no means a popular movement; and, like all such idolatries, it was
excited by the magic of Shakespear's art rather than by his views.

He was launched on his career as a successful playwright by the Henry
VI trilogy, a work of no originality, depth, or subtlety except the
originality, depth, and subtlety of the feelings and fancies of the
common people. But Shakespear was not satisfied with this. What is
the use of being Shakespear if you are not allowed to express any
notions but those of Autolycus? Shakespear did not see the world as
Autolycus did: he saw it, if not exactly as Ibsen did (for it was not
quite the same world), at least with much of Ibsen's power of
penetrating its illusions and idolatries, and with all Swift's horror
of its cruelty and uncleanliness.

Now it happens to some men with these powers that they are forced to
impose their fullest exercise on the world because they cannot produce
popular work. Take Wagner and Ibsen for instance! Their earlier
works are no doubt much cheaper than their later ones; still, they
were not popular when they were written. The alternative of doing
popular work was never really open to them: had they stooped they
would have picked up less than they snatched from above the people's
heads. But Handel and Shakespear were not held to their best in this
way. They could turn out anything they were asked for, and even heap
up the measure. They reviled the British Public, and never forgave it
for ignoring their best work and admiring their splendid commonplaces;
but they produced the commonplaces all the same, and made them sound
magnificent by mere brute faculty for their art. When Shakespear was
forced to write popular plays to save his theatre from ruin, he did it
mutinously, calling the plays "As _You_ Like It," and "Much Ado About
Nothing." All the same, he did it so well that to this day these two