man and superman-第6部分

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alike　forced　to　borrow　motives　for　the　more　strenuous　actions　of
their　personages　from　the　common　stockpot　of　melodramatic　plots；
so　that　Hamlet　has　to　be　stimulated　by　the　prejudices　of　a
policeman　and　Macbeth　by　the　cupidities　of　a　bushranger。　Dickens；
without　the　excuse　of　having　to　manufacture　motives　for　Hamlets
and　Macbeths；　superfluously　punt　his　crew　down　the　stream　of　his
monthly　parts　by　mechanical　devices　which　I　leave　you　to
describe；　my　own　memory　being　quite　baffled　by　the　simplest
question　as　to　Monks　in　Oliver　Twist；　or　the　long　lost　parentage
of　Smike；　or　the　relations　between　the　Dorrit　and　Clennam
families　so　inopportunely　discovered　by　Monsieur　Rigaud　Blandois。
The　truth　is；　the　world　was　to　Shakespear　a　great　〃stage　of
fools〃　on　which　he　was　utterly　bewildered。　He　could　see　no　sort
of　sense　in　living　at　all；　and　Dickens　saved　himself　from　the
despair　of　the　dream　in　The　Chimes　by　taking　the　world　for
granted　and　busying　himself　with　its　details。　Neither　of　them
could　do　anything　with　a　serious　positive　character：　they　could
place　a　human　figure　before　you　with　perfect　verisimilitude；　but
when　the　moment　came　for　making　it　live　and　move；　they　found；
unless　it　made　them　laugh；　that　they　had　a　puppet　on　their　hands；
and　had　to　invent　some　artificial　external　stimulus　to　make　it
work。　This　is　what　is　the　matter　with　Hamlet　all　through：　he　has
no　will　except　in　his　bursts　of　temper。　Foolish　Bardolaters　make
a　virtue　of　this　after　their　fashion：　they　declare　that　the　play
is　the　tragedy　of　irresolution；　but　all　Shakespear's　projections
of　the　deepest　humanity　he　knew　have　the　same　defect：　their
characters　and　manners　are　lifelike；　but　their　actions　are　forced
on　them　from　without；　and　the　external　force　is　grotesquely
inappropriate　except　when　it　is　quite　conventional；　as　in　the
case　of　Henry　V。　Falstaff　is　more　vivid　than　any　of　these　serious
reflective　characters；　because　he　is　self…acting：　his　motives　are
his　own　appetites　and　instincts　and　humors。　Richard　III；　too；　is
delightful　as　the　whimsical　comedian　who　stops　a　funeral　to　make
love　to　the　corpse's　widow；　but　when；　in　the　next　act；　he　is
replaced　by　a　stage　villain　who　smothers　babies　and　offs　with
people's　heads；　we　are　revolted　at　the　imposture　and　repudiate
the　changeling。　Faulconbridge；　Coriolanus；　Leontes　are　admirable
descriptions　of　instinctive　temperaments：　indeed　the　play　of
Coriolanus　is　the　greatest　of　Shakespear's　comedies；　but
description　is　not　philosophy；　and　comedy　neither　compromises　the
author　nor　reveals　him。　He　must　be　judged　by　those　characters
into　which　he　puts　what　he　knows　of　himself；　his　Hamlets　and
Macbeths　and　Lears　and　Prosperos。　If　these　characters　are
agonizing　in　a　void　about　factitious　melodramatic　murders　and
revenges　and　the　like；　whilst　the　comic　characters　walk　with
their　feet　on　solid　ground；　vivid　and　amusing；　you　know　that　the
author　has　much　to　show　and　nothing　to　teach。　The　comparison
between　Falstaff　and　Prospero　is　like　the　comparison　between
Micawber　and　David　Copperfield。　At　the　end　of　the　book　you　know
Micawber；　whereas　you　only　know　what　has　happened　to　David；　and
are　not　interested　enough　in　him　to　wonder　what　his　politics　or
religion　might　be　if　anything　so　stupendous　as　a　religious　or
political　idea；　or　a　general　idea　of　any　sort；　were　to　occur　to
him。　He　is　tolerable　as　a　child；　but　he　never　becomes　a　man；　and
might　be　left　out　of　his　own　biography　altogether　but　for　his
usefulness　as　a　stage　confidant；　a　Horatio　or　〃Charles　his
friend〃　what　they　call　on　the　stage　a　feeder。

Now　you　cannot　say　this　of　the　works　of　the　artist…philosophers。
You　cannot　say　it；　for　instance；　of　The　Pilgrim's　Progress。　Put
your　Shakespearian　hero　and　coward；　Henry　V　and　Pistol　or
Parolles；　beside　Mr　Valiant　and　Mr　Fearing；　and　you　have　a　sudden
revelation　of　the　abyss　that　lies　between　the　fashionable　author
who　could　see　nothing　in　the　world　but　personal　aims　and　the
tragedy　of　their　disappointment　or　the　comedy　of　their
incongruity；　and　the　field　preacher　who　achieved　virtue　and
courage　by　identifying　himself　with　the　purpose　of　the　world　as
he　understood　it。　The　contrast　is　enormous：　Bunyan's　coward　stirs
your　blood　more　than　Shakespear's　hero；　who　actually　leaves　you
cold　and　secretly　hostile。　You　suddenly　see　that　Shakespear；　with
all　his　flashes　and　divinations；　never　understood　virtue　and
courage；　never　conceived　how　any　man　who　was　not　a　fool　could；
like　Bunyan's　hero；　look　back　from　the　brink　of　the　river　of
death　over　the　strife　and　labor　of　his　pilgrimage；　and　say　〃yet
do　I　not　repent　me〃；　or；　with　the　panache　of　a　millionaire；
bequeath　〃my　sword　to　him　that　shall　succeed　me　in　my　pilgrimage；
and　my　courage　and　skill　to　him　that　can　get　it。〃　This　is　the
true　joy　in　life；　the　being　used　for　a　purpose　recognized　by
yourself　as　a　mighty　one；　the　being　thoroughly　worn　out　before
you　are　thrown　on　the　scrap　heap；　the　being　a　force　of　Nature
instead　of　a　feverish　selfish　little　clod　of　ailments　and
grievances　complaining　that　the　world　will　not　devote　itself　to
making　you　happy。　And　also　the　only　real　tragedy　in　life　is　the
being　used　by　personally　minded　men　for　purposes　which　you
recognize　to　be　base。　All　the　rest　is　at　worst　mere　misfortune　or
mortality：　this　alone　is　misery；　slavery；　hell　on　earth；　and　the
revolt　against　it　is　the　only　force　that　offers　a　man's　work　to
the　poor　artist；　whom　our　personally　minded　rich　people　would　so
willingly　employ　as　pandar；　buffoon；　beauty　monger；
sentimentalizer　and　the　like。

It　may　seem　a　long　step　from　Bunyan　to　Nietzsche；　but　the
difference　between　their　conclusions　is　purely　formal。　Bunyan's
perception　that　righteousness　is　filthy　rags；　his　scorn　for　Mr
Legality　in　the　village　of　Morality；　his　defiance　of　the　Church
as　the　supplanter　of　religion；　his　insistence　on　courage　as　the
virtue　of　virtues；　his　estimate　of　the　career　of　the
conventionally　respectable　and　sensible　Worldly　Wiseman　as　no
better　at　bottom　than　the　life　and　death　of　Mr　Badman：　all　this；
expressed　by　Bunyan　in　the　terms　of　a　tinker's　theology；　is　what
Nietzsche　has　expressed　in　terms　of　post…Darwinian；
post…Schopenhaurian　philosophy；　Wagner　in　terms　of　polytheistic
mythology；　and　Ibsen　in　terms　of　mid…XIX　century　Parisian
dramaturgy。　Nothing　is　new　in　these　matters　except　their
novelties：　for　instance；　it　is　a　novelty　to　call　Justification　by
Faith　〃Wille；〃　and　Justification　by　Works　〃Vorstellung。〃　The　sole
use　of　the　novelty　is　that　you　and　I　buy　and　read　Schopenhaur's
treatise　on　Will　and　Representation　when　we　should　not　dream　of
buying　a　set　of　sermons　on　Faith　versus　Works。　At　bottom　the
controversy　is　the　same；　and　the　dramatic　results　are　the　same。
Bunyan　makes　no　attempt　to　present　his　pilgrims　as　more　sensible
or　better　conducted　than　Mr　Worldly　Wiseman。　Mr　W。　W。's　worst
enemies；　as　Mr　Embezzler；　Mr　Never…go…to…Church…on…Sunday；　Mr　Bad
Form；　Mr　Murderer；　Mr　Burglar；　Mr　Co…respondent；　Mr　Blackmailer；
Mr　Cad；　Mr　Drunkard；　Mr　Labor　Agitator　and　so　forth；　can　read　the
Pilgrim's　Progress　without　finding　a　word　said　against　them；
whereas　the　respectable　people　who　snub　them　and　put　them　in
prison；　such　as　Mr　W。W。　himself　and　his　young　friend　Civility；
Formalist　and　Hypocrisy；　Wildhead；　Inconsiderate；　and　Pragmatick
（who　were　clearly　young　university　men　of　good　family　and　high
feeding）；　that　brisk　lad　Ignorance；　Talkative；　By…Ends　of
Fairspeech　and　his　mother…in…law　Lady　Feigning；　and　other
reputable　gentlemen　and　citizens；　catch　it　very　severely。　Even
Little　Faith；　though　he　gets　to　heaven　at　last；　is　given　to
understand　that　it　served　him　right　to　be　mobbed　by　the　brothers
Faint　Heart；　Mistrust；　and　Guilt；　all　three　recognized　members　of
respectable　society　and　veritable　pillars　of　the　law。　The　whole
allegory　is　a　consistent　attack　on　morality　and　respectability；
without　a　word　that　one　can　remember　against　vice　and　crime。
Exactly　what　is　complained　of　in　Nietzsche　and　Ibsen；　is　it　not？
And　also　exactly　what　would　be　complained　of　in　all　the
literature　which　is　great　enough　and　old　enough　to　have　attained
canonical　rank；　officially　or　unofficially；　were　it　not　that
books　are　admitted　to　the　canon　by　a　compact　which　confesses
their　greatness　in　consideration　of　abrogating　their　meaning；　so
that　the　reverend　rector　can　agree　with　the　prophet　Micah　as　to
his　inspired　style　without　being　committed　to　any　complicity　in
Micah's　furiously　Radical　opinions。　Why；　even　I；　as　I　force
myself；　pen　in　hand；　into　recognition　and　civility；　find　all　the
force　of　my　onslaught　destroyed　by　a　simple　policy　of
non…resistance。　In　vain　do　I　redouble　the　violence　of　the
language　in　which　I　proclaim　my　heterodoxies。　I　rail　at　the
theistic　credulity　of　Voltaire；　the　amoristic　superstition　of
Shelley；　the　revival　of　tribal　soothsaying　and　idolatrous　rites
which　Huxley　called　Science　and　mistook　for　an　advance　on　the
Pentateuch；　no　less　than　at　the　welter　of　ecclesiastical　and
professional　humbug　which　saves　the　face　of　the　stupid　system　of
violence　and　robbery　which　we　call　Law　and　Industry。　Even
atheists　reproach　me　with　infidelity　and　anarchists　with　nihilism
because　I　cannot　endure　their　moral　tirades。　And　yet；　instead　of
exclaiming　〃Send　this　inconceivable　Satanist　to　the　stake；〃　the
respectable　newspapers　pith　me　by　announcing　〃another　book　by
this　brilliant　and　thoughtful　writer。〃　And　the　ordinary　citizen；
knowing　that　an　author　who　is　well　spoken　of　by　a　respectable
newspaper　must　be　all　right；　reads　me；　as　he　reads　Micah；　with
undisturbed　edification　from　his　own　point　of　view。　It　is
narrated　that　in　the　eighteenseventies　an　old　lady；　a　very　devout
Methodist；　moved　from　Colchester　to　a　house　in　the　neighborhood
of　the　City　Road；　in　London；　where；　mistaking　the　Hall　of　Science
for　a　chapel；　she　sat　at　the　feet　of　Charles　Bradlaugh　for　many
years；　entranced　by　his　eloquence；　without　questioning　his
orthodoxy　or　moulting　a　feather　of　her　faith。　I　fear　I　small　be
defrauded　of　my　just　martyrdom　in　the　same　way。

However；　I　am　digressing；　as　a　man　with　a　grievance　always　does。
And　after　all；　the　main　thing　in　determining　the　artistic　quality
of　a　book　is　not　the　opinions　it　prop