micawber or Mrs. Wilfer, neither of whom can bear the footlights because, like piping bullfinches, they have only one tune, whilst the Duke sets everything in the universe to his ridiculous music. That is the Shakespearian touch. Is it grateful to ask for more?
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