Synge And The Ireland Of His Time-第2章

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ic　philosophy　may　be　more　profound　than　miltons　morality；　or　shelleys　vehement　vision；　but　none　the　less　do　we　lose　life　by　losing　that　recklessness　castiglione　thought　necessary　even　in　good　manners；　and　offend　our　lady　truth；　who　would　never；　had　she　desired　an　anxious　courtship；　have　digged　a　well　to　be　her　parlour。

i　admired　though　we　were　always　quarrelling　on　some　matter；　j。f。　taylor；　the　orator；　who　died　just　before　the　first　controversy　over　these　plays。　it　often　seemed　to　me　that　when　he　spoke　ireland　herself　had　spoken；　one　got　that　sense　of　surprise　that　es　when　a　man　has　said　what　is　unforeseen　because　it　is　far　from　the　mon　thought；　and　yet　obvious　because　when　it　has　been　spoken；　the　gate　of　the　mind　seems　suddenly　to　roll　back　and　reveal　forgotten　sights　and　let　loose　lost　passions。　i　have　never　heard　him　speak　except　in　some　irish　literary　or　political　society；　but　there　at　any　rate；　as　in　conversation；　i　found　a　man　whose　life　was　a　ceaseless　reverie　over　the　religious　and　political　history　of　ireland。　he　saw　himself　pleading　for　his　country　before　an　invisible　jury；　perhaps　of　the　great　dead；　against　traitors　at　home　and　enemies　abroad；　and　a　sort　of　frenzy　in　his　voice　and　the　moral　elevation　of　his　thoughts　gave　him　for　the　moment　style　and　music。　one　asked　oneself　again　and　again；　why　is　not　this　man　an　artist；　a　man　of　genius；　a　creator　of　some　kind？　the　other　day　under　the　influence　of　memory；　i　read　through　his　one　book；　a　life　of　owen　roe　oneill；　and　found　there　no　sentence　detachable　from　its　context　because　of　wisdom　or　beauty。　everything　was　argued　from　a　premise；　and　wisdom；　and　style；　whether　in　life　or　letters　e　from　the　presence　of　what　is　self？evident；　from　that　which　requires　but　statement；　from　what　blake　called　naked　beauty　displayed。　the　sense　of　what　was　unforeseen　and　obvious；　the　rolling　backward　of　the　gates　had　gone　with　the　living　voice；　with　the　nobility　of　will　that　made　one　understand　what　he　saw　and　felt　in　what　was　now　but　argument　and　logic。　i　found　myself　in　the　presence　of　a　mind　like　some　noisy　and　powerful　machine；　of　thought　that　was　no　part　of　wisdom　but　the　apologetic　of　a　moment；　a　woven　thing；　no　intricacy　of　leaf　and　twig；　of　words　with　no　more　of　salt　and　of　savour　than　those　of　a　jesuit　professor　of　literature；　or　of　any　other　who　does　not　know　that　there　is　no　lasting　writing　which　does　not　define　the　quality；　or　carry　the　substance　of　some　pleasure。　how　can　one；　　if　ones　mind　be　full　of　abstractions　and　images　created　not　for　their　own　sake　but　for　the　sake　of　party；　even　if　there　were　still　the　need；　find　words　that　delight　the　ear；　make　pictures　to　the　minds　eye；　discover　thoughts　that　tighten　the　muscles；　or　quiver　and　tingle　in　the　flesh；　and　stand　like　st。　michael　with　the　trumpet　that　calls　the　body　to　resurrection？

　。。



Synge　And　The　Ireland　Of　His　TimeIV

　　
young　ireland　had　taught　a　study　of　our　history　with　the　glory　of　ireland　for　event；　and　this　for　lack；　when　less　than　taylor　studied；　of　parison　with　that　of　other　countries　wrecked　the　historical　instinct。　an　old　man　with　an　academic　appointment；　who　was　a　leader　in　the　attack　upon　synge；　sees　in　the　11th　century　romance　of　deirdre　a　re？telling　of　the　first　five　act　tragedy　outside　the　classic　languages；　and　this　tragedy　from　his　description　of　it　was　certainly　written　on　the　elizabethan　model；　while　an　allusion　to　a　copper　boat；　a　marvel　of　magic　like　cinderellas　slipper；　persuades　him　that　the　ancient　irish　had　forestalled　the　modern　dockyards　in　the　making　of　metal　ships。　the　man　who　doubted；　let　us　say；　our　fabulous　ancient　kings　running　up　to　adam；　or　found　but　mythology　in　some　old　tale；　was　as　hated　as　if　he　had　doubted　the　authority　of　scripture。　above　all　no　man　was　so　ignorant；　that　he　had　not　by　rote　familiar　arguments　and　statistics　to　drive　away　amid　familiar　applause；　all　those　had　they　but　found　strange　truth　in　the　world　or　in　their　mind；　whose　knowledge　has　passed　out　of　memory　and　bee　an　instinct　of　hand　or　eye。　there　was　no　literature；　for　literature　is　a　child　of　experience　always；　of　knowledge　never；　and　the　nation　itself；　instead　of　being　a　dumb　struggling　thought　seeking　a　mouth　to　utter　it　or　hand　to　show　it；　a　teeming　delight　that　would　re？create　the　world；　had　bee；　at　best；　a　subject　of　knowledge。

。。！



Synge　And　The　Ireland　Of　His　TimeV


taylor　always　spoke　with　confidence　though　he　was　no　determined　man；　being　easily　flattered　or　jostled　from　his　way；　and　this；　putting　as　it　were　his　fiery　heart　into　his　mouth　made　him　formidable。　and　i　have　noticed　that　all　those　who　speak　the　thoughts　of　many；　speak　confidently；　while　those　who　speak　their　own　thoughts　are　hesitating　and　timid；　as　though　they　spoke　out　of　a　mind　and　body　grown　sensitive　to　the　edge　of　bewilderment　among　many　impressions。　they　speak　to　us　that　we　may　give　them　certainty；　by　seeing　what　they　have　seen；　and　so　it　is；　that　enlargement　of　experience　does　not　e　from　those　oratorical　thinkers；　or　from　those　decisive　rhythms　that　move　large　numbers　of　men；　but　from　writers　that　seem　by　contrast　as　feminine　as　the　soul　when　it　explores　in　blakes　picture　the　recesses　of　the　grave；　carrying　its　faint　lamp　trembling　and　astonished；　or　as　the　muses　who　are　never　pictured　as　one？breasted　amazons；　but　as　women　needing　protection。　indeed；　all　art　which　appeals　to　individual　man　and　awaits　the　confirmation　of　his　senses　and　his　reveries；　seems　when　arrayed　against　the　moral　zeal；　the　confident　logic；　the　ordered　proof　of　journalism；　a　trifling；　impertinent；　vexatious　thing；　a　tumbler　who　has　unrolled　his　carpet　in　the　way　of　a　marching　army。

/d/



Synge　And　The　Ireland　Of　His　TimeVI

．．．
i　attack　things　that　are　as　dear　to　many　as　some　holy　image　carried　hither　and　thither　by　some　broken　clan；　and　can　but　say　that　i　have　felt　in　my　body　the　affections　i　disturb；　and　believed　that　if　i　could　raise　them　into　contemplation　i　would　make　possible　a　literature；　that　finding　its　subject？matter　all　ready　in　mens　minds　would　be；　not　as　ours　is；　an　interest　for　scholars；　but　the　possession　of　a　people。　i　have　founded　societies　with　this　aim；　and　was　indeed　founding　one　in　paris　when　i　first　met　with　j。m。　synge；　and　i　have　known　what　it　is　to　be　changed　by　that　i　would　have　changed；　till　i　became　argumentative　and　unmannerly；　hating　men　even　in　daily　life　for　their　opinions。　and　though　i　was　never　convinced　that　the　anatomies　of　last　years　leaves　are　a　living　forest；　or　thought　a　continual　apologetic　could　do　other　than　make　the　soul　a　vapour　and　the　body　a　stone；　or　believed　that　literature　can　be　made　by　anything　but　by　what　is　still　blind　and　dumb　within　ourselves；　i　have　had　to　learn　how　hard　in　one　who　lives　where　forms　of　expression　and　habits　of　thought　have　been　born；　not　for　the　pleasure　of　begetting　but　for　the　public　good；　is　that　purification　from　insincerity；　vanity；　malignity；　arrogance；　which　is　the　discovery　of　style。　but　it　became　possible　to　live　when　i　had　learnt　all　i　had　　not　learnt　in　shaping　words；　in　defending　synge　against　his　enemies；　and　knew　that　rich　energies；　fine；　turbulent　or　gracious　thoughts；　whether　in　life　or　letters；　are　but　love？children。

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Synge　And　The　Ireland　Of　His　TimeVII

（小//说；网/
synge　seemed　by　nature　unfitted　to　think　a　political　thought；　and　with　the　exception　of　one　sentence；　spoken　when　i　first　met　him　in　paris；　that　implied　some　sort　of　nationalist　conviction；　i　cannot　remember　that　he　spoke　of　politics　or　showed　any　interest　in　men　in　the　mass；　or　in　any　subject　that　is　studied　through　abstractions　and　statistics。　often　for　months　together　he　and　i　and　lady　gregory　would　see　no　one　outside　the　abbey　theatre；　and　that　life；　lived　as　it　were　in　a　ship　at　sea；　suited　him；　for　unlike　those　whose　habit　of　mind　fits　them　to　judge　of　men　in　the　mass；　he　was　wise　in　judging　individual　men；　and　as　wise　in　dealing　with　them　as　the　faint　energies　of　ill？health　would　permit；　but　of　their　political　thoughts　he　long　understood　nothing。　one　night　when　we　were　still　producing　plays　in　a　little　hall；　certain　members　of　the　pany　told　him　that　a　play　on　the　rebellion　of　98　would　be　a　great　success。　after　a　fortnight　he　brought　them　a　scenario　which　read　like　a　chapter　out　of　rabelais。　two　women；　a　protestant　and　a　catholic；　take　refuge　in　a　cave；　and　there　quarrel　about　religion；　abusing　the　pope　or　queen　elizabeth　and　henry　viii；　but　in　low　voices；　for　the　one　fears　to　be　ravished　by　the　soldiers；　the　other　by　the　rebels。　at　last　one　woman　goes　out　because　she　would　sooner　any　fate　than　such　wicked　pany。　yet；　i　doubt　if　he　would　have　written　at　all　if　he　did　not　write　of　ireland；　and　for　it；　and　i　know　that　he　thought　creative　art　could　only　e　from　such　preoccupation。

once；　when　in　later　years；　anxious　about　the　educational　effect　of　our　movement；　i　proposed　adding　to　the　abbey　pany　a　second　pany　to　play　international　drama；　synge；　who　had　not　hitherto　opposed　me；　thought　the　matter　so　important　that　he　did　so　in　a　formal　letter。

i　had　spoken　of　a　german　municipal　theatre　as　my　model；　and　he　said　that　the　municipal　theatres　all　over　europe　gave　fine　performances　of　old　classics　but　did　not　create　（he　disliked　modern　drama　for　its　sterility　of　spe