It was a noble example, of course; but not, you will admit, an alluring12 one for others to follow.
"Be true to yourself," say the copy-book moralists, "and you may be sure the result will at last be justified13." No doubt; but in how many centuries? And what sort of life will you lead yourself, meanwhile, for your allotted14 space of threescore years and ten, unless haply hanged, or burned, or imprisoned15 before it? What the copy-book moralists mean is merely this—that sooner or later your principles will triumph, which may or may not be the case according to the nature of the principles. But even suppose they do, are you to ignore yourself in the interim—you, a human being with emotions, sensations, domestic affections, and, in the majority of instances, wife and children on whom to expend17 them? Why should it be calmly taken for granted by the world that if you have some new and true thing to tell humanity (which humanity, of course, will toss back in your face with contumely and violence) you are bound to blurt18 it out, with childish unreserve, regardless of consequences to yourself and to those who depend upon you? Why demand of genius or exceptional ability a gratuitous19 sacrifice which you would deprecate as wrong and unjust to others in the ordinary citizen? For the genius, too, is a man, and has his feelings.
The fact is, society considers that in certain instances it has a right to expect the thinker will martyrise himself on its account, while it stands serenely21 by and heaps faggots on the pile, with every mark of contempt and loathing22. But society is mistaken. No man is bound to martyrise himself; in a great many cases a man is bound to do the exact opposite. He has given hostages to Fortune, and his first duty is to the hostages. "We ask you for bread," his children may well say, "and you give us a noble moral lesson. We ask you for clothing, and you supply us with a beautiful poetical23 fancy." This is not according to bargain. Wife and children have a first mortgage on a man's activities; society has only a right to contingent24 remainders.
A great many sensible men who had truths of deep import to deliver to the world must have recognised these facts in all times and places, and must have held their tongues accordingly. Instead of speaking out the truths that were in them, they must have kept their peace, or have confined themselves severely25 to the ordinary platitudes26 of their age and nation. Why ruin yourself by announcing what you feel and believe, when all the reward you will get for it in the end will be social ostracism27, if not even the rack, the stake, or the pillory28? The Shelleys and Rousseaus there's no holding, of course; they will run right into it; but the Goethes—oh, no, they keep their secret. Indeed, I hold it as probable that the vast majority of men far in advance of their times have always held their tongues consistently, save for mere16 common babble29, on Lord Chesterfield's principle that "Wise men never say."
The r?le of prophet is thus a thankless and difficult one. Nor is it quite certainly of real use to the community. For the prophet is generally too much ahead of his times. He discounts the future at a ruinous rate, and he takes the consequences. If you happen ever to have read the Old Testament30 you must have noticed that the prophets had generally a hard time of it.
The leader is a very different stamp of person. He stands well abreast31 of his contemporaries, and just half a pace in front of them; and he has power to persuade even the inertia32 of humanity into taking that one half-step in advance he himself has already made bold to adventure. His post is honoured, respected, remunerated. But the prophet gets no thanks, and perhaps does mankind no benefit. He sees too quick. And there can be very little good indeed in so seeing. If one of us had been an astronomer33, and had discovered the laws of Kepler, Newton, and Laplace in the thirteenth century, I think he would have been wise to keep the discovery to himself for a few hundred years or so. Otherwise, he would have been burned for his trouble. Galileo, long after, tried part of the experiment a decade or so too soon, and got no good by it. But in moral and social matters the danger is far graver. I would say to every aspiring34 youth who sees some political or economical or ethical35 truth quite clearly: "Keep it dark! Don't mention it! Nobody will listen to you; and you, who are probably a person of superior insight and higher moral aims than the mass, will only destroy your own influence for good by premature36 declarations. The world will very likely come round of itself to your views in the end; but if you tell them too soon, you will suffer for it in person, and will very likely do nothing to help on the revolution in thought that you contemplate37. For thought that is too abruptly38 ahead of the mass never influences humanity."
"But sometimes the truth will out in spite of one!" Ah, yes, that's the worst of it. Do as I say, not as I do. If possible, repress it.
It is a noble and beautiful thing to be a martyr20, especially if you are a martyr in the cause of truth, and not, as is often the case, of some debasing and degrading superstition39. But nobody has a right to demand of you that you should be a martyr. And some people have often a right to demand that you should resolutely40 refuse the martyr's crown on the ground that you have contracted prior obligations, inconsistent with the purely41 personal luxury of martyrdom. 'Tis a luxury for a few. It befits only the bachelor, the unattached, and the economically spareworthy.
"These be pessimistic pronouncements," you say. Well, no, not exactly. For, after all, we must never shut our eyes to the actual; and in the world as it is, meliorism, not optimism, is the true opposite of pessimism43. Optimist44 and pessimist42 are both alike in a sense, seeing they are both conservative; they sit down contented—the first with the smug contentment that says "All's well; I have enough; why this fuss about others?" the second with the contentment of blank despair that says, "All's hopeless; all's wrong; why try uselessly to mend it?" The meliorist attitude, on the contrary, is rather to say, "Much is wrong; much painful; what can we do to improve it?" And from this point of view there is something we can all do to make martyrdom less inevitable45 in the end, for the man who has a thought, a discovery, an idea, to tell us. Such men are rare, and their thought, when they produce it, is sure to be unpalatable. For, if it were otherwise, it would be thought of our own type—familiar, banal46, commonplace, unoriginal. It would encounter no resistance, as it thrilled on its way through our brain, from established errors. What the genius and the prophet are there for is just that—to make us listen to unwelcome truths, to compel us to hear, to drive awkward facts straight home with sledge-hammer force to the unwilling47 hearts and brains of us. Not what you want to hear, or what I want to hear, is good and useful for us; but what we don't want to hear, what we can't bear to think, what we hate to believe, what we fight tooth and nail against. The man who makes us listen to that is the seer and the prophet; he comes upon us like Shelley, or Whitman, or Ibsen, and plumps down horrid48 truths that half surprise, half disgust us. He shakes us out of our lethargy. To such give ear, though they say what shocks you. Weigh well their hateful ideas. Avoid the vulgar vice49 of sneering50 and carping at them. Learn to examine their nude51 thought without shrinking, and examine it all the more carefully when it most repels52 you. Naked verity53 is an acquired taste; it is never beautiful at first sight to the unaccustomed vision. Remember that no question is finally settled; that no question is wholly above consideration; that what you cherish as holiest is most probably wrong; and that in social and moral matters especially (where men have been longest ruled by pure superstitions) new and startling forms of thought have the highest a priori probability in their favour. Dismiss your idols54. Give every opinion its fair chance of success—especially when it seems to you both wicked and ridiculous, recollecting55 that it is better to let five hundred crude guesses run loose about the world unclad, than to crush one fledgling truth in its callow condition. To the Greeks, foolishness: to the Jews, a stumbling-block. If you can't be one of the prophets yourself, you can at least abstain56 from helping57 to stone them.
Dear me! These reflections to-day are anything but post-prandial. The gnocchi and the olives must certainly have disagreed with me. But perhaps it may some of it be "wrote sarcastic58." I have heard tell there is a thing called irony59.
点击收听单词发音
1 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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2 lyrics | |
n.歌词 | |
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3 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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4 vilified | |
v.中伤,诽谤( vilify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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5 calumniated | |
v.诽谤,中伤( calumniate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6 shrugs | |
n.耸肩(以表示冷淡,怀疑等)( shrug的名词复数 ) | |
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7 persecuted | |
(尤指宗教或政治信仰的)迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 ); 烦扰,困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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8 vilest | |
adj.卑鄙的( vile的最高级 );可耻的;极坏的;非常讨厌的 | |
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9 shafts | |
n.轴( shaft的名词复数 );(箭、高尔夫球棒等的)杆;通风井;一阵(疼痛、害怕等) | |
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10 malignity | |
n.极度的恶意,恶毒;(病的)恶性 | |
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11 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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12 alluring | |
adj.吸引人的,迷人的 | |
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13 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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14 allotted | |
分配,拨给,摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15 imprisoned | |
下狱,监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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17 expend | |
vt.花费,消费,消耗 | |
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18 blurt | |
vt.突然说出,脱口说出 | |
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19 gratuitous | |
adj.无偿的,免费的;无缘无故的,不必要的 | |
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20 martyr | |
n.烈士,殉难者;vt.杀害,折磨,牺牲 | |
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21 serenely | |
adv.安详地,宁静地,平静地 | |
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22 loathing | |
n.厌恶,憎恨v.憎恨,厌恶( loathe的现在分词);极不喜欢 | |
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23 poetical | |
adj.似诗人的;诗一般的;韵文的;富有诗意的 | |
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24 contingent | |
adj.视条件而定的;n.一组,代表团,分遣队 | |
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25 severely | |
adv.严格地;严厉地;非常恶劣地 | |
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26 platitudes | |
n.平常的话,老生常谈,陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 );滥套子 | |
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27 ostracism | |
n.放逐;排斥 | |
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28 pillory | |
n.嘲弄;v.使受公众嘲笑;将…示众 | |
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29 babble | |
v.含糊不清地说,胡言乱语地说,儿语 | |
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30 testament | |
n.遗嘱;证明 | |
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31 abreast | |
adv.并排地;跟上(时代)的步伐,与…并进地 | |
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32 inertia | |
adj.惰性,惯性,懒惰,迟钝 | |
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33 astronomer | |
n.天文学家 | |
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34 aspiring | |
adj.有志气的;有抱负的;高耸的v.渴望;追求 | |
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35 ethical | |
adj.伦理的,道德的,合乎道德的 | |
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36 premature | |
adj.比预期时间早的;不成熟的,仓促的 | |
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37 contemplate | |
vt.盘算,计议;周密考虑;注视,凝视 | |
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38 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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39 superstition | |
n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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40 resolutely | |
adj.坚决地,果断地 | |
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41 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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42 pessimist | |
n.悲观者;悲观主义者;厌世 | |
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43 pessimism | |
n.悲观者,悲观主义者,厌世者 | |
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44 optimist | |
n.乐观的人,乐观主义者 | |
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45 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
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46 banal | |
adj.陈腐的,平庸的 | |
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47 unwilling | |
adj.不情愿的 | |
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48 horrid | |
adj.可怕的;令人惊恐的;恐怖的;极讨厌的 | |
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49 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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50 sneering | |
嘲笑的,轻蔑的 | |
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51 nude | |
adj.裸体的;n.裸体者,裸体艺术品 | |
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52 repels | |
v.击退( repel的第三人称单数 );使厌恶;排斥;推开 | |
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53 verity | |
n.真实性 | |
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54 idols | |
偶像( idol的名词复数 ); 受崇拜的人或物; 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物; 神像 | |
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55 recollecting | |
v.记起,想起( recollect的现在分词 ) | |
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56 abstain | |
v.自制,戒绝,弃权,避免 | |
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57 helping | |
n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的,辅助的 | |
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58 sarcastic | |
adj.讥讽的,讽刺的,嘲弄的 | |
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59 irony | |
n.反语,冷嘲;具有讽刺意味的事,嘲弄 | |
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