the critic as artist-第16部分

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　be　forged　by　shopman　or　sentimentalist。　It　will　give　us　the　peace　that　springs　from　understanding。

Nor　is　this　all。　　It　is　Criticism　that；　recognising　no　position　as　final；　and　refusing　to　bind　itself　by　the　shallow　shibboleths　of　any　sect　or　school；　creates　that　serene　philosophic　temper　which　loves　truth　for　its　own　sake；　and　loves　it　not　the　less　because　it　knows　it　to　be　unattainable。　　How　little　we　have　of　this　temper　in　England；　and　how　much　we　need　it！　　The　English　mind　is　always　in　a　rage。　　The　intellect　of　the　race　is　wasted　in　the　sordid　and　stupid　quarrels　of　second…rate　politicians　or　third…rate　theologians。　　It　was　reserved　for　a　man　of　science　to　show　us　the　supreme　example　of　that　'sweet　reasonableness'　of　which　Arnold　spoke　so　wisely；　and；　alas！　to　so　little　effect。　　The　author　of　the　ORIGIN　OF　SPECIES　had；　at　any　rate；　the　philosophic　temper。　　If　one　contemplates　the　ordinary　pulpits　and　platforms　of　England；　one　can　but　feel　the　contempt　of　Julian；　or　the　indifference　of　Montaigne。　　We　are　dominated　by　the　fanatic；　whose　worst　vice　is　his　sincerity。　Anything　approaching　to　the　free　play　of　the　mind　is　practically　unknown　amongst　us。　　People　cry　out　against　the　sinner；　yet　it　is　not　the　sinful；　but　the　stupid；　who　are　our　shame。　　There　is　no　sin　except　stupidity。

ERNEST。　　Ah！　what　an　antinomian　you　are！

GILBERT。　　The　artistic　critic；　like　the　mystic；　is　an　antinomian　always。　　To　be　good；　according　to　the　vulgar　standard　of　goodness；　is　obviously　quite　easy。　　It　merely　requires　a　certain　amount　of　sordid　terror；　a　certain　lack　of　imaginative　thought；　and　a　certain　low　passion　for　middle…class　respectability。　　Aesthetics　are　higher　than　ethics。　　They　belong　to　a　more　spiritual　sphere。　　To　discern　the　beauty　of　a　thing　is　the　finest　point　to　which　we　can　arrive。　Even　a　colour…sense　is　more　important；　in　the　development　of　the　individual；　than　a　sense　of　right　and　wrong。　　Aesthetics；　in　fact；　are　to　Ethics　in　the　sphere　of　conscious　civilisation；　what；　in　the　sphere　of　the　external　world；　sexual　is　to　natural　selection。　Ethics；　like　natural　selection；　make　existence　possible。　Aesthetics；　like　sexual　selection；　make　life　lovely　and　wonderful；　fill　it　with　new　forms；　and　give　it　progress；　and　variety　and　change。　　And　when　we　reach　the　true　culture　that　is　our　aim；　we　attain　to　that　perfection　of　which　the　saints　have　dreamed；　the　perfection　of　those　to　whom　sin　is　impossible；　not　because　they　make　the　renunciations　of　the　ascetic；　but　because　they　can　do　everything　they　wish　without　hurt　to　the　soul；　and　can　wish　for　nothing　that　can　do　the　soul　harm；　the　soul　being　an　entity　so　divine　that　it　is　able　to　transform　into　elements　of　a　richer　experience；　or　a　finer　susceptibility；　or　a　newer　mode　of　thought；　acts　or　passions　that　with　the　common　would　be　commonplace；　or　with　the　uneducated　ignoble；　or　with　the　shameful　vile。　　Is　this　dangerous？　　Yes；　it　is　dangerous　…　all　ideas；　as　I　told　you；　are　so。　　But　the　night　wearies；　and　the　light　flickers　in　the　lamp。　One　more　thing　I　cannot　help　saying　to　you。　　You　have　spoken　against　Criticism　as　being　a　sterile　thing。　　The　nineteenth　century　is　a　turning　point　in　history；　simply　on　account　of　the　work　of　two　men；　Darwin　and　Renan；　the　one　the　critic　of　the　Book　of　Nature；　the　other　the　critic　of　the　books　of　God。　　Not　to　recognise　this　is　to　miss　the　meaning　of　one　of　the　most　important　eras　in　the　progress　of　the　world。　　Creation　is　always　behind　the　age。　　It　is　Criticism　that　leads　us。　　The　Critical　Spirit　and　the　World…Spirit　are　one。

ERNEST。　　And　he　who　is　in　possession　of　this　spirit；　or　whom　this　spirit　possesses；　will；　I　suppose；　do　nothing？

GILBERT。　　Like　the　Persephone　of　whom　Landor　tells　us；　the　sweet　pensive　Persephone　around　whose　white　feet　the　asphodel　and　amaranth　are　blooming；　he　will　sit　contented　'in　that　deep；　motionless　quiet　which　mortals　pity；　and　which　the　gods　enjoy。'　　He　will　look　out　upon　the　world　and　know　its　secret。　　By　contact　with　divine　things　he　will　become　divine。　　His　will　be　the　perfect　life；　and　his　only。

ERNEST。　　You　have　told　me　many　strange　things　to…night；　Gilbert。　You　have　told　me　that　it　is　more　difficult　to　talk　about　a　thing　than　to　do　it；　and　that　to　do　nothing　at　all　is　the　most　difficult　thing　in　the　world；　you　have　told　me　that　all　Art　is　immoral；　and　all　thought　dangerous；　that　criticism　is　more　creative　than　creation；　and　that　the　highest　criticism　is　that　which　reveals　in　the　work　of　Art　what　the　artist　had　not　put　there；　that　it　is　exactly　because　a　man　cannot　do　a　thing　that　he　is　the　proper　judge　of　it；　and　that　the　true　critic　is　unfair；　insincere；　and　not　rational。　　My　friend；　you　are　a　dreamer。

GILBERT。　　Yes：　　I　am　a　dreamer。　　For　a　dreamer　is　one　who　can　only　find　his　way　by　moonlight；　and　his　punishment　is　that　he　sees　the　dawn　before　the　rest　of　the　world。

ERNEST。　　His　punishment？

GILBERT。　　And　his　reward。　　But；　see；　it　is　dawn　already。　　Draw　back　the　curtains　and　open　the　windows　wide。　　How　cool　the　morning　air　is！　　Piccadilly　lies　at　our　feet　like　a　long　riband　of　silver。　　A　faint　purple　mist　hangs　over　the　Park；　and　the　shadows　of　the　white　houses　are　purple。　　It　is　too　late　to　sleep。　　Let　us　go　down　to　Covent　Garden　and　look　at　the　roses。　　Come！　　I　am　tired　of　thought。