On the second night the Olympians assembled at Pompeii. It was a balmy, starry1 night. The ruins of the old town, white in their marble dresses, shone with a spectral3 brightness against the mountains, bays, and meadows surrounding them. From Stabi? and Gragnano opposite one could hear the pipe of Pan and the laughter of his nymphs, and on the dark water there were magic boats carrying Circe and her maids to their blue grotto4 in Capri. Selene sent her mildest rays over the scene, and grass and stone were as if steeped in silvery dreams. The place selected for the meeting was the amphitheatre. At a move of Zeus' right hand the seats and alleys5, which had long since disappeared under the pressure of the ugly lava6, rose from the ground. The orchestra and stage took up their old shape, and the whole graceful7 space with its incomparable view was again full of beauty, comfort, and pleasurableness. Zeus, and his wife Juno, sat down on the central seat, and around them the other gods and heroes. When everyone had found his or her seat, Zeus spake: "We have heard with much contentment the experiences of Aristotle in the country which the little ones below call England. We should now like to hear something about the theatres in that strange[Pg 33] land. If life itself is so uncommon8 and funny in that part of the non-Grecian world, their theatre, reflecting life, must be unusually entertaining. Perhaps you Aristotle, as the most renowned9 critic of poetry and the drama, will be good enough to give us an idea of the thing they call drama in England."
Whereupon Aristotle rose from his seat, and treated the immortals11 to a sight which no one had as yet enjoyed: he smiled. And smilingly he said to the almighty12 son of Kronos, ruler of the world: "O Zeus, your wish is a behest, and if you insist I will of course obey. But pray, kindly13 consider that I have, with your consent, withheld14 from these people, who call themselves moderns, and who might better be called afterlings, the second book of my 'Poetics,' in which I treat of the comedy, the farce15, the burlesque16, and similar phlyakes, as we term them. If now I should reveal my thoughts on the phlyakes of the English, several of their sophists, whom they call University professors, might still add to the lava which my commentators17 have spurted18 out upon my works, just as we see here the lava of angry Vesuvius cover the beauteous fields in and around Pompeii.
"May I propose the proper person to entertain us about that sort of comedy of the English which, at present, is more or less generally considered to be their most valuable dramatic output? If so," Aristotle continued at a sign from Zeus, "I propose him who over there at the right entrance of the stage lies carelessly on the ground and seems to heed19 us as little as in his time he heeded20 the Athenians and the Corinthians." Aristotle, raising his hand, pointed[Pg 34] to the shabby, untidy figure of Diogenes. When the gods and heroes heard the name and looked at the person of the Cynic, they all burst out in immortal10 laughter, and the sea, catching21 the gay ripple22, laughed as far as Sorrento.
Diogenes, without moving from his position, and putting one of his legs comfortably on one of the low statues of a satyr, turned his head towards Zeus and exclaimed: "Verily, I tell you, you only confirm me in my old belief, that there is nothing sadder than laughter. Why should you laugh? Are we not here to enjoy ourselves? Is not this lovely spot one where even we might and ought to feel perfectly23 happy? Why, then, laugh? I mean, of course, laugh at me.
"I do pooh-pooh all your glories. Olympus to me is not a whit2 more agreeable than my tub at Corinth. This is, you understand, the reason of my predilection24 for the English. They, alone of all these Europeans, live at least for five seconds each day in a tub.
"I also pooh-pooh your feasts, your ambrosia25 and nectar. For having passed a few months in a large village they call London, I have so completely lost my palate and taste, that for the next two thousand years, at anyrate, I shall not be able to distinguish nectar from stale ale, nor ambrosia from cabbage.
"Yes, I still pooh-pooh, disdain27 and neglect most of the things that you and your worshippers hold in[Pg 35] great esteem28. Alcibiades raved29 about the beauty of women now limping about in the various cities of the barbarians30, and more particularly in the towns of the English. A woman! A mere31 woman! What is the good of a woman unless one is rid of her? I still think what I used to teach, that between a man and a woman there is only a slight difference, one that is scarcely worth considering.
"You may laugh until Vesuvius again vomits32 scorn upon you, but I tell you here, at Pompeii, what I used to tell everybody at Corinth: your glories are all gone, or ought to go. Just look at Venus. There she sits displaying to eager-looking Pans and Sileni the loveliness of her head and neck and figure. But what does it mean after all? Repentance33 and wormwood. Look at Ares—(Mars). Does he not look as if he ruled the world? Does he not behave as if all great things were achieved through and by him? And what is it in reality? Mere butchery—cowardly butchery. You laugh; of course, you do. But I mean to show you that all that I have ever taught is nothing less than strictly34 true; the only truth; truth the one.
"Aristotle, in pointing me out as the person who can best tell you what this new Shavian drama of England really is; Aristotle, I say, may have acted with malice35. He has, nevertheless, acted with great wisdom. I am indeed the only man out of the world (there is none in it), who does clearly and fully36 understand my little disciple37 who calls himself Bernard Shaw. Of the other friends and admirers of his, he might very well say what that great German philosopher Hegel said in his last moments: 'One man alone has understood me well,—and even[Pg 36] he misunderstood me entirely38.' He might with reference to my Cynic lady friend Hipparchia also say: 'One man alone understood me well,—and she was a woman.'
"The fact is, Shaw, the son of Pooh-Pooh, is simply a goody disciple of my school, of the Cynics. When I was still within that mortal coil which men call skin and flesh, I did take all my sputterings and utterings very seriously, or as they say in cultured Mayfair: 'Oh grant serio.' I really thought, as undoubtedly39 thinks my brave disciple in London, that my criticism of social, political, or religious things went deep into the essence of all that maintains Society, the State, and the Temples. Good old Plato, it is true, hinted at my vanity and conceit40 more than once, and I still feel the sting of his remark when once, soaked all through by the rain, I was surrounded by pitying folk: 'If you want to feel pity for Diogenes,' Plato said, 'then leave him alone.'
"But I then did not heed any satire41 directed against me, being fully occupied with satirising others all day long. However, since that time, and since I have been given a corner in the palace of the immortals, lying on one of the steps like a dog, as that Italian dauber, whom they call Raphael, painted me in his 'School of Athens' (—a fresco42 which might be much better had Raphael wisely chosen his age and appeared as a Pr?-Raphaelite—); ever since I have learnt a great deal, not only about others, but also about myself.
"While you superior people drink nectar and partake of ambrosia, I enjoy with infinite zest43 the malicious44 pleasure of studying the capers45, antics, and poses[Pg 37] of my posthumous46 selfs, the Diogeneses of that speck47 on the mirror of eternity48 which the little ones below call 'our time.' Could anything be more amusing to a Cynic of about twenty-two centuries' standing49 like myself, who has heard and taught all the most nerve-rasping eccentricities50 imaginable, than to hear Tolstoy, Shaw, Ibsen, and tutti quanti, teach with thunderous ponderosity51, and with penurious52 fulguration their doctrines53 as the latest and hitherto unheard-of delivery of the human or inhuman54 mind? I beg to assure you it is excruciatingly funny. But I feel I must tell you the whole story in due order. It happened thus.
"I learnt from Momus that another posthumous self of mine had arisen and, accordingly, I forthwith repaired to the place called London. (By the way, it is a queer place. It is neither a village, nor a town; neither a country, nor a desert; it is something of all, and much of neither.) In one of the streets I saw an inscription56 over a door—'Agency for amusements, theatres, blue bands, green bands, etc.' I did not quite understand what blue bands had to do with amusement, but I entered.
"Behind the counter was a middle-aged57 man working busily at papers. I addressed him: 'Be cheerful!'
"He looked at me in a curious fashion, evidently doubting the sanity58 of my mind. As a matter of fact, after a little while I could not help seeing that he was right. How could I imagine him to be cheerful?
"I asked him for the means of seeing a theatrical59 piece by Shaw. He offered a ticket, and wanted to know my name. I said 'Diogenes.'
[Pg 38]
"He became impatient, and said: 'Diogenes—which? I mean, your family name?'
"'I have no other name,' I said; 'don't you know, I am Diogenes who cut Alexander the Great?'
"'Alexander the Great?' he said—'Why, I only know of a tailor, called Alexander the Great. Do you mean to tell me you cut him?'
"'No,' I said; 'I do not. I mean Alexander, King of Macedon.'
"Whereupon he contemptuously said: 'I never heard of the gentleman, and if he was a king of Macedon he has made a jolly fine mess of his country—just read about the Macedonian question in to-day's Daily Telegraph.' I wanted to ask him whether he was perchance Professor of History, but other people came in, and so I left.
"On the same evening I was shown the way to a theatre, and I understood that the piece given was Arms and the Man. I enjoyed myself immensely.
"It is all very well to share the pleasures of Olympus with the gods. Yet, by all the Graces, whenever I hear or read reminiscences of my early youth, those unforgettable events and ideas of the time when I walked in the streets of Athens in the wake of my revered60 master Antisthenes, it gives me a thrill of pleasure,—I might almost say, a new shiver.
"Just fancy, here I was sitting in far-off Britannia,[Pg 39] over two thousand years after my mortal existence, listening to an oration62—of Antisthenes, my master, which we used to call 'Kyros.' I see very well, O Ares, you remember the famous oration directed against you, against all the glories of War, because even now you frown on me, and I must ask Venus to keep you in check. I have received too many a whipping while I was at Athens and Corinth—pray let me in peace here in our temporary Olympus.
"At present, as you well know, I have quite changed my ideas about war, and much as I may have disliked you before, at present I know that Apollo, Venus, you Ares, and Dionysus keep all mortal things agoing. But let us amuse ourselves with the contemplation of an oration of Antisthenes in modern Britannic.
"Antisthenes hated war so much that he attacked the greatest and least doubted military glory of the Athenians, their victories over the Persians. He attacked it with serious arguments, he sneered63 at it, he tried to reduce it to a mere sham64. Did Antisthenes not say, that the victory of the Athenians over the Persians at Salamis would have been something admirable, had the Persians excelled the Athenians in point of virtue65 and capability66? For in that case the Athenians would have proved even more virtuous67 and more capable. However, the Persians, Antisthenes elaborately proves, were altogether inferior. Nor did they have a true king, Xerxes being a mere sham king with a high and richly jewelled cap on his head, sitting on a golden throne, like a doll. Had Xerxes not to whip his soldiers into battle? What, then, is the glory of the Athenians? None! Salamis, like all battles,[Pg 40] was a mere butchery, and soldiers are mere cowards, beating inferiors and running away from superiors. So far Antisthenes.
"The Britannic version of Antisthenes' sally against war, soldiers, and the whole of the military spirit, I found comical in the extreme. 'Well done' I repeatedly exclaimed within myself, when I saw the old capers of the Cynics of my mortal time brought up again for the consumption of people who had never heard of Cynics. That man Shaw out-Cynics many a Cynic. He brings upon the stage a number of persons, each of whom is, in turn, a good soul first, and then a viper68; an enthusiast69, and then a liar70; a virtue, and then vice71 itself.
"Take the girl Raina. She begins by being ideal and enthusiastic; ideal, because she is pure, young, and in love with her own fiancé; enthusiastic, because she is in raptures72 over the military glory of her fiancé, as would be in all truth and reality a hundred out of each hundred girls in most countries of the sub-Shavian world. Not the slightest inkling or fact is indicated that she is not pure, ideal, or genuinely enthusiastic. In the next scene she is suddenly made out to be a vicious girl, a coldly calculating minx, and we are given to understand that she has had no end of general and particular adventures behind her, as she hopes to have a good many in front of her.
"Why? Why are we now to assume or believe that Raina of yesterday is not Raina of to-day? Where is the motive73, I asked myself with grim satisfaction with the brave Cynicism of the author. Why? Simply, for nothing. The comedy as such does not require it; no fact alleged74 to have happened,[Pg 41] substantiates75 it; no situation growing out of the piece makes it a dramatic necessity. It is done simply and exclusively, in true Cynic fashion, for the sake of ridiculing76 a person that began by being enthusiastic for War.
"It is the old story of the ugly sorceress in the child's book of fables77. 'If you praise the beauty of yonder little girl in the garden, I will transform you into a guinea-pig; and if you still continue doing so, I will make an old cock of you.' Even so Raina is changed into a viper, a liar, a dissimulator78, a senseless changer of lovers, an—anything, without the slightest inner coherence79, or what the philosophers call, psychological connection.
"The same old witch's wand is used, with the freedom of a clown, with regard to the fiancé of Raina, the young military hero. He had by a bold cavalry81 charge captured a battery or two of the enemy's artillery82. How can he be forgiven such an execrable deed? How dare he succeed? Out with the old sauce of Antisthenes! It is, of course, exceedingly stale by this time. But the English, it appears, are so thoroughly83 used to stale sauces. They will not notice it at all. And thus all the threadbare arguments of Antisthenes are dished up again. I jubilated in my pride.
"The fiancé, Sergius, took the batteries of cannon84 because, we are told, by a mistake of their commander, they were—not charged. How witty85! How clever! Antisthenes merely said that the Persians were much inferior to the Athenians, so the latter easily got the better of the former. But this twentieth-century dapper little Cynic goes one better. He says, as it were, the Persians had no[Pg 42] weapons to strike with. Who would have thought of such an ingenious satire?
"Please, Hermes (Mercury), do not interrupt me! I know very well what you mean to say. In all actions of men, victory depends more on the shortcomings of their rivals and competitors than on their own genius. It is no special feature of military victories. Of two grocers in the same street, one succeeds mainly because the other is neglectful and unbusinesslike. Of two dramatists in the same country, one succeeds because he gives the people what they want, and not, as does the other, what dramatic Art wants. And so forth55 ad infinitum.
"But my Cynical86 Shavian does not heed these inconsistencies; he knows the public will not notice them. He wants simply to ridicule87 War, and the whole military spirit. Accordingly out with the witch's wand, and let us change the hero first into a whimpering calf88, and then suddenly into a lewd89 he-goat, and then, for no reason whatever, into the most mendacious90 magpie91 flying about, and finally into a little mouse caught in a trap laid by a kitchen-maid. For this is precisely92 what happens to the hero Sergius.
"Returning from war, he is sick of it with a nauseating93 sea-sickness. Why? Unknown; or, as Herbert Spencer, the next best replica94 of Antisthenes in Britannia, would have said, unknowable.
"Sergius is sentimentally95 idiotic96 about the nullity of his military glory. A few moments later he cannot resist the rustic97 beauties of a kitchen-maid, one minute after he had disentangled himself out of the embraces of his beautiful, young, and worshipped[Pg 43] fiancé. The he-goat is upon him. Why? Unknown, unknowable.
"Here in our fourth dimension we know very well (do we not, Ares?) that soldiers have done similar escapades? But have barristers done less? Have all solicitors98 proved bosom-proof? Has no dramatist ever been sorely tempted99 by buxomness100 and vigorous development of youthful flesh? One wonders.
"Why then bring up such stuff, without the slightest reason, without the slightest need, internal or external? But the soldier, do you not see, must be run down. He must be ridiculed101. It must be shown that he is only a cowardly mouse caught in the trap laid for him by that very kitchen-maid whom at first he treats merely as a well-ordered mass of tempting102 flesh, and whom in the end he—marries.
"This trait is delicious. I have frequently been in Mysia, or what these people now call Bulgaria, where Shaw's scene is laid. The idea of a Bulgarian gentleman of the highest standing marrying a kitchen-maid gave me a fit of laughter. In eccentric England a high-born gentleman may very well marry a barmaid. In Bulgaria a nobleman will no more marry a servant-girl than his own mother. He has known too many of them; he can study her carefully, encyclop?dically, without marrying her in the least. For, she will never love him.
"Of course, my acolyte103 full well knows that the English are not at all conversant104 with any nation south of Dover Straits, and that one may tell them anything one pleases about nations other than themselves, They will believe it. And so Sergius[Pg 44] marries the girl by the same necessity that a mouse may be said to have married the trap into which it drops.
"Is not this fun indeed? To call marrying what simple people call getting morally insane? How clever! How bright!
"This is precisely what we Cynics used to do in ancient Greece. We turned humanity inside out, and then I walked in day-time in the streets with a lamp in my hand in search of a normal man, of a human being. If you vitriole a person's face or character first, how can you expect him to have unscathed features? But that is precisely the point with us Cynics. We take human nature; we then vitriole it out of all shape, and afterwards cry out in sheer indignation, 'How awful!' 'How absurd!' This reminds me of my lawyer pupil who once, in the defence of a fellow who had murdered his parents, pathetically exclaimed to the jury: 'And finally, gentlemen, have pity on this poor, orphaned105 boy!'
"Not content with Sergius, another 'type' of soldier is dragged up to the stage; a Swiss. Now I do not here mean to repeat our old Greek jokes about people similar to the Swiss, such as the Paphlagonians or Cilicians. I will only remark that the French, who have for over four hundred years had intimate knowledge of the Swiss, put the whole of Swiss character into the famous mot: 'Which animal resembles a human being most?' Answer: 'A Swiss.'
"From a Swiss you may expect anything. He talks three languages; all in vile106 German. He is to his beautiful country like a wart107 on a perfect face.[Pg 45] In the midst of paradise he is worse than a Prussian yokel109 born in the dreary110 heaths of North Germany. He is a Swiss. He has been a mercenary soldier to Popes and Lutheran princes alike. His aim was money; is money; will always be nothing but money. He sells his blood as he does the milk of his cows, by the litre or the decilitre; preferably by the latter. He likes war well enough; but he prefers truces111 and cessation of arms. He thinks the best part of death is the avoidance thereof. He is, when a mercenary, a military Cynic.
"I like him dearly; he does me honour. Whenever I see him on the grand staircase in the Vatican, I grin 'way down in my heart. Here is a Cynic dressed up like a parrot in gorgeous plumage. Diogenes in Rococo-dress! It is intensely amusing.
"Now this Swiss is made by Shaw a 'type' of a soldier. This is quite in accordance with the procedure of the Cynical School. First, all real soldierly qualities are vitrioled out of the man by making him a Swiss mercenary; and then he is shown up in all his callous112 indifference113 to Right, Love, or Justice; which is tantamount to saying 'a distinguished114 Belgian lady patrolling Piccadilly after midnight.' That Swiss mercenary proves no more against the worth of soldiers, than that Belgian woman proves anything in disgrace of the women of Belgium. If Shaw's figure proves anything, it proves the worthlessness of mercenaries in general, and of Swiss mercenaries in particular. That is, it proves something quite different from what it means to prove. This too is arch-Cynical. Why, who knows it better than I, that we Cynics were not infrequently instrumental in bringing about the very reverse of what[Pg 46] we were aiming at? But the more perverse115, the better the fun.
"And the fun is excellent beyond words. It is, in fact, as grim as the grimmest Welshman. On my way home from the theatre I thought of it, and started laughing in the street with such violence that a policeman wanted to take me to the station. The grimness of the fun was this: inquiring about the author, I learnt that he was an Irishman. I had no sooner made sure of the truth of this statement than I could not control myself for laughter.
"An Irishman reviling116 war, and soldiers, and the military spirit! How unutterably grim,—how unspeakably grimy! The Irish, endowed by nature with gifts of the body as well as the mind incomparably superior to those of the English, have made the most atrocious failure of their history, of their possibilities, of their chances, for that one and only reason, that they never found means of character and endurance to fight for their rights and hopes in bitter and unrelenting wars. Not having made a single effort in any way comparable to the sustained armed resistance of the Scotch117, the Dutch, the Hungarians, or the Boers, in the course of over three hundred years, they have fallen under the yoke108 of a nation whom they detest118. This naturally demoralised them, as it demoralises a mere husband when he is yoked119 to a hated wife. Being demoralised, they have never, oh never, reached that balance of internal powers without which nothing great can be achieved. The English with lesser120 powers, being undemoralised, got their powers into far greater balance. So did the Scot through sustained, reckless fighting for their ideals. Hence the misery121 of the Irish, who are[Pg 47] like their fairies, enchanting122, but fatal to themselves and to others; unbalanced, unsteady in mind and resolution to a sickening degree; fickle123, and resembling altogether sweet kisses from one's lady-love intermingled with knocks in the face from one's vilest124 creditors125.
"Their recoiling126 from making resolute127 war on the enemy being the great cause of the failure of the Irish, what can be more grimly Cynical than an Irishman's indignation at all that appertains to war? We Cynics always do that. Moderation having been the soul of all things Hellenic, we Cynics told the Greeks that the one fatal excess that man can commit is moderation. Of music we taught that its only beauties are in the pauses; and of man we held that he is perfect only by making himself into a beast.
"We taught people to contemplate128 everything in a convex mirror and then to fall foul129 of the image so distorted. This the idlers and the mob greatly admire. They deem it marvellous originality130. And what can be nearer to the origin of new things than to take man and nature always in the last agonising stage of final decomposition131?
"In my own dramas I did all that with a vengeance132; so did Crates133, my revered colleague. What was a plot to us? What does a plot matter? The other day when I sauntered through the Champs Elysées of Paris, I overheard a conversation between little girls playing at ladies. By Antisthenes, that was the real model of the plot and dialogue of all Cynic dramas!
"Said one little girl to the other: 'How are you, madame?'
"'Thanks,' said the other, 'very well. I am watching my children.'
[Pg 48]
"'How many have you?'
"'Seventy-five, please.'
"'And how old are you?'
"'Twenty years, madame.'
"'And how is your husband?'
"'Y pensez-vous? My husband? Fancy that! Why, I have none!'
"This is precisely the plot and dialogue in Shaw's Candida.
"I enjoyed Candida so intensely; I could have kissed the author. How entirely like my own dramas! How closely modelled on the dialogue of the little girls!
"A husband of forty, vigorous, brave, honest, hard-working in a noble cause, loving and loved, father of two children, befriends a boy of eighteen, who is as wayward and conceited134 and inconsistent as only boys of eighteen can be. That boy suddenly tells the husband that he, the boy, loved Candida, the wife of the said husband. The boy, not satisfied with this amenity135, becomes intolerably impudent136, and the husband, acting137 on his immediate138 and just sentiment, wants to throw him out of the house.
"But this is too much of what ninety-nine out of a hundred husbands would do. So instead of kicking the impertinent lad into the street, the husband—invites him to lunch.
"I was so afraid the husband would in the end bundle the youth out of the room. To my intense[Pg 49] delight the author did not forget the rules of the Cynic drama, and the boy remained for lunch.
"Bravo! Bravo! I secretly hoped the husband would solemnly charge the interesting youth to fit Candida with the latest corset. To my amazement139 that did not take place. But yet there was some relief for me in store: the husband invites the boy to pass the evening with his wife alone.
"This is, of course, precisely what most husbands would do.
"This is what another disciple of mine in Paris (a man called Anatole, and misnamed France), did do in an even worse case. In Anatole's story, the husband arrives in the most inopportune moment that a forgetful wife can dread140. He looks at the scene with much self-control, takes up the Petit Parisien lying on the floor, and withdraws gracefully141 into another room, there to make sundry142 reflections on the Petit Parisien and on the 'Petite Parisienne.'
"How classically Cynical! How Bion, Metrocles, Menippus, and all the rest of our sect143 would have enjoyed that! Here is a true comedy! Here is something truly realistic, and realistically true. That's why Anatole is so much admired by Englishmen. He too is, as we Cynics have been called, a philosopher of the proletariate.
"Much, O Zeus, as I enjoy the honour and pleasure of being allowed to crouch144 on one of the steps of your divine halls, I do also keenly appreciate the pleasure of meeting my disciples145 of the hour. One of these next days I will ask Momus to invite Tolstoy, Ibsen, Shaw, Anatole, and a few others to a lunch, to meet me in a Swiss hotel. Plato, you better come and listen behind a screen. You might[Pg 50] perhaps improve upon your Gorgias in which dialogue you attempt to sketch146 the superman and super-cynic. Ibsen will stammer147 and jerk his best in deathly hatred148 of all Authority. Shaw will pinprick to death the foundations of Marriage and Family. Anatole will try to upset, by throwing little mud-pellets at them, ideal figures such as Joan of Arc" (—Diogenes had barely uttered this name, when Zeus and all the other gods rose from their seats, and bowed towards Pallas Athene, who held Joan in her holy arms—). "Tolstoy, with a penny trumpet149 in his toothless mouth, will bray150 against war; Oh, it will be glorious.
"Of course, by this time I know very well that the controlling principle of all mundane151 and supramundane things is Authority. As we here all bow to Zeus, so mortals must always bow to some authority. Nothing more evident can be imagined nor shown. It is the broadest result of all history, of all experience. Just because this is so, and unmistakably so, my disciples must naturally say the reverse. They do not look at facts by a microscope or a telescope; they telescope train-loads of facts into a mass of pulverised debris152.
"Instead of saying that in England, through her social caste system, there are many, too many, parvenus153 or tactless upstarts, my disciples must say: 'The greatness of England is owing to her tactlessness.' This is the real merchandise which I sold at Corinth over two thousand years ago.
"Tolstoy thunders against War. I wonder he does not thunder against mothers' breasts feeding their babies. Why, War made everything that is worth having. First of all, it made Peace. With[Pg 51]out war there is no peace; there is only stagnation154. The greater the ideal, the greater the price we have to pay for it. And since we always crave155 for the sublime156 ideals of Liberty, Honour, Wealth, Power, Beauty, and Knowledge, we must necessarily pay the highest price for it—ourselves, our lives in war. There is no Dante without the terrible wars of the Guelfs and the Ghibellines. There could have been no ideal superman like Raphael without the counter-superman called Cesare Borgia. It is only your abominable157 Philistine158 who squeaks159: 'Oh, we might have many a nice slice from the ham of Ideals without paying too dearly for it.' What do you think of that, Hercules? Did you win Hebe by avoiding conflicts and disasters?"
Hercules groaned160 deeply and looked first at his battered161 club and then at charming Hebe. The gods laughed aloud and Apollo, taking up his lyre, intoned a grand old Doric song in praise of the heroes of war who, by their valour, had prepared the pal26?stra for the heroes of thought and beauty. He was soon joined by a thousand harmonious162 voices from the temple of Isis, and from his own majestic163 sanctuary164 at Pompeii. Vesuvius counterpointed the lithe165 song with his deep bass166; and, with Dionysus at the head of them, Pan and the nymphs came wafting167 through the air, strewing168 buds of melodies on to the Olympian wreaths of tones sung by Ph?bus Apollo in praise of War.
[Pg 52]
When the song had subsided169, Zeus, in a voice full of serenity170 and benign171 music, addressed the gods and heroes as follows: "We are very much beholden to Diogenes for his bright and amusing story of the Cynical ants that at present run about the woods and cottages of men, biting each other and their friends. Their epigrams and other eccentric utterances172 can affect none of us here assembled. You very well know that I have not allowed Apollo, or Reason to reign173 alone and unaided by Unreason, or Dionysus. The Cynical critics of men want to bring about the Age of Reason, or as these presumptuous174 half-knowers call it, the Age of Science. This, I have long since laid down, shall never be.
"At the gate of the Future, at Delphi, Apollo is associated with Dionysus, and so it has been ever since I came to rule this Universe. Just as good music consists of tones and rhythms, and again of the cessation of all sound, or of measured pauses; even so my Realm consists of Reason, and of the cessation of all Reason, or of Unreason. The Cynics who ignore the latter, misjudge the former. This, I take it, is perfectly clear to all of us.
"But while we here may laugh at the bites of the Cynical ants below, we do not mean to state that in their occupation there is no point, no utility at all. These little ants may be, and undoubtedly are largely sterile175 mockers. Yet even I have experienced it on myself that the effects of their doings are not always sterile."
And leaning back on his chryselephantine chair, Zeus lowered his voice and said almost in a whisper: "See, friends, why do we meet here in lonely places, in a dead town, during the mysterious hours of[Pg 53] night? You know very well who and what has prevailed upon me to choose this temporary darkening of our blissful life."
At this moment there came from the rushes near the sea a plaintive176 song accompanied by a flute177, and a voice of a human sobbed178 out the cry: "Pan, the Great Pan is dead!"
A sudden silence fell over the divine Assembly. A cloud of deep sadness seemed to hover179 over all.
The three Graces then betook themselves to dancing, and their beauteous movements and poses so exhilarated the Assembly, that the former serenity was soon re-established.
Zeus now turned to Plato, calling upon him to give his opinion on the Cynics. Zeus reminded Plato that hitherto the Cynics had been treated by him merely incidentally, mostly by hidden allusions180 to Antisthenes, or by witty remarks on Diogenes. At present Plato might help the gods to pass agreeably the rest of the beautiful night by telling them in connection and fulness what really the ultimate purport181 of these modern Cynics, Shavian or other is going to be. Everybody turned his or her face towards Plato, who rose from his seat, and bowing, with a smile, towards Diogenes, thus addressed Zeus and the Assembly of gods and heroes at Pompeii:
"It is quite true that in my writings I have not devoted182 any explicit183 discussion to the views and tenets of the Cynics. They appeared to me at that[Pg 54] time far too grotesque184 to be worth more than a passing consideration. Of their dramas I had, and still have a very poor opinion. From what I hear from Diogenes, the modern imitators of Cynic dramatists are not a whit better. In addition to all their wearying eccentricities, they add the most unbearable185 eccentricity186 of all, to wit, that their dramas and comedies represent a new departure within dramatic literature.
"Shaw's dramas are no more dramas than his Swiss, in Arms and the Man, is a soldier; or his clergyman in Candida a husband, or a man. His pieces are not dramatic in the least; they do not exhibit the most elementary qualities of a comedy. For, whatever the definition of a comedy may be, one central quality can never be missing in it: the persons presented must be types of human beings.
"Shaw's persons are no humans whatever. They are homunculi concocted187 in a chemical laboratory of pseudo-science and false psychology188. They crack, from time to time, brave jokes; so do clowns in a circus. That alone does not make a wax figure into a human.
"There may be very interesting comic scenes amongst bees, wasps189, or beavers190; but we cannot appreciate them. We can only appreciate human comicality, even when it is presented to us in the shape of dialogues between animals, as Aristophanes, the fabulists, and so many other writers have done.
"Who would care to sit through a comedy showing the comic aspects of life in a Bedlam191? If madmen have humour, as undoubtedly they have, we do not want to see it on a public stage. The fact that it is a madman's humour deprives it of all humour.
"Hedda Gabler can appeal to no sound taste.[Pg 55] One never sees why she is so fearfully unhappy. If she is not in love with her husband, let her work in the house, in the kitchen, in the garden; let her try to be a mother; let her adopt a child if the gods deny her one of her own. Let her do something. Of course, idling all day long as she does, will in the end demoralise a poker192; and far from wondering that she ends badly at the end of the last act, one only wonders that she did not do away with herself before the first scene of the first act. By doing so she would have done a great service to herself, her people, and to dramatic literature.
"Of the same kind is Raina, in Arms and the Man. She is a doll, but not a young girl. She has neither senses, nor sense. She is made of cardboard, and fit only to appear in a Punch and Judy show. She is, in common with most of the figures in the comedies of the modern Cynics, a mere outline drawing of a human being from whose mouth hang various slips of paper on which the author conveniently writes his variorum jokes and bright sayings. All these so-called dramatic pieces will be brushed away by the broom of Time, as happened to the dramas and travesties193 of our Greek Cynics. Life eternal is given to things only through Art, and in these writings of the Cynics, old or modern ones, there is not the faintest trace either of one of the Graces, or of one of the Muses194.
"Having said this much about Shaw's and the other modern Cynics' alleged dramatic writings, I[Pg 56] hasten to add, that when we come to consider the effect these so-called dramas have, and possibly will continue to have on the mind of the public, we are bound to speak in quite a different manner.
"I have had plenty of time, since the days of my Academy at Athens, to think out the vast difference between such works of the intellect as aim at nothing but truth and beauty, or what we might call alethology, on the one hand; and such works as aim at effect, or what may be generally termed as effectology.
"It is from this all-important point of view that I say that Tolstoy, Ibsen, Shaw and the others are, effectologically, just as remarkable195 as they are alethologically without much significance.
"As to the latter; as to their hitting off great or new truths; as to their being philosophers; or to put it in my terms, as to their having any alethological value, Diogenes has already spoken with sufficient clearness. Just consider this one point.
"Tolstoy, as well as Shaw, wants to reform the abuses of civilisation197. In order to do so they combat with all their might the most powerful purifier and reformer of men,—War. Can anything be more ludicrous, and unscientific?
"Who gave the modern Germans that incomparable dash and élan, thanks to which they have in one generation quadrupled their commerce, doubled their population, quintupled their wealth, and ensured their supremacy198 on the Continent?
"Was it done by their thinkers and scholars? The greatest of these died before 1870.
"Was it done by getting into possession of the[Pg 57] mouth of the Rhine, or of the access to the Danish Sounds, which formerly199 debarred them from the sea? They do not possess the mouth of the Rhine, nor Denmark to the present day.
"Nothing has changed in the material or intellectual world making the Germany of to-day more advantageous200 for commerce or power than it had been formerly.
"Except the victorious201 wars of 1866 and of 1870.
"Can such an evident connection of fact be overlooked? And would Russia have introduced the Duma without the battle of Mukden? It is waste of time even for the immortals to press this point much longer.
"As in this case, so in nearly all the other cases, Cynics revile202 abuses the sole remedies for which they violently combat. In their negative attacks they brandish203 the keenest edges of the swords, daggers204 and pins of Logic80; in their positive advices they browbeat205 every person in the household of logical thought.
"Yet, worthless, or very nearly so, as they may be as teachers of truth, they are powerful as writers of pamphlets. For this is what their literature comes to. They do not write dramas, nor novels. They can do neither the one, nor the other. But they write effective pamphlets in the apparent form of dramas and novels.
"They are pamphleteers, and not men of letters.
"In that lies their undeniably great force. They instinctively206 choose as eccentric, as loud, and as striking forms and draperies of ideas as possible, so[Pg 58] as to rouse the apathetic207 Philistine to an interest in what they say. They are full of absurdities208; but which of us here can now after centuries of experience venture to make light of the power of the absurd?
"Error and Absurdity209 are so powerful, so necessary, so inevitable210, that Protagoras was perhaps not quite wrong in saying that Truth herself is only a particular species of Error.
"Once, many years ago, I despised the Cynics, and my own master Socrates made light of them. But at present I think differently. When Socrates said, with subtle sarcasm211, to Antisthenes: 'I see your vanity peeping out through the holes of your shabby garment,' Antisthenes might have retorted to him: 'And I, O Socrates, see through these very holes how short-sighted you are.'
"For have we not lived to see that while all revere61 Socrates in words, they follow the pupils of Antisthenes in deeds? The Cynics, fathered by Antisthenes, begot212 the Stoics213; and the Stoics were the main ferment214 in the rise and spread of Christianity. Many of the sayings and teachings and doings of the Cynics, which we at Athens made most fun of, have long since become the sinews and fibres of Christian215 ideas and institutions. There is greater similarity and mental propinquity between Antisthenes or Diogenes and St Paul, than between Socrates and St Augustine of Hippo.
"I pray thee, O Zeus, to let us for a moment see this town of Pompeii as it was a day before its destruction, with all its life in the streets and the Forum216, so as to give us an ocular proof of the truth of what I just now said about the Cynics and Eccen[Pg 59]trics of Antiquity217, and what I am going to apply to the modern Cynics, literary or other."
Thereupon Zeus, by a wave of his hand, placed the whole Assembly in the shadow as if encircled by a vast mantle218 of darkness, and shed a strange and supramundane light on the town of Pompeii, which grew up at sight from the ground, putting on life and movement and beauty on all its houses, narrow streets, gardens, and squares. The ancient population filled, in ceaseless movement, every part of the charming city. Richly dressed ladies, carried in sedan-chairs by black slaves; patricians219 in spotless togas, followed by crowds of clients; magistrates220 preceded by lictors; soldiers recruited from all nations; tradesmen from every part of the Roman Empire; all these and innumerable others, visitors from the neighbouring cities, thronged221 the streets, and the whole population seemed to breathe nothing but joy and a sense of exuberant222 life.
In one of the squares there was a hilarious223 crowd listening, with loud derision and ironical224 applause, to a haggard, miserably225 clad, old man who, addressing them in Ionian Greek, with the strong guttural accent of the Asiatics, stood on one of the high jumping-stones of the pavement, and spoke196 with fanatic226 fervour of the nameless sinfulness of the people of Pompeii. With him were two or three other persons of the same description, joining him from time to time in his imprecations against the "doomed227 town."
[Pg 60]
The old man told them that their whole life was rotten through and through, a permanent lie, a contradiction to itself, a sure way to damnation. He thundered against the soldiers jeering228 at him in the crowd, calling them cowards, butchers, wretches229, and the sinners of all sinners. He sneered at one of the priests of Isis present in the crowd, telling the people that there was only one true belief, and no other.
The more the old man talked, the more the crowd laughed at him; and when a Greek philosopher, who happened to be there, interpellated and elegantly refuted the old man in a manner approved by the rules of the prevalent school of rhetoric230 and dialectics, the crowd cheered the philosopher, and the more accomplished231 amongst the bystanders said to one another: "This old man is a mere charlatan232, or an impostor; it's waste of time to take him seriously."
One man alone, in the whole crowd, a shy and retiring disciple of Apollonius of Tyana, waited until the crowd had dispersed233, and then walking up to the old man, asked him what sect of Cynics he belonged to.
The old man said: "I am no Cynic; I am a Christian."
Thereupon the disciple of Apollonius took the old man's hand, pressed it with emotion, kissed him, and turning away from him, walked off, plunged234 in deep thought.
A minute later the supramundane light over Pompeii disappeared, and the Assembly of the gods and heroes was again in the mild rays of Selene.
[Pg 61]
"Can anyone here," continued Plato, "deny that that crowd together with the philosopher was quite mistaken in their appreciation235 of the eccentric old man, and that the silent pupil of Apollonius alone was right?
"Cynics and Eccentrics have at all times been the forerunners236 of vast popular movements. The flagellants, the Beguins and Lollards, and countless237 other Cynics in the latter half of the Middle Ages preceded the Reformation.
"And was not the French Revolution, or the vastest effort at realising Ideals ever made by the little ones down here, preceded by a Cynic and his pamphlets, by Jean Jacques Rousseau?
"No Greek town would have endured within its walls a youth so completely shattered in all his moral build, as was Rousseau. He was thoroughly and hopelessly demoralised in character, décousu and eccentric in thought, and badly tutored in point of knowledge. The clever woman that was his protectress, mistress, and guide, and who displayed a marvellous capacity for devising jobs and an inexhaustible resourcefulness in turning things and persons to practical use, could yet never discover any usefulness in Jean Jacques.
"He wrote, later on, novels, political treatises238, botanical ones, musical ones. In truth he never wrote a novel; he wrote nothing but pamphlets; stirring, wild, eccentric, enchanting pamphlets. He was not, like Beaumarchais, a pamphleteer and yet a writer of a real, and immortal comedy, itself a political pamphlet. Rousseau was a writing stump-orator doing anticipative yeoman's work for the Revolution.
"So are all the Cynics. So are Ibsen, Tolstoy; so[Pg 62] is Shaw. Their dramas may be, say are no dramas at all; their novels may be, say are no novels at all; their serious treatises are neither serious nor treatises; and yet they are, and always will be great effectological centres. They attack the whole fabric239 of the extant civilisation; by this one move they rally round them both the silent and the loud enemies of What Is, and the eager friends of what Ought To Be. Of these malcontents there always is a great number; especially in times of prolonged peace.
"A war, a real, good national war would immediately sweep away all these social malcontents.
"That's why the leaders of the Cynics, and more especially Tolstoy and Shaw, hate war. It is their mar-feast, their kill-joy; their microbes do not prosper240 in times of war.
"Without the fatal and all but universal peace of the period from 50 A.D. to 190 A.D., Christianity could never have made any headway in the Roman Empire; just as we got rid of our Cynics by the second Athenian Empire and its great wars.
"This, then, is in my opinion the true perspective of our modern Cynics. As literature or truth, they exhibit little of value, except that Shaw appears to me (—if a Greek may be allowed to pass judgment241 on such a matter—) to be the only one amongst living writers in England who has real literary splendour in his style. As men, however, exercising an effect on a possible social Revolution, these writers are of the utmost importance.
"Or to repeat it in my terms: alethologically nil242 or nearly so, effectologically very important or interesting; this is the true perspective of writers like Tolstoy, Shaw, and other modern Cynics.
[Pg 63]
"Their influence is not on Thought, nor on Art, but on Action.
"They may eventually, if Mars will continue trifling243 with wood-nymphs and other well-intended cordials, become a great power. They may beget244 Neo-Stoics, who may beget Neo-Christians. They themselves may then appear only as the tiny drum-pages running in front or beside the real fighters in battle. Yet their importance will be little impaired245 thereby246.
"The Church Fathers have frequently endeavoured to honour me with the name of one of the lay protagonists247 of Christianity. But I know much better than that. The true protagonists were Antisthenes or Diogenes; and that is why the Roman Catholic Church has at no time countenanced248 me. And just as we now do not mind the jokes, burlesques249 and boutades of Diogenes any more, admitting freely, as we do, that behind them was the aurora250 borealis of a new creed251, a new movement, a new world; even so we must not mind the grotesque boutades of Tolstoy, Ibsen, Shaw, Anatole, and other modern Cynics, for behind them is the magnetic fulguration of new electric currents in the social world.
"This, the public indistinctly feel; that's why they continue to read and criticise252 or revile these men. The public feels that while there may not be much in what these men yield for the present, the future, possibly, is theirs.
"The little ones below do not as yet know, that there is no future; nor that all that is or can be, has long been. Therefore they do not turn to us who might point out to them what things are[Pg 64] driving at; but they want the oldest things in ever new forms.
"We, however, know that plus cela change, plus c'est la même chose, as one of the modern Athenians in Paris has put it.
"Do not frown on me, Heraclitus; I well know that you hold the very reverse, and that you would say: 'plus c'est la même chose, plus cela change.'
"I have gladly accepted that in my earthly time when I made a sharp distinction between phenomena253 and super-phenomena, or noumena. But I do no longer make such a distinction.
"We are above time. We Hellenes are alive to-day as we were over two thousand years ago. We still think aloud or on papyrus254 the most beautiful and the truest thoughts of men. Have we not but quite lately sent down for one of us to while amongst us for ever? He too began as a Cynic. But having learnt the inanity255 of the so-called 'future,' he rose above time and space, and soared on the wings of eagle concepts to the heights where we welcome him. He has just entered the near port in a boat rowed by the nymphs of Circe. We cannot close our meeting in a more condign256 fashion than by asking Hebe to offer him the goblet257 of welcome."
The eyes of all present turned to the shore, where a man of middle age, who had evidently regained258 his former vigour259, walked up to the steps of the amphitheatre. When he came quite near to the Assembly, Diogenes exclaimed: "Hail to thee, Frederick Nietzsche!"
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starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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whit
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| n.一点，丝毫 | |
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spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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grotto
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| n.洞穴 | |
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alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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lava
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| n.熔岩，火山岩 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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immortals
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| 不朽的人物( immortal的名词复数 )； 永生不朽者 | |
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almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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withheld
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farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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burlesque
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| v.嘲弄，戏仿；n.嘲弄，取笑，滑稽模仿 | |
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commentators
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| n.评论员( commentator的名词复数 )；时事评论员；注释者；实况广播员 | |
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spurted
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| （液体，火焰等）喷出，（使）涌出( spurt的过去式和过去分词 )； （短暂地）加速前进，冲刺 | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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predilection
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ambrosia
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| n.神的食物；蜂食 | |
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pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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esteem
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raved
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| v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
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barbarians
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mere
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vomits
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repentance
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strictly
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malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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disciple
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| n.信徒，门徒，追随者 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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undoubtedly
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conceit
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satire
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| n.讽刺，讽刺文学，讽刺作品 | |
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fresco
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zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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capers
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| n.开玩笑( caper的名词复数 )；刺山柑v.跳跃，雀跃( caper的第三人称单数 ) | |
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posthumous
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| adj.遗腹的；父亡后出生的；死后的，身后的 | |
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speck
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eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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eccentricities
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| n.古怪行为( eccentricity的名词复数 )；反常；怪癖 | |
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ponderosity
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| n.沉重，笨重；有质性；可称性 | |
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penurious
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doctrines
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| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
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inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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middle-aged
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sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
revere
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| vt.尊崇，崇敬，敬畏 | |
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62
oration
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| n.演说，致辞，叙述法 | |
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63
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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65
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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66
capability
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| n.能力；才能；(pl)可发展的能力或特性等 | |
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67
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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68
viper
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| n.毒蛇；危险的人 | |
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69
enthusiast
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| n.热心人，热衷者 | |
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70
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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71
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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72
raptures
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| 极度欢喜( rapture的名词复数 ) | |
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73
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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74
alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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75
substantiates
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| v.用事实支持（某主张、说法等），证明，证实( substantiate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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76
ridiculing
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| v.嘲笑，嘲弄，奚落( ridicule的现在分词 ) | |
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77
fables
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| n.寓言( fable的名词复数 )；神话，传说 | |
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78
dissimulator
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| n.假装不知者，伪善者 | |
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79
coherence
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| n.紧凑；连贯；一致性 | |
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80
logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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81
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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82
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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83
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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84
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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85
witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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86
cynical
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|
| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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87
ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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88
calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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89
lewd
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| adj.淫荡的 | |
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90
mendacious
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| adj.不真的，撒谎的 | |
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91
magpie
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| n.喜欢收藏物品的人，喜鹊，饶舌者 | |
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92
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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93
nauseating
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|
| adj.令人恶心的，使人厌恶的v.使恶心，作呕( nauseate的现在分词 ) | |
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94
replica
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| n.复制品 | |
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95
sentimentally
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| adv.富情感地 | |
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96
idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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97
rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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98
solicitors
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| 初级律师( solicitor的名词复数 ) | |
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99
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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100
buxomness
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101
ridiculed
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| v.嘲笑，嘲弄，奚落( ridicule的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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103
acolyte
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| n.助手，侍僧 | |
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104
conversant
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| adj.亲近的，有交情的，熟悉的 | |
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105
orphaned
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| [计][修]孤立 | |
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106
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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107
wart
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| n.疣，肉赘；瑕疵 | |
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108
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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109
yokel
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| n.乡下人；农夫 | |
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110
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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111
truces
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| 休战( truce的名词复数 )； 停战（协定）； 停止争辩（的协议）； 中止 | |
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112
callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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113
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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114
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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115
perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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116
reviling
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| v.辱骂，痛斥( revile的现在分词 ) | |
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117
scotch
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|
| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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118
detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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119
yoked
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| 结合（yoke的过去式形式） | |
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120
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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121
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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122
enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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123
fickle
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| adj.(爱情或友谊上)易变的，不坚定的 | |
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124
vilest
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| adj.卑鄙的( vile的最高级 )；可耻的；极坏的；非常讨厌的 | |
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125
creditors
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|
| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
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126
recoiling
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| v.畏缩( recoil的现在分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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127
resolute
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|
| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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128
contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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129
foul
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|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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130
originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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131
decomposition
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| n. 分解, 腐烂, 崩溃 | |
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132
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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133
crates
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| n. 板条箱, 篓子, 旧汽车 vt. 装进纸条箱 | |
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134
conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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135
amenity
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| n.pl.生活福利设施，文娱康乐场所；（不可数）愉快，适意 | |
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136
impudent
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|
| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
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137
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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138
immediate
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|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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139
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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140
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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141
gracefully
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|
| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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142
sundry
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|
| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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143
sect
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| n.派别，宗教，学派，派系 | |
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144
crouch
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| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
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145
disciples
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|
| n.信徒( disciple的名词复数 )；门徒；耶稣的信徒；（尤指）耶稣十二门徒之一 | |
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146
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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147
stammer
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|
| n.结巴，口吃；v.结结巴巴地说 | |
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148
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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149
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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150
bray
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| n.驴叫声, 喇叭声；v.驴叫 | |
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151
mundane
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|
| adj.平凡的；尘世的；宇宙的 | |
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152
debris
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| n.瓦砾堆，废墟，碎片 | |
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153
parvenus
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| n.暴富者( parvenu的名词复数 )；暴发户；新贵；傲慢自负的人 | |
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154
stagnation
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| n. 停滞 | |
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155
crave
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| vt.渴望得到，迫切需要，恳求，请求 | |
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156
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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157
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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158
philistine
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| n.庸俗的人；adj.市侩的，庸俗的 | |
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159
squeaks
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| n.短促的尖叫声，吱吱声( squeak的名词复数 )v.短促地尖叫( squeak的第三人称单数 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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160
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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161
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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162
harmonious
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| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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163
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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164
sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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165
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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166
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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167
wafting
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的现在分词 ) | |
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168
strewing
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| v.撒在…上( strew的现在分词 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
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169
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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170
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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171
benign
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| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
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172
utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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173
reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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174
presumptuous
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| adj.胆大妄为的，放肆的，冒昧的，冒失的 | |
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175
sterile
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| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
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176
plaintive
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|
| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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177
flute
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| n.长笛；v.吹笛 | |
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178
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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179
hover
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| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
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180
allusions
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| 暗指，间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
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181
purport
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| n.意义，要旨，大要；v.意味著，做为...要旨，要领是... | |
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182
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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183
explicit
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| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
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184
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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185
unbearable
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|
| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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186
eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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187
concocted
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|
| v.将（尤指通常不相配合的）成分混合成某物( concoct的过去式和过去分词 )；调制；编造；捏造 | |
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188
psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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189
wasps
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| 黄蜂( wasp的名词复数 )； 胡蜂； 易动怒的人； 刻毒的人 | |
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190
beavers
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| 海狸( beaver的名词复数 )； 海狸皮毛； 棕灰色； 拼命工作的人 | |
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191
bedlam
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| n.混乱，骚乱；疯人院 | |
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192
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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193
travesties
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| n.拙劣的模仿作品，荒谬的模仿，歪曲( travesty的名词复数 ) | |
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194
muses
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的第三人称单数 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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195
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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196
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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197
civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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198
supremacy
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| n.至上；至高权力 | |
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199
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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200
advantageous
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| adj.有利的；有帮助的 | |
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201
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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202
revile
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| v.辱骂，谩骂 | |
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203
brandish
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| v.挥舞，挥动；n.挥动，挥舞 | |
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204
daggers
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| 匕首，短剑( dagger的名词复数 ) | |
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205
browbeat
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| v.欺侮；吓唬 | |
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206
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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207
apathetic
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| adj.冷漠的，无动于衷的 | |
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208
absurdities
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| n.极端无理性( absurdity的名词复数 )；荒谬；谬论；荒谬的行为 | |
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209
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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210
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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211
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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212
begot
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| v.为…之生父( beget的过去式 )；产生，引起 | |
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213
stoics
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| 禁欲主义者，恬淡寡欲的人，不以苦乐为意的人( stoic的名词复数 ) | |
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214
ferment
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| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
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215
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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216
forum
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| n.论坛，讨论会 | |
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217
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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218
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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219
patricians
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| n.（古罗马的）统治阶层成员( patrician的名词复数 )；贵族，显贵 | |
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220
magistrates
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| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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221
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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222
exuberant
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| adj.充满活力的；（植物）繁茂的 | |
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223
hilarious
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| adj.充满笑声的，欢闹的；[反]depressed | |
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224
ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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225
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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226
fanatic
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| n.狂热者，入迷者；adj.狂热入迷的 | |
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227
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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228
jeering
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| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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229
wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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230
rhetoric
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| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
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231
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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232
charlatan
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| n.骗子；江湖医生；假内行 | |
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233
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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234
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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235
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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236
forerunners
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| n.先驱( forerunner的名词复数 )；开路人；先兆；前兆 | |
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237
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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238
treatises
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| n.专题著作，专题论文，专著( treatise的名词复数 ) | |
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239
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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240
prosper
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| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
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241
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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242
nil
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| n.无，全无，零 | |
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243
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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244
beget
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| v.引起；产生 | |
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245
impaired
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| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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246
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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247
protagonists
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| n.（戏剧的）主角( protagonist的名词复数 )；（故事的）主人公；现实事件（尤指冲突和争端的）主要参与者；领导者 | |
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248
countenanced
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| v.支持，赞同，批准( countenance的过去式 ) | |
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249
burlesques
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| n.滑稽模仿( burlesque的名词复数 )；（包括脱衣舞的）滑稽歌舞杂剧v.（嘲弄地）模仿，（通过模仿）取笑( burlesque的第三人称单数 ) | |
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250
aurora
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| n.极光 | |
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251
creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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252
criticise
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| v.批评，评论；非难 | |
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253
phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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254
papyrus
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| n.古以纸草制成之纸 | |
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255
inanity
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| n.无意义，无聊 | |
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256
condign
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| adj.应得的，相当的 | |
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257
goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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258
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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259
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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