When a thing of the intellect is settled it is not dead: rather it is immortal6. The multiplication7 table is immortal, and so is the fame of Shakspere. But the fame of Zola is not dead or not immortal; it is at its crisis, it is in the balance; and may be found wanting. The French, therefore, are quite right in considering it a living question. It is still living as a question, because it is not yet solved. But Shakspere is not a living question: he is a living answer.
For my part, therefore, I think the French Zola controversy8 much more practical and exciting than the English Shakspere one. The admission of Zola to the Pantheon may be regarded as defining Zola's position. But nobody could say that a statue of Shakspere, even fifty feet high, on the top of St. Paul's Cathedral, could define Shakspere's position. It only defines our position towards Shakspere. It is he who is fixed9; it is we who are unstable10. The nearest approach to an English parallel to the Zola case would be furnished if it were proposed to put some savagely11 controversial and largely repulsive12 author among the ashes of the greatest English poets. Suppose, for instance, it were proposed to bury Mr. Rudyard Kipling in Westminster Abbey. I should be against burying him in Westminster Abbey; first, because he is still alive (and here I think even he himself might admit the justice of my protest); and second, because I should like to reserve that rapidly narrowing space for the great permanent examples, not for the interesting foreign interruptions, of English literature. I would not have either Mr. Kipling or Mr. George Moore in Westminster Abbey, though Mr. Kipling has certainly caught even more cleverly than Mr. Moore the lucid13 and cool cruelty of the French short story. I am very sure that Geoffrey Chaucer and Joseph Addison get on very well together in the Poets' Corner, despite the centuries that sunder14 them. But I feel that Mr. George Moore would be much happier in Pere-la-Chaise, with a riotous15 statue by Rodin on the top of him; and Mr. Kipling much happier under some huge Asiatic monument, carved with all the cruelties of the gods.
As to the affair of the English monument to Shakspere, every people has its own mode of commemoration, and I think there is a great deal to be said for ours. There is the French monumental style, which consists in erecting16 very pompous17 statues, very well done. There is the German monumental style, which consists in erecting very pompous statues, badly done. And there is the English monumental method, the great English way with statues, which consists in not erecting them at all. A statue may be dignified18; but the absence of a statue is always dignified. For my part, I feel there is something national, something wholesomely19 symbolic20, in the fact that there is no statue of Shakspere. There is, of course, one in Leicester Square; but the very place where it stands shows that it was put up by a foreigner for foreigners. There is surely something modest and manly21 about not attempting to express our greatest poet in the plastic arts in which we do not excel. We honour Shakspere as the Jews honour God—by not daring to make of him a graven image. Our sculpture, our statues, are good enough for bankers and philanthropists, who are our curse: not good enough for him, who is our benediction22. Why should we celebrate the very art in which we triumph by the very art in which we fail?
England is most easily understood as the country of amateurs. It is especially the country of amateur soldiers (that is, of Volunteers), of amateur statesmen (that is, of aristocrats), and it is not unreasonable24 or out of keeping that it should be rather specially23 the country of a careless and lounging view of literature. Shakspere has no academic monument for the same reason that he had no academic education. He had small Latin and less Greek, and (in the same spirit) he has never been commemorated25 in Latin epitaphs or Greek marble. If there is nothing clear and fixed about the emblems26 of his fame, it is because there was nothing clear and fixed about the origins of it. Those great schools and Universities which watch a man in his youth may record him in his death; but Shakspere had no such unifying27 traditions. We can only say of him what we can say of Dickens. We can only say that he came from nowhere and that he went everywhere. For him a monument in any place is out of place. A cold statue in a certain square is unsuitable to him as it would be unsuitable to Dickens. If we put up a statue of Dickens in Portland Place to-morrow we should feel the stiffness as unnatural28. We should fear that the statue might stroll about the street at night.
But in France the question of whether Zola shall go to the Panthéon when he is dead is quite as practicable as the question whether he should go to prison when he was alive. It is the problem of whether the nation shall take one turn of thought or another. In raising a monument to Zola they do not raise merely a trophy29, but a finger-post. The question is one which will have to be settled in most European countries; but like all such questions, it has come first to a head in France; because France is the battlefield of Christendom. That question is, of course, roughly this: whether in that ill-defined area of verbal licence on certain dangerous topics it is an extenuation30 of indelicacy or an aggravation31 of it that the indelicacy was deliberate and solemn. Is indecency more indecent if it is grave, or more indecent if it is gay? For my part, I belong to an old school in this matter. When a book or a play strikes me as a crime, I am not disarmed32 by being told that it is a serious crime. If a man has written something vile33, I am not comforted by the explanation that he quite meant to do it. I know all the evils of flippancy34; I do not like the man who laughs at the sight of virtue35. But I prefer him to the man who weeps at the sight of virtue and complains bitterly of there being any such thing. I am not reassured36, when ethics37 are as wild as cannibalism38, by the fact that they are also as grave and sincere as suicide. And I think there is an obvious fallacy in the bitter contrasts drawn39 by some moderns between the aversion to Ibsen's "Ghosts" and the popularity of some such joke as "Dear Old Charlie." Surely there is nothing mysterious or unphilosophic in the popular preference. The joke of "Dear Old Charlie" is passed—because it is a joke. "Ghosts" are exorcised—because they are ghosts.
This is, of course, the whole question of Zola. I am grown up, and I do not worry myself much about Zola's immorality40. The thing I cannot stand is his morality. If ever a man on this earth lived to embody41 the tremendous text, "But if the light in your body be darkness, how great is the darkness," it was certainly he. Great men like Ariosto, Rabelais, and Shakspere fall in foul42 places, flounder in violent but venial43 sin, sprawl44 for pages, exposing their gigantic weakness, are dirty, are indefensible; and then they struggle up again and can still speak with a convincing kindness and an unbroken honour of the best things in the world: Rabelais, of the instruction of ardent45 and austere46 youth; Ariosto, of holy chivalry47; Shakspere, of the splendid stillness of mercy. But in Zola even the ideals are undesirable48; Zola's mercy is colder than justice—nay, Zola's mercy is more bitter in the mouth than injustice49. When Zola shows us an ideal training he does not take us, like Rabelais, into the happy fields of humanist learning. He takes us into the schools of inhumanist learning, where there are neither books nor flowers, nor wine nor wisdom, but only deformities in glass bottles, and where the rule is taught from the exceptions. Zola's truth answers the exact description of the skeleton in the cupboard; that is, it is something of which a domestic custom forbids the discovery, but which is quite dead, even when it is discovered. Macaulay said that the Puritans hated bear-baiting, not because it gave pain to the bear, but because it gave pleasure to the spectators. Of such substance also was this Puritan who had lost his God. A Puritan of this type is worse than the Puritan who hates pleasure because there is evil in it. This man actually hates evil because there is pleasure in it. Zola was worse than a pornographer, he was a pessimist50. He did worse than encourage sin: he encouraged discouragement. He made lust2 loathsome51 because to him lust meant life.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
illustrated
|
|
| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
lust
|
|
| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
delicacy
|
|
| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
immortal
|
|
| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
multiplication
|
|
| n.增加，增多，倍增；增殖，繁殖；乘法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
controversy
|
|
| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
unstable
|
|
| adj.不稳定的，易变的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
savagely
|
|
| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
repulsive
|
|
| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
lucid
|
|
| adj.明白易懂的，清晰的，头脑清楚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
sunder
|
|
| v.分开；隔离；n.分离，分开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
riotous
|
|
| adj.骚乱的；狂欢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
erecting
|
|
| v.使直立，竖起( erect的现在分词 )；建立 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
pompous
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
dignified
|
|
| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
wholesomely
|
|
| 卫生地，有益健康地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
symbolic
|
|
| adj.象征性的，符号的，象征主义的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
manly
|
|
| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
benediction
|
|
| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
specially
|
|
| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
unreasonable
|
|
| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
commemorated
|
|
| v.纪念，庆祝( commemorate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
emblems
|
|
| n.象征，标记( emblem的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
unifying
|
|
| 使联合( unify的现在分词 )； 使相同； 使一致； 统一 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
unnatural
|
|
| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
trophy
|
|
| n.优胜旗，奖品，奖杯，战胜品，纪念品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
extenuation
|
|
| n.减轻罪孽的借口；酌情减轻；细 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
aggravation
|
|
| n.烦恼，恼火 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
disarmed
|
|
| v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 )；使息怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
vile
|
|
| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
flippancy
|
|
| n.轻率；浮躁；无礼的行动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
reassured
|
|
| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
ethics
|
|
| n.伦理学；伦理观，道德标准 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
cannibalism
|
|
| n.同类相食；吃人肉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
immorality
|
|
| n. 不道德, 无道义 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
embody
|
|
| vt.具体表达，使具体化；包含，收录 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
foul
|
|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
venial
|
|
| adj.可宽恕的；轻微的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
sprawl
|
|
| vi.躺卧，扩张，蔓延；vt.使蔓延；n.躺卧，蔓延 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
ardent
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
austere
|
|
| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
chivalry
|
|
| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
undesirable
|
|
| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
injustice
|
|
| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
pessimist
|
|
| n.悲观者；悲观主义者；厌世 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
loathsome
|
|
| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |