selected prose of oscar wilde-第15节

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Then　it　was　seen　that　the　only　meaning　of　progress　is　a　return　to

Greek　modes　of　thought。　　The　monkish　hymns　which　obscured　the　pages

of　Greek　manuscripts　were　blotted　out；　the　splendours　of　a　new

method　were　unfolded　to　the　world；　and　out　of　the　melancholy　sea　of

mediaevalism　rose　the　free　spirit　of　man　in　all　that　splendour　of

glad　adolescence；　when　the　bodily　powers　seem　quickened　by　a　new

vitality；　when　the　eye　sees　more　clearly　than　its　wont　and　the　mind

apprehends　what　was　beforetime　hidden　from　it。　　To　herald　the

opening　of　the　sixteenth　century；　from　the　little　Venetian　printing

press　came　forth　all　the　great　authors　of　antiquity；　each　bearing　on

the　title…page　the　words　＇Greek　text　which　cannot　be　reproduced＇；

words　which　may　serve　to　remind　us　with　what　wondrous　prescience

Polybius　saw　the　world's　fate　when　he　foretold　the　material

sovereignty　of　Roman　institutions　and　exemplified　in　himself　the

intellectual　empire　of　Greece。



The　course　of　the　study　of　the　spirit　of　historical　criticism　has

not　been　a　profitless　investigation　into　modes　and　forms　of　thought

now　antiquated　and　of　no　account。　　The　only　spirit　which　is　entirely

removed　from　us　is　the　mediaeval；　the　Greek　spirit　is　essentially

modern。　　The　introduction　of　the　comparative　method　of　research

which　has　forced　history　to　disclose　its　secrets　belongs　in　a

measure　to　us。　　Ours；　too；　is　a　more　scientific　knowledge　of

philology　and　the　method　of　survival。　　Nor　did　the　ancients　know

anything　of　the　doctrine　of　averages　or　of　crucial　instances；　both

of　which　methods　have　proved　of　such　importance　in　modern　criticism；

the　one　adding　a　most　important　proof　of　the　statical　elements　of

history；　and　exemplifying　the　influences　of　all　physical

surroundings　on　the　life　of　man；　the　other；　as　in　the　single

instance　of　the　Moulin　Quignon　skull；　serving　to　create　a　whole　new

science　of　prehistoric　archaeology　and　to　bring　us　back　to　a　time

when　man　was　coeval　with　the　stone　age；　the　mammoth　and　the　woolly

rhinoceros。　　But；　except　these；　we　have　added　no　new　canon　or　method

to　the　science　of　historical　criticism。　　Across　the　drear　waste　of　a

thousand　years　the　Greek　and　the　modern　spirit　join　hands。



In　the　torch　race　which　the　Greek　boys　ran　from　the　Cerameician

field　of　death　to　the　home　of　the　goddess　of　Wisdom；　not　merely　he

who　first　reached　the　goal　but　he　also　who　first　started　with　the

torch　aflame　received　a　prize。　　In　the　Lampadephoria　of　civilisation

and　free　thought　let　us　not　forget　to　render　due　meed　of　honour　to

those　who　first　lit　that　sacred　flame；　the　increasing　splendour　of

which　lights　our　footsteps　to　the　far…off　divine　event　of　the

attainment　of　perfect　truth。The　Rise　of　Historical　Criticism







THE　POSSIBILITIES　OF　THE　USEFUL







There　are　two　kinds　of　men　in　the　world；　two　great　creeds；　two

different　forms　of　natures：　　men　to　whom　the　end　of　life　is　action；

and　men　to　whom　the　end　of　life　is　thought。　　As　regards　the　latter；

who　seek　for　experience　itself　and　not　for　the　fruits　of　experience；

who　must　burn　always　with　one　of　the　passions　of　this　fiery…coloured

world；　who　find　life　interesting　not　for　its　secret　but　for　its

situations；　for　its　pulsations　and　not　for　its　purpose；　the　passion

for　beauty　engendered　by　the　decorative　arts　will　be　to　them　more

satisfying　than　any　political　or　religious　enthusiasm；　any

enthusiasm　for　humanity；　any　ecstasy　or　sorrow　for　love。　　For　art

comes　to　one　professing　primarily　to　give　nothing　but　the　highest

quality　to　one's　moments；　and　for　those　moments'　sake。　　So　far　for

those　to　whom　the　end　of　life　is　thought。　　As　regards　the　others；

who　hold　that　life　is　inseparable　from　labour；　to　them　should　this

movement　be　specially　dear：　　for；　if　our　days　are　barren　without

industry；　industry　without　art　is　barbarism。



Hewers　of　wood　and　drawers　of　water　there　must　be　always　indeed

among　us。　　Our　modern　machinery　has　not　much　lightened　the　labour　of

man　after　all：　　but　at　least　let　the　pitcher　that　stands　by　the　well

be　beautiful　and　surely　the　labour　of　the　day　will　be　lightened：

let　the　wood　be　made　receptive　of　some　lovely　form；　some　gracious

design；　and　there　will　come　no　longer　discontent　but　joy　to　the

toiler。　　For　what　is　decoration　but　the　worker's　expression　of　joy

in　his　work？　　And　not　joy　merelythat　is　a　great　thing　yet　not

enoughbut　that　opportunity　of　expressing　his　own　individuality

which；　as　it　is　the　essence　of　all　life；　is　the　source　of　all　art。

'I　have　tried；'　I　remember　William　Morris　saying　to　me　once；　'I　have

tried　to　make　each　of　my　workers　an　artist；　and　when　I　say　an　artist

I　mean　a　man。'　　For　the　worker　then；　handicraftsman　of　whatever　kind

he　is；　art　is　no　longer　to　be　a　purple　robe　woven　by　a　slave　and

thrown　over　the　whitened　body　of　a　leprous　king　to　hide　and　to　adorn

the　sin　of　his　luxury；　but　rather　the　beautiful　and　noble　expression

of　a　life　that　has　in　it　something　beautiful　and　noble。The　English

Renaissance　of　Art







THE　ARTIST







ONE　evening　there　came　into　his　soul　the　desire　to　fashion　an　image

of　The　Pleasure　that　abideth　for　a　Moment。　　And　he　went　forth　into

the　world　to　look　for　bronze。　　For　he　could　think　only　in　bronze。



But　all　the　bronze　of　the　whole　world　had　disappeared；　nor　anywhere

in　the　whole　world　was　there　any　bronze　to　be　found；　save　only　the

bronze　of　the　image　of　The　Sorrow　that　endureth　for　Ever。



Now　this　image　he　had　himself；　and　with　his　own　hands；　fashioned；

and　had　set　it　on　the　tomb　of　the　one　thing　he　had　loved　in　life。

On　the　tomb　of　the　dead　thing　he　had　most　loved　had　he　set　this

image　of　his　own　fashioning；　that　it　might　serve　as　a　sign　of　the

love　of　man　that　dieth　not；　and　a　symbol　of　the　sorrow　of　man　that

endureth　for　ever。　　And　in　the　whole　world　there　was　no　other　bronze

save　the　bronze　of　this　image。



And　he　took　the　image　he　had　fashioned；　and　set　it　in　a　great

furnace；　and　gave　it　to　the　fire。



And　out　of　the　bronze　of　the　image　of　The　Sorrow　that　endureth　for

Ever　he　fashioned　an　image　of　The　Pleasure　that　abideth　for　a

Moment。Poems　in　Prose







THE　DOER　OF　GOOD







It　was　night…time　and　He　was　alone。



And　He　saw　afar…off　the　walls　of　a　round　city　and　went　towards　the

city。



And　when　He　came　near　He　heard　within　the　city　the　tread　of　the　feet

of　joy；　and　the　laughter　of　the　mouth　of　gladness　and　the　loud　noise

of　many　lutes。　　And　He　knocked　at　the　gate　and　certain　of　the　gate…

keepers　opened　to　Him。



And　He　beheld　a　house　that　was　of　marble　and　had　fair　pillars　of

marble　before　it。　　The　pillars　were　hung　with　garlands；　and　within

and　without　there　were　torches　of　cedar。　　And　He　entered　the　house。



And　when　He　had　passed　through　the　hall　of　chalcedony　and　the　hall

of　jasper；　and　reached　the　long　hall　of　feasting；　He　saw　lying　on　a

couch　of　sea…purple　one　whose　hair　was　crowned　with　red　roses　and

whose　lips　were　red　with　wine。



And　He　went　behind　him　and　touched　him　on　the　shoulder　and　said　to

him；　'Why　do　you　live　like　this？'



And　the　young　man　turned　round　and　recognised　Him；　and　made　answer

and　said；　'But　I　was　a　leper　once；　and　you　healed　me。　　How　else

should　I　live？'



And　He　passed　out　of　the　house　and　went　again　into　the　street。



And　after　a　little　while　He　saw　one　whose　face　and　raiment　were

painted　and　whose　feet　were　shod　with　pearls。　　And　behind　her　came；

slowly　as　a　hunter；　a　young　man　who　wore　a　cloak　of　two　colours。

Now　the　face　of　the　woman　was　as　the　fair　face　of　an　idol；　and　the

eyes　of　the　young　man　were　bright　with　lust。



And　He　followed　swiftly　and　touched　the　hand　of　the　young　man　and

said　to　him；　'Why　do　you　look　at　this　woman　and　in　such　wise？'



And　the　young　man　turned　round　and　recognised　Him　and　said；　'But　I

was　blind　once；　and　you　gave　me　sight。　　At　what　else　should　I　look？'



And　He　ran　forward　and　touched　the　painted　raiment　of　the　woman　and

said　to　her；　'Is　there　no　other　way　in　which　to　walk　save　the　way　of

sin？'



And　the　woman　turned　round　and　recognised　Him；　and　laughed　and　said；

'But　you　forgave　me　my　sins；　and　the　way　is　a　pleasant　way。'



And　He　passed　out　of　the　city。



And　when　He　had　passed　out　of　the　city　He　saw　seated　by　the　roadside

a　young　man　who　was　weeping。



And　He　went　towards　him　and　touched　the　long　locks　of　his　hair　and

said　to　him；　'Why　are　you　weeping？'



And　the　young　man　looked　up　and　recognised　Him　and　made　answer；　'But

I　was　dead　once；　and　you　raised　me　from　the　dead。　　What　else　should

I　do　but　weep？'Poems　in　Prose







THE　DISCIPLE







When　Narcissus　died　the　pool　of　his　pleasure　changed　from　a　cup　of

sweet　waters　into　a　cup　of　salt　tears；　and　the　Oreads　came　weeping

through　the　woodland　that　they　might　sing　to　the　pool　and　give　it

comfort。



And　when　they　saw　that　the　pool　had　changed　from　a　cup　of　sweet

waters　into　a　cup　of　salt　tears；　they　loosen