the critic as artist-第14章

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　very　interesting　psychological　study；　and　though　of　all　poses　a　moral　pose　is　the　most　offensive；　still　to　have　a　pose　at　all　is　something。　　It　is　a　formal　recognition　of　the　importance　of　treating　life　from　a　definite　and　reasoned　standpoint。　　That　Humanitarian　Sympathy　wars　against　Nature；　by　securing　the　survival　of　the　failure；　may　make　the　man　of　science　loathe　its　facile　virtues。　　The　political　economist　may　cry　out　against　it　for　putting　the　improvident　on　the　same　level　as　the　provident；　and　so　robbing　life　of　the　strongest；　because　most　sordid；　incentive　to　industry。　　But；　in　the　eyes　of　the　thinker；　the　real　harm　that　emotional　sympathy　does　is　that　it　limits　knowledge；　and　so　prevents　us　from　solving　any　single　social　problem。　　We　are　trying　at　present　to　stave　off　the　coming　crisis；　the　coming　revolution　as　my　friends　the　Fabianists　call　it；　by　means　of　doles　and　alms。　　Well；　when　the　revolution　or　crisis　arrives；　we　shall　be　powerless；　because　we　shall　know　nothing。　　And　so；　Ernest；　let　us　not　be　deceived。　　England　will　never　be　civilised　till　she　has　added　Utopia　to　her　dominions。　　There　is　more　than　one　of　her　colonies　that　she　might　with　advantage　surrender　for　so　fair　a　land。　　What　we　want　are　unpractical　people　who　see　beyond　the　moment；　and　think　beyond　the　day。　　Those　who　try　to　lead　the　people　can　only　do　so　by　following　the　mob。　　It　is　through　the　voice　of　one　crying　in　the　wilderness　that　the　ways　of　the　gods　must　be　prepared。

But　perhaps　you　think　that　in　beholding　for　the　mere　joy　of　beholding；　and　contemplating　for　the　sake　of　contemplation；　there　is　something　that　is　egotistic。　　If　you　think　so；　do　not　say　so。　It　takes　a　thoroughly　selfish　age；　like　our　own；　to　deify　self…　sacrifice。　　It　takes　a　thoroughly　grasping　age；　such　as　that　in　which　we　live；　to　set　above　the　fine　intellectual　virtues；　those　shallow　and　emotional　virtues　that　are　an　immediate　practical　benefit　to　itself。　　They　miss　their　aim；　too；　these　philanthropists　and　sentimentalists　of　our　day；　who　are　always　chattering　to　one　about　one's　duty　to　one's　neighbour。　　For　the　development　of　the　race　depends　on　the　development　of　the　individual；　and　where　self…　culture　has　ceased　to　be　the　ideal；　the　intellectual　standard　is　instantly　lowered；　and；　often；　ultimately　lost。　　If　you　meet　at　dinner　a　man　who　has　spent　his　life　in　educating　himself　…　a　rare　type　in　our　time；　I　admit；　but　still　one　occasionally　to　be　met　with　…　you　rise　from　table　richer；　and　conscious　that　a　high　ideal　has　for　a　moment　touched　and　sanctified　your　days。　　But　oh！　my　dear　Ernest；　to　sit　next　to　a　man　who　has　spent　his　life　in　trying　to　educate　others！　　What　a　dreadful　experience　that　is！　　How　appalling　is　that　ignorance　which　is　the　inevitable　result　of　the　fatal　habit　of　imparting　opinions！　　How　limited　in　range　the　creature's　mind　proves　to　be！　　How　it　wearies　us；　and　must　weary　himself；　with　its　endless　repetitions　and　sickly　reiteration！　　How　lacking　it　is　in　any　element　of　intellectual　growth！　　In　what　a　vicious　circle　it　always　moves！

ERNEST。　　You　speak　with　strange　feeling；　Gilbert。　　Have　you　had　this　dreadful　experience；　as　you　call　it；　lately？

　GILBERT。　　Few　of　us　escape　it。　People　say　that　the　schoolmaster　is　abroad。　　I　wish　to　goodness　he　were。　　But　the　type　of　which；　after　all；　he　is　only　one；　and　certainly　the　least　important；　of　the　representatives；　seems　to　me　to　be　really　dominating　our　lives；　and　just　as　the　philanthropist　is　the　nuisance　of　the　ethical　sphere；　so　the　nuisance　of　the　intellectual　sphere　is　the　man　who　is　so　occupied　in　trying　to　educate　others；　that　he　has　never　had　any　time　to　educate　himself。　　No；　Ernest；　self…culture　is　the　true　ideal　of　man。　　Goethe　saw　it；　and　the　immediate　debt　that　we　owe　to　Goethe　is　greater　than　the　debt　we　owe　to　any　man　since　Greek　days。　The　Greeks　saw　it；　and　have　left　us；　as　their　legacy　to　modern　thought；　the　conception　of　the　contemplative　life　as　well　as　the　critical　method　by　which　alone　can　that　life　be　truly　realised。　　It　was　the　one　thing　that　made　the　Renaissance　great；　and　gave　us　Humanism。　　It　is　the　one　thing　that　could　make　our　own　age　great　also；　for　the　real　weakness　of　England　lies；　not　in　incomplete　armaments　or　unfortified　coasts；　not　in　the　poverty　that　creeps　through　sunless　lanes；　or　the　drunkenness　that　brawls　in　loathsome　courts；　but　simply　in　the　fact　that　her　ideals　are　emotional　and　not　intellectual。

I　do　not　deny　that　the　intellectual　ideal　is　difficult　of　attainment；　still　less　that　it　is；　and　perhaps　will　be　for　years　to　come；　unpopular　with　the　crowd。　　It　is　so　easy　for　people　to　have　sympathy　with　suffering。　　It　is　so　difficult　for　them　to　have　sympathy　with　thought。　　Indeed；　so　little　do　ordinary　people　understand　what　thought　really　is；　that　they　seem　to　imagine　that；　when　they　have　said　that　a　theory　is　dangerous；　they　have　pronounced　its　condemnation；　whereas　it　is　only　such　theories　that　have　any　true　intellectual　value。　　An　idea　that　is　not　dangerous　is　unworthy　of　being　called　an　idea　at　all。

ERNEST。　　Gilbert；　you　bewilder　me。　　You　have　told　me　that　all　art　is；　in　its　essence；　immoral。　　Are　you　going　to　tell　me　now　that　all　thought　is；　in　its　essence；　dangerous？

GILBERT。　　Yes；　in　the　practical　sphere　it　is　so。　　The　security　of　society　lies　in　custom　and　unconscious　instinct；　and　the　basis　of　the　stability　of　society；　as　a　healthy　organism；　is　the　complete　absence　of　any　intelligence　amongst　its　members。　　The　great　majority　of　people　being　fully　aware　of　this；　rank　themselves　naturally　on　the　side　of　that　splendid　system　that　elevates　them　to　the　dignity　of　machines；　and　rage　so　wildly　against　the　intrusion　of　the　intellectual　faculty　into　any　question　that　concerns　life；　that　one　is　tempted　to　define　man　as　a　rational　animal　who　always　loses　his　temper　when　he　is　called　upon　to　act　in　accordance　with　the　dictates　of　reason。　　But　let　us　turn　from　the　practical　sphere；　and　say　no　more　about　the　wicked　philanthropists；　who；　indeed；　may　well　be　left　to　the　mercy　of　the　almond…eyed　sage　of　the　Yellow　River　Chuang　Tsu　the　wise；　who　has　proved　that　such　well…meaning　and　offensive　busybodies　have　destroyed　the　simple　and　spontaneous　virtue　that　there　is　in　man。　　They　are　a　wearisome　topic；　and　I　am　anxious　to　get　back　to　the　sphere　in　which　criticism　is　free。

ERNEST。　　The　sphere　of　the　intellect？

GILBERT。　　Yes。　　You　remember　that　I　spoke　of　the　critic　as　being　in　his　own　way　as　creative　as　the　artist；　whose　work；　indeed；　may　be　merely　of　value　in　so　far　as　it　gives　to　the　critic　a　suggestion　for　some　new　mood　of　thought　and　feeling　which　he　can　realise　with　equal；　or　perhaps　greater；　distinction　of　form；　and；　through　the　use　of　a　fresh　medium　of　expression；　make　differently　beautiful　and　more　perfect。　　Well；　you　seemed　to　be　a　little　sceptical　about　the　theory。　　But　perhaps　I　wronged　you？

ERNEST。　　I　am　not　really　sceptical　about　it；　but　I　must　admit　that　I　feel　very　strongly　that　such　work　as　you　describe　the　critic　producing　…　and　creative　such　work　must　undoubtedly　be　admitted　to　be　…　is；　of　necessity；　purely　subjective；　whereas　the　greatest　work　is　objective　always；　objective　and　impersonal。

GILBERT。　　The　difference　between　objective　and　subjective　work　is　one　of　external　form　merely。　　It　is　accidental；　not　essential。　　All　artistic　creation　is　absolutely　subjective。　　The　very　landscape　that　Corot　looked　at　was；　as　he　said　himself；　but　a　mood　of　his　own　mind；　and　those　great　figures　of　Greek　or　English　drama　that　seem　to　us　to　possess　an　actual　existence　of　their　own；　apart　from　the　poets　who　shaped　and　fashioned　them；　are；　in　their　ultimate　analysis；　simply　the　poets　themselves；　not　as　they　thought　they　were；　but　as　they　thought　they　were　not；　and　by　such　thinking　came　in　strange　manner；　though　but　for　a　moment；　really　so　to　be。　　For　out　of　ourselves　we　can　never　pass；　nor　can　there　be　in　creation　what　in　the　creator　was　not。　　Nay；　I　would　say　that　the　more　objective　a　creation　appears　to　be；　the　more　subjective　it　really　is。　　Shakespeare　might　have　met　Rosencrantz　and　Guildenstern　in　the　white　streets　of　London；　or　seen　the　serving…men　of　rival　houses　bite　their　thumbs　at　each　other　in　the　open　square；　but　Hamlet　came　out　of　his　soul；　and　Romeo　out