英文原版资源www.sscnet.ucla.edu/comm/steen/cogweb/Abstracts/Wilde_1889.html March 22, 2009.
Oscar Wilde:
THE DECAY OF LYING
New York: Brentano, 1905 [1889]
A DIALOGUE.
Persons: Cyril and Vivian.
Scene: the library of a country hou in Nottinghamshire.
CYRIL (coming in through the open window from the terrace). My dear Vivian, don't coop yourlf up all day in the library. It is a perfectly lovely afternoon. The air is exquisite. There is a mist upon the woods like the purple bloom upon a plum. Let us go and lie on the grass, and smoke cigarettes, and enjoy Nature.
VIVIAN. Enjoy Nature! I am glad to say that I have entirely lost that faculty. People tell us that Art makes us love Nature more than we loved her before; that it reveals her crets to us; and that after a careful study of Corot and Constable we e things in her that had escaped our obrvation. My own experience is that the more we study Art, the less we care for Mature. What Art really reveals to us is Nature's lack of design, her curious crudities, her extraordinary monotony, her absolutely unfinished condition. Nature has good intentions, of cour, but, as Aristotle once said, she cannot carry them out. When I look at a landscape I cannot help eing all its defects. It is fortunate for us, however, that Nature is so imperfect, as otherwi we should have had no art at all. Art is our spirited protest, our gallant attempt to teach Nature her proper place. As for the infinite variety of Nature, that is a pure myth. It is not to be found in Nature herlf. It resides in the imagination, or fancy, or cultivated blindness of the man who looks at her. 蝶恋花纳兰性德
CYRIL. Well, you need not look at the landscape. You can lie on the grass and smoke and talk.
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VIVIAN. But Nature is so uncomfortable. Grass is hard and dumpy and damp, and full of dreadful black incts. Why, even Morris' poorest workman could make you a more comfortable at than the whole of Nature can. Nature pales before the furniture of "the street which from Oxford has borrowed its name," as the poet you love so much once vilely phrad it. I don't complain. If Nature had been comfortable, mankind would never have invented architecture, and I prefer hous to the open air. In a hou we all feel of the proper proportions. Everything is subordinated to us, fashioned for our u and our pleasure. Egotism itlf, which is so necessary to a proper n of human dignity' is entirely the result of indoor life. Out of doors one becomes abstract and impersonal. One's individuality absolutely leaves one. And then
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Nature is so indifferent, so unappreciative. Whenever I am walking in the park here, I always feel that I am no more to her than the cattle that brow on the slope, or the burdock that blooms in the ditch. Nothing is more evident than that Nature hates Mind. Thinking is the most unhealthy thing in the world, and people die of it just as they die of any other dia. Fortunately, in England at any rate, thought is not catching. Our splen
did physique as a people is entirely due to our national stupidity. I only hope we shall be able to keep this great historic bulwark of our happiness for many years to come; but I am afraid that we are beginning to be overeducated; at least everybody who is incapable of learning has taken to teaching--that is really what our enthusiasm for education has come to. In the meantime, you had better go back to your wearisome, uncomfortable Nature, and leave me to correct my proofs.
CYRIL. Writing an article! That is not very consistent after what you have just said.
VIVIAN Who wants to be consistent? The dullard and the doctrinaire, the tedious people who carry out their principles to the bitter end of action, to the reductio ad absurdum of practice. Not I. Like Emerson, I write over the door of my library the word " Whim." Besides, my article is really a most salutary and valuable warning. If it is attended to, there may be a new Renaissance of Art.
北平楼CYRIL. What is the subject?
VIVIAN. I intend to call it "The Decay of Lying: A Protest."
CYRIL红色经典诗文. Lying! I should have thought that our politicians kept up that habit.
VIVIAN. I assure you that they do not. They never ri beyond the level of misreprentation, and actually condescend to prove, to discuss, to argue. How different from the temper of the true liar, with his frank, fearless statements, his superb responsibility, his healthy, natural disdain of proof of any kind! After all, what is a fine lie? Simply that which is its own evidence. If a man is sufficiently unimaginative to produce evidence in support of a lie, he might just as well speak the truth at once. No, the politicians won't do. Something may, perhaps, be urged on behalf of the Bar. The mantle of the Sophist has fallen on its members. Their feigned ardours and unreal rhetoric are delightful. They can make the wor appear the better cau, as though they were fresh from Leontine schools, and have been known to wrest from reluctant juries triumphant verdicts of acquittal for their clients, even when tho clients, as often happens, were clearly and unmistakeably innocent. But they are briefed by the prosaic, and are not ashamed to appeal to precedent. In spite of their endeavours, the truth will out. Newspapers, even, have degenerated. They may now be absolutely relied upon. One fee
ls it as one wades through their columns. It is always the unreadable that occurs. I am afraid that there is not much to be said in favour of either the lawyer or the journalist. Besides what I am pleading for is Lying in art. Shall I read you what I have written? It might do you a great deal of good.
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CYRIL. Certainly, if you give, me a cigarette. Thanks. By the way, what magazine do you intend it for?
VIVIAN. For the Retrospective Review骨密度怎么测. I think I told you that the elect had revived it.
CYRIL. Whom do you mean by "the elect"?
400字美文VIVIAN. Oh, The Tired Hedonists of cour. It is a club to which I belong. We are suppod to wear faded ros in our buttonholes when we meet, and to have a sort of cult for Domitian. I am afraid you are not eligible. You are too fond of simple pleasures.
CYRIL. I should be blackballed on the ground of animal spirits, I suppo?
VIVIAN. Probably. Besides, you are little too old. We don't admit anybody who is of the usual age.
CYRIL. Well, I should fancy you are all a good deal bored with each other.
VIVIAN. We are. That is one of the objects of the club. Now, if you promi not to interrupt too often, I will read you my article.