selected prose of oscar wilde-第16章

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and　oh！　how　I　loved　YOU。　　Not　Hannah；　Samuel　more。　　And　you　needed

love；　for　you　were　weakly；　and　only　love　could　have　kept　you　alive。

Only　love　can　keep　any　one　alive。　　And　boys　are　careless　often　and

without　thinking　give　pain；　and　we　always　fancy　that　when　they　come

to　man's　estate　and　know　us　better　they　will　repay　us。　　But　it　is

not　so。　　The　world　draws　them　from　our　side；　and　they　make　friends

with　whom　they　are　happier　than　they　are　with　us；　and　have

amusements　from　which　we　are　barred；　and　interests　that　are　not

ours：　　and　they　are　unjust　to　us　often；　for　when　they　find　life

bitter　they　blame　us　for　it；　and　when　they　find　it　sweet　we　do　not

taste　its　sweetness　with　them　。　。　。　You　made　many　friends　and　went

into　their　houses　and　were　glad　with　them；　and　I；　knowing　my　secret；

did　not　dare　to　follow；　but　stayed　at　home　and　closed　the　door；　shut

out　the　sun　and　sat　in　darkness。　　What　should　I　have　done　in　honest

households？　　My　past　was　ever　with　me。　。　。　。　And　you　thought　I

didn't　care　for　the　pleasant　things　of　life。　　I　tell　you　I　longed

for　them；　but　did　not　dare　to　touch　them；　feeling　I　had　no　right。

You　thought　I　was　happier　working　amongst　the　poor。　　That　was　my

mission；　you　imagined。　　It　was　not；　but　where　else　was　I　to　go？　　The

sick　do　not　ask　if　the　hand　that　smooths　their　pillow　is　pure；　nor

the　dying　care　if　the　lips　that　touch　their　brow　have　known　the　kiss

of　sin。　　It　was　you　I　thought　of　all　the　time；　I　gave　to　them　the

love　you　did　not　need：　　lavished　on　them　a　love　that　was　not　theirs

。　。　。　And　you　thought　I　spent　too　much　of　my　time　in　going　to

Church；　and　in　Church　duties。　　But　where　else　could　I　turn？　　God's

house　is　the　only　house　where　sinners　are　made　welcome；　and　you　were

always　in　my　heart；　Gerald；　too　much　in　my　heart。　　For；　though　day

after　day；　at　morn　or　evensong；　I　have　knelt　in　God's　house；　I　have

never　repented　of　my　sin。　　How　could　I　repent　of　my　sin　when　you；　my

love；　were　its　fruit！　　Even　now　that　you　are　bitter　to　me　I　cannot

repent。　　I　do　not。　　You　are　more　to　me　than　innocence。　　I　would

rather　be　your　motheroh！　much　rather！than　have　been　always　pure

。　。　。　Oh；　don't　you　see？　don't　you　understand？　　It　is　my　dishonour

that　has　made　you　so　dear　to　me。　　It　is　my　disgrace　that　has　bound

you　so　closely　to　me。　　It　is　the　price　I　paid　for　youthe　price　of

soul　and　bodythat　makes　me　love　you　as　I　do。　　Oh；　don't　ask　me　to

do　this　horrible　thing。　　Child　of　my　shame；　be　still　the　child　of　my

shame！A　Woman　of　No　Importance







THE　DAMNABLE　IDEAL







Why　can't　you　women　love　us；　faults　and　all？　　Why　do　you　place　us　on

monstrous　pedestals？　　We　have　all　feet　of　clay；　women　as　well　as

men；　but　when　we　men　love　women；　we　love　them　knowing　their

weaknesses；　their　follies；　their　imperfections；　love　them　all　the

more；　it　may　be；　for　that　reason。　　It　is　not　the　perfect；　but　the

imperfect；　who　have　need　of　love。　　It　is　when　we　are　wounded　by　our

own　hands；　or　by　the　hands　of　others；　that　love　should　come　to　cure

uselse　what　use　is　love　at　all？　　All　sins；　except　a　sin　against

itself；　Love　should　forgive。　　All　lives；　save　loveless　lives；　true

Love　should　pardon。　　A　man's　love　is　like　that。　　It　is　wider；

larger；　more　human　than　a　woman's。　　Women　think　that　they　are　making

ideals　of　men。　　What　they　are　making　of　us　are　false　idols　merely。

You　made　your　false　idol　of　me；　and　I　had　not　the　courage　to　come

down；　show　you　my　wounds；　tell　you　my　weaknesses。　　I　was　afraid　that

I　might　lose　your　love；　as　I　have　lost　it　now。　　And　so；　last　night

you　ruined　my　life　for　meyes；　ruined　it！　　What　this　woman　asked　of

me　was　nothing　compared　to　what　she　offered　to　me。　　She　offered

security；　peace；　stability。　　The　sin　of　my　youth；　that　I　had　thought

was　buried；　rose　up　in　front　of　me；　hideous；　horrible；　with　its

hands　at　my　throat。　　I　could　have　killed　it　for　ever；　sent　it　back

into　its　tomb；　destroyed　its　record；　burned　the　one　witness　against

me。　　You　prevented　me。　　No　one　but　you；　you　know　it。　　And　now　what

is　there　before　me　but　public　disgrace；　ruin；　terrible　shame；　the

mockery　of　the　world；　a　lonely　dishonoured　life；　a　lonely

dishonoured　death；　it　may　be；　some　day？　　Let　women　make　no　more

ideals　of　men！　let　them　not　put　them　on　alters　and　bow　before　them；

or　they　may　ruin　other　lives　as　completely　as　youyou　whom　I　have

so　wildly　lovedhave　ruined　mine！An　Ideal　Husband







FROM　A　REJECTED　PRIZE…ESSAY







Nations　may　not　have　missions　but　they　certainly　have　functions。

And　the　function　of　ancient　Italy　was　not　merely　to　give　us　what　is

statical　in　our　institutions　and　rational　in　our　law；　but　to　blend

into　one　elemental　creed　the　spiritual　aspirations　of　Aryan　and　of

Semite。　　Italy　was　not　a　pioneer　in　intellectual　progress；　nor　a

motive　power　in　the　evolution　of　thought。　　The　owl　of　the　goddess　of

Wisdom　traversed　over　the　whole　land　and　found　nowhere　a　resting…

place。　　The　dove；　which　is　the　bird　of　Christ；　flew　straight　to　the

city　of　Rome　and　the　new　reign　began。　　It　was　the　fashion　of　early

Italian　painters　to　represent　in　mediaeval　costume　the　soldiers　who

watched　over　the　tomb　of　Christ；　and　this；　which　was　the　result　of

the　frank　anachronism　of　all　true　art；　may　serve　to　us　as　an

allegory。　　For　it　was　in　vain　that　the　Middle　Ages　strove　to　guard

the　buried　spirit　of　progress。　　When　the　dawn　of　the　Greek　spirit

arose；　the　sepulchre　was　empty；　the　grave…clothes　laid　aside。

Humanity　had　risen　from　the　dead。



The　study　of　Greek；　it　has　been　well　said；　implies　the　birth　of

criticism；　comparison　and　research。　　At　the　opening　of　that

education　of　modern　by　ancient　thought　which　we　call　the

Renaissance；　it　was　the　words　of　Aristotle　which　sent　Columbus

sailing　to　the　New　World；　while　a　fragment　of　Pythagorean　astronomy

set　Copernicus　thinking　on　that　train　of　reasoning　which　has

revolutionised　the　whole　position　of　our　planet　in　the　universe。

Then　it　was　seen　that　the　only　meaning　of　progress　is　a　return　to

Greek　modes　of　thought。　　The　monkish　hymns　which　obscured　the　pages

of　Greek　manuscripts　were　blotted　out；　the　splendours　of　a　new

method　were　unfolded　to　the　world；　and　out　of　the　melancholy　sea　of

mediaevalism　rose　the　free　spirit　of　man　in　all　that　splendour　of

glad　adolescence；　when　the　bodily　powers　seem　quickened　by　a　new

vitality；　when　the　eye　sees　more　clearly　than　its　wont　and　the　mind

apprehends　what　was　beforetime　hidden　from　it。　　To　herald　the

opening　of　the　sixteenth　century；　from　the　little　Venetian　printing

press　came　forth　all　the　great　authors　of　antiquity；　each　bearing　on

the　title…page　the　words　＇Greek　text　which　cannot　be　reproduced＇；

words　which　may　serve　to　remind　us　with　what　wondrous　prescience

Polybius　saw　the　world's　fate　when　he　foretold　the　material

sovereignty　of　Roman　institutions　and　exemplified　in　himself　the

intellectual　empire　of　Greece。



The　course　of　the　study　of　the　spirit　of　historical　criticism　has

not　been　a　profitless　investigation　into　modes　and　forms　of　thought

now　antiquated　and　of　no　account。　　The　only　spirit　which　is　entirely

removed　from　us　is　the　mediaeval；　the　Greek　spirit　is　essentially

modern。　　The　introduction　of　the　comparative　method　of　research

which　has　forced　history　to　disclose　its　secrets　belongs　in　a

measure　to　us。　　Ours；　too；　is　a　more　scientific　knowledge　of

philology　and　the　method　of　survival。　　Nor　did　the　ancients　know

anything　of　the　doctrine　of　averages　or　of　crucial　instances；　both

of　which　methods　have　proved　of　such　importance　in　modern　criticism；

the　one　adding　a　most　important　proof　of　the　statical　elements　of

history；　and　exemplifying　the　influences　of　all　physical

surroundings　on　the　life　of　man；　the　other；　as　in　the　single

instance　of　the　Moulin　Quignon　skull；　serving　to　create　a　whole　new

science　of　prehistoric　archaeology　and　to　bring　us　back　to　a　time

when　man　was　coeval　with　the　stone　age；　the　mammoth　and　the　woolly

rhinoceros。　　But；　except　these；　we　have　add