Gothic Architecture

By the word Architecture is, I suppose, commonly understood the art of ornamental building, and in this sense I shall often have to use it here. Yet I would not like you to think of its productions merely as well-constructed and well-proportioned buildings, each one of which is handed over by the architect to other artists to finish, after his designs have been carried out (as we say) by a number of mechanical workers, who are not artists. A true architectural work rather is a building duly provided with all necessary furniture, decorated with all due ornament, according to the use, quality, and dignity of the building, from mere mouldings or abstract lines, to the great epical works of sculpture and painting, which, except as decorations of the nobler form of such buildings, cannot be produced at all. So looked on, a work of architecture is a harmonious co-operative work of art, inclusive of all the serious arts, all those which are not engaged in the production of mere toys, or of ephemeral prettinesses.

Now, these works of art are man's expression of the value of life, and also the production of them makes his life of value: and since they can only be produced by the general goodwill and help of the public, their continuous production, or the existence of the true Art of Architecture, betokens a society which, whatever elements of change it may bear within it, may be called stable, since it is founded on the happy exercise of the energies of the most useful part of its population.

What the absence of this Art of Architecture may betoken in the long run it is not easy for us to say: because that lack belongs only to these later times of the world's history, which as yet we cannot fairly see, because they are too near to us; but clearly in the present it indicates a transference of the interest of civilized men from the development of the human and intellectual energies of the race to the development of its mechanical energies. If this tendency is to go along the logical road of development, it must be said that it will destroy the arts of design and all that is analogous to them in literature; but the logical outcome of obvious tendencies is often thwarted by the historical development; that is, by what I can call by no better name than the collective will of mankind; and unless my hopes deceive me, I should say that this process has already begun, that there is a revolt on foot against the utilitarianism which threatens to destroy the Arts; and that it is deeper rooted than a mere passing fashion. For myself I do not indeed believe that this revolt can effect much, so long as the present state of society lasts; but as I am sure that great changes which will bring about a new state of society are rapidly advancing upon us, I think it a matter of much importance that these two revolts should join hands, or at least should learn to understand one another. If the New society when it comes (itself the result of the ceaseless evolution of countless years of tradition) should find the world cut off from all tradition of art, all aspiration towards the beauty which man has proved that he can create, much time will be lost in running hither and thither after the new thread of art; many lives will be barren of a manly pleasure which the world can ill afford to lose even for a short time. I ask you, therefore, to accept what follows as a contribution toward the revolt against utilitarianism, toward the attempt at catching-up the slender thread of tradition before it be too late.

Now, that Harmonious Architectural unit, inclusive of the arts in general, is no mere dream. I have said that it is only in these later times that it has become extinct: until the rise of modern society, no Civilization, no Barbarism has been without it in some form; but it reached its fullest development in the Middle Ages, an epoch really more remote from our modern habits of life and thought than the older civilizations were, though an important part of its life was carried on in our own country by men of our own blood. Nevertheless, remote as those times are from ours, if we are ever to have architecture at all, we must take up the thread of tradition there and nowhere else, because that Gothic Architecture is the most completely organic form of the art which the world has seen; the break in the thread of tradition could only occur there: all the former developments tended thitherward, and to ignore this fact and attempt to catch up the thread before that point was reached, would be a mere piece of artificiality, betokening, not new birth, but a corruption into mere whim of the ancient traditions.

In order to illustrate this position of mine, I must ask you to allow me to run very briefly over the historical sequence of events which led to Gothic Architecture and its fall, and to pardon me for stating familiar and elementary facts which are necessary for my purpose. I must admit also that in doing this I must mostly take my illustrations from works that appear on the face of them to belong to the category of ornamental building, rather than that of those complete and inclusive works of which I have spoken. But this incompleteness is only on the surface; to those who study them they appear as belonging to the class of complete architectural works; they are lacking in completeness only through the consequences of the lapse of time and the folly of men, who did not know what they were, who, pretending to use them, marred their real use as works of art; or in a similar spirit abused them by making them serve their turn as instruments to express their passing passion and spite of the hour.

We may divide the history of the Art of Architecture into two periods, the Ancient and the Mediaeval: the Ancient again may be divided into two styles, the barbarian (in the Greek sense) and the classical. We have, then, three great styles to consider: the Barbarian, the Classical, and the Mediaeval. The two former, however, were partly synchronous, and at least overlapped some-what. When the curtain of the stage of definite history first draws up, we find the small exclusive circle of the highest civilization, which was dominated by Hellenic thought and science, fitted with a very distinctive and orderly architectural style. That style appears to us to be, within its limits, one of extreme refinement, and perhaps seemed so to those who originally practised it. Moreover, it is ornamented with figure-sculpture far advanced towards perfection even at an early period of its existence, and swiftly growing in technical excellence; yet for all that, it is, after all, a part of the general style of architecture of the Barbarian world, and only outgoes it in the excellence of its figure-sculpture and its refinement. The bones of it, its merely architectural part, are little changed from the Barbarian or primal building, which is a mere piling or jointing together of material, giving one no sense of growth in the building itself and no sense of the possibility of growth in the style.

The one Greek form of building with which we are really familiar, the columnar temple, though always built with blocks of stone, is clearly a deduction from the wooden god's-house or shrine, which was a necessary part of the equipment of the not very remote ancestors of the Periclean Greeks; nor had this god's-house changed so much as the city had changed from the Tribe, or the Worship of the City (the true religion of the Greeks) from the Worship of the Ancestors of the Tribe. In fact, rigid conservatism of form is an essential part of Greek Architecture as we know it. From this conservatism of form there resulted a jostling between the building and its higher ornament. In early days, indeed, when some healthy barbarism yet clung to the sculpture, the discrepancy is not felt; but as increasing civilization demands from the sculptors more naturalism and less restraint, it becomes more and more obvious, and more and more painful; till at last it becomes clear that sculpture has ceased to be a part of Architecture and has become an extraneous art bound to the building by habit or superstition. The form of the ornamental building of the Greeks, then, was very limited, had no capacity in it for development, and tended to divorce from its higher or epical ornament. What is to be said about the spirit of it which ruled that form? This I think: that the narrow superstition of the form of the Greek temple was not a matter of accident, but was the due expression of the exclusiveness and aristocratic arrogance of the ancient Greek mind, a natural result of which was a demand for pedantic perfection in all the parts and details of a building; so that the inferior parts of the ornament are so slavishly subordinated to the superior, that no invention or individuality is possible in them, whence comes a kind of bareness and blankness, a rejection in short of all romance, which does not indeed destroy their interest as relics of past history, but which puts the style of them aside as any possible foundation for the style of the future architecture of the world. It must be remembered also that this attempt at absolute perfection soon proved a snare to Greek Architecture; for it could not be kept up long. It was easy indeed to ensure the perfect execution of a fret or a dentil; not so easy to ensure the perfection of the higher ornament: so that as Greek energy began to fall back from its high-water mark, the demand for absolute perfection became rather a demand for absolute plausibility, which speedily dragged the architectural arts into mere Academicism.

But long before classical art reached the last depths of that degradation, it had brought to birth another style of architecture, the Roman style, which to start with was differentiated from the Greek by having the habitual use of the arch forced upon it. To my mind, organic Architecture, Architecture which must necessarily grow, dates from the habitual use of the arch, which, taking into consideration its combined utility and beauty, must be pronounced to be the greatest invention of the human race. Until the time when man not only had invented the arch, but had gathered boldness to use it habitually, architecture was necessarily so limited, that strong growth was impossible to it. It was quite natural that a people should crystallize the first convenient form of building they might happen upon, or, like the Greeks, accept a traditional form without aspiration towards anything more complex or interesting. Till the arch came into use, building men were the slaves of conditions of climate, materials, kind of labour available, and so forth. But once furnished with the arch, man has conquered Nature in the matter of building; he can defy the rigours of all climates under which men can live with fair comfort: splendid materials are not necessary to him; he can attain a good result from shabby and scrappy materials. When he wants size and span he does not need a horde of war-captured slaves to work for him; the free citizens (if there be any such) can do all that is needed without grinding their lives out before their time. The arch can do all that architecture needs, and in turn from the time when the arch comes into habitual use, the main artistic business of architecture is the decoration of the arch; the only satisfactory style is that which never disguises its office, but adorns and glorifies it. This the Roman Architecture, the first style that used the arch, did not do. It used the arch frankly and simply indeed, in one part of its work, but did not adorn it; this part of the Roman building must, however, be called engineering rather than architecture, though its massive and simple dignity is a wonderful contrast to the horrible and restless nightmare of modern engineering. In the other side of its work, the ornamental side, Roman building used the arch and adorned it, but disguised its office, and pretended that the structure of its buildings was still that of the lintel, and that the arch bore no weight worth speaking of. For the Romans had no ornamental building of their own (perhaps we should say no art of their own) and therefore fitted their ideas of the ideas of the Greek sculpture-architect on to their own massive building; and as the Greek plastered his energetic and capable civilized sculpture on to the magnified shrine of his forefathers, so the Roman plastered sculpture, shrine, and all, on to his magnificent engineer's work. In fact, this kind of front-building or veneering was the main resource of Roman ornament; the construction and ornament did not interpenetrate; and to us at this date it seems doubtful if he gained by hiding with marble veneer the solid and beautiful construction of his wall of brick or concrete; since others have used marble far better than he did, but none have built a wall or turned an arch better. As to the Roman ornament, it is not in itself worth much sacrifice of interest in the construction: the Greek ornament was cruelly limited and conventional; but everything about it was in its place, and there was a reason for everything, even though that reason were founded on superstition. But the Roman ornament has no more freedom than the Greek, while it has lost the logic of the latter: it is rich and handsome, and that is all the reason it can give for its existence; nor does its execution and its design interpenetrate. One cannot conceive of the Greek ornament existing apart from the precision of its execution; but well as the Roman ornament is executed in all important works, one almost wishes it were less well executed, so that some mystery might be added to its florid handsomeness. Once again, it is a piece of necessary history, and to criticize it from the point of view of work of today would be like finding fault with a geological epoch: and who can help feeling touched by its remnants which show crumbling and battered amidst the incongruous mass of modern houses, amidst the disorder, vulgarity and squalor of some modern town? If I have ventured to call your attention to what it was as Architecture, it is because of the abuse of it which took place in later times and has even lasted into our own anti-architectural days; and because it is necessary to point out that it has not got the qualities essential to making it a foundation for any possible new-birth of the arts. In its own time it was for centuries the only thing that redeemed the academical period of classical art from mere nothingness, and though it may almost be said to have perished before the change came, yet in perishing it gave some token of the coming change, which indeed was as slow as the decay of imperial Rome herself. It was in the height of the tax-gathering period of the Roman Peace, in the last days of Diocletian (died 313) in the palace of Spalato which he built himself to rest in after he was satiated with rule, that the rebel, Change, first showed in Roman art, and that the builders admitted that their false lintel was false, and that the arch could do without it.

This was the first obscure beginning of Gothic or organic Architecture; henceforth till the beginning of the modern epoch all is growth uninterrupted, however slow. Indeed, it is slow enough at first: Organic Architecture took two centuries to free itself from the fetters which the Academical ages had cast over it, and the Peace of Rome had vanished before it was free. But the full change came at last, and the Architecture was born which logically should have supplanted the primitive lintel-architecture, of which the civilized style of Greece was the last development. Architecture was become organic; henceforth no Academical period was possible to it, nothing but death could stop its growth.

The first expression of this freedom is called Byzantine art, and there is nothing to object to in the name. For centuries Byzantium was the centre of it, and its first great work in that city (the Church of the Holy Wisdom, built by Justinian in the year 540) remains its greatest work. The style leaps into sudden completeness in this most lovely building: for there are few works extant of much importance of earlier days. As to its origin, of course buildings were raised all through the sickness of classical art, and traditional forms and ways of work were still in use, and these traditions, which by this time included the forms of Roman building, were now in the hands of the Greeks. This Romano-Greek building in Greek hands met with traditions drawn from many sources. In Syria, the borderland of so many races and customs, the East mingled with the West, and Byzantine art was born. Its characteristics are simplicity of structure and outline of mass; amazing delicacy of ornament combined with abhorrence of vagueness: it is bright and clear in colour, pure in line, hating barrenness as much as vagueness; redundant, but not florid, the very opposite of Roman Architecture in spirit, though it took so many of its forms and revivified them. Nothing more beautiful than its best works has ever been produced by man, but in spite of its stately loveliness and quietude, it was the mother of fierce vigour in the days to come, for from its first days in St Sophia, Gothic Architecture has still one thousand years of life before it. East and West it overran the world wherever men built with history behind them. In the East it mingled with the traditions of the native populations, especially with Persia of the Sassanian period, and produced the whole body of what we, very erroneously, call Arab art (for the Arabs never had any art) from Ispahan to Granada. In the West it settled itself in the parts of Italy that Justinian had conquered, notably Ravenna, and thence came to Venice. From Italy, or perhaps even from Byzantium itself, it was carried into Germany and pre-Norman England, touching even Ireland and Scandinavia. Rome adopted it, and sent it another road through the south of France, where it fell under the influence of provincial Roman Architecture, and produced a very strong orderly and logical substyle, just what one imagines the ancient Romans might have built, if they had been able to resist the conquered Greeks who took them captive. Thence it spread all over France, the first development of the architecture of the most architectural of peoples, and in the north of that country fell under the influence of the Scandinavian and Teutonic tribes, and produced the last of the round-arched Gothic styles (named by us Norman), which those energetic warriors carried into Sicily, where it mingled with the Saracenic Byzantine and produced lovely works. But we know it best in our own country; for Duke William's intrusive monks used it everywhere, and it drove out the native English style derived from Byzantium through Germany.

Here on the verge of a new change, a change of form important enough (though not a change of essence), we may pause to consider once more what its essential qualities were. It was the first style since the invention of the arch that did due honour to it, and instead of concealing it decorated it in a logical manner. This was much; but the complete freedom that it had won, which indeed was the source of its ingenuousness, was more. It had shaken off the fetters of Greek superstition and aristocracy, and Roman pedantry, and though it must needs have had laws to be a style at all, it followed them of free will, and yet unconsciously. The cant of the beauty of simplicity (i.e., bareness and barrenness) did not afflict it; it was not ashamed of redundancy of material, or super-abundance of ornament, any more than nature is. Slim elegance it could produce, or sturdy solidity, as its moods went. Material was not its master, but its servant: marble was not necessary to its beauty; stone would do, or brick, or timber. In default of carving it would set together cubes of glass or whatsoever was shining and fair-hued, and cover every portion of its interiors with a fairy coat of splendour; or would mould mere plaster into intricacy of work scarce to be followed, but never wearying the eyes with its delicacy and expressiveness of line. Smoothness it loves, the utmost finish that the hand can give; but if material or skill fail, the rougher work shall so be wrought that it also shall please us with its inventive suggestion. For the iron rule of the classical period, the acknowledged slavery of every one but the great man, was gone, and freedom had taken its place; but harmonious freedom. Subordination there is, but subordination of effect, not uniformity of detail; true and necessary subordination, not pedantic.

The full measure of this freedom Gothic Architecture did not gain until it was in the hands of the workmen of Europe, the gildsmen of the Free Cities, who on many a bloody field proved how dearly they valued their corporate life by the generous valour with which they risked their individual lives in its defence. But from the first, the tendency was towards this freedom of hand and mind subordinated to the co-operative harmony which made the freedom possible. That is the spirit of Gothic Architecture.

Let us go on a while with our history: up to this point the progress had always been from East to West, i.e., the East carried the West with it; the West must now go East to fetch new gain thence. A revival of religion was one of the moving causes of energy in the early Middle Ages in Europe, and this religion (with its enthusiasm for visible tokens of the objects of worship) impelled people to visit the East, which held the centre of that worship. Thence arose the warlike pilgrimages of the crusades amongst races by no means prepared to turn their cheeks to the smiter. True it is that the tendency of the extreme West to seek East did not begin with the days just before the crusades. There was a thin stream of pilgrims setting eastward long before, and the Scandinavians had found their way to Byzantium, not as pilgrims but as soldiers, and under the name of Voerings a bodyguard of their blood upheld the throne of the Greek Kaiser, and many of them, returning home, bore with them ideas of art which were not lost on their scanty but energetic populations. But the crusades brought gain from the East in a far more wholesale manner; and I think it is clear that part of that gain was the idea of art that brought about the change from round-arched to pointed Gothic. In those days (perhaps in ours also) it was the rule for conquerors settling in any country to assume that there could be no other system of society save that into which they had been born; and accordingly conquered Syria received a due feudal government, with the King of Jerusalem for Suzerain, the one person allowed by the heralds to bear metal on metal in his coat-armour. Nevertheless, the Westerners who settled in this new realm, few in number as they were, readily received impressions from the art which they saw around them, the Saracenic Byzantine art, which was, after all, sympathetic with their own minds: and these impressions produced the change. For it is not to be thought that there was any direct borrowing of forms from the East in the gradual change from the round-arched to the pointed Gothic: there was nothing more obvious at work than the influence of a kindred style, whose superior lightness and elegance gave a hint of the road which development might take.

Certainly this change in form, when it came, was a startling one: the pointed-arched Gothic, when it had grown out of its brief and most beautiful transition, was a vigorous youth indeed. It carried combined strength and elegance almost as far as it could be carried: indeed, sometimes one might think it overdid the lightness of effect, as e.g., in the interior of Salisbury Cathedral. If some abbot or monk of the eleventh century could have been brought back to his rebuilt church of the thirteenth, he might almost have thought that some miracle had taken place: the huge cylindrical or square piers transformed into clusters of slim, elegant shafts; the narrow round-headed windows supplanted by tall wide lancets showing the germs of the elaborate traceries of the next century, and elegantly glazed with pattern and subject; the bold vault spanning the wide nave instead of the flat wooden ceiling of past days; the extreme richness of the mouldings with which every member is treated; the elegance and order of the floral sculpture, the grace and good drawing of the imagery: in short, a complete and logical style with no longer anything to apologize for, claiming homage from the intellect, as well as the imagination of men; the developed Gothic Architecture which has shaken off the trammels of Byzantium as well as of Rome, but which has, nevertheless, reached its glorious position step by step with no break and no conscious effort after novelty from the wall of Tiryns and the Treasury of Mycenae.

This point of development was attained amidst a period of social conflict, the facts and tendencies of which, ignored by the historians of the eighteenth century, have been laid open to our view by our modern school of evolutionary historians. In the twelfth century the actual handicraftsmen found themselves at last face to face with the development of the earlier associations of freemen which were the survivals from the tribal society of Europe: in the teeth of these exclusive and aristocratic municipalities the handicraftsmen had associated themselves into guilds of craft, and were claiming their freedom from legal and arbitrary oppression, and a share in the government of the towns; by the end of the thirteenth century they had conquered the position everywhere and within the next fifty or sixty years the governors of the free towns were the delegates of the craft guilds, and all handicraft was included in their associations. This period of their triumph, marked amidst other events by the Battle of Courtray, where the chivalry of France turned their backs in flight before the Flemish weavers, was the period during which Gothic Architecture reached its zenith. It must be admitted, I think, that during this epoch, as far as the art of beautiful building is concerned, France and England were the architectural countries par excellence; but all over the intelligent world was spread this bright, glittering, joyous art, which had now reached its acme of elegance and beauty; and moreover in its furniture, of which I have spoken above, the excellence was shared in various measure betwixt the countries of Europe. And let me note in passing that the necessarily ordinary conception of a Gothic interior as being a colourless whitey-grey place dependent on nothing but the architectural forms, is about as far from the fact as the corresponding idea of a Greek temple standing in all the chastity of white marble. We must remember, on the contrary, that both buildings were clad, and that the noblest part of their raiment was their share of a great epic, a story appealing to the hearts and minds of men. And in the Gothic building, especially in the half century we now have before us, every part of it, walls, windows, floor, was all looked on as space for the representation of incidents of the great story of mankind, as it had presented itself to the minds of men then living; and this space was used with the greatest frankness of prodigality, and one may fairly say that wherever a picture could be painted there it was painted.

For now Gothic Architecture had completed its furniture: Dante, Chaucer, Petrarch, the German Hero balladepics, the French Romances, the English Forest-ballads, that epic of revolt, as it has been called, the Icelandic Sagas, Froissart and the Chroniclers, represent its literature. Its painting embraces a host of names (of Italy and Flanders chiefly), the two great realists Giotto and Van Eyck at their head: but every village has its painter, its carvers, its actors even; every man who produces works of handicraft is an artist. The few pieces of household goods left of its wreckage are marvels of beauty; its woven cloths and embroideries are worthy of its loveliest building, its pictures and ornamented books would be enough in themselves to make a great period of art, so excellent they are in epic intention, in completeness of unerring decoration, and in marvellous skill of hand. In short, those masterpieces of noble building, those specimens of Architecture, as we call them, the sight of which makes the holiday of our lives to-day, are the standard of the whole art of those times, and tell the story of all the completeness of art in the heyday of life, as well as that of the sad story which follows. For when anything human has arrived at quasi-completion there remains for it decay and death, in order that the new thing may be born from it; and this wonderful joyous art of the Middle Ages could by no means escape its fate.

In the middle of the fourteenth century Europe was scourged by that mysterious terror the Black Death (a terror similar to which perhaps waylays the modern world) and, along with it, the no less mysterious pests of Commercialism and Bureaucracy attacked us. This misfortune was the turning point of the Middle Ages; once again a great change was at hand.

The birth and growth of the coming change was marked by art with all fidelity. Gothic Architecture began to alter its character in the years that immediately followed on the Great Pest; it began to lose its exaltation of style and to suffer a diminution in the generous wealth of beauty which it gave us in its heyday. In some places, e.g., England, it grew more crabbed, and even sometimes more commonplace; in others, as in France, it lost order, virility, and purity of line. But for a long time yet it was alive and vigorous, and showed even greater capacity than before for adapting itself to the needs of a developing society: nor did the change of style affect all its furniture injuriously; some of the subsidiary arts as e.g., Flemish tapestry and English wood-carving, rather gained than lost for many years.

At last, with the close of the fifteenth century, the Great Change became obvious; and we must remember that it was no superficial change of form, but a change of spirit affecting every form inevitably. This change we have somewhat boastfully, and as regards the arts quite untruthfully, called the New Birth. But let us see what it means.

Society was preparing for a complete recasting of its elements: the Mediaeval Society of Status was in process of transition into the modern Society of Contract. New classes were being formed to fit the new system of production which was at the bottom of this; political life began again with the new birth of bureaucracy; and political, as distinguished from natural, nationalities were being hammered together for the use of that bureaucracy, which was itself a necessity to the new system. And withal a new religion was being fashioned to fit the new theory of life: in short, the Age of Commercialism was being born.

Now some of us think that all this was a source of misery and degradation to the world at the time, that it is still causing misery and degradation, and that as a system it is bound to give place to a better one. Yet we admit that it had a beneficent function to perform; that amidst all the ugliness and confusion which it brought with it, it was a necessary instrument for the development of freedom of thought and the capacities of man; for the subjugation of nature to his material needs. This Great Change, I say, was necessary and inevitable, and on this side, the side of commerce and commercial science and politics, was a genuine new birth. On this side it did not look backward but forward: there had been nothing like it in past history; it was founded on no pedantic model; necessity, not whim, was its crafts-master.

But, strange to say, to this living body of social, political, religious, scientific New Birth was bound the dead corpse of a past art. On every other side it bade men look forward to some change or other, were it good or bad: on the side of art, with the sternest pedagogic utterance, it bade men look backward across the days of the ‘Fathers and famous men that begat them’, and in scorn of them, to an art that had been dead a thousand years before. Hitherto, from the very beginning the past was past, all of it that was not alive in the present, unconsciously to the men of the present. Henceforth the past was to be our present, and the blankness of its dead wall was to shut out the future from us. There are many artists at present who do not sufficiently estimate the enormity, the portentousness of this change, and how closely it is connected with the Victorian Architecture of the brick box and the slate lid, which helps to make us the dullards that we are. How on earth could people's ideas of beauty change so? you may say. Well, was it their ideas of beauty that changed? Was it not rather that beauty, however unconsciously, was no longer an object of attainment with the men of that epoch?

This used once to puzzle me in the presence of one of the so-called masterpieces of the New Birth, the revived classical style, such a building as St Paul's in London, for example. I have found it difficult to put myself in the frame of mind which could accept such a work as a substitute for even the latest and worst Gothic building. Such taste seemed to me like the taste of a man who should prefer his lady-love bald. But now I know that it was not a matter of choice on the part of any one then alive who had an eye for beauty: if the change had been made on the grounds of beauty it would be wholly inexplicable; but it was not so. In the early days of the Renaissance there were artists possessed of the highest qualities; but those great men (whose greatness, mind you, was only in work not carried out by co-operation, painting, and sculpture for the most part) were really but the fruit of the blossoming-time, the Gothic period; as was abundantly proved by the succeeding periods of the Renaissance, which produced nothing but inanity and plausibility in all the arts. A few individual artists were great truly; but artists were no longer the masters of art, because the people had ceased to be artists: its masters were pedants. St Peter's in Rome, St Paul's in London, were not built to be beautiful, or to be beautiful and convenient. They were not built to be homes of the citizens in their moments of exaltation, their supreme grief or supreme hope, but to be proper, respectable, and therefore to show the due amount of cultivation and knowledge of the only peoples and times that in the minds of their ignorant builders were not ignorant barbarians. They were built to be the homes of a decent unenthusiastic ecclesiasticism, of those whom we sometimes call Dons now-a-days. Beauty and romance were outside the aspirations of their builders. Nor could it have been otherwise in those days; for, once again, architectural beauty is the result of the harmonious and intelligent co-operation of the whole body of people engaged in producing the work of the workman; and by the time that the changeling New Birth was grown to be a vigorous imp, such workmen no longer existed. By that time Europe had begun to transform the great army of artist-craftsmen, who had produced the beauty of her cities, her churches, manor-houses and cottages, into an enormous stock of human machines, who had little chance of earning a bare livelihood if they lingered over their toil to think of what they were doing: who were not asked to think, paid to think, or allowed to think. That invention we have, I should hope, about perfected by this time, and it must soon give place to a new one. Which is happy; for as long as the invention is in use you need not trouble yourselves about Architecture, since you will not get it, as the common expression of our life, that is as a genuine thing.

But at present I am not going to say anything about direct remedies for the miseries of the New Birth; I can only tell you what you ought to do if you can. I want you to see that from the brief historic review of the progress of the Arts it results that to-day there is only one style of Architecture on which it is possible to found a true living art, which is free to adapt itself to the varying conditions of social life, climate, and so forth, and that that style is Gothic Architecture. The greater part of what we now call Architecture is but an imitation of an imitation of an imitation, the result of a tradition of dull respectability, or of foolish whims without root or growth in them.

Let us look at an instance of pedantic retrospection employed in the service of art. A Greek columnar temple when it was a real thing, was a kind of holy railing built round a shrine: these things the people of that day wanted, and they naturally took the form of a Greek Temple under the climate of Greece and given the mood of its people. But do we want those things? If so, I should like to know what for. And if we pretend we do and so force a Greek Temple on a modern city, we produce such a gross piece of ugly absurdity as you may see spanning the Lochs at Edinburgh. In these islands we want a roof and walls with windows cut in them; and these things a Greek Temple does not pretend to give us.

Will a Roman building allow us to have these necessaries? Well, only on the terms that we are to be ashamed of wall, roof and windows, and pretend that we haven't got either of them, but rather a whimsical attempt at the imitation of a Greek Temple.

Will a neo-classical building allow us these necessities? Pretty much on the same terms as the Roman one; except when it is rather more than half Gothic. It will force us to pretend that we have neither roof, walls, nor windows, nothing but an imitation of the Roman travesty of a Greek Temple.

Now a Gothic building has walls that it is not ashamed of; and in those walls you may cut windows wherever you please; and, if you please, may decorate them to show that you are not ashamed of them; your windows, which you must have, become one of the great beauties of your house, and you have no longer to make a lesion in logic in order not to sit in pitchy darkness in your own house, as in the sham sham-Roman style: your window, I say, is no longer a concession to human weakness, an ugly necessity (generally ugly enough in all conscience) but a glory of the Art of Building. As for the roof in the sham style: unless the building is infected with Gothic common sense, you must pretend that you are living in a hot country which needs nothing but an awning, and that it never rains or snows in these islands. Whereas in a Gothic building the roof both within and without (especially within, as is most meet) is the crown of its beauties, the abiding place of its brain.

Again, consider the exterior of our buildings, that part of them that is common to all passers-by, and that no man can turn into private property unless he builds amidst an inaccessible park. The original of our neoclassic architecture was designed for marble in a bright dry climate, which only weathers it to a golden tone. Do we really like a neo-classic building weather-beaten by the roughness of hundreds of English winters from October to June? And on the other hand, can any of us fail to be touched by the weathered surface of a Gothic building which has escaped the restorers' hands? Do we not clearly know the latter to be a piece of nature, that more excellent mood of nature that uses the hands and wills of men as instruments of creation?

Indeed time would fail me to go into the many sides of the contrast between the Architecture which is a mere pedantic imitation of what was once alive, and that which after a development of long centuries has still in it, as I think, capacities for fresh developments, since its life was cut short by an arbitrary recurrence to a style which had long lost all elements of life and growth. Once for all, then, when the modern world finds that the eclecticism of the present is barren and fruitless, and that it needs and will have a style of Architecture which, I must tell you once more, can only be as part of a change as wide and deep as that which destroyed Feudalism; when it has come to that conclusion, the style of Architecture will have to be historic in the true sense; it will not be able to dispense with tradition; it cannot begin at least with doing something quite different from anything that has been done before; yet whatever the form of it may be, the spirit of it will be sympathy with the needs and aspirations of its own time, not simulation of needs and aspirations passed away. Thus it will remember the history of the past, make history in the present, and teach history in the future. As to the form of it, I see nothing for it but that the form, as well as the spirit, must be Gothic; an organic style cannot spring out of an eclectic one, but only from an organic one. In the future, therefore, our style of architecture must be Gothic Architecture.

And meanwhile of the world demanding Architecture, what are we to do? Meanwhile? After all, is there any meanwhile? Are we not now demanding Gothic Architecture and crying for the fresh New Birth? To me it seems so. It is true that the world is uglier now than it was fifty years ago; but then people thought that ugliness a desirable thing, and looked at it with complacency as a sign of civilization, which no doubt it is. Now we are no longer complacent, but are grumbling in a dim unorganized manner. We feel a loss, and unless we are very unreal and helpless we shall presently begin to try to supply that loss. Art cannot be dead so long as we feel the lack of it, I say: and though we shall probably try many roundabout ways for filling up the lack; yet we shall at last be driven into the one right way of concluding that in spite of all risks, and all losses, unhappy and slavish work must come to an end. In that day we shall take Gothic Architecture by the hand, and know it for what it was and what it is.

Lecture given to the Arts and Crafts

Exhibition Society, London 1889

The Lesser Arts

Hereafter I hope in another lecture to have the pleasure of laying before you an historical survey of the lesser, or as they are called the Decorative Arts, and I must confess it would have been pleasanter to me to have begun my talk with you by entering at once upon the subject of the history of this great industry; but, as I have something to say in a third lecture about various matters connected with the practice of Decoration among ourselves in these days, I feel that I should be in a false position before you, and one that might lead to confusion, or overmuch explanation, if I did not let you know what I think on the nature and scope of these arts, on their condition at the present time, and their outlook in times to come. In doing this it is like enough that I shall say things with which you will very much disagree; I must ask you therefore from the outset to believe that whatever I may blame or whatever I may praise, I neither, when I think of what history has been, am inclined to lament the past, to despise the present, or despair of the future; that I believe all the change and stir about us is a sign of the world's life, and that it will lead - by ways, indeed, of which we have no guess - to the bettering of all mankind.

Now as to the scope and nature of these Arts I have to say, that though when I come more into the details of my subject I shall not meddle much with the great art of Architecture, and less still with the great arts commonly called Sculpture and Painting, yet I cannot in my own mind quite sever them from those lesser so-called Decorative Arts, which I have to speak about: it is only in latter times, and under the most intricate conditions of life, that they have fallen apart from one another; and I hold that, when they are so parted, it is ill for the Arts altogether: the lesser ones become trivial, mechanical, unintelligent, incapable of resisting the changes pressed upon them by fashion or dishonesty; while the greater, however they may be practised for a while by men of great minds and wonder-working hands, unhelped by the lesser, unhelped by each other, are sure to lose their dignity of popular arts, and become nothing but dull adjuncts to unmeaning pomp, or ingenious toys for a few rich and idle men.

However, I have not undertaken to talk to you of Architecture, Sculpture, and Painting, in the narrower sense of those words, since, most unhappily I think, these master-arts, these arts more specially of the intellect, are at the present day divorced from decoration in its narrower sense. Our subject is that great body of art, by means of which men have at all times more or less striven to beautify the familiar matters of everyday life: a wide subject, a great industry; both a great part of the history of the world, and a most helpful instrument to the study of that history.

A very great industry indeed, comprising the crafts of house-building, painting, joinery and carpentry, smiths' work, pottery and glass-making, weaving, and many others: a body of art most important to the public in general, but still more so to us handicraftsmen; since there is scarce anything that they use, and that we fashion, but it has always been thought to be unfinished till it has had some touch or other of decoration about it. True it is that in many or most cases we have got so used to this ornament, that we look upon it as if it had grown of itself, and note it no more than the mosses on the dry sticks with which we light our fires. So much the worse! for there is the decoration, or some pretence of it, and it has, or ought to have, a use and a meaning. For, and this is at the root of the whole matter, everything made by man's hands has a form, which must be either beautiful or ugly; beautiful if it is in accord with Nature, and helps her; ugly if it is discordant with Nature, and thwarts her; it cannot be indifferent: we, for our parts, are busy or sluggish, eager or unhappy, and our eyes are apt to get dulled to this eventfulness of form in those things which we are always looking at. Now it is one of the chief uses of decoration, the chief part of its alliance with nature, that it has to sharpen our dulled senses in this matter: for this end are those wonders of intricate patterns interwoven, those strange forms invented, which men have so long delighted in: forms and intricacies that do not necessarily imitate nature, but in which the hand of the craftsman is guided to work in the way that she does, till the web, the cup, or the knife, look as natural, nay as lovely, as the green field, the river bank, or the mountain flint.

To give people pleasure in the things they must perforce use, that is one great office of decoration; to give people pleasure in the things they must perforce make, that is the other use of it.

Does not our subject look important enough now? I say that without these arts, our rest would be vacant and uninteresting, our labour mere endurance, mere wearing away of body and mind.

As for that last use of these arts, the giving us pleasure in our work, I scarcely know how to speak strongly enough of it; and yet if I did not know the value of repeating a truth again and again, I should have to excuse myself to you for saying any more about this, when I remember how a great man now living has spoken of it: I mean my friend Professor John Ruskin: if you read the chapter in the second volume of his Stones of Venice entitled, ‘On the Nature of Gothic, and the Office of the Workman Therein’, you will read at once the truest and the most eloquent words that can possibly be said on the subject. What I have to say upon it can scarcely be more than an echo of his words, yet I repeat there is some use in reiterating a truth, lest it be forgotten; so I will say this much further: we all know what people have said about the curse of labour, and what heavy and grievous nonsense are the more part of their words thereupon; whereas indeed the real curses of craftsmen have been the curse of stupidity, and the curse of injustice from within and from without: no, I cannot suppose there is anybody here who would think it either a good life, or an amusing one, to sit with one's hands before one doing nothing - to live like a gentleman, as fools call it.

Nevertheless there is dull work to be done, and a weary business it is setting men about such work, and seeing them through it, and I would rather do the work twice over with my own hands than have such a job: but now only let the arts which we are talking of beautify our labour, and be widely spread, intelligent, well understood both by the maker and the user, let them grow in one word popular, and there will be pretty much an end of dull work and its wearing slavery; and no man will any longer have an excuse for talking about the curse of labour, no man will any longer have an excuse for evading the blessing of labour. I believe there is nothing that will aid the world's progress so much as the attainment of this; I protest there is nothing in the world that I desire so much as this, wrapped up, as I am sure it is, with changes political and social, that in one way or another we all desire.

Now if the objection be made, that these arts have been the handmaids of luxury, of tyranny, and of superstition, I must needs say that it is true in a sense; they have been so used, as many other excellent things have been. But it is also true that, among some nations, their most vigorous and freest times have been the very blossoming times of art: while at the same time, I must allow that these Decorative Arts have flourished among oppressed peoples, who have seemed to have no hope of freedom: yet I do not think that we shall be wrong in thinking that at such times, among such peoples, art, at least, was free; when it has not been, when it has really been gripped by superstition, or by luxury, it has straightway begun to sicken under that grip. Nor must you forget that when men say popes, kings, and emperors built such and such buildings, it is a mere way of speaking. You look in your history-books to see who built Westminster Abbey, who built St Sophia at Constantinople, and they tell you Henry III, Justinian the Emperor. Did they? or, rather, men like you and me, handicraftsmen, who have left no names behind them, nothing but their work?

Now as these arts call people's attention and interest to the matters of everyday life in the present, so also, and that I think is no little matter, they call our attention at every step to that history, of which, I said before, they are so great a part; for no nation, no state of society, however rude, has been wholly without them: nay, there are peoples not a few, of whom we know scarce anything, save that they thought such and such forms beautiful. So strong is the bond between history and decoration, that in the practice of the latter we cannot, if we would, wholly shake off the influence of past times over what we do at present. I do not think it is too much to say that no man, however original he may be, can sit down to-day and draw the ornament of a cloth, or the form of an ordinary vessel or piece of furniture, that will be other than a development or a degradation of forms used hundreds of years ago; and these, too, very often, forms that once had a serious meaning, though they are now become little more than a habit of the hand; forms that were once perhaps the mysterious symbols of worships and beliefs now little remembered or wholly forgotten. Those who have diligently followed the delightful study of these arts are able as if through windows to look upon the life of the past: - the very first beginnings of thought among nations whom we cannot even name; the terrible empires of the ancient East; the free vigour and glory of Greece; the heavy weight, the firm grasp of Rome; the fall of her temporal Empire which spread so wide about the world all that good and evil which men can never forget, and never cease to feel; the clashing of East and West, South and North, about her rich and fruitful daughter Byzantium; the rise, the dissensions, and the waning of Islam; the wanderings of Scandinavia; the Crusades; the foundation of the States of modern Europe; the struggles of free thought with ancient dying system - with all these events and their meaning is the history of popular art interwoven; with all this, I say, the careful student of decoration as an historical industry must be familiar. When I think of this, and the usefulness of all this knowledge, at a time when history has become so earnest a study amongst us as to have given us, as it were, a new sense: at a time when we so long to know the reality of all that has happened, and are to be put off no longer with the dull records of the battles and intrigues of kings and scoundrels, - I say when I think of all this, I hardly know how to say that this interweaving of the Decorative Arts with the history of the past is of less importance than their dealings with the life of the present: for should not these memories also be a part of our daily life?

And now let me recapitulate a little before I go further, before we begin to look into the condition of the arts at the present day. These arts, I have said, are part of a great system invented for the expression of a man's delight in beauty: all peoples and times have used them; they have been the joy of free nations, and the solace of oppressed nations; religion has used and elevated them, has abused and degraded them; they are connected with all history, and are clear teachers of it; and, best of all, they are the sweeteners of human labour, both to the handicraftsman, whose life is spent in working in them, and to people in general who are influenced by the sight of them at every turn of the day's work: they make our toil happy, our rest fruitful.

And now if all I have said seems to you but mere open-mouthed praise of these arts, I must say that it is not for nothing that what I have hitherto put before you has taken that form.

It is because I must now ask you this question: All these good things - will you have them? will you cast them from you?

Are you surprised at my question - you, most of whom, like myself, are engaged in the actual practice of the arts that are, or ought to be, popular?

In explanation, I must somewhat repeat what I have already said. Time was when the mystery and wonder of handicrafts were well acknowledged by the world, when imagination and fancy mingled with all things made by man; and in those days all handicraftsmen were artists, as we should now call them. But the thought of man became more intricate, more difficult to express; art grew a heavier thing to deal with, and its labour was more divided among great men, lesser men, and little men; till that art, which was once scarce more than a rest of body and soul, as the hand cast the shuttle or swung the hammer, became to some men so serious a labour, that their working lives have been one long tragedy of hope and fear, joy and trouble. This was the growth of art: like all growth, it was good and fruitful for awhile; like all fruitful growth, it grew into decay; like all decay of what was once fruitful, it will grow into something new.

Into decay; for as the arts sundered into the greater and the lesser, contempt on one side, carelessness on the other arose, both begotten of ignorance of that philosophy of the Decorative Arts, a hint of which I have tried just now to put before you. The artist came out from the handicraftsmen, and left them without hope of elevation, while he himself was left without the help of intelligent, industrious sympathy. Both have suffered; the artist no less than the workman. It is with art as it fares with a company of soldiers before a redoubt, when the captain runs forward full of hope and energy, but looks not behind him to see if his men are following, and they hang back, not knowing why they are brought there to die. The captain's life is spent for nothing, and his men are sullen prisoners in the redoubt of Unhappiness and Brutality.

I must in plain words say of the Decorative Arts, of all the arts, that it is not so much that we are inferior in them to all who have gone before us, but rather that they are in a state of anarchy and disorganization, which makes a sweeping change necessary and certain.

So that again I ask my question, All that good fruit which the arts should bear, will you have it? will you cast it from you? Shall that sweeping change that must come, be the change of loss or of gain?

We who believe in the continuous life of the world, surely we are bound to hope that the change will bring us gain and not loss, and to strive to bring that gain about.

Yet how the world may answer my question, who can say? A man in his short life can see but a little way ahead, and even in mine wonderful and unexpected things have come to pass. I must needs say that therein lies my hope rather than in all I see going on round about us. Without disputing that if the imaginative arts perish, some new thing, at present unguessed of, may be put forward to supply their loss in men's lives, I cannot feel happy in that prospect, nor can I believe that mankind will endure such a loss for ever: but in the meantime the present state of the arts and their dealings with modern life and progress seem to me to point, in appearance at least, to this immediate future; that the world, which has for a long time busied itself about other matters than the arts, and has carelessly let them sink lower and lower, till many not uncultivated men, ignorant of what they once were, and hopeless of what they might yet be, look upon them with mere contempt; that the world, I say, thus busied and hurried, will one day wipe the slate, and be clean rid in her impatience of the whole matter with all its tangle and trouble.

And then - what then?

Even now amid the squalor of London it is hard to imagine what it will be. Architecture, Sculpture, Painting, with the crowd of lesser arts that belong to them, these, together with Music and Poetry, will be dead and forgotten, will no longer excite or amuse people in the least: for, once more, we must not deceive ourselves; the death of one art means the death of all; the only difference in their fate will be that the luckiest will be eaten the last - the luckiest, or the unluckiest: in all that has to do with beauty the invention and ingenuity of man will have come to a dead stop; and all the while Nature will go on with her eternal recurrence of lovely changes - spring, summer, autumn, and winter; sunshine, rain, and snow; storm and fair weather; dawn, noon, and sunset; day and night - ever bearing witness against man that he has deliberately chosen ugliness instead of beauty, and to live where he is strongest amidst squalor or blank emptiness.

You see, sirs, we cannot quite imagine it; any more, perhaps, than our forefathers of ancient London, living in the pretty, carefully whitened houses, with the famous church and its huge spire rising above them, - than they, passing about the fair gardens running down to the broad river, could have imagined a whole county or more covered over with hideous hovels, big, middle-sized, and little, which should one day be called London.

Sirs, I say that this dead blank of the arts that I more than dread is difficult even now to imagine; yet I fear that I must say that if it does not come about, it will be owing to some turn of events which we cannot at present foresee: but I hold that if it does happen, it will only last for a time, that it will be but a burning up of the gathered weeds, so that the field may bear more abundantly. I hold that men would wake up after a while, and look round and find the dullness unbearable, and begin once more inventing, imitating, and imagining, as in earlier days.

That faith comforts me, and I can say calmly if the blank space must happen, it must, and amidst its darkness the new seed must sprout. So it has been before: first comes birth, and hope scarcely conscious of itself; then the flower and fruit of mastery, with hope more than conscious enough, passing into insolence, as decay follows ripeness; and then - the new birth again.

Meantime it is the plain duty of all who look seriously on the arts to do their best to save the world from what at the best will be a loss, the result of ignorance and unwisdom; to prevent, in fact, that most discouraging of all changes, the supplying the place of an extinct brutality by a new one; nay, even if those who really care for the arts are so weak and few that they can do nothing else, it may be their business to keep alive some tradition, some memory of the past, so that the new life when it comes may not waste itself more than enough in fashioning wholly new forms for its new spirit.

To what side then shall those turn for help, who really understand the gain of a great art in the world, and the loss of peace and good life that must follow from the lack of it? I think that they must begin by acknowledging that the ancient art, the art of unconscious intelligence, as one should call it, which began without a date, at least so long ago as those strange and masterly scratchings on mammoth-bones and the like found but the other day in the drift - that this art of unconscious intelligence is all but dead; that what little of it is left lingers among half-civilized nations, and is growing coarser, feebler, less intelligent year by year; nay, it is mostly at the mercy of some commercial accident, such as the arrival of a few shiploads of European dye-stuffs or a few dozen orders from European merchants: this they must recognize, and must hope to see in time its place filled by a new art of conscious intelligence, the birth of wiser, simpler, freer ways of life than the world leads now, than the world has ever led.

I said, to see this in time; I do not mean to say that our own eyes will look upon it: it may be so far off, as indeed it seems to some, that many would scarcely think it worth while thinking of: but there are some of us who cannot turn our faces to the wall, or sit deedless because our hope seems somewhat dim; and, indeed, I think that while the signs of the last decay of the old art with all the evils that must follow in its train are only too obvious about us, so on the other hand there are not wanting signs of the new dawn beyond that possible night of the arts, of which I have before spoken; this sign chiefly, that there are some few at least who are heartily discontented with things as they are, and crave for something better, or at least some promise of it - this best of signs: for I suppose that if some half-dozen men at any time earnestly set their hearts on something coming about which is not discordant with nature, it will come to pass one day or other; because it is not by accident that an idea comes into the heads of a few; rather they are pushed on, and forced to speak or act by something stirring in the heart of the world which would otherwise be left without expression.

By what means then shall those work who long for reform in the arts, and who shall they seek to kindle into eager desire for possession of beauty, and better still, for the development of the faculty that creates beauty?

People say to me often enough: If you want to make your art succeed and flourish, you must make it the fashion: a phrase which I confess annoys me; for they mean by it that I should spend one day over my work to two days in trying to convince rich, and supposed influential people, that they care very much for what they really do not care in the least, so that it may happen according to the proverb: Bell-wether took the leap, and we all went over. Well, such advisers are right if they are content with the thing lasting but a little while; say till you can make a little money - if you don't get pinched by the door shutting too quickly: otherwise they are wrong: the people they are thinking of have too many strings to their bow, and can turn their backs too easily on a thing that fails, for it to be safe work trusting to their whims: it is not their fault, they cannot help it, but they have no chance of spending time enough over the arts to know anything practical of them, and they must of necessity be in the hands of those who spend their time in pushing fashion this way and that for their own advantage.

Sirs, there is no help to be got out of these latter, or those who let themselves be led by them: the only real help for the Decorative Arts must come from those who work in them; nor must they be led, they must lead.

You whose hands make those things that should be works of art, you must be all artists, and good artists too, before the public at large can take real interest in such things; and when you have become so, I promise you that you shall lead the fashion; fashion shall follow your hands obediently enough.

That is the only way in which we can get a supply of intelligent popular art: a few artists of the kind so-called now, what can they do working in the teeth of difficulties thrown in their way by what is called Commerce, but which should be called greed of money? working helplessly among the crowd of those who are ridiculously called manufacturers, i.e., handicraftsmen, though the more part of them never did a stroke of hand-work in their lives, and are nothing better than capitalists and salesmen. What can these grains of sand do, I say, amidst the enormous mass of work turned out every year which professes in some way to be decorative art, but the decoration of which no one heeds except the salesmen who have to do with it, and are hard put to it to supply the cravings of the public for something new, not for something pretty?

The remedy, I repeat, is plain if it can be applied; the handicraftsman, left behind by the artist when the arts sundered, must come up with him, must work side by side with him: apart from the difference between a great master and a scholar, apart from the differences of the natural bent of men's minds, which would make one man an imitative, and another an architectural or decorative artist, there should be no difference between those employed on strictly ornamental work; and the body of artists dealing with this should quicken with their art all makers of things into artists also, in proportion to the necessities and uses of the things they would make.

I know what stupendous difficulties, social and economical, there are in the way of this; yet I think that they seem to be greater than they are: and of one thing I am sure, that no real living decorative art is possible if this is impossible.

It is not impossible, on the contrary it is certain to come about, if you are at heart desirous to quicken the arts; if the world will, for the sake of beauty and decency, sacrifice some of the things it is so busy over (many of which I think are not very worthy of its trouble), art will begin to grow again; as for those difficulties above mentioned, some of them I know will in any case melt away before the steady change of the relative conditions of men; the rest, reason and resolute attention to the laws of nature, which are also the laws of art, will dispose of little by little: once more, the way will not be far to seek, if the will be with us.

Yet, granted the will, and though the way lies ready to us, we must not be discouraged if the journey seem barren enough at first, nay, not even if things seem to grow worse for a while: for it is natural enough that the very evil which has forced on the beginning of reform should look uglier, while on the one hand life and wisdom are building up the new, and on the other folly and deadness are hugging the old to them.

In this, as in all other matters, lapse of time will be needed before things seem to straighten, and the courage and patience that does not despise small things lying ready to be done; and care and watchfulness, lest we begin to build the wall ere the footings are well in; and always through all things much humility that is not easily cast down by failure, that seeks to be taught, and is ready to learn.

For your teachers, they must be Nature and History: as for the first, that you must learn of it is so obvious that I need not dwell upon that now: hereafter, when I have to speak more of matters of detail, I may have to speak of the manner in which you must learn of Nature. As to the second, I do not think that any man but one of the highest genius, could do anything in these days without much study of ancient art, and even he would be much hindered if he lacked it. If you think that this contradicts what I said about the death of that ancient art, and the necessity I implied for an art that should be characteristic of the present day, I can only say that, in these times of plenteous knowledge and meagre performance, if we do not study the ancient work directly and learn to understand it, we shall find ourselves influenced by the feeble work all round us, and shall be copying the better work through the copyists and without understanding it, which will by no means bring about intelligent art. Let us therefore study it wisely, be taught by it, kindled by it; all the while determining not to imitate or repeat it; to have either no art at all, or an art which we have made our own.

Yet I am almost brought to a stand-still when bidding you to study nature and the history of art, by remembering that this is London, and what it is like: how can I ask working-men passing up and down these hideous streets day by day to care about beauty? If it were politics, we must care about that; or science, you could wrap yourselves up in the study of facts, no doubt, without much caring what goes on about you - but beauty! do you not see what terrible difficulties beset art, owing to a long neglect of art - and neglect of reason, too, in this matter? It is such a heavy question by what effort, by what dead-lift, you can thrust this difficulty from you, that I must perforce set it aside for the present, and must at least hope that the study of history and its monuments will help you somewhat herein. If you can really fill your minds with memories of great works of art, and great times of art, you will, I think, be able to a certain extent to look through the aforesaid ugly surroundings, and will be moved to discontent of what is careless and brutal now, and will, I hope, at last be so much discontented with what is bad, that you will determine to bear no longer that short-sighted, reckless brutality of squalor that so disgraces our intricate civilization.

Well, at any rate, London is good for this, that it is well off for museums - which I heartily wish were to be got at seven days in the week instead of six, or at least on the only day on which an ordinarily busy man, one of the taxpayers who support them, can as a rule see them quietly - and certainly any of us who may have any natural turn for art must get more help from frequenting them than one can well say. It is true, however, that people need some preliminary instruction before they can get all the good possible to be got from the prodigious treasures of art possessed by the country in that form: there also one sees things in a piecemeal way: nor can I deny that there is something melancholy about a museum, such a tale of violence, destruction, and carelessness, as its treasured scraps tell us.

But moreover you may sometimes have an opportunity of studying ancient art in a narrower but a more intimate, a more kindly form, the monuments of our own land. Sometimes only, since we live in the middle of this world of brick and mortar, and there is little else left us amidst it, except the ghost of the great church at Westminster, ruined as its exterior is by the stupidity of the restoring architect, and insulted as its glorious interior is by the pompous undertakers' lies, by the vainglory and ignorance of the last two centuries and a half - little besides that and the matchless Hall near it: but when we can get beyond that smoky world, there, out in the country, we may still see the works of our fathers yet alive amidst the very nature they were wrought into, and of which they are so completely a part. For there indeed if anywhere, in the English country, in the days when people cared about such things, was there a full sympathy between the works of man, and the land they were made for. The land is a little land; too much shut up within the narrow seas, as it seems, to have much space for swelling into hugeness: there are no great wastes overwhelming in their dreariness, no great solitudes of forests, no terrible untrodden mountainwalls: all is measured, mingled, varied, gliding easily one thing into another: little rivers, little plains, swelling, speedily-changing uplands, all beset with handsome orderly trees; little hills, little mountains, netted over with the walls of sheep-walks: all is little; yet not foolish and blank, but serious rather, and abundant of meaning for such as choose to seek it: it is neither prison nor palace, but a decent home.

All which I neither praise nor blame, but say that so it is: some people praise this homeliness overmuch, as if the land were the very axle-tree of the world; so do not I, nor any unblinded by pride in themselves and all that belongs to them: others there are who scorn it and the tameness of it: not I any the more: though it would indeed be hard if there were nothing else in the world, no wonders, no terrors, no unspeakable beauties: yet when we think what a small part of the world's history, past, present, and to come, is this land we live in, and how much smaller still in the history of the arts, and yet how our forefathers clung to it, and with what care and pains they adorned it, this unromantic, uneventfullooking land of England, surely by this too our hearts may be touched, and our hope quickened.

For as was the land, such was the art of it while folk yet troubled themselves about such things; it strove little to impress people either by pomp or ingenuity: not unseldom it fell into commonplace, rarely it rose into majesty; yet was it never oppressive, never a slave's nightmare nor an insolent boast: and at its best it had an inventiveness, an individuality that grander styles have never overpassed: its best too, and that was in its very heart, was given as freely to the yeoman's house, and the humble village church, as to the lord's palace or the mighty cathedral: never coarse, though often rude enough, sweet, natural and unaffected, an art of peasants rather than of merchant-princes or courtiers, it must be a hard heart, I think, that does not love it: whether a man has been born among it like ourselves, or has come wonderingly on its simplicity from all the grandeur overseas. A peasant art, I say, and it clung fast to the life of the people, and still lived among the cottagers and yeomen in many parts of the country while the big houses were being built ‘French and fine’: still lived also in many a quaint pattern of loom and printing-block, and embroiderer's needle, while overseas stupid pomp had extinguished all nature and freedom, and art was become, in France especially, the mere expression of that successful and exultant rascality, which in the flesh no long time afterwards went down into the pit for ever.

Such was the English art, whose history is in a sense at your doors, grown scarce indeed, and growing scarcer year by year, not only through greedy destruction, of which there is certainly less than there used to be, but also through the attacks of another foe, called nowadays ‘restoration’.

I must not make a long story about this, but also I cannot quite pass it over, since I have pressed on you the study of these ancient monuments. Thus the matter stands: these old buildings have been altered and added to century after century, often beautifully, always historically; their very value, a great part of it, lay in that: they have suffered almost always from neglect also, often from violence (that latter a piece of history often far from uninteresting), but ordinary obvious mending would almost always have kept them standing, pieces of nature and of history.

But of late years a great uprising of ecclesiastical zeal, coinciding with a great increase of study, and consequently of knowledge of mediaeval architecture, has driven people into spending their money on these buildings, not merely with the purpose of repairing them, of keeping them safe, clean, and wind and water-tight, but also of ‘restoring’ them to some ideal state of perfection; sweeping away if possible all signs of what has befallen them at least since the Reformation, and often since dates much earlier: this has sometimes been done with much disregard of art and entirely from ecclesiastical zeal, but oftener it has been well meant enough as regards art: yet you will not have listened to what I have said to-night if you do not see that from my point of view this restoration must be as impossible to bring about, as the attempt at it is destructive to the buildings so dealt with: I scarcely like to think what a great part of them have been made nearly useless to students of art and history: unless you knew a great deal about architecture you perhaps would scarce understand what terrible damage has been done by that dangerous ‘little knowledge’ in this matter: but at least it is easy to be understood, that to deal recklessly with valuable (and national) monuments which, when once gone, can never be replaced by any splendour of modern art, is doing a very sorry service to the State.

You will see by all that I have said on this study of ancient art that I mean by education herein something much wider than the teaching of a definite art in schools of design, and that it must be something that we must do more or less for ourselves: I mean by it a systematic concentration of our thoughts on the matter, a studying of it in all ways, careful and laborious practice of it, and a determination to do nothing but what is known to be good in workmanship and design.

Of course, however, both as an instrument of that study we have been speaking of, as well as of the practice of the arts, all handicraftsmen should be taught to draw very carefully; as indeed all people should be taught drawing who are not physically incapable of learning it: but the art of drawing so taught would not be the art of designing, but only a means towards this end, general capability in dealing with the arts.

For I wish specially to impress this upon you, that designing cannot be taught at all in a school: continued practice will help a man who is naturally a designer, continual notice of nature and of art: no doubt those who have some faculty for designing are still numerous, and they want from a school certain technical teaching, just as they want tools: in these days also, when the best school, the school of successful practice going on around you, is at such a low ebb, they do undoubtedly want instruction in the history of the arts: these two things schools of design can give: but the royal road of a set of rules deduced from a sham science of design, that is itself not a science but another set of rules, will lead nowhere; - or, let us rather say, to beginning again.

As to the kind of drawing that should be taught to men engaged in ornamental work, there is only one best way of teaching drawing, and that is teaching the scholar to draw the human figure: both because the lines of a man's body are much more subtle than anything else, and because you can more surely be found out and set right if you go wrong. I do think that such teaching as this, given to all people who care for it, would help the revival of the arts very much: the habit of discriminating between right and wrong, the sense of pleasure in drawing a good line, would really, I think, be education in the due sense of the word for all such people as had the germs of invention in them; yet as aforesaid, in this age of the world it would be mere affectation to pretend to shut one's eyes to the art of past ages: that also we must study. If other circumstances, social and economical, do not stand in our way, that is to say, if the world is not too busy to allow us to have Decorative Arts at all, these two are the direct means by which we shall get them; that is, general cultivation of the powers of the mind, general cultivation of the powers of the eye and hand.

Perhaps that seems to you very commonplace advice and a very roundabout road; nevertheless 'tis a certain one, if by any road you desire to come to the new art, which is my subject to-night: if you do not, and if those germs of invention, which, as I said just now, are no doubt still common enough among men, are left neglected and undeveloped, the laws of Nature will assert themselves in this as in other matters, and the faculty of design itself will gradually fade from the race of man. Sirs, shall we approach nearer to perfection by casting away so large a part of that intelligence which makes us men?

And now before I make an end, I want to call your attention to certain things, that, owing to our neglect of the arts for other business, bar that good road to us and are such an hindrance, that, till they are dealt with, it is hard even to make a beginning of our endeavour. And if my talk should seem to grow too serious for our subject, as indeed I think it cannot do, I beg you to remember what I said earlier, of how the arts all hang together. Now there is one art of which the old architect of Edward III's time was thinking - he who founded New College at Oxford, I mean - when he took this for his motto: ‘Manners maketh man’: he meant by manners the art of morals, the art of living worthily, and like a man. I must needs claim this art also as dealing with my subject.

There is a great deal of sham work in the world, hurtful to the buyer, more hurtful to the seller, if he only knew it, most hurtful to the maker: how good a foundation it would be towards getting good Decorative Art, that is ornamental workmanship, if we craftsmen were to resolve to turn out nothing but excellent workmanship in all things, instead of having, as we too often have now, a very low average standard of work, which we often fall below.

I do not blame either one class or another in this matter, I blame all: to set aside our own class of handicraftsmen, of whose shortcomings you and I know so much that we need talk no more about it, I know that the public in general are set on having things cheap, being so ignorant that they do not know when they get them nasty also; so ignorant that they neither know nor care whether they give a man his due: I know that the manufacturers (so called) are so set on carrying out competition to its utmost, competition of cheapness, not of excellence, that they meet the bargain-hunters half way, and cheerfully furnish them with nasty wares at the cheap rate they are asked for, by means of what can be called by no prettier name than fraud. England has of late been too much busied with the counting-house and not enough with the workshop: with the result that the counting-house at the present moment is rather barren of orders.

I say all classes are to blame in this matter, but also I say that the remedy lies with the handicraftsmen, who are not ignorant of these things like the public, and who have no call to be greedy and isolated like the manufacturers or middlemen; the duty and honour of educating the public lies with them, and they have in them the seeds of order and organization which make that duty the easier.

When will they see to this and help to make men of us all by insisting on this most weighty piece of manners; so that we may adorn life with the pleasure of cheerfully buying goods at their due price; with the pleasure of selling goods that we could be proud of both for fair price and fair workmanship: with the pleasure of working soundly and without haste at making goods that we could be proud of? - much the greatest pleasure of the three is that last, such a pleasure as, I think, the world has none like it.

You must not say that this piece of manners lies out of my subject: it is essentially a part of it and most important for I am bidding you learn to be artists, if art is not to come to an end amongst us: and what is an artist but a workman who is determined that, whatever else happens, his work shall be excellent? or, to put it in another way: the decoration of workmanship, what is it but the expression of man's pleasure in successful labour? But what pleasure can there be in bad work, in unsuccessful labour; why should we decorate that? and how can we bear to be always unsuccessful in our labour?

As greed of unfair gain, wanting to be paid for what we have not earned, cumbers our path with this tangle of bad work, of sham work, so the heaped-up money which this greed has brought us (for greed will have its way, like all other strong passions), this money, I say, gathered into heaps little and big, with all the false distinction which so unhappily it yet commands amongst us, has raised up against the arts a barrier of the love of luxury and show, which is of all obvious hindrances the worst to overpass: the highest and most cultivated classes are not free from the vulgarity of it, the lower are not free from its pretence. I beg you to remember both as a remedy against this, and as explaining exactly what I mean, that nothing can be a work of art which is not useful; that is to say, which does not minister to the body when well under command of the mind, or which does not amuse, soothe, or elevate the mind in a healthy state. What tons upon tons of unutterable rubbish pretending to be works of art in some degree would this maxim clear out of our London houses, if it were understood and acted upon! To my mind it is only here and there (out of the kitchen) that you can find in a well-to-do house things that are of any use at all: as a rule all the decoration (so called) that has got there is there for the sake of show, not because anybody likes it. I repeat, this stupidity goes through all classes of society: the silk curtains in my Lord's drawing-room are no more a matter of art to him than the powder in his footman's hair; the kitchen in a country farmhouse is most commonly a pleasant and homelike place, the parlour dreary and useless.

Simplicity of life, begetting simplicity of taste, that is, a love for sweet and lofty things, is of all matters most necessary for the birth of the new and better art we crave for; simplicity everywhere, in the palace as well as in the cottage.

Still more is this necessary, cleanliness and decency everywhere, in the cottage as well as in the palace: the lack of that is a serious piece of manners for us to correct: that lack and all the inequalities of life, and the heaped-up thoughtlessness and disorder of so many centuries that cause it: and as yet it is only a very few men who have begun to think about a remedy for it in its widest range: even in its narrower aspect, in the defacements of our big towns by all that commerce brings with it, who heeds it? who tries to control their squalor and hideousness? there is nothing but thoughtlessness and recklessness in the matter: the helplessness of people who don't live long enough to do a thing themselves, and have not manliness and foresight enough to begin the work, and pass it on to those that shall come after them.

Is money to be gathered? cut down the pleasant trees among the houses, pull down ancient and venerable buildings for the money that a few square yards of London dirt will fetch; blacken rivers, hide the sun and poison the air with smoke and worse, and it's nobody's business to see to it or mend it: that is all that modern commerce, the counting-house forgetful of the workship, will do for us herein.

And Science - we have loved her well, and followed her diligently, what will she do? I fear she is so much in the pay of the counting-house, the counting-house and the drill-sergeant, that she is too busy, and will for the present do nothing. Yet there are matters which I should have thought easy for her; say for example teaching Manchester how to consume its own smoke, or Leeds how to get rid of its superfluous black dye without turning it into the river, which would be as much worth her attention as the production of the heaviest of heavy black silks, or the biggest of useless guns. Anyhow, however it be done, unless people care about carrying on their business without making the world hideous, how can they care about Art? I know it will cost much both of time and money to better these things even a little; but I do not see how these can be better spent than in making life cheerful and honourable for others and for ourselves; and the gain of good life to the country at large that would result from men seriously setting about the bettering of the decency of our big towns would be priceless, even if nothing specially good befell the arts in consequence: I do not know that it would; but I should begin to think matters hopeful if men turned their attention to such things, and I repeat that, unless they do so, we can scarcely even begin with any hope our endeavours for the bettering of the arts.

Unless something or other is done to give all men some pleasure for the eyes and rest for the mind in the aspect of their own and their neighbours' houses, until the contrast is less disgraceful between the fields where beasts live and the streets where men live, I suppose that the practice of the arts must be mainly kept in the hands of a few highly cultivated men, who can go often to beautiful places, whose education enables them, in the contemplation of the past glories of the world, to shut out from their view the everyday squalors that the most of men move in. Sirs, I believe that art has such sympathy with cheerful freedom, open-heartedness and reality, so much she sickens under selfishness and luxury, that she will not live thus isolated and exclusive. I will go further than this and say that on such terms I do not wish her to live. I protest that it would be a shame to an honest artist to enjoy what he had huddled up to himself of such art, as it would be for a rich man to sit and eat dainty food amongst starving soldiers in a beleaguered fort.

I do not want art for a few, any more than education for a few, or freedom for a few.

No, rather than art should live this poor thin life among a few exceptional men, despising those beneath them for an ignorance for which they themselves are responsible, for a brutality that they will not struggle with, - rather than this, I would that the world should indeed sweep away all art for awhile, as I said before I thought it possible she might do; rather than the wheat should rot in the miser's granary, I would that the earth had it, that it might yet have a chance to quicken in the dark.

I have a sort of faith, though, that this clearing away of all art will not happen, that men will get wiser, as well as more learned; that many of the intricacies of life, on which we now pride ourselves more than enough, partly because they are new, partly because they have come with the gain of better things, will be cast aside as having played their part, and being useful no longer. I hope that we shall have leisure from war, - war commercial, as well as war of the bullet and the bayonet; leisure from the knowledge that darkens counsel; leisure above all from the greed of money, and the craving for that overwhelming distinction that money now brings: I believe that as we have even now partly achieved LIBERTY, so we shall one day achieve EQUALITY, which, and which only, means FRATERNITY, and so have leisure from poverty and all its griping, sordid cares.

Then having leisure from all these things, amidst renewed simplicity of life we shall have leisure to think about our work, that faithful daily companion, which no man any longer will venture to call the Curse of labour: for surely then we shall be happy in it, each in his place, no man grudging at another; no one bidden to be any man's servant, every one scorning to be any man's master: men will then assuredly be happy in their work, and that happiness will assuredly bring forth decorative, noble,popular art.

That art will make our streets as beautiful as the woods, as elevating as the mountain-sides: it will be a pleasure and a rest, and not a weight upon the spirits to come from the open country into a town; every man's house will be fair and decent, soothing to his mind and helpful to his work: all the works of man that we live amongst and handle will be in harmony with nature, will be reasonable and beautiful: yet all will be simple and inspiriting, not childish nor enervating; for as nothing of beauty and splendour that man's mind and hand may compass shall be wanting from our public buildings, so in no private dwelling will there be any signs of waste, pomp, or insolence, and every man will have his share of the best.

It is a dream, you may say, of what has never been and never will be; true, it has never been, and therefore, since the world is alive and moving yet, my hope is the greater that it one day will be: true, it is a dream; but dreams have before now come about of things so good and necessary to us, that we scarcely think of them more than of the daylight, though once people had to live without them, without even the hope of them.

Anyhow, dream as it is, I pray you to pardon my setting it before you, for it lies at the bottom of all my work in the Decorative Arts, nor will it ever be out of my thoughts: and I am here with you tonight to ask you to help me in realizing this dream, this hope.

Lecture given to the Trades Guild of Learning,

London 1877, under the title ‘The Decorative Arts’

How I Became a Socialist

I am asked by the Editor to give some sort of a history of the above conversion, and I feel that it may be of some use to do so, if my readers will look upon me as a type of a certain group of people, but not so easy to do clearly, briefly and truly. Let me, however, try. But first, I will say what I mean by being a Socialist, since I am told that the word no longer expresses definitely and with certainty what it did ten years ago. Well, what I mean by Socialism is a condition of society in which there should be neither rich nor poor, neither master nor master's man, neither idle nor overworked, neither brain-sick brain workers nor heart-sick hand workers, in a word, in which all men would be living in equality of condition, and would manage their affairs unwastefully, and with the full consciousness that harm to one would mean harm to all - the realization at last of the meaning of the word COMMONWEALTH.

Now this view of Socialism which I hold to-day, and hope to die holding, is what I began with; I had no transitional period, unless you may call such a brief period of political radicalism during which I saw my ideal clear enough, but had no hope of any realization of it. That came to an end some months before I joined the (then) Democratic Federation, and the meaning of my joining that body was that I had conceived a hope of the realization of my ideal. If you ask me how much of a hope, or what I thought we Socialists then living and working would accomplish towards it, or when there would be effected any change in the face of society, I must say, I do not know. I can only say that I did not measure my hope, nor the joy that it brought me at the time. For the rest, when I took that step I was blankly ignorant of economics; I had never so much as opened Adam Smith, or heard of Ricardo, or of Karl Marx. Oddly enough, I had read some of Mill, to wit, those posthumous papers of his (published, was it in the Westminster Review or the Fortnightly ?) in which he attacks Socialism in its Fourierist guise. In those papers he put the arguments, as far as they go, clearly and honestly, and the result, so far as I was concerned, was to convince me that Socialism was a necessary change, and that it was possible to bring it about in our own days. Those papers put the finishing touch to my conversion to Socialism. Well, having joined a Socialist body (for the Federation soon became definitely Socialist), I put some conscience into trying to learn the economical side of Socialism, and even tackled Marx, though I must confess that, whereas I thoroughly enjoyed the historical part of Capital, I suffered agonies of confusion of the brain over reading the pure economics of that great work. Anyhow, I read what I could, and will hope that some information stuck to me from my reading; but more, I must think, from continuous conversation with such friends as Bax and Hyndman and Scheu, and the brisk course of propaganda meetings which were going on at the time, and in which I took my share. Such finish to what of education in practical Socialism as I am capable of I received afterwards from some of my Anarchist friends, from whom I learned, quite against their intention, that Anarchism was impossible, much as I learned from Mill against his intention that Socialism was necessary.

But in this telling how I fell into practical Socialism I have begun, as I perceive, in the middle, for in my position of a well-to-do man, not suffering from the disabilities which oppress a working man at every step, I feel that I might never have been drawn into the practical side of the question if an ideal had not forced me to seek towards it. For politics as politics, i.e., not regarded as a necessary if cumbersome and disgustful means to an end, would never have attracted me, nor when I had become conscious of the wrongs of society as it now is, and the oppression of poor people, could I have ever believed in the possibility of a partial setting right of those wrongs. In other words, I could never have been such a fool as to believe in the happy and ‘respectable’ poor.

If, therefore, my ideal forced me to look for practical Socialism, what was it that forced me to conceive of an ideal? Now, here comes in what I said (in this paper) of my being a type of a certain group of mind.

Before the uprising of modern Socialism almost all intelligent people either were, or professed themselves to be, quite contented with the civilization of this century. Again, almost all of these really were thus contented, and saw nothing to do but to perfect the said civilization by getting rid of a few ridiculous survivals of the barbarous ages. To be short, this was the Whig frame of mind, natural to the modern prosperous middle-class men, who, in fact, as far as mechanical progress is concerned, have nothing to ask for, if only Socialism would leave them alone to enjoy their plentiful style.

But besides these contented ones there were others who were not really contented, but had a vague sentiment of repulsion to the triumph of civilization, but were coerced into silence by the measureless power of Whiggery. Lastly, there were a few who were in open rebellion against the said Whiggery - a few, say two, Carlyle and Ruskin. The latter, before my days of practical Socialism, was my master towards the ideal aforesaid, and, looking backward, I cannot help saying, by the way, how deadly dull the world would have been twenty years ago but for Ruskin! It was through him that I learned to give form to my discontent, which I must say was not by any means vague. Apart from the desire to produce beautiful things, the leading passion of my life has been and is hatred of modern civilization. What shall I say of it now, when the words are put into my mouth, my hope of its destruction - what shall I say of its supplanting by Socialism?

What shall I say concerning its mastery of and its waste of mechanical power, its commonwealth so poor, its enemies of the commonwealth so rich, its stupendous organization - for the misery of life! Its contempt of simple pleasures which everyone could enjoy but for its folly? Its eyeless vulgarity which has destroyed art, the one certain solace of labour? All this I felt then as now, but I did not know why it was so. The hope of the past times was gone, the struggles of mankind for many ages had produced nothing but this sordid, aimless, ugly confusion; the immediate future seemed to me likely to intensify all the present evils by sweeping away the last survivals of the days before the dull squalor of civilization had settled down on the world. This was a bad look-out indeed, and, if I may mention myself as a personality and not as a mere type, especially so to a man of my disposition, careless of metaphysics and religion, as well as of scientific analysis, but with a deep love of the earth and the life on it, and a passion for the history of the past of mankind. Think of it! Was it all to end in a counting-house on the top of a cinder-heap, with Podsnap's drawing-room in the offing, and a Whig committee dealing out champagne to the rich and margarine to the poor in such convenient proportions as would make all men contented together, though the pleasure of the eyes was gone from the world, and the place of Homer was to be taken by Huxley? Yet, believe me, in my heart, when I really forced myself to look towards the future, that is what I saw in it, and, as far as I could tell, scarce anyone seemed to think it worth while to struggle against such a consummation of civilization. So there I was in for a fine pessimistic end of life, if it had not somehow dawned on me that amidst all this filth of civilization the seeds of a great change, what we others call Social-Revolution, were beginning to germinate. The whole face of things was changed to me by that discovery, and all I had to do then in order to become a Socialist was to hook myself on to the practical movement, which, as before said, I have tried to do as well as I could.

To sum up, then, the study of history and the love and practice of art forced me into a hatred of the civilization which, if things were to stop as they are, would turn history into inconsequent nonsense, and make art a collection of the curiosities of the past which would have no serious relation to the life of the present.

But the consciousness of revolution stirring amidst our hateful modern society prevented me, luckier than many others of artistic perceptions, from crystallizing into a mere railer against ‘progress’ on the one hand, and on the other from wasting time and energy in any of the numerous schemes by which the quasi-artistic of the middle classes hope to make art grow when it has no longer any root, and thus I became a practical Socialist.

A last word or two. Perhaps some of our friends will say, what have we to do with these matters of history and art? We want by means of Social-Democracy to win a decent livelihood, we want in some sort to live, and that at once. Surely any one who professes to think that the question of art and cultivation must go before that of the knife and fork (and there are some who do propose that) does not understand what art means, or how that its roots must have a soil of a thriving and unanxious life. Yet it must be remembered that civilization has reduced the workman to such a skinny and pitiful existence, that he scarcely knows how to frame a desire for any life much better than that which he now endures perforce. It is the province of art to set the true ideal of a full and reasonable life before him, a life to which the perception and creation of beauty, the enjoyment of real pleasure that is, shall be felt to be as necessary to man as his daily bread, and that no man, and no set of men, can be deprived of this except by mere opposition, which should be resisted to the utmost.

目录

观念——《伟大的思想》代序

译者导读

一种荒谬的推理

荒谬的人

荒谬的创造

西西弗斯神话

附录

An Absurd Reasoning

The Absurd Man

Absurd Creation

The Myth Of Sisyphus

Appendix

返回总目录

图书在版编目(CIP)数据

西西弗斯神话:英汉对照/(法)加缪著;张清,刘凌飞译.—北京:中译出版社,2012. 9

(企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想)

ISBN 978-7-5001-3334-6

Ⅰ.①西… Ⅱ.①加… ②张… ③刘… Ⅲ.①英语—汉语—对照读物 ②随笔—作品集—法国—现代 Ⅳ.①H319.4:I

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(著作权合同登记:图字01-2012-7267号)

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Le Mythe de Sisyphe first published 1942

This translation first published by Hamish Hamilton 1955

Published in Penguin Books 1975

This edition published 2005

Translation copyright 1955 by Justin O’Brien

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未经允许,不得擅用。

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观念

——《伟大的思想》代序

梁文道

每隔一段时间,媒体就喜欢评选一次“影响世界的X个人”或者“改变历史的X项发明”。然而,在我看来,几乎所有人类史上最重大的变革,首先都是一种观念的变革。

我们今天之所以会关注气候的暖化与生物多样性的保存,是因为我们看待地球的方式变了,我们比以前更加意识到人在自然中的位置,也更加了解自然其实是一个动态的系统。放弃了人类可以主宰地球的世界观,这就意味着我们接受了一个观念的变化。同样地,我们不再相信男人一出生就该主宰女人,甚至也不再认为男女之别是不可动摇的本质区分;这也是观念的变化。如果说环保运动和女权运动有任何影响的话,那些影响一定就是从大脑开始的。也不要只看好事,20世纪最惨绝人寰的浩劫最初也只不过是一些小小的观念,危险的观念。比如说一位德国人,他相信人类的进化必以“次等种族”的灭绝为代价……

这套丛书不叫“伟大的巨著”,是因为它们体积都不大,而且还有不少是抽取自某些名著的章节。可它们却全是伟大的观念,例如达尔文论天择,潘恩论常识,它们共同构成了人类的观念地图。从头看它们一遍,就是检视文明所走过的道路,从深处理解我们今天变成这个样子的原因。

也许你会发现其中有些陌生的名字,或者看起来没有那么“伟大”的篇章(譬如普鲁斯特追忆他的阅读时光),但你千万不要小看它们。因为真正重要、真正能够产生启蒙效果的观念往往具有跨界移动的能力,它会跨越时空,离开它原属的领域,在另一个世界产生意外的效果。就像马可·波罗在监狱里述说的异国图景,当时有谁料得到那些荒诞的故事会诱发出哥伦布的旅程呢?我也无法猜测,这套小书的读者里头会不会有下一个哥伦布,他将带着令人惊奇的观念航向自己的大海。

《伟大的思想》中文版序

企鹅《伟大的思想》丛书2004年开始出版。在英国,已付印80种,尚有20种计划出版。美国出版的丛书规模略小,德国的同类丛书规模更小一些。丛书销量已远远超过200万册,在全球很多人中间,尤其是学生当中,普及了哲学和政治学。中文版《伟大的思想》丛书的推出,迈出了新的一步,令人欢欣鼓舞。

推出这套丛书的目的是让读者再次与一些伟大的非小说类经典著作面对面地交流。太长时间以来,确定版本依据这样一个假设——读者在教室里学习这些著作,因此需要导读、详尽的注释、参考书目等。此类版本无疑非常有用,但我想,如果能够重建托马斯·潘恩《常识》或约翰·罗斯金《艺术与人生》初版时的环境,重新营造更具亲和力的氛围,那也是一件有意思的事。当时,读者除了原作者及其自身的理性思考外没有其他参照。

这样做有一定的缺点:每个作者的话难免有难解或不可解之处,一些重要的背景知识会缺失。例如,读者对亨利·梭罗创作时的情况毫无头绪,也不了解该书的接受情况及影响。不过,这样做的优点也很明显。最突出的优点是,作者的初衷又一次变得重要起来——托马斯·潘恩的愤怒、查尔斯·达尔文的灵光、塞内加的隐逸。这些作家在那么多国家影响了那么多人的生活,其影响不可估量,有的长达几个世纪,读他们书的乐趣罕有匹敌。没有亚当·斯密或阿图尔·叔本华,难以想象我们今天的世界。这些小书的创作年代已很久远,但其中的话已彻底改变了我们的政治学、经济学、智力生活、社会规划和宗教信仰。

《伟大的思想》丛书一直求新求变。地区不同,收录的作家也不同。在中国或美国,一些作家更受欢迎。英国《伟大的思想》收录的一些作家在其他地方则默默无闻。称其为“伟大的思想”,我们亦慎之又慎。思想之伟大,在于其影响之深远,而不意味着这些思想是“好”的,实际上一些书可列入“坏”思想之列。丛书中很多作家受到同一丛书其他作家的很大影响,例如,马塞尔·普鲁斯特承认受约翰·罗斯金影响很大,米歇尔·德·蒙田也承认深受塞内加影响,但其他作家彼此憎恨,如果发现他们被收入同一丛书,一定会气愤难平。不过,读者可自行决定这些思想是否合理。我们衷心希望,您能在阅读这些杰作中得到乐趣。

《伟大的思想》出版者

西蒙·温德尔

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

Penguin’s Great Ideas series began publication in 2004. In the UK we now have 80 copies in print with plans to publish a further 20. A somewhat smaller list is published in the USA and a related, even smaller series in Germany. e books have sold now well over two million copies and have popularized philosophy and politics for many people around the world—particularly students. e launch of a Chinese Great Ideas series is an extremely exciting new development.

The intention behind the series was to allow readers to be once more face to face with some of the great non-fiction classics. For too long the editions of these books were created on the assumption that you were studying them in the classroom and that the student needed an introduction, extensive notes, a bibliography and so on. While this sort of edition is of course extremely useful, I thought it would be interesting to recreate a more intimate feeling—to recreate the atmosphere in which, for example, Thomas Paine’s Common Sense or John Ruskin’s On Art and Life was first published—where the reader has no other guide than the original author and his or her own common sense.

This method has its severe disadvantages—there will inevitably be statements made by each author which are either hard or impossible to understand, some important context might be missing. For example the reader has no clue as to the conditions under which Henry Thoreau was writing his book and the reader cannot be aware of the book’s reception or influence. The advantages however are very clear—most importantly the original intentions of the author become once more important. e sense of anger in Thomas Paine, of intellectual excitement in Charles Darwin, of resignation in Seneca—few things can be more thrilling than to read writers who have had such immeasurable influence on so many lives, sometimes for centuries, in many different countries. Our world would not make sense without Adam Smith or Arthur Schopenhauer—our politics, economics, intellectual lives, social planning, religious beliefs have all been fundamentally changed by the words in these little books, first written down long ago.

The Great Ideas series continues to change and evolve. In different parts of the world different writers would be included. In China or in the United States there are some writers who are liked much more than others. In the UK there are writers in the Great Ideas series who are ignored elsewhere. We have also been very careful to call the series Great Ideas — these ideas are great because they have been so enormously influential, but this does not mean that they are Good Ideas — indeed some of the books would probably qualify as Bad Ideas. Many of the writers in the series have been massively influenced by others in the series — for example Marcel Proust owned so much to John Ruskin, Michel de Montaigne to Seneca. But others hated each other and would be distressed to find themselves together in the same series! But readers can decide the validity of these ideas for themselves. We very much hope that you enjoy these remarkable books.

Simon Winder

Publisher

Great Ideas

译者导读

阿尔贝·加缪(Albert Camus, 1913-1960),法国作家、记者、哲学家,出生于法属阿尔及利亚的蒙多维。幼年丧父,由做女佣的母亲抚养成人,通过半工半读取得哲学学士学位。曾加入法国共产党,后被驱逐出党。1960年1月4日,加缪在法国桑斯附近遇车祸身亡。

作为记者,加缪曾在多家报社发表过文章。加缪曾创办剧团,写过剧本,也做过演员,主要剧本有《误会》(1944)、《戒严》(1948)和《正义》(1949)等。此外,加缪写了很多著名的小说,其成名作《局外人》(1942)成为荒诞小说的代表作,长篇小说《鼠疫》(1947)曾获法国批评奖。1957年,加缪被授予诺贝尔文学奖。

加缪对哲学的首要贡献当属其关于荒谬的思想。他将荒谬视为我们对世界的“明晰性”和“意义”的欲望与无法满足这种欲望的状况相互作用的结果。他的思想集中表现于《西西弗斯神话》。1951年加缪发表哲学论文《反抗者》,开始了与萨特等存在主义者长达一年的论战,直到与萨特决裂。人们这才发现,一直被看作存在主义者的加缪原来是荒诞哲学及文学的代表人物。

《西西弗斯神话》是加缪的一部哲学论文集,1942年出版。加缪在书中阐释了自己的荒谬哲学,即人在面对一个没有上帝以及永恒的真理或价值的世界时对意义、统一性以及明晰性的无益探求。在书的一开始,加缪就提出了一个引人入胜的命题:“真正严肃的哲学问题只有一个,那就是自杀。”书中围绕这一问题对荒谬进行了详细阐述,并列举了几类荒谬的生活。最后一章对人们生活的荒谬性与反复推石头上山的西西弗斯的状况进行了比较。在书的最后,作者总结性地说:“迈向高处的挣扎足够填充一个人的心灵。人们应当想象西西弗斯是快乐的。”

《西西弗斯神话》出版时加缪29岁,而这不到30年的人生历程对于加缪来说无疑是坎坷的:幼年丧父,在贫民区摸爬滚打地长大,在他人的资助与自己的努力下上了大学,又不幸染上肺结核,尝遍人间疾苦。艰辛的人生经历促使他不断进行命运的思索,探讨人生命题。和许多有责任感的学者一样,加缪关心时世,政治立场鲜明,是一位有态度的创作者。在第二次世界大战中,加缪在《阿尔及利亚报》任记者。反对绥靖政策的他因触犯当局而不得已回到法国。后又从《巴黎晚报》离开,迁居奥兰,也就是在那里他完成了本书的创作。

加缪曾在《笔记Ⅱ》(1945)中写道:“为什么我是一个艺术家而不是哲学家?因为我是根据词而不是概念来思维的。”研读《西西弗斯神话》,读者能清楚地意识到这一点,对于译者而言体会则更深刻。文章字里行间传达的是至诚而实在的哲思,作者绝不会拿各种概念性的东西把读者引入虚幻的意境,有的只是诚恳的说理。正基于此,译者在传译的过程中不敢也不忍轻易舍一词一字,生怕断了作者的“思维”。因此,译文在保证思想流畅、表达准确的基础上,用心通过一字一词努力再现这位慎思的哲人诚挚的“思维”。

一种荒谬的推理

以下章节所述是在这个时代随处可见的一种荒谬的细腻情感,而不是我们这个时代(严格地说)尚未知晓的一种荒谬哲学。因此本书在一开始就指出书中哪些内容得益于某些当代思想家,是完全合理的。我丝毫没有掩盖这一点的意思,所以你会发现本书自始至终一直在引用与评论这些内容。

但同时注意到这一点也是有益的,那就是迄今已被定论的荒谬在本书则被当作一个出发点。从这个意义上讲,或许可以说,我的论述中存在暂时性的东西:人们无法对其立场做出预判断。你只能在书中发现对一种纯粹的思维病态的描写。诸如形而上学或者信仰,片刻也没有出现过,这就是本书的局限与仅有的偏见。作此澄清是出于某些个人的经历。

荒谬与自杀

真正严肃的哲学问题只有一个,那就是自杀。

判断生活是否有价值,无异于回答最基本的哲学问题。其他一切问题——诸如世界是否有三个维度,思想有九个还是十二个范畴——都在其次。这些不过是游戏;人们首先要做的是回答问题。倘若真如尼采所称,哲学家为赢得重视就必须以身作则,那么你就能体会到回答那一问题的重要性了,因为这一回答是先于实际行动的。这些都是可以为心灵所感知的事实,却也需要仔细的研究才能被明白无误地理解。

我自问如何判断此问题急迫于彼问题,答案是人们可以从问题所牵涉的行动入手。我从未见过谁是为实体论问题而死的。伽利略曾坚持一条非常重要的科学真理,但当这条真理危及自己的生命时,他毅然决然地放弃了它。从某种意义上说,他的做法正确。 [1] 为这一真理而遭受火刑柱的惩罚是不值得的。从深层次而言,地球和太阳哪个围绕哪个转是无关紧要的。说实话,这是一个徒劳无获的问题。另一方面,我又看见很多人因为觉得生活毫无价值而死去。我还看见,有的人为了那些赋予他们生存意义的想法或幻想而荒唐地结束了生命。(这一所谓的生存理由同样也是一个绝佳的死亡动机。)因而我得出结论:生活的意义是所有问题中最急迫的。那么如何回答这一问题呢?对于一切基本的问题(我指的是构成死亡威胁的问题,或是激发生活热情的问题),或许只有两种思考方式,一种是帕里斯 [2] 的方式,一种是堂·吉诃德 [3] 的方式。唯有明摆着的事实并恰如其分地加上抒情的表达方式,才能让我们同时保持激情与清醒。对于一个既如此卑微又如此富于情感的主题,人们可以发现,学术性的、经典的逻辑论证法必须让步于一种更加朴素的思想立场,这种立场既出自人之常情,又富有同情心理。

自杀从来都是被作为一种社会现象来研究的,而我们的研究恰恰相反,我们在一开始关注的就是个体思想与自杀之间的关系。这种行为正如一件伟大的艺术作品,在心灵的静默中孕育,行为者本身并没有意识到。而某个晚上,他却扣动了扳机,或是纵身一跃。我曾听说过一个公寓经理自杀的例子。五年前他失去了自己的女儿,打那时起整个人就变了很多,而这一变故“侵蚀”着他。用这个词来形容再准确不过了。开始思考也就开始了被侵蚀。社会与这种开始没什么必然联系,问题出在人们心里,那才是应该探究的地方。这一死亡游戏是从清醒地面对生活体验过渡到逃离光明,人们须追踪并且理解这种游戏。

自杀有很多理由,总的来说,最显而易见的并非最具有杀伤力。自杀很少是由反思引起的(但也不能排除)。什么引发了危机,几乎总无法证实。报纸常会说是“内心的悲恸”,或是“不治之症”。这些解释是说得过去的。但是人们应该弄清楚,出事那天是不是有个朋友用一种冷漠的语调和这个绝望的人说话。如果有,那么这个朋友就是有罪的。因为这足以触发仍在酝酿中的怨恨与烦恼。 [4]

然而,如果难以确定思想上决定自杀的微妙步骤——那一准确时刻,那么从这一行为本身推知它带来的后果则要容易得多。从某种意义上说,如在情节剧中一样,自杀等于是自白,承认生活对你来说已无法承受,抑或你不理解生活。但是,我们也不要把这些类比扯得太远,还是要回到日常话语中来,那么承认的就只是“不值得这么费力”地生活。诚然,生活从来都不容易。你不断接收生存发出的指令,并以某种姿态回应,回应的原因有很多,其中首要原因就是习惯。自愿结束生命意味着你已意识到,甚至是本能地意识到这种习惯的荒谬性,意识到找不到任何深刻的理由去生活,发现每天的忙忙碌碌毫无意义,遭受痛苦亦无益处。

那种无法确定的感情夺去了生活中必要的精神昏睡,那么这种感情究竟是什么呢?世界即使需要用糟糕的理由来阐释,对于人来说也是熟悉的。相反,世界如果突然间失去了幻想与光明,人就会觉得自己是陌路人。这种被流放的感觉是无可救药的,因为他被剥夺了对失去家园的记忆和对应许之乡的盼望。人与生活的这种分离,如同演员与舞台的分离一样,可以说正是荒谬感。如果那些有轻生念头的人都是健康人,那么无须多加解释人们就会发现,这种感情与对死的渴望之间有一种直接的关系。

本书的主旨就是表现荒谬与自杀之间的这种关系,恰恰涉及以自杀来解决荒谬的切实手段。原则上可以肯定,对于一个诚实的人来说,对他信以为真的东西应当付诸行动。对存在的荒谬性的笃信必然要支配人的行为。人们可以理所当然地发出疑问——清楚明白而非故作哀伤地,如此重要的一条结论会不会要求人们尽快摆脱一种难以理解的环境呢。当然,我指的是想达到自身协调的人们。

表达得清楚一点,这一问题就显得既简单又不好解决。如果认为简单问题的答案也很简单,清晰明了带来的必是清晰明了,那就大错特错了。若先验地颠倒问题的各项,就如人是自杀还是不自杀的问题一样,只有两种哲理结果:是或不是,这就显得过于简单了。但是应当考虑到那些不停发问而不作定论的人。这里我完全没有讽刺的意味:这些人占了大多数。我还注意到,有些人嘴上说“不”,行为表现却好像他们想的是“是”。事实上,根据尼采 [5] 的标准,他们会以这种或那种方式说“是”。另一方面,那些自杀的人常常对生活的意义十分确信。这些矛盾屡见不鲜。甚至可以说,这些矛盾从来没有如此鲜明过,在这一点上,逻辑性变得十分可贵。把哲学理论与这些理论信仰者的行为加以比较,是再平常不过的了。但是必须指出,在拒绝赋予生活以意义的人中,除了文学作品中的人物基里洛夫 [6] ,传奇人物贝尔格里诺斯 [7] 和善于假说的朱尔斯·勒奎尔,没有一个人把否定逻辑推理发展到否定生活。叔本华 [8] 曾坐在一张华丽的桌子旁大赞自杀,他也因此常被拿来做笑柄。这没有什么可笑的。不把悲剧当回事没有那么可悲,但是却可以用来判断一个人。

面对这种矛盾与令人费解之事,我们还一定要得出结论说,一个人对生活的看法与他逃离生活的做法之间没有关系吗?我们不要在这方面夸大其词。在一个人与自己生活的关系中,有些东西比全世界的苦难加起来都要强大。身体的判断与心理的判断不相上下,而身体面对毁灭时会畏缩不前。我们先养成生活的习惯,然后才养成思考的习惯。在每天都催人走向死亡的竞赛中,身体保持着绝对的领先地位。简言之,这种矛盾的本质在于我所说的逃避行为,因为按照帕斯卡的说法,它既低于又高于消遣行为。逃避是始终不变的游戏。典型的逃避——对死亡的躲闪,是本书的第三个主题,那就是希望。这是对自己“应得”的另一种生活的希望,或者说是对那些不是为生活本身而生活的人的欺骗,这种生活的伟大目标将超越生活,使生活得到升华,赋予生活以意义,然后背叛生活。

一切事物都会造成混乱。至此,人们玩弄词句并且假装相信,拒绝赋予生活以意义必然得出生活没有价值的结论,而这些努力并没有白费。事实上,在这两种判断之间没有必然的共同标准。人们要做的只是不要受先前指出的混乱、分离与前后不一的误导,必须将一切置之不理,直入实际问题。人们自杀是因为生活没有价值,这确实是一个真理——只是因为不言自明而显得不甚成熟。但是这种对生存的侵犯,这种让生活深陷其中的断然否定是由生活无意义这一事实造成的吗?生活的荒谬性要求人们借助希望或者自杀来逃离生活吗?——这正是在将其他一切置之不理时必须阐明、追问以及解释的东西。这种“荒谬”操控了死亡吗?在所有思想方法与一切不偏不倚的心理活动之外,必须优先考虑这一问题。“客观”的心理总是将意义、矛盾与心理学引入所有问题,但这些因素在这种探索与热情中不占有任何位置。需要的只是一个不公正的思想,换句话说就是逻辑思想。这并非易事。做事合乎逻辑常很容易,但要坚持到痛苦的最后则几乎是不可能的。因此,自杀的人通常顺由自己的情感变化走到终点。对死亡的思考让我借机提出唯一令我感兴趣的问题:至死不变的逻辑是否存在?我无从知晓,只有借助证据进行探寻——这里我指出了这种推理的源头,在探寻中不能有感情的冲动。这就是我所称的荒谬的推理。许多人已经开始这一探索,不知他们是否还在坚持。

卡尔·雅斯培 [9] 指出,世界不可能形成一个整体,当他大声疾呼“这样的限制让我找到自己,于是我不能再拿自己正表达的一个客观观点做挡箭牌,于是不管是我自己还是他人的存在都不再是我的对象”时,他其实是在继很多人之后又提到了那些无水的沙漠,在那里思想已山穷水尽。继很多人之后,没错,但是他们曾经多少渴望走出荒漠啊!许多人,即使是一些最卑微的人,都到达了那最后的十字路口,而思想在那里犹豫不决了。然后他们便放弃了自己最宝贵的东西,他们的生命。其他人,那些精神上的贵族,同样放弃了,只是他们采取了思想的自杀这种最纯粹的反叛。其实,真正的努力应该是尽可能待在原地,仔细考查那些边远地区的奇花异草。在这场非人性的表演中,荒谬、希望与死亡展开了对话,而坚持与明智则是拥有特权的观众。思想于是可以先分析这支灵巧的入门舞蹈的舞者们,然后加以阐释并再亲自体验一次。

荒谬的墙

正如伟大的作品一样,深邃的感情总是静水流深。心灵中规律性的冲动与排斥也同样发生在习惯性的做与想中,并且在心灵本身并不知情的诸多后果中重新上演。伟大的感情拥有自己的宇宙,或宏伟壮观,或惨不忍睹。这些感情用自己的热情点亮一个专属于自己的世界,并在这个世界里找到适合自己的基本立场。有忌妒的宇宙、利欲的宇宙、自私的宇宙,也有慷慨大度的宇宙。一个宇宙,换句话说也就是一种形而上学、一种思想立场。适合于这种已然自立门派的感情的,甚至会更适合于那种情感,它们像为我们创造美好、由荒谬所激起的东西一样基本不可预料,含混而又明确,遥远而又“存在”。

在任何一个街角,荒谬的感情都可能正面直击任何一个人。实际上,赤裸裸的荒谬是让人费神的,它发出光亮,却不甚耀眼,难以捉摸,但这一难题又值得人思索。事实上,某个人可能永远都会不为人所知,在他身上有某种不能克服的东西我们无从发现。然而在现实情况中,我通过人们的行为、其全部活动,以及他们给生活带来的影响来认识和辨认他们。同样,那些不合理性的感情没有为分析创造任何着脚点,对于它们我能够在现实中加以定义与领悟,方法就是收集他们在思维领域的影响,把握并记录它们的所有面貌特征,描画属于它们的宇宙。可以肯定的是,即使一个演员我见过上百次,显然我也不会因此多了解他一点。但是如果我总结他所演绎的英雄人物,说我在列数他所演的第一百个角色后对他有了更深的了解,这听起来还像是真的。这一浅显的悖论也是一则寓言,其中寓有深义。它倡导人们用伪装,同样也用发自内心的冲动来定义自己。因此,有一种更为低调的感情,处于内心深处,难以接近,却又通过所包含的行动,以及所表现的思想立场而部分地展现出来。我显然是在用这种方式定义一种方法,而同样明显的是这是一种分析方法,而非知识方法。因为方法就意味着形而上学;形而上学则会无意中揭示一些往往自称毫不知情的结论。与此相类似的是,一本书最后几页的内容已经包含在头几页中了。这样一种联系是不可避免的。这里定义的方法承认这种观点——不可能有全然真实的认识。只有表象可以被效仿,基本态度能被人感知。

或许我们可以在各不相同却又紧密相联的智力世界、生活艺术世界,或单纯艺术世界超越那种难以捉摸的荒谬感情。荒谬性的思潮是在初始阶段,结尾是那荒谬的宇宙,还有那种思想态度,它用自己真实的色彩点亮这个世界,展示出那种态度在这荒谬的宇宙中所辨识出的无可改变的特权面貌。

一切伟大的行动与一切伟大的思想都有一个荒唐的开端。伟大的作品常常诞生于某个街角或某个餐厅的旋转门里,荒谬性也不例外。荒谬的世界更是从那种卑微的出身产生出了高贵。在某些情况下,一个人被问及他的思想品质时,答道:“没什么品质”,那他可能是在伪装。那些受人喜爱的人非常了解这一点。但是如果回答是真心的,如果此回答表现了特异的心理状态,此时无声就是雄辩,日常活动的链条就被打破了,而心灵却搜寻不到能把它再联结起来的环节,那么可以说这就是荒谬性发出的最早信号。

碰巧舞台背景塌了。起床、乘电车,在办公室或工厂待四个钟头,吃饭、乘电车、工作四个钟头、吃饭、睡觉,周一、周二、周三、周四、周五、周六,都遵循着同样的节奏——大部分时候沿着这条路走是很容易的。但是有一天,“为什么”出现了。于是“就开始了”——这是至关重要的。厌倦来自一种机械生活的结束,但同时,它也激发了意识的冲动。它唤醒了意识,并驱动着随后的事物,而随后便是逐渐回复那根链条,或者说这就是彻底的觉醒。当完全觉醒后,结果也如期而至:自杀或者恢复。厌倦本身就有一些令人生厌的东西。在此,我必须给出我的结论:厌倦是件好事。因为万事始于意识,若不经过意识,任何事情都是无价值的。这些观点没有什么独创之处,却是显而易见的,足够对荒谬性的起源作一粗略回顾。正如海德格尔 [10] 所言,单纯的“忧虑”乃万事之发端。

同样,在不显山不露水的生活中,每天都是时间带着我们走。但是也经常有那样的片刻,就是我们必须带着时间走。我们指望着未来过活:“明天”、“以后”、“在你走出自己的路之后”、“等你到了一定年龄就懂了”。这些无关紧要的事会带来奇迹,因为这终究是关系到死亡的问题。然而有一天,一个人注意到,或是跟人说,他三十岁了,他是在肯定自己的年轻,但同时他也把自己和时间联系起来,在时间中他占有一席之位。他承认自己站在曲线的某一点上,并意识到必须走到曲线的尽头。他属于时间,而通过控制住自己的恐惧,他才认清了自己最糟糕的敌人。明天,他在期待明天,但是体内的每一个细胞都应该是拒绝明天的。这种肉体的反抗就是荒谬。 [11]

降低一个层次,陌生感就会伺机而入:察觉到世界是“密实”的,感觉到一块石头在多大程度上对于我们是陌生而不可思议的,以及自然或某处风景能多么强烈地否定我们。在一切美的内心都有一些非人性的东西,那些山、那柔和的天空、那树木的轮廓在这一刻失去了我们拿来装点它们的虚幻的意义,从此它们变得比失乐园还要遥远。世界最初就有的敌意会穿越几千年的光景来反对我们。转瞬间,我们不再理解这个世界,因为几个世纪以来,我们明白的只是我们事先归于这个世界的形象与设计,因为自此以后,我们不再拥有这项技能。世界变回它本来的样子,从我们手中逃离。那被习惯所掩盖的舞台布景又恢复了原来的面貌,和我们保持一段距离。这就好像是在某段时间里,我们几个月前或几年前曾爱过的一个女人的面孔由熟悉变得陌生起来。我们甚至开始渴望那些突然让我们变得孤身一人的东西,只是这一时机尚未成熟。唯有一事:世界的那种密实与陌生就是荒谬。

人也会隐藏非人性的东西。在某些清醒时刻,其姿态中机械的一面——那种无意义的哑剧,让周围的所有事物都变得愚蠢。一个人正在玻璃隔墙后打电话;你听不到他,只能看到他不可思议的哑剧表演:你在想,这人怎么会存在。面对自己非人性特质时的不适,看到自己的形象时不可估量的落差,这种被当代某作家称作“恶心” [12] 的东西,也是荒谬。同样,有时与我们在镜中相会的陌生人,我们在自己照片中发现的那熟悉却又让人恐慌的兄弟,也是荒谬。

最后我要说到死亡以及我们对死亡的态度。关于这一点已有详尽论述,我只要避免引人哀惋即可。然而,每个人似乎都在无人“知晓”的情况下生活,人们永远都会对这一点感到惊讶。这是因为在现实中,人们没有死亡的经历。确切一点说,人们经历过的只是生活中遇到并意识到的东西。这里不妨勉强谈论他人的死亡经历,那只是一种替代物,一种错觉,不会让我们十分信服。这种悲伤的经历是没有说服力的。恐惧实际上来自事件确定无疑的方面。如果时间让我们感到害怕,那是因为它确定了问题,解决办法随之而来。所有关于灵魂的精彩言论都会让其反面得到令人信服的证明,至少在一段时期内如此。灵魂从一巴掌留不下任何痕迹的无生气的躯体中消失了,这一不寻常经历中基础而又具有决定性的那一面即为荒谬感。在这种命运的死亡之光下,其无用性显而易见。在操纵我们处境的残酷的确定性面前,任何一种道德、任何一种努力都无法先验地证明自己的正确性。

我重申:所有这些已不止一次被谈到。我在这里只是想做一个快速的归类,并清楚明白地指出主题。这些主题贯穿于所有文学与哲学中,日常谈话为之提供养分,没有重塑的可能。然而要想随后自问这一基本问题,就有必要对这些事实了然于胸。我还要重申:我对荒谬之发现的兴趣不及对荒谬之后果的兴趣深厚。假如人们确信这些事实,那么会得出什么结论?又要做到什么程度才会不逃避任何事情呢?人们是自愿死亡,还是凡事都抱着希望呢?在此有必要对有关智力的问题预先做一次同样快速的清理归类工作。

思想上要做的第一步就是明辨是非,然而,思想一旦开始自省,首先发现的就会是矛盾,这一点是不言自明的。几个世纪以来,关于这一问题的论述,没有人能比亚里士多德更简洁而明白:“这些观点不攻自破,结果常常被人取笑。因为我们在肯定一切皆真实的同时也肯定了这种论点之反面的真实性,结果也就肯定了自己论题的谬误性(因为反面的论点是不承认它是真实的)。而如果有人说一切皆谬误,这一论点本身就是错的。倘若我们宣称只有我们论点的反面是错误的,或者只有我们的论点不是错误的,我们则是被迫承认了无数真实或错误的判断。因为一个人在表达一种真实论点时宣称它是真实的,同时也承认了以此类推的无限论点。”

这一恶性循环只是系列中的第一环,在这一系列中,自省的思想迷失在令人晕眩的旋转中。正是这些悖论的简单性使它们变得不可克服。不论如何玩弄词藻,操纵逻辑,理解最重要的是一致。思想即使在最复杂详尽的过程中,其最强烈的欲望与人们在面对自己的宇宙时那种无意识的感情也是相似的。这是对熟悉事物的一种坚持,是对明晰性的一种渴望。对一个人来说,理解这个世界就是把它简化为人的状态,为之打上自己的印记。猫的宇宙不会是蚂蚁窝。“一切思想都是拟人化的”,这一不言而喻的真理没有其他含义。同样,旨在理解现实的思想只有把现实简化为思想领域的概念,才能得到满足。如果人们意识到宇宙同自己一样也可以有爱和遭遇,那么人们可能就会顺服了。倘若思想在闪亮的现象之镜中发现种种永恒的关系,既能把现象归纳为单一的原则,又能把它们自身归纳为单一的原则,那么此思想就可被看作一种思维上的愉悦,有福之人的神话不过是对这种愉悦的可笑模仿。那种对统一性的怀恋,那种对绝对性的渴望,阐明了对人类演绎的这出戏剧的基本冲动。这种怀恋的确存在,但并不意味着必须马上满足这种渴望。因为如果我们将分隔欲望与成功的鸿沟填平,我们就是肯定了巴门尼德 [13] “一”(不论“一”为何物)的现实,我们就陷入了一种可笑的思想矛盾:这种思想肯定完全统一,并且用这种肯定证明自身的差异以及自称要解决的多样性。这另一个恶性循环足以与我们的希望产生冲突。

这些也是不言而喻的真理。我又要重申:它们本身没有什么有趣之处,有趣之处在它们导致的结果。我知道还有一个自明之理,认为人终有一死。人们可以列数从这一真理推断出极端结论的种种思想。在我们幻想自己知道的与自己真正知道的之间,在实际赞成与假装无知之间,有着常见的差距。这种差距允许我们在生活中保有那种一旦真正投入考验便会颠覆我们整个生活的想法。我们有必要将这种差距作为本书一个不变的参考点。面对思想中这一纠缠不清的矛盾,我们应该完全掌控把我们与自己的创造相分离的裂缝。只要思想在这静止的希望世界里保持沉默,万事都会反映并且安排在这被怀念的统一性中。但是一旦破静为动,这个世界就开始破裂、倒塌:给认识留下无数闪光的碎片。对于重塑这个表面熟悉而平静、能给我们带来心理安宁的世界,我们一定是不抱任何希望的。经过这么多个世纪的探寻,许许多多的思想家选择了放弃,我们非常清楚,我们所有的知识都是这样。除了专业的理性论者,如今人们对真正的知识已感到绝望。假使要书写唯一有意义的人类思想史,那么写的肯定是这些思想产出后接连不断的悔恨史与这些思想的无能史。

对于何人、何物,我可以说:“我知道!”我能感觉到我深藏的内心,我断定它是存在的。我能触摸到这个世界,我同样断定它是存在的。我所有的学识到此为止,余下要做的就是构建。因为如果我试图抓住感到确信的自我,如果我试图对之加以定义并总结,那么它就只能像水一样从我指间流走。我可以勾画出它能表现出来的所有面貌,以及那些归属于它的面貌,那种成长,那种源头,那种热情或那些沉默,那种高贵或那种邪恶。但是诸多面貌无法简单相加,这颗属于我的心对我而言永远都是不可定义的。在我对自身存在的确定性和我试图赋予这种确信的内容之间,存在着不可填充的沟壑,我对自己永远都是陌生的。如同在逻辑学中一样,在心理学中也是只有事实而没有真理。苏格拉底的“认识你自己”,同我们忏悔时的“守德”一样有价值。它们同时揭露了一种对过去的怀恋和一种无知,都是关于伟大主题的乏味游戏,这些游戏只有在严格的相近范围内才是可以被理解的。

树,我知道有嶙峋的表皮;水,我能品尝它的味道。那草木的清香与夜晚的星斗,那身心放松的晚上——我怎能否定这个世界?它的能量与力量我都可以感觉得到。然而世间的所有知识都不能向我保证说,这个世界是我的。你向我描述它,并教我给它分类。你列数它的规则,在我渴求知识时我承认这些规则都是对的。你拆分它的结构,于是我的希望增加了。最后,你教给我说这精彩纷呈、色彩斑斓的寰宇可以被还原为原子,原子又能被还原成电子。所有这一切都不错,我等着你继续说下去。可是你又告诉我有一个看不见的行星系统,电子在万有引力的作用下绕着一个核转动。你描绘了一个图像,为我解释这个世界。这时我发现你已被还原成了诗意:我永远也不会明白。我还有时间气愤吗?你已经改换了理论,于是教给我一切的科学以一个假设告终,那清醒的开创人以比喻收尾,那种不确定性成了一件艺术品。我还有什么必要作这么多努力呢?群山柔和的线条与夜晚之手对我那颗困扰之心的抚摸,教给我更多。我又回到了最初。我认识到如果通过科学我能掌握各种现象,并一一加以列数,我就不能同样地领悟这个世界。当我用手指勾勒出世界的所有起伏后,我就不能再进一步了。而且你给了我一个二选一的题目,选项一是一个可以确定的描述,只是什么也没有教给我;选项二是一些假设,据称可以授予我知识,却都无法确定。我对于自身,对于这个世界都感到陌生,我有的只是在自我肯定后又迅速自我否定的思想。我只有不再去了解、不再去生活才能得到平静,对于征服的欲望遭遇了阻挡它进攻的墙,这是什么情况?有愿望就意味着要引出多个悖论。万事都以这种方式被安排,目的是形成由不经思考、不加用心与选择死亡产生的受荼毒的平静。

思智也以它的方式告诉我这个世界是荒谬的。其对立面——盲目的理性,很可能会宣称一切皆清晰。虽然我一直等待这一点被证明,并且期望它是正确的,但是多少自命不凡的年代后,我从那么多能言善辩之才的身上明白,这是错误的。至少在这一领域,如果我不知,就没有幸福。那一普遍的理性(现实的或是道德的)、那种宿命论、那些解释一切的范畴,足以贻笑大方。它们和精神毫不相干,否定了其将受到束缚的深刻真理,因而在这混沌不清的有限的宇宙中,人的命运承担了它的意义。大批不合理性涌现在他周围,直至他终老。人们业已恢复的洞察力如今变得审慎起来,于是荒谬的感情也变得清晰而明确。我说过这个世界是荒谬的,只是未免操之过急。只能说,这个世界本身是非理性的。而所谓荒谬,就是不合理性遭遇了对清晰性的极度渴望,这清晰性的召唤在人的内心回荡。荒谬同时取决于人和这个世界,它将两者捆绑在一起,正如只有仇恨才能把两物联结在一起一样。这是我在这个无限宇宙的探险之旅中能辨识出的所有。我们在此停顿一下。如果我承认这种决定我与生活之间关系的荒谬性,如果我在观赏这个世界的风景时充满惆怅与感伤,在追逐科学的过程中被迫变得头脑清晰,那么为了那些确定性我就必须牺牲一切,就必须准确地看待它们以保持这种确定性。最重要的是,我必须使我的行为与之相适应,并且追踪其造成的影响。我指的是体面。但是在此之前我想知道思想能否在那些荒漠中生存。

我知道思想至少已进入了那些荒漠,在那里它找到了自己的面包,在那里它意识到之前一直是从幻象中汲取营养,证明了人类思考中最亟待解决的几个主题。

荒谬从它被承认的那一刻起,便成为一种强烈的感情,且是最折磨人的那种。但是不管人们能否和自己诸多强烈感情共处,能否接受这些感情的规则,这规则都可能在感情爆发的同时烧毁心灵,这便是全部问题所在,但还不是我们马上要谈的问题。它属于这种经历的中心问题,还有时间再回到这一问题上。我们还是先来辨认一下那些源自荒漠的主题与冲动吧,列数这些因素便足够了,它们如今已广为人知。过去,总会有人去捍卫非理性的权利。有一种思想被冠以屈辱的标签,这种传统一直都有。对理性主义的批评不绝于耳,似乎也没有必要再发起一次。那些自相矛盾的体系力争绊倒理性,似乎理性真的一直遥遥领先,而这些体系的重建便是我们的时代标志。但与其说这是理性效力的一个证明,不如说是其希望的强烈程度的一个证明。从历史角度看,两种立场的不变性阐明了人这种本质上的强烈感情,人纠结在对统一的欲望和对包围自己的藩篱可能具有的清晰视觉之间。

但是,或许任何一个时代对理性的攻击都不及我们这个时代强烈。自从查拉图斯特拉 [14] 疾呼:“偶然乃是世上最古老的贵族,我把它交还给万物,我把万物从受制于目的的奴隶状态中解放出来。”自从克尔凯郭尔 [15] 染上不治之症——“这种疾病导致死亡,而身后一片什么也没了”之后,荒谬思想的主题便接踵而至,有意味深长的,也有折磨人心的。或者至少,本书的附文——有关不合理性与宗教思想的主题,显得至关重要。从雅斯贝尔斯 [16] 到海德格尔,从克尔恺郭尔到舍斯托夫 [17] ,从现象学家到舍勒 [18] ,在逻辑学与道德范围内,构成了一个由幻想作为联系的思想家族,尽管其方法与目的各异,但他们都固执地阻挡着理性的光明之路,而去探索直通真理的道路。我在此设定的是那些为人知晓且被体验过的思想,不论其过去或现在的目标是什么,它们都源自那个无法描绘的宇宙——这里矛盾、对立、痛苦与无能横行,其共性正是已揭示出的主题。必须说明,对这些思想来说,最重要的也是从那些发现中得出的诸多结论,其重要程度要求对这些人必须进行各自分析。但目前我们只关心其发现,以及独创性的试验,只注意指出它们一致的地方。如果说对其哲学进行研究有些冒昧,但无论如何我们可以阐释一下其共同的思想倾向,这也就足够了。

海德格尔冷静地观察了人类的状态,并表示这种存在是耻辱的。在整个生存链条中,唯一的现实是“焦虑”。对于迷失在世界及其岔路上的人而言,这焦虑是一种飞逝而过的恐惧。可是如果这种恐惧变得自知,它就会变成痛苦,这是头脑清醒之人(“存在集中表现在其身上”)永远的立场。这位哲学教授用世界上最抽象的语言坚定地写道:“人类存在的限定性与限制性特征比人类自身更原始。”他对康德 [19] 的兴趣只是认可其“纯理性”的限制性特征,他在分析的最后总结道:“世界无法再给予处在痛苦之中的人任何东西。”这种焦虑在他看来,似乎比世界上所有的范畴都重要的多,以至于他的所想所谈都是关于它。他列举了焦虑的各个方面:当正常人企图平息他的焦虑时,他会感到厌烦;当思想在沉思死亡时,他感到害怕。海德格尔没有将意识与荒谬分开。意识到死亡便是召唤了焦虑,“存在于是以意识为中介向自己发出了召唤”,这正是痛苦的声音,它恳请存在“从那无名的‘它们’中回归”。对他来说,人必须保持警觉,不到圆满结束不能睡去。他立于这个荒谬的世界中,指出它生命短暂的特性,在废墟中搜寻自己的路。

雅斯贝尔斯对任何实体论都感到绝望,因为他断言,我们已失去了“天真”。他明白我们没有办法超越显见的死亡游戏,他明白思想的终点就是失败。他在历史所揭示的精神冒险上徘徊,并且毫不怜悯地揭露每个体系中的缺陷,揭露那包罗万象的幻觉,揭露那什么也不加掩藏的说教。在这个遭受毁坏的世界,知识的不可能性已得到证实,永远的虚无似乎是唯一的现实,无法补救的绝望似乎是唯一的立场,而雅斯贝尔斯企图在其中找到发现天机的“阿里阿德涅之线” [20]

就舍斯托夫而言,他的全部作品都异常枯燥,向着同样的真理不懈努力。他不辞劳苦地论证,最严密的体系、最普遍的理性主义最终总是在人类思想的非理性上栽跟头。他没有放过任何一个贬低理性的讽刺性事实或荒唐可笑的矛盾。无论是在心理范围还是思想范围,让他感兴趣的只有一件事,那就是抗辨。通过陀思妥耶夫斯基 [21] 关于有罪之人的体验,通过尼采精神险象环生的奇遇,通过哈姆雷特的诅咒或某个易卜生的恶毒贵族,舍斯托夫追踪、阐明,并且展示了人类对无可救药的反抗。他拒绝赋予理性以节期,只是在这黯然无色的荒漠中才带着某种决心开始了他的行程,在这荒漠里所有确定性都幻化成石头。

在所有人中,与荒谬联系最紧密的大概要数克尔恺郭尔了。至少在他活着的一部分时间内,他不仅发现了荒谬,而且体验了荒谬。“最难对付的沉默不是缄口不言而是大谈特谈”,正是这个人的话,他从一开始就确信,没有真理是绝对的,或者没有真理能使一个本身就没有可能性的存在变得让人满意。他是思智领域的唐璜 [22] ,拥有众多笔名与矛盾,写过《两个启发性谈话》和《诱惑者的日记》,后者是悲观的唯灵主义的教科书。他拒绝接受慰藉、道德规范、可靠的准则,至于他心里能感觉到的那根芒刺,则小心翼翼地不去减轻刺痛,反而去唤醒它,像饱经沧桑的人一样感到绝望中的快乐。在这快乐中,他一点一点地建立起被魔鬼附身之人的范畴——清醒、拒绝、假装。那张面孔温柔地冷笑着,那些旋转动作伴随着从心底发出的呐喊,这些都是与难以理解的现实相搏斗的荒谬精神。而给克尔恺郭尔带来他所钟爱的丑闻的精神历险,同样开始于一种被剥夺了背景且跌至初始无逻辑状态的混乱经历。

另一个方面,也就是在关于方法的问题上,胡塞尔 [23] 和现象学家们还原了世界的多样性,否定了理性至高无上的权力,由此精神宇宙丰富得不可估量。玫瑰花瓣、里程碑或人的手臂,同爱情、欲望或万有引力定律一样重要。思想不再追求统一,或者使外观在一种主法则的伪装下变得为人所熟悉。思考就是重新开始学习发现,学习聚精会神,学习关注意识;就是运用普鲁斯特 [24] 的方法,把每一种想法、每一种形象都变成一种特权时刻。而为思想正名的是其极度清醒的意识。尽管胡塞尔前进的方式比克尔恺郭尔或舍斯托夫更积极,但在一开始,这种方式却否定理性的经典方法,消灭了希望,使直觉与心理感知到一种现象的激增,这种财富有种非人性的成分在里面。这些道路通往所有科学,也可能到达不了任何科学。这就等于说,在这种情况下,方法比结果更为重要。有关系的只是“一种理解的态度”,而不是一种慰藉。我再重复一遍:至少,开始时是这样。

我们怎能感觉不到这些思想的基本联系呢?怎能没发现他们处在一种特权的痛苦时刻,此时没有希望的任何位置呢?我想听到一切都解释清楚,要么就什么都别解释。而理性即使听到内心的这一呼唤,也无能为力。被这种压迫唤醒的思想寻找着,却除了矛盾与荒唐念头之外一无所获,我不能理解的便是那荒唐念头。世界上尽是这种不理性的人。对于这世界的意义我丝毫不理解,而它本身就是非理性的。如果有人哪怕只说一次:“这是显而易见的”,就什么都省了。可是这些人争先恐后地宣称,什么都不清楚,一切都处在混乱之中,所有人都只保留了自己的洞察力,都只对包围自己的墙有着确切的认识。

所有这些体验都彼此协调,相互肯定。当思想到达自己的极限时,就必须作出判断,并得出结论,这时自杀与答案便出现了。但是我想颠倒一下查询的顺序,从思智的历险开始,然后回到日常活动中。这些忆起的体验都来自我们那不可遗忘的荒漠,至少有必要知道他们走了多远。人们努力至此,便和非理性正面交锋了,内心感到对幸福的期待和对理性的渴望。荒谬就产自人的需求与世界不合理的沉默之间的对抗,这一点不能遗忘,必须坚持下去,因为生活总的影响便依赖于此。非理性因素、人的怀旧情绪,以及二者交汇产生的荒谬——这出戏剧的三个角色,必须以一种存在能达到的逻辑性收尾。

哲学性自杀

尽管如此,荒谬的感觉,不同于荒谬的概念。前者为后者奠定基础,仅此而已。荒谬的感觉并不限于这一概念,除了它对宇宙作判断的短暂时刻,而随后它有可能更进一步的发展。荒谬的情感是有生命的,换句话说,它要么死去,要么比以前声势更大。对于我们已汇集起来的主题而言,也是如此。但话又说回来了,我感兴趣的不是那些言论或者思想(对它们的批评需要换个形式和场合),而是发现那些思想结论的共同点。或许思想间如此巨大的差异前所未有,但我们将那些精神风景——思想的旅程——看作是同一的。同样,尽管知识领域不同,终止其旅行计划的呼唤却有着同样的振荡频率。显然,我们所回忆的这些思想具有共同的立场。说这种立场是致命的,差不多就是玩弄辞藻。在那样一种沉闷的天空下生活,人们被迫留下,要么就得逃离。重要的是弄清楚人们如何逃离,或者为何要留下。我就是这样确定自杀问题,以及对存在哲学结论的潜在兴趣的。

但首先我想从直达路径中绕出来。至此,我们已将荒谬与外界隔离。然而,人们还是可以对这一概念的清晰度产生疑问,并且通过直接分析发现其意义,以及它所包含的后果。

假如我指控一个清白之人犯了一项滔天大罪,假如我说一个品德高尚之人垂涎自己的姐妹,他会回答说这太荒谬了。他生气,是有些可笑,但也有其根本原因。那个有道德的人这样回答,说明我归到他身上的行为与他做人的原则之间存在着明确的对立。“这太荒谬了”,意思是说“这是不可能的”,但同样是说“这是有矛盾的”。假如我看到一个人单剑进攻一伙荷枪实弹的队伍,我会认为他的行为是荒谬的。然而得出这种结论只是因为,他的意图与他要面对的现实两者不相称,因为我注意到,他的实力与他要达到的目的之间存在矛盾。同样,当我们将一项裁定与另一项明显符合事实的裁定相对照时,会发现该判决很荒谬。类似的还有,取得一种荒谬的论证,要将这种推理的结果与人们想要建立的合乎逻辑的现实加以比校。在所有这些例子中,从最简单的到最复杂的,荒谬的程度与对比的双方之间的差距有直接关系。有荒谬的婚姻、荒谬的挑战、荒谬的积怨、荒谬的沉默,甚至是荒谬的和平协定。因而我可以理直气壮地说,荒谬的感情并非产生于对一个事实或一个想法单纯的仔细检查,而是源自一个赤裸裸的事实与一种确定的现实之间的对比,或是一种行为与超越行为的世界之间的对比。荒谬从根本上讲是一种分离,它不属于相比较的任何一方,而是产生于双方交锋时。

因此,针对这种特殊情况,从思维的角度看,我可以说荒谬不在于人(如果这样一种比喻有意义的话),也不在于这个世界,而在于二者的结合。现在来看,荒谬是联结它们的唯一纽带。假如我只想谈论事实,我就能知道人们想要什么,这个世界能为他们提供什么,现在我可以说我还知道什么将他们联结在一起。我不必挖掘得再深一点,对于一个探索者来说一种确定性就足够了,他只须从这种确定性中得出所有的结果。

最直接的结果也是一种方法规则。用这种方法揭露的怪诞的三位一体论当然不会是一种惊人发现,但它和体验的数据却是相似的,因为它极其简单,又极其复杂。从这一方面来说,它的首要区别特征就是不可分性。人的思想之外再无荒谬,于是和所有其他事物一样,荒谬止于死亡。可是世界之外也不再有荒谬。正是在这样一种初级标准下,我判断,荒谬的概念必不可少,并认为它可以作为我所发现的第一个真理。上文提及的方法规则在这里出现了。如果我判断某事是真的,我就必须保护它。如果我试图解决某个问题,那种解决办法至少不能让问题中的某些成分消失。对我而言,孤立的一个根据就是荒谬。在我的探询中,首要的、唯一的条件终究是保留那摧毁我的东西,进而尊重其中我认为必不可少的东西。我已将之定义为一种反抗,一种不止的斗争。

这种荒谬的逻辑贯穿始终,我必须承认这一斗争包含希望的完全缺失(与绝望无关),一种不断的剔除(不可与放弃相混淆)和一种有意识的不满(须与不成熟的躁动相区别)。任何破坏、去除、操纵这些要求的东西(首先是消除分离的协调),都会推翻荒谬,并且使人们由此确定的立场失去价值。荒谬只有在不被人们认可的时候才有意义。

有一个合乎道德规范的显见事实,那就是,人总会成为自己所求真理的猎物。他一旦承认了真理,就无法从这些真理中抽身而出,就必须付出代价。意识到这种荒谬的人不再属于未来,这是理所应当的。同样理所应当的是,他会努力逃脱这个亲手创造的宇宙。上述一切就是因为这一悖论才有意义。有些人从批评理性主义入手,承认了这种产生荒谬的环境。从这一点上看,对他们详述其结果的方法进行仔细检查,是再有益不过的了。

仅从存在哲学的角度看,我发现这类哲学无一例外都提到了逃遁。在一个仅限于人的密闭的宇宙,它们从理性废墟上的荒谬出发,通过不同寻常的推理,将击溃自己的东西神圣化,并且寻找理由对使自己穷困的事物产生希望。这种被迫的希望对他们来说就是一种宗教信仰,值得引起关注。

这里我只以舍斯托夫和克尔凯郭尔青睐的几个主题为例作个分析。雅斯贝尔斯则会以讽刺画的形式,为我们提供一个典型例子来表现这种立场,其他问题将随之变得更加清楚。他无力实现超验之物,无法到达经验的最深处,也意识不到这个被失败搅乱的世界。他是否会前进,或至少从这次失败中总结出什么呢?他没有得出什么新的东西。在体验中,除了承认自己无能为力之外,他一无所获,也不知道从何处推论出什么让人满意的原理。但是正如他自己所说,他突然就不加证实地一下子肯定了超验之物、经验的本质,以及生活的超常意义。于是他写道:“失败在任何可能的解释和说明之外揭露的不是超验之物的缺失,而是超验之物的存在吗?”这种存在由于人们的盲目自信,突然就解释了一切,他将这种存在定义为“普通与特殊不可思议的联合”。于是荒谬成了神(从本词最广义的层面看),而这种理解上的无能成了阐明一切的存在。无法对这种推理进行有逻辑的准备,我可以把这叫做一种跨跃。而我们可以有悖常理地理解雅斯贝尔斯的主张,以及他为使超验之物的体验变得不可能而投入的无限耐心。因为这种近似越短暂,这种定义越空洞,这超验之物对他来说便越真实;因为他在肯定超验之物上投入的热情,和其解释能力与这个世界及经验的不合理性之间的差距,直接相关。因而似乎雅斯贝尔斯将理性的先入之见摧毁得越是彻底,他对这个世界的解释就越是激进。这位鼓吹耻辱思想的使徒会在受尽凌辱之后发现如何重生。

玄妙的思想惯用这种手段,它们与所有思想立场一样合情合理。但此刻我表现得好像是在认真对待某个问题。我没有事先判断这种立场的总体价值或其教育意义,我只想考虑它能否满足我自己设立的条件,是否值得我为之论战。某评论人引用了舍斯托夫的一段话,很有意思:“真正的解决办法只有一个,”他说,“正是出现在人们的判断没有解决方案之时。否则,我们要上帝有什么用呢?我们求助于上帝只是为了实现不可能,至于可能之事,人就可以办到了。”如果有一种舍斯托夫哲学,我可以说它完全是用这种方式总结出来的。因为在其饱含激情的分析最后,舍斯托夫发现了所有存在根本的荒谬性。他没有说“这是荒谬的”,而是说“这是上帝:我们必须依赖他,即使他不符合我们任何理性的范畴。”为了使他的思想不致引起混乱,这位俄国哲学家甚至暗示道,这个上帝或许仇恨满腹,难以捉摸,还矛盾丛生;但他的面孔越是丑陋,他就越坚持自己的权力。他的伟大之处正是他的前后不一,他的非人性便是证明。人们一定要跃入上帝怀中,用这一跃把自己从理性的幻影中解放出来。因而,对于舍斯托夫来说,接受荒谬与荒谬本身是同时进行的。意识到荒谬就相当于接受了荒谬,其思想所作的所有逻辑上的努力就是为了引出荒谬,这样荒谬中包含的巨大希望便会同时喷薄而出。我重申一次,这种立场是合情合理的,但我还是坚持只考虑一个问题及其所有后果。我不必检验一种思想的情感,或是一种信仰行为的情感,我有一辈子的时间去这么做。我知道舍斯托夫的立场惹怒了理性主义者,但我还是觉得正确的是舍斯托夫,而非理性主义者。我只想知道舍斯托夫是否还忠实于荒谬的信条。

如今,倘若承认荒谬的反面是希望,则可见舍斯托夫的存在思想是以荒谬为前提的,但只是为了消除它才去证明它。思想的这种奸计是巫师玩的情感小把戏。当舍斯托夫在别处又把他的荒谬与被普遍接受的道德和理性相对立时,他把这种荒谬叫做真理与救赎。因此从根本上说,荒谬这一定义包含着舍斯托夫对它的一种认可。倘若承认,这一概念的所有能量都在于它与我们的低级希望相对抗的方式上;倘若意识到,要保持荒谬就不能得到认可,那么显然,为了达到令人满意又难以置信的永恒,荒谬失掉了自己的本真、自己的人性和相对性特征。如果有一种荒谬,那么它必在人的宇宙中。这一概念从把自己转化为永远的跳板那一刻起,就和人的清醒不再有关联了。荒谬不再是人们无需认同便能确定的显见之物,于是就避免了斗争。人们将荒谬合并为一,并且在这种情况下,消除了荒谬必不可少的特性——对立、撕裂、分离。这一跃便是逃遁。舍斯托夫喜欢引用哈姆雷特的话“时间脱节了”,他是带着一种狂野的希望写下这句话的,这种希望似乎为他所独有,因为哈姆雷特说这句话,或是莎士比亚写这句话时,都没有那种感觉。对这种不合理性的沉醉,以及天生的狂热,使一个清醒的头脑远离荒谬。对于舍斯托夫来说,理性是无用的,但理性之外别有他物;对于一个荒谬的头脑来说,理性也是无用的,但理性之外什么也没有。

这一跃至少可以在荒谬的本质问题上给我们多一些启发。我们知道荒谬只有在平衡中才有价值,它首先产生于比较过程中,而非被比较的各项。可舍斯托夫恰恰是把所有的重点都放在了被比较的一项上,破坏了平衡。只有在我们可以理解并解释诸多事情时,我们对理解的渴望、对绝对性的怀恋才能得到解释。绝对否定理性是无益的,理性在自己的秩序中是有效的。我们正是想通过人们的经验澄清一切,假如做不到这一点,假如在这种情况下产生了荒谬,那么它正产生于有效而有限的理性与不断复苏的非理性交会的时刻。然而,当舍斯托夫起而抨击黑格尔的主张,诸如“太阳系遵循永恒的规律运转,而这些规律就是太阳系的理性”的时候,当他狂热地冲击斯宾诺莎 [25] 的理性主义的时候,他恰恰肯定了一切理性的虚伪。由这个结论出发,他便通过一个不合情理的自然反转,肯定了非理性的优先地位。 [26] 但这种转变并不明显。这里会插入限度和层面的概念。自然法则可能会在某个限度内有效,超过这一限度它们就会违背自我,产生荒谬。否则,它们会在描述层面上使自己合乎情理,而在解释层面上并不因此成真。在这里,为达到非理性,所有一切都作了牺牲,而对明晰性的要求被消除后,荒谬便携对比中的一方消失了。另一方面,荒谬之人没有经历这种保持平衡的过程。他承认斗争与非理性,并未绝对轻视理性。

在里奥·舍斯托夫的思想中感知到的问题,或许在克尔凯郭尔的思想中更为突出。的确,要清楚概括这一难以捉摸之作家的言论,并非易事。但是,尽管其著作中存在明显的对立,排除种种化名、伎俩和玩笑,我们似乎可以从整部作品中预感到(同时也担忧)一种真理从其最后几部作品中最终迸发出来:克尔凯郭尔同样也纵身一跃。他的童年受到基督教的惊吓,最终他回到了这种宗教最严酷的一面。对他来说,矛盾与悖论也成了宗教标准。因而导致人们对生活的意义与深度感到绝望的东西,如今又赋予了生命以真实性与清晰性。基督教引起了公愤,克尔凯郭尔所需要的其实就是依格那丢·罗耀拉 [27] 所要求的第三牺牲,这一牺牲最讨上帝的欢心:“智力的牺牲。” [28] 这一“跃”产生了异乎寻常的效果,但不应再让我们大吃一惊了。他在荒谬中确立了另一个世界的标准,但那只是这个世界的经验的残羹冷炙。“从失败中,”克尔凯郭尔说,“信徒找到了自己的胜利。”

我不必去考虑这种立场与什么鼓动人心的说教有关,我只需考虑荒谬的浩大声势以及它自己的特性能否证明自己的合理性。我明白,它做不到这一点。人们若再思索一下荒谬的内容,就更能理解启发克尔凯郭尔的那种方法了。在世界的非理性与荒谬反叛的怀旧情感之间,他没有保持住平衡,他也没有尊重构成(恰当地说是)荒谬感情的关联。当他明确自己无法从非理性中逃脱时,他至少想把自己从那令人绝望的怀旧情感中解救出来,这种情感对于他来说贫瘠而缺乏深意。可是如果在这一点上他的判断是对的,他不可能去否定自己。如果他用一种疯狂的信仰代替了对反抗的呼吁,他马上就会对曾启发自己的荒谬视而不见,而将他从此拥有的唯一确定性奉若神明,也就是非理性。加里亚尼神父 [29] 对德毕内夫人 [30] 说过:重要的并不是赎罪,而是与原罪共存。克尔凯郭尔想要赎罪,赎罪是他狂热的愿望,在他的日记中这种愿望随处可见。他在思智上所作的全部努力就是逃离人类命运的矛盾。他在谈到自己时会断断续续地意识到它的虚伪,于是做出更加绝望的努力,好像对上帝的恐惧或虔诚都不能让他回复平静。因此,他用一个不自然的托词给了非理性荒谬的外表,给了上帝荒谬的特性:不公平、不合逻辑、不可理解。唯有他的智慧试图扼杀人心灵深处的欲求。既然没有任何东西得到证明,那么一切都可以得到证明。

事实上,克尔凯郭尔本人向我们展示了走过的路。这里我不想多谈什么。但是,我们在他的著作中,怎能无视为平衡荒谬中的损伤而对灵魂所做的几乎故意的损伤呢?这也是《日记》的主旨。“我所缺少的是动物性,这动物性同样是人类命运的一部分……那么请给我一个身体。”他进而说:“哦!特别是在我青春萌动的时代,为了成为一个人,我什么代价没付出啊,即使只有六个月的时间……说到底,我欠缺的就是一个身体以及存在的各种肉体条件。”还是这个人,在另一部著作里却发出了对希望的伟大呼喊,这希望经历过那么多个世纪,鼓舞了那么多的心灵(除了那荒谬之人的心灵)。“但是对基督徒而言,死亡绝对不是一切的终结,它包含的希望远远多于生活所赋予我们的,即使那生活充满健康活力。”由耻辱而来的和解仍旧是和解。可见,或许这允许人们从死亡——希望的反面——中获取希望。但是即使人们出于同情而倾向于这种立场,还是必须指出,过度是什么也证明不了的。正如人们所言,这个超过了人们的尺度;因此它必须是超人的。然而这种“因此”是多余的,这里没有合乎逻辑的确定性,也没有试验的可能性。我只能说,事实上,这个超过了我的尺度。如果我从中找不到一个否定性的推论,至少我不想从这不可思议中发现任何东西。我想知道,凭借我所知道的能否生活,能否仅凭它生活。人们又告诉我,思智在这里必须牺牲掉自己的骄傲,理性必须低下高贵的头颅。可是如果我意识到了理性的限度,我不会因此否定它,我已经意识到它的相对力量。我只想保持在这条中间道路上,思智在这里可以保持清晰。如果这就是它的骄傲,我没发现足够的理由去抛弃它。比如,再没有比克尔凯郭尔的观点更深刻的了,在他看来,绝望不是一个事实而是一种状态:罪孽的状态。因为罪孽远离上帝,而荒谬作为有意识之人的超自然状态,并不通往上帝。 [31] 或许为使这一概念更清楚,我可以斗胆使用这种惊世骇俗的说法:荒谬就是没有上帝的罪孽。

这是一个在荒谬状态下生活的问题。我知道它产生的基础,这种思想与这个世界相互拉扯,却无法彼此包容。我想知道这种生活状态的规则,而所提供给我的答案漏掉了它的基础,否定了这种痛苦的对立中之一方,想要让我放弃。我又问,我所发现的自我状态都包含什么;我知道的是,它包含费解与无知;于是我确定,这种无知可解释一切,这种黑暗是我的光明。可是这样的回答不能满足我的目的,那种让人心潮澎湃的抒情无法对我掩藏那种悖论。克尔凯郭尔会大声疾呼:“假如人们没有了永恒的意识,假如在一切事物的根源,只有一种野蛮而骚动的力量主宰万物,在那黑暗激情的风暴中生发出或巨大或微小的东西,假如那无物可填充的无底的虚无正是万物之基,那么生活除了绝望还会是什么样呢?”这声呼喊不会阻止荒谬的人,寻找真实的东西不同于寻找期望的东西。如果为避免这一让人头疼的问题:“生活会是什么样?”,人们就得像驴子一样,从那虚幻的玫瑰中汲取营养,那么荒谬的思想更愿意接受无畏的克尔凯郭尔的回答——“绝望”,而不是屈从于谎言。万事考虑周全,一个坚定的灵魂什么都能应付得来。

在此我擅自把这种存在主义立场叫做哲学性自杀,但这并没有包含任何评论在里面,只是方便指出一种思想进行自我否定,并通过这种否定超越自我。对于存在主义者而言,否定是他们的上帝。确切地说,这一神明只有通过否定人的理性才得以维持。 [32] 但是同自杀一样,神明也因人而异。跨跃的方式有很多,重要的是要跨跃。那些作为弥补的否定,那些终极矛盾(否定尚未跃过的障碍),可能会从某种宗教启发中弹跳出来,正如从理性的秩序中弹出一样(这是此推理针对的悖论)。它们一直声称对永恒的权利,也只有在永恒中他们才会跨跃。

必须重申,本书中的推理完全不理会我们这个开明时代传播最为广泛的精神态度:以一切皆理性的原则为基础,旨在解释这个世界。当我们接受世界必然是清晰的这一观点后,自然要给出一个关于世界的清晰观点。这甚至也是合情合理的,却和我们这里进行的推理无关。事实上,我们的目的在于阐明源于世界缺乏意义这种哲学的思想,以及最后从中发现一种意义与深度时所采取的步骤。其中最动人的步骤从本质上说是具有宗教意义的;在非理性的主题上变得更加明显,但最自相矛盾又最富有意义的肯定是将合理的理性归于这个原以为缺少指导原则的世界。对于怀旧精神的这种新成就,如果人们不能给出一种观点的话,那无论如何也不可能得到与我们相关的结果。

我将只检验一下由胡塞尔和现象学家们带动的潮流——“意向”主题,前面也已提到过。起初,胡塞尔的方法否定理性的经典步骤。我再重复一遍,思考不是产生一致,或是使外表在一个大原则的伪装下变得为人熟知。思考是重新学习如何去看,操控人的意识,从每种形象中发现一种特权位置。换句话说,现象学拒绝解释这个世界,它只想描述真实的经验。其早期论断中就有这种说法,没有真实只有真理,这肯定了荒谬的思想。从夜晚的微风,到我肩上的手臂,一切都有它的真实。意识关注它,并借此加以阐明。意识并没有形成其理解的对象,它只是找到重点,这是一种关注行为。借用柏格森 [33] 派的形象,它就像是一台突然聚焦到一个图像上的投影仪。不同之处在于,这里没有旁注,只有一连串不连贯的图解。在那奇幻的灯下,所有画面都受到特别待遇。意识在经验中将其关注的对象定格,运用非凡的技艺将它们分离出来。自此,它们不再接受任何评价。这就是刻画意识的“意向”,但这个词语并不意味着最终定义,只限于“方向”的意义层面:它只具有方位意义。

初看起来,在这种情况下,似乎没有什么违背荒谬的精神。这种只描述不解释的思想表面看上去很低调,这种意向性的学科导致经验不断丰富,促使世界在烦琐中重生,这些都是荒谬的步骤。至少初看起来如此。就思想方法而言,不论是在这种情况下还是其他情况下,它总会表现出两个方面,一个是心理学方面,另一个是形而上学方面。 [34] 因此它们包含两种真理。如果意向的主题只阐释一种心理学立场,致使现实没有得到解释反而被消耗殆尽,那么实际上什么也没有从荒谬精神中分离出来。它旨在列举自己无法超越的东西,只是在没有统一原则的情况下确信,思想的乐趣仍然是描述并理解经验的各个方面。由此,包含其中的真理从本质上说是心理学上的,它只是证实了现实可以提供的“兴趣”。这种方法唤醒了一个沉睡的世界,使其形象浮现于脑海。但是如果试图为那个真理概念奠定一个合理性的基础,如果声称可以用这种方式发现知识各种形象的“本质”,那么就恢复了经验的深度。对于一个荒谬的头脑来说,这是难以置信的。如今,正是这种在谦逊和显现在意向态度中的确信之间的摇摆,以及这种现象学思想的闪光,能最好地阐释荒谬的推理。

胡塞尔同样提到了由意向揭露的“超时间本质”,他听起来像柏拉图。并非所有事物都不能用一物来解释而必须用万物来解释,我觉得没什么不同。诚然,这些想法或本质要素都是意识在每种描述最后“实现”的,不会被作为完美的模范。但可以确信,它们都直接出现在认识的每种依据中。单一的观点不再能解释一切,无数的本质要素为无数对象赋予一个意义。这个世界停顿了,但是却被点亮了。柏拉图现实主义变得直观起来,但它仍旧是现实主义。克尔凯郭尔被自己的上帝吞没;巴门尼德 [35] 使思想深陷于“同一”中。而思想把自己掷入一种抽象的多神论中,这还不够:幻觉与虚构同样属于“超时间本质”。在观念的新世界中,光怪陆离的物种与大都会人这一更现代的物种协调合作。

有一种纯心理学的观点认为:世界的各个方面都是享有特权的,这种观点在一个荒谬之人看来真实而令人不快。说任何事都是享有特权的就等于说任何事都是平等的,但是这一真理在形而上学方面影响极为深远,以致荒谬之人通过一个基本反应便感觉和柏拉图更接近了。实际上他被告知,每种形象都有一个享有平等特权的本质。在这个没有等级的理想世界,正式部队只由将军组成。诚然,至高无上被消除了,但思想中的突然转变让一种有缺陷的内在性回归到这个世界中,这种内在性恢复了这个宇宙的深度。

我是否该担心把这个被其创造者谨慎使用的主题扯得太远了呢?我只读过胡塞尔的这些观点:“就其本身而言,真实的东西是绝对真实的;真理有一个,与自身一致,不管认识真理的是谁,是人、魔鬼、天使,还是神。”这话表面来看自相矛盾,却有严密的逻辑性,但前提是要接受他先前的观点。理性胜利了,并且用这种声音吹响号角,我不可否认。其观点在这个荒谬的世界又有何意呢?天使或是神的认识对我来说都没有意义,神赐的理性准许给我的地位永远都让我难以置信。我从他的观点中也辨认出一种跨跃,尽管是以抽象形式出现的,但对我来说却意味着要忘记我不想忘记的。胡塞尔进一步感叹:“假如一切承受磁力的质量都消失了,那么磁力规律也不会因此被摧毁,只不过是没有再施行的可能罢了。”这时我明白,自己面对一种慰藉的形而上学。而如果我想发现思想在何时偏离了清晰之路,只须重读胡塞尔有关精神的相似推理:“倘若我们考虑清楚心理过程的确切规则,它们也会一成不变的,如同理论自然科学的基本规则一样。因此即使没有心理过程,它们也是有效的。”即使精神不存在,其诸多规则也会存在!于是我发现,胡塞尔旨在从一种心理学的真理中制定出一个合理规则:在否定了人类理性的整合力后,他通过这一权宜之计跃入了永恒的理性。

我也不会对胡塞尔“具体宇宙”的主题感到惊讶。如果跟我说并非所有本质因素都是形式上的,而有些是物质上的,第一种是逻辑对象,第二种是科学对象,那么这只是一个定义问题。我读到,抽象的宇宙只是表示具体宇宙的一部分,然而已得到注意的摇摆容许我阐明混乱的各项。因为这将意味着,我所关注的具体对象——天空、外套上水渍中的反射物——保留了我对这世界的兴趣关注点的声望。我不否认这一点,但这也意味着这件外套本身就具有普遍性,有自己独特而充分的本质,属于形式世界。我意识到,只是前进的次序被改变了,这个世界已不再能反射到更高层次的宇宙中,但形式的天堂在地球上的诸多形象中都有自己的倒影。这对我而言没什么改变。在此我没有形成对人类状态的意义——这一具体性——的鉴赏力,但我发现了一种不受束缚的唯理智论,可以将具体本身普遍化。

那种明显的悖论通过受辱的理性和胜利的理性这两条截然相反的道路,导致思想自我否定,惊异于这一悖论是徒劳无获的。从胡塞尔抽象的神到克尔凯郭尔光辉耀眼的神,两者相距并不遥远。理性与非理性宣传的是同一种东西。事实上用什么方法关系不大,只要有实现的愿望就足够了。抽象哲学家与宗教哲学家都从无序出发,并在相同的焦虑中互相支持。然而解释是必要的,这里怀旧比知识更强。这个时代的思想受到了世界无意义这种哲学的深刻影响,其结论也五花八门,这是很有意义的。它在现实的极端理性化与非理性化之间不停摇摆,前者倾向于将这种思想分化成诸多标准的理性,后者则倾向于神化这种思想,但这种分裂只是表面上的。这是一个妥协问题,在两种情况下,跨跃便足够了。认为理性概念是单向概念的想法一直都是错的。说实话,不管它对理想要求多么严格,这一概念与其他概念一样是不稳定的。理性有一种人性的面貌,但它也能被神化。普罗提诺 [36] 是第一个将之与永恒的思想态度相调和的人,自他以后,理性便学会了背离最受青睐的原则(即矛盾),以将相关要素中神奇的那一个、最奇特的那一个并入理性。 [37] 这是思想的一个工具,并非思想本身。最重要的是,一个人的思想就是他对旧事的怀恋。

正如理性可以抚慰普罗提诺的哀伤一样,它也在永恒熟悉的背景中找到了平息当代痛苦的方法。荒谬的头脑就没这么走运了,对于它来说,世界既没有那么合理,也没有那么不合理。它是不理性的,仅此而已。在胡塞尔那里,最终理性一点限度也没有了。相反,荒谬设立了自己的限制,因为它无力平息自己的痛苦。克尔凯郭尔从另一角度坚称,要否定那种痛苦,一种限度就够了。但荒谬并未走这么远,对荒谬而言,这一限制只是在理性的理想中发挥作用。如存在学家构想的那样,非理性的主题是,理性变得混乱,通过否定自身而逃遁。荒谬是注意到自身限制的清醒的理性。

只有在这条困径的尽头,荒谬之人才认出自己真正的动机。在将自己内心的极度渴望与摆在自己面前的事实相对比时,它突然感到自己想要逃离。在胡塞尔的宇宙中,世界变得清晰起来,人们内心对熟悉的渴望变得毫无用处。在克尔凯郭尔的启示中,那种对清晰性的渴望必须被放弃才能得到满足。罪孽与其说是知道(如果是这样,那么每个人都是无辜的),不如说是想知道。这的确是唯一的罪孽,荒谬之人从中感到,自己的罪恶与清白都来自它。他有一种解决办法可选,这种办法让过去所有的矛盾都变成了论战的游戏。然而荒谬之人并不是这样体验矛盾的,应该保留尚未得到满足的矛盾的真实性。他不想布道。

我的推论要忠实于激发起这种推论的明晰性。这种明晰性是荒谬的,它是拥有渴望的头脑与带来失望的世界之间的分离,是我对统一性的怀恋,是这个支离破碎的宇宙,是将它们联结在一起的矛盾。克尔凯郭尔抑制着我的怀旧情绪,胡塞尔将这个宇宙聚合在一起。这并非我的期待。问题是,要带着这些错乱生活与思考,要明白是接受还是拒绝。掩盖证据,或是通过否认等式一侧的因素来抑制荒谬是没有问题的。有必要知道人们能否与之共存,或者另一方面,逻辑是否命令人们为之放弃生命。我感兴趣的是普通的自杀,而不是哲学性自杀。我只是想为它去除情感内容,弄清楚它的逻辑与整体性。其他任何立场都意味着荒谬想法的欺骗,以及思想在自己所揭露的东西面前的回避。胡塞尔宣称要服从欲求,以避免“在某种熟知而适宜的存在条件下生活与思考的积习”,然而最后的一跃又让他恢复了永久性与舒适性。这一跃并不是克尔凯郭尔意想中的极端危险,相反,危险存在于跨跃之前的微妙瞬间。能够停留在那让人晕眩的风口浪尖——这就是完整性,其余都是借口。我还知道,无助激发起的协调从来没有像克尔凯郭尔的那样出众,但如果说无助在历史那不动声色的风景中占有一席之地的话,那么它在那种需求已为人所知的推理中是没有位置的。

荒谬的自由

主要部分已论述完毕,但还有几件事我要坚持,无法割舍,其中主要有我所知道之事、我无法否认之事、我无法拒绝之事,以及确切之事。对于我身上依赖于模糊往事的那一部分,除了那种对统一性的欲求、对解决问题的渴望、对清晰性和内聚力的需要之外,我可以全盘否定。对于周遭冒犯我或愉悦我的东西,除了那种混乱、那种当权机会、那种源自无序状态的神授的自由之外,我可以一一加以驳斥。我不知道这世界是否有一种超越自身的意义,但我知道我不了解那种意义,让我现在就去了解它也不可能。一种存在于我的环境之外的意义,于我意义何在?我只能理解人类的语言。我所理解的是我触摸得到的、与我相对抗的东西。而我也知道这两种确定性——我对绝对性和统一性的欲望,以及把世界还原为一种合理而理性原则的终极任务,无法得到调和。还有什么真理我可以坦诚承认而不需要引入一个我所欠缺的希望,而这种真理又在我生存条件的限度内毫无意义呢?

假如我是林中之木,兽中之猫,那么这种生活还会有某种意义,确切地说那种问题就不会出现,因为我将是属于这个世界的。我应该就是这个世界,这个我用自己的全部意识和对熟悉性的全部坚持而反对的世界。正是这一可笑的理性让我与世间万物为敌,我无法将之一笔勾销,我也必须因此坚守自己相信的真理。对我来说显而易见的事情,即使于我不利,我也必须坚持。而除了对这一理性的意识,还有什么会是这种冲突的基础,以及这世界与我的思想相分离的基础呢?因此,如果我想坚持这一理性,我就可以通过一种始终如一的意识永远保持清醒与警觉。这就是此刻我必须要记住的。此刻,那么明显而又那么难以赢得的荒谬,又回到了人的生活中,在那里找到了家的感觉。此刻,精神也可以远离清醒的努力,这条路贫瘠而干皱。这条路如今出现在日常生活中。它遭遇到不具名的无人称代词的世界,但自此人们带着反抗与清醒走进了这个世界。人们已经忘记了如何去应付,如今的地狱是其最后的王国。一切问题又都变得尖锐起来,抽象的明晰性在形式与色彩的诗意面前撤退了。精神冲突变得形象化,又成了人心卑贱而华丽的庇护。尽管它们都未安置下来,但形象都得到了改观。有谁打算结束生命,或是一跃而逃,或是重建一座规模等身的思想与形式大厦?又有谁相反想在让人惊心动魄、心力交瘁的荒谬之赌上下一注呢?在此问题上让我们来个最后一搏,得出我们的所有结论。届时身体、爱慕、创造、行动、人的高尚在这个疯狂的世界上将各归各位。最终人们会在这里找到供养其伟大性的荒谬之酒与冷漠之粮。

我们再次强调方法吧:这是一个坚持的问题。在荒谬之人的路上,某个时候他会受到引诱。即使是没有神存在的历史也不乏宗教或先知。若被要求跨跃,他只能回应说自己没有完全理解,说这不甚清楚。实际上,除了自己完全理解的,他不想做任何事情。他被保证说这是傲慢产生的罪孽,但他不理解罪孽的概念;他也确信,地狱就在眼前,但没有足够的想象力去构建那个奇怪的未来;还有,他在尘世的岁月正在消失,但考虑这些对他来说却是徒劳。也有人试图使他承认自己的罪过,但他觉得自己是无辜的。事实上,他能感觉到的只有那给予自己一切的不可救药的清白。因此他对自己的要求就是只带着自己知道的生活,适应确定之物,拒绝任何不确定之物。他被告知没有东西是确定的,但至少这句话是确定的。而他所关心的是这一点:他想确定是否可能毫无诉求地生活。

现在,我可以引出自杀的概念了。或许你已经预感到会有什么解决办法被提出来。现在这个问题倒过来了。一开始的问题是要发现生活是否一定要有意义才能过好,而如今显然相反,生活没有意义才会过得更好。体验一种经历、一种特定的命运,便是接受全部生活。现在,人们都知道了生活的荒谬,谁也不会体验这样的命运了,除非他的所作所为都是为保持由意识阐明的这一荒谬。他生活在对立之上,而否定对立的其中一方就相当于躲避它,取消有意识的反抗就是逃避问题,于是永恒变革的主题被引入个人体验,生活便是保持荒谬,而保持荒谬首先就要审视荒谬。荒谬与欧律狄刻 [38] 不同,只有当我们背离它时,它才会消亡。仅有的几个前后一致的立场之一便是反抗,这是人与自己的阴暗面之间的不断对抗,是对不可能得到的透明度的一种坚持,它每一秒钟都要重新挑战这个世界。正如危险为人们提供了抓住意识的独特时机一样,形而上学的反抗将意识扩展至体验的整个过程。它是不断出现在人们眼中的自我形象,而非什么强烈的愿望,因为它缺少希望。这种反抗必将带来一种不甘溃败的命运,尽管本该是心甘情愿的。

由此可以看出荒谬的体验在多大程度上是远离自杀的。人们或许认为反抗之后便是自杀——错了,自杀并非反抗的逻辑后果。情况恰恰相反,因为自杀是以同意为前提的。自杀,同跨跃一样,是极端的接受。一切都结束了,人便回到了自己的本质性历史中。他的未来,他可怕而又独一无二的未来——他看到了,并飞快地冲向它。自杀用自己的方式解决了荒谬,它将荒谬吞没在同样的死亡中。但我知道,为将荒谬保持下去,就不能解决它。它在意识到死亡的同时,拒绝了死亡,因而便逃脱了自杀。在有罪之人产生最后一个念头时,荒谬是他在自己晕倒的片刻于几码以外看到的鞋带。实际上,自杀的反面是被判了死罪的人。

这一反抗赋予生命以价值。它贯穿于整个生命,使这种生命恢复了昔日的尊严。对于一个眼光不开阔的人而言,没有比与超越自己的现实相搏斗的思智更好的视野了。人的自豪感是无可匹敌的,任何诋毁对之都无济于事。那种精神自我施加的纪律、无端冒出来的意愿、面对面的对抗都具有某种特殊性。现实的非人性成就了人的尊严,而让这种现实处于困顿状态就等于是让自己处于困顿状态。我于是明白了,为何那些学说向我解释一切的同时也损耗了我的体能。它们将我从生命的重量中解救出来,而从此我就必须独自肩负起这重量。此刻我难以想象,一种怀疑论的形而上学能与一种选择放弃的道德观相结合。

意识与反抗,这些是与放弃相对的否定。人心中一切不屈不挠和充满激情的东西都在用自己的生命朝着相反的方向驱动着人的意识和反抗。一定不要心甘情愿地去死,自杀是一种否认。荒谬之人只能耗干一切,最后让自己枯竭。荒谬是他的极端紧张状态,他孤军奋战,不断保持着这种状态,因为他知道,他用那种意识以及日复一日的反抗证实了自己唯一的真理,那就是反抗。这是我们得出的第一个结果。

如果我坚持这种预先设定的立场——只在于从一种新发现的概念中得出所有结论(别无他物),那么我就会遇到第二个悖论。为忠实于这种方法,我与形而上学的自由问题毫无干系。我对人是不是自由的这一问题没有兴趣,我体验的只是自己的自由。而关于这一问题,我没有什么笼统观点,只是有一些清晰的领悟。“自由本身”的问题是没有意义的,因为它以一种极其不同的方式与上帝的问题相联系。要知道人是否自由就要知道人能否有一个主人。这一问题独特的荒谬之处就在于,产生自由这一问题的观念同样剥夺了它的所有意义。因为有上帝在,自由问题就得让位于罪恶问题。你知道选项的:或者我们是不自由的,全能的上帝对罪恶负责;或者我们是自由的,我们对罪恶负责,而上帝不是全能的。学术界众技全施,而对于这一尖锐的悖论,既无以补充,又不可削弱。

有一种概念让我搞不懂,而且一旦脱离了我自身体验的参考框架它便失去了意义,因此我不能迷失在对这种概念的吹捧与定义中。我不明白,一种更高级的存在会给我一种什么样的自由,我已经没有了等级感。我对自由的概念只停留在囚犯以及国家的个体身上,我只知道思想与行动的自由。如果荒谬取消了所有永久自由的可能性,它在另一方面就恢复并扩大了我的行动自由。这种对希望和未来的剥夺意味着人可以有更多自主权。

在与荒谬相遇之前,芸芸众生活得有目标,他们关心未来,希望得到证明(至于与何人何物有关则不是问题所在)。人们掂量自己的机会,指望着“某一天”、退休后的生活,或是子孙的事业,仍然觉得自己可以控制生活中的某些事。实际上,即使所有事情都与自由相背,他还是表现得好像自己是自由的。然而荒谬之后,所有事情都被搅乱了:那种“我要”的想法、那种似乎一切皆有意义(即使我有时会说什么都没有意义)的行为方式——这一切都被一种可能性死亡的荒谬性以其令人眩晕的方式揭露无疑。思考未来,为自己设定目标,偏爱某物——所有这些都预先假定了一种自由的信念,即使人们有时确信自己没有感觉到自由。但在那一刻我很清楚,那种更高的自由、那种可单独作为真理基础的将来的自由并不存在。死亡是此时唯一的现实,而死亡之后便是关键时刻。我甚至都无法自由地使自己不朽,只是一个奴隶,最重要的是一个没有永久革命的希望且无法求助于轻蔑的奴隶。而没有了革命与蔑视谁还会继续做奴隶呢?没了永恒的保证,哪种自由可以完整地存在呢?

但荒谬之人同时意识到,他一直受制于假定的自由,他生活在这种幻象之上。从某种意义上说,这成了他的束缚。他使自己适应于某种可达到的目标的要求,并且成了为自由服务的奴隶,于是他设想了一种生活目标。所以我不能表现出我准备成为的父亲(或工程师、国家领导人、邮局小职员)身份,我想我可以做这种选择而不是其他选择。当然,这是我无意识的想法。但同时,周围人们的想法,还有我的人性环境中的假设(其他人对自由的状态深信不疑,而这种快乐情绪极具传染性),又进一步肯定了我的假设。人不论多么排斥道德或社会假设,他都会多少受其影响,而对于那些极品假设(假设也有好坏之分),人们甚至会改变自己的生活以与之相适应,所以荒谬之人意识到他并非真正自由。说白了,我为自己设立了种种障碍以限制我的生活,以至我有了希望,以至我开始对一种可能为我所独有的真理、一种存在或创造的方式而担忧,以至我安排了自己的生活,并且接受了它的意义。我表现得像诸多为我所厌恶的思想与心灵的官僚一般,而他们唯一的罪恶我如今已非常清楚,那就是认真对待人的自由。

荒谬在这一点上启发了我:不存在未来,这也为我内心的自由提供了理由。这里我要做两个对比。首先,神秘主义者都在付出自我中找到自由。当他们献身于自己的神,并且接受他的规则时,他们获得了隐秘的自由。他们自愿成为奴隶,于是便重获了一种更深刻的独立性。然而这种自由意味着什么?或许可以说,最重要的是他们自身感觉到自由,尽管不是无拘无束的那种自由。同样,荒谬的人在凝结于自己身上的那种强烈关注之外,感到完全释放,他完全朝向了死亡(这是最显见的荒谬性)。他享受一种与普遍规则有关的自由。从这一点可以看出,存在哲学的原初主题还保有其全值。但是我们暗指的其实是存在性说教,随之还有基本逃离意识的精神跨跃。同样(下面是我的第二个对比),古时的奴隶不属于自己,但他们知道那种不用对谁负责的自由。 [39] 而死亡也有一双贵族长老之手,既镇压,也给人自由。

投身于那种无限制的确定性中,并因此感到远离自己的生活,远到足以增强这种确定性,且对此拥有一种广阔的眼界——这需要一种自由的原则。与任何行动上的自由一样,这种新的独立有一种明确的时间限制,而不会开一张永久性的支票,但它替代了自由的种种假象,那些假象均以死亡告终。监狱的大门在某个黎明向有罪之人打开,这种有罪之人的出现是天赐;对一切事物(除了纯粹的生活激情)都表现出不可思议的冷漠——死亡与荒谬明显是唯一的理性自由之准则。这是人心可以经历与体验的。这是另一个结果。荒谬之人于是发现了一个炽热而寒冷、透明而有限的宇宙,这里没有可能性,一切都是已知的,而在这之外不外乎崩塌与虚无。然后他便可以决定是接受这样一个宇宙,还是从中提取自己的力量、对希望的否定,以及一种无慰藉生活的不屈的明晰性。

但是在这样一个宇宙生活意味着什么呢?目前来看只意味着对未来的冷漠,耗尽一切已知事物的欲望。对生活意义的信念总会包含一种价值等级、一种选择以及我们的偏好。根据我们的定义,相信荒谬会得出相反的结论,但这是值得检验的。

我的一切兴趣所在就是知道人能否毫无诉求地生活。我不想力所不能及。生活的这一面正向我展开,我能适应吗?面对这一特殊问题,相信荒谬就相当于用体验的数量代替质量。如果我让自己相信生活除了荒谬就没有其他面貌,如果我感到生活的整体平衡取决于自己有意识的反抗与生活挣扎其中的黑暗间的永久对立,如果我承认我的自由若不涉及其有限的命运便毫无意义,那么我必须说,重要的不是活得最好,而是活得最多。至于这是粗俗的或恶心的,优雅的或可悲的,我都没有义务去担心。在此我们彻底弃价值判断而取事实判断,而我只需从所见中得出结论,不冒任何假设的风险。如果说用这种方式生活是不体面的,那么真正的得体会要求我不体面。

活得最多;从最广泛的意义上看,这种规则毫无意义。它需要定义,似乎数量的概念没有得到充分探索这一事实可作为开端,因为它可以解释人们的大部分体验。一个人的行为规则与他的价值等级是毫无意义的,除非经历了自己长期积累的体验之数量与种类。如今,现代生活条件让大部分人都有了相同数量的体验,以及由此带来的相同的深刻体验。当然,还必须考虑到个体自发的贡献,其自身的“已知”元素。但是我不能对此做出评判,我重申,此处我的规则就是处理最直接的明晰性。于是我明白了,一种普遍道德规范的个体特征与其说在于其基础原则理想中的重要性,不如说在于一种无法衡量的体验标准。把这一点稍微引申一下,希腊人在休闲时也有自己的准则,同我们每天八小时的工作准则一样。然而许多非常悲剧的角色已让我预见到,更长的体验会改变这种价值表。他们让我们想象,日常生活中的探险者只通过体验的数量便能打破所有纪录(我有意采用了这一体育用语),并会因此赢得自己的道德准则。 [40] 但我们还是避免浪漫主义,直截了当问自己,对于一个决心打赌并仔细观察自认的游戏规则的人来说,这样一种立场意味着什么。

打破所有纪录首先就意味着尽可能频繁地面对这个世界。没有矛盾与文字游戏,这如何能完成呢?因为一方面,荒谬告诉我们,所有体验都无关紧要;另一方面,荒谬又鼓励最大数量的体验。人怎么就不能像我之前提到的那些人一样选择带给我们最具可能性的人性问题的生活形式,因而引入一种价值等级——那种他在另一方面声称要摒弃的价值等级呢?

然而给我们以启发的还是荒谬及其充满矛盾的生活。因为有种错误的观点认为如果体验的数量只取决于我们的话,那么它会取决于我们的生活境况。这里我们必须简之又简。对于两个度过等量岁月的人,世界总会提供等量的体验,我们有责任对之保持清醒。最大限度地了解一个人的生活、反抗、自由,便是最大限度的生活。清醒在哪里占了上风,哪里的价值等级就会变得无用。我们不妨更简化一点。我们说,有待改善的唯一阻碍、唯一缺陷产生于早亡。因此在荒谬之人的眼中(即使他想这么做),没有任何深度、感情、激情和牺牲可以把一段四十年的意识生活等同于一个贯穿六十年的清晰性。 [41] 对他而言,疯狂与死亡是无法弥补的。人们不做选择。因此荒谬及荒谬所包含的额外生活不依赖于人的意志,而依赖于相反面——死亡。 [42] 仔细权衡这些语句,这只是一个运气问题。人得要能够赞同这一点。二十年的生活与体验永远都不会有替代品。

然而希腊如此警觉的民族居然声称,那些早亡之人是众神的宠儿,这未免显得前后不一。如果你愿意相信,进入这样一个荒谬的众神世界就相当于永远失去了最纯粹的快乐——感觉,在人间的感觉,那么他们的话就是真的。现在,以及在持续清醒的灵魂面前接二连三的现在,是荒谬之人的理想。但理想这个词在这种联系中听起来不合适,这甚至都算不上他的使命,只是其推理的第三个结果。关于荒谬的思索始于对非人性的一种痛苦的意识,在其行程的最后它又回到了人性反抗的激情火焰之心。 [43]

所以我从荒谬中推导出三个结果:我的反抗,我的自由,以及我的激情。我只通过保持清醒便将一种死亡的诱惑转化为一种生活准则——我拒绝自杀。当然,我也知道在这些日子里的单调的共振,但我只有一句话要说:那是必不可少的。尼采写道:“很明显,不论在天堂还是人间,最重要的就是绝对服从,并在一个方向坚持到底:从长远来看会产生一些值得费力生活在这个世上的事物,诸如美德、艺术、音乐、舞蹈、理性、精神——这些事物可以产生改观,它们精美、疯狂,或者神圣。”他以此阐明了一种真正卓越的道德规范,但他同样指明了荒谬之人的道路。服从于激情是最容易也是最困难的事情,但是人不时自我评判对自己是有好处的,只有他自己能做到这一点。

“祷告,”阿兰 [44] 说,“就是夜晚降临在思想之上。”神秘主义者和存在主义者回应道:“但是精神必须与夜晚相会。”这没错,然而精神为投入其中而唤起的,并非那个单凭个人意愿就出现在眼皮底下的夜晚——那个黑暗而无法穿透的夜晚。如果说它必须际会一个夜晚的话,那么就让它是绝望的夜晚——极夜,精神不眠,这样还能保持清醒,由此或许还能诞生纯洁、发白的光亮,从而勾勒出思智灯下每一个对象。从这一层次上说,对等邂逅了充满激情的智慧。如此来看,这甚至已不再是对存在学上的跨跃进行评判的问题了,而是又呈现出人性立场的那种古董面貌。对于观众而言,假使他是清醒的,那么跨跃依旧是荒谬的。若它自认可以解决悖论,那么它便会回复到完好状态。在这一点上,它是鼓舞人心的。在这一点上,一切都各归各位,这个荒谬的世界也得到了重生,恢复了往日的壮丽与多姿。

然而,阻止所有精神力量中或许最细微的一种是糟糕的,只用一种方式去看难以收到满意的效果,也很难不产生矛盾。以上只是对一种思考方式的定义,而重点是去生活。


[1] 此处是基于真理的相对价值的观点。而另一方面,从男子气概的角度来看,对于此学者的软弱我们大可以付诸一笑。

[2] 荷马史诗中的特洛伊王子,他骗走希腊斯巴达王墨涅拉奥斯的美貌妻子海伦,引发了特洛伊战争。——译者注

[3] 西班牙作家塞万提斯所著小说《堂·吉诃德》中的主人公。——译者注

[4] 在此不应忘记本书的论述是有相对性的。实际上,自杀可能会与更高尚的事件有关。例如,在中国革命中所谓的持不同政见者的政治自杀。

[5] 尼采(1844—1900),德国哲学家、诗人,唯意志论的主要代表,创立“权力意志说”和“超人哲学”。——译者注

[6] 陀思妥耶夫斯基的小说《群魔》中的主人公。——译者注

[7] 我曾听说有一个贝尔格里诺斯的效仿者,是个战后作家,他完成第一本书后就自杀了,为的是引起人们对其著作的关注。关注的确引来了,但是书还是没被看好。

[8] 阿瑟·叔本华(1788—1860),德国哲学家,唯意志论的创始人,认为意志是人的生命的基础,也是整个世界的内在本性,著有《意志和表象的世界》、《论自然界的意志》等。——译者注

[9] 卡尔·雅斯培(1883—1969),20世纪德国的存在哲学大师。——译者注

[10] 马丁·海德格尔(1889—1976),德国哲学家,在现象学、存在主义、解构主义、诠释学、后现代主义、政治理论、心理学及神学领域都有举足轻重的影响。——译者注

[11] 这里所取并非荒谬的原意。这不是定义,而是对可能包含荒谬的诸多感情的一种罗列。并且,这种罗列有穷尽时,而荒谬却无法尽言。

[12] 指萨特的小说《恶心》。——译者注

[13] 巴门尼德(公元前515—前450?),古希腊哲学家,爱利亚学派创始人,认为思想与存在是同一的、无生灭的、不动的、单一的,著有用诗体写成的哲学著作《论自然》,现仅存残篇。——译者注

[14] 语出尼采《查拉图斯特拉如是说》第三部中“日出之前”一节。超人将万物从理性的绝对精神控制下解放出来,让偶然重新成为主宰。——译者注

[15] 索伦·克尔凯郭尔(1813—1855),丹麦宗教哲学心理学家、诗人,现代存在主义哲学的创始人,后现代主义的先驱。——译者注

[16] 卡尔·西奥多·雅斯贝尔斯(1883—1969),德国存在主义哲学家、神学家、精神病学家。——译者注

[17] 列夫·舍斯托夫(1866—1938),俄国思想家、哲学家。——译者注

[18] 马克斯·舍勒(1874—1928),德国哲学家和社会学家,哲学人类学的主要代表。——译者注

[19] 康德(1724—1804),德国哲学家、德国古典唯心主义哲学创始人,主张自在之物不可知,人类知识是有限度的,提出星云假说。——译者注

[20] 源于古希腊神话。阿里阿德涅是克里特岛上的公主,她为帮助心爱之人忒修斯杀掉迷宫中的米诺牛,解救雅典,交给他一只线团,引他破解了迷宫。这个线团称为阿里阿德涅之线,是忒修斯在迷宫中的生命之线。——译者注

[21] 陀思妥耶夫斯基(1821—1881),俄国作家,其作品反映“小人物”的痛苦,人物异化心理刻划入微,主要作品有《白痴》、《罪与罪》、《卡拉马佐夫兄弟》等。——译者注

[22] 西班牙传奇中的一个浪荡子,屡见于西方诗歌、戏剧中。——译者注

[23] 埃德蒙德·胡塞尔(1859—1938),德国哲学家,20世纪现象学学派创始人。——译者注

[24] 马赛尔·普鲁斯特(1871—1922),法国小说家,其创作强调生活的真实和人物的内心,以长篇小说《追忆逝水年华》闻名。——译者注

[25] 巴鲁克·斯宾诺莎(1632—1677),后改名为贝内迪特·斯宾诺莎(Benedictus Spinoza),荷兰哲学家,西方近代哲学史重要的欧陆理性主义者,与法国的笛卡尔和德国的莱布尼茨齐名。——译者注

[26] 有关特例的概念,是反对亚里士多德的。

[27] 依格那丢·罗耀拉(1491—1556),西班牙人,是罗马天主教耶稣会的创始人,也是圣人之一。他在罗马天主教内进行改革,以对抗由马丁·路德等人所领导的基督新教宗教改革。——译者注

[28] 可能有人认为这里我忽略了本质问题——信仰问题。但我并不是在检验克尔凯郭尔的哲学,或者舍斯托夫的哲学,再或者后面谈到的胡塞尔的哲学(那将需要一个不同的场合与一个不同的思想立场);我只是从他们那里借来一个主题,并检验一下其结果是否适合于已确立的规则。这只是一个坚持问题。

[29] 加里亚尼(1728—1787),意大利外交家、经济学家和作家。——译者注

[30] 法国文化名流,常主持沙龙汇集知识分子,与卢梭、狄德罗和格里姆等名人交往甚密。——译者注

[31] 我并不是说“排除上帝”,这么说仍等同于肯定。

[32] 我再声明一次:这里质疑的并非是对上帝的肯定,而是这种肯定的逻辑。

[33] 亨利·柏格森(1859—1941),法国哲学家,文笔优美,思想富于吸引力,曾获诺贝尔文学奖。——译者注

[34] 即使是最严格的认识论也设定了形而上学的方法。正是从这点上讲,很多当代思想家的形而上学就在于没有他物,却拥有一种认识论。

[35] 巴门尼德(约公元前515年—前5世纪中叶以后)是一位诞生在爱利亚(南部意大利沿岸的希腊城市)的古希腊哲学家,他第一次提出了“思想与存在是同一的”命题。——译者注

[36] 普罗提诺(205—270),罗马帝国时代的希腊哲学家,新柏拉图主义奠基人。——译者注

[37] A——在那个时候,理性要么适应,要么就得消失。它选择了适应。在普罗提诺看来,变得有逻辑以后就会变得有了审美。隐喻取代了三段论法。

B——而且,这并非普罗提诺对现象学的唯一贡献。这一整体思想立场已包含在概念中,亚历山大时代的思想家对之极为钟爱,以致不仅有关于人的观点,也有关于苏格拉底的观点。

[38] 希腊神话中的人物,歌手俄耳浦斯之妻,新婚夜被蟒蛇杀死,其夫以歌喉打动冥王,冥王准许她回生,但要求其夫在引她回阳世的路上不得回头看她,其夫夫能做到,结果她仍被抓回到阴间。——译者注

[39] 我所关注的是一种事实上的对比,而非一种谦逊的勉强替代品。荒谬之人与妥协之人是相对立的。

[40] 有时数量构成质量。倘若最近重新阐释的科学理论可信,那么所有物质都是由能量中心构成的,其数量的多少决定其特性是否突出。10亿个离子与1个离子的差异不仅在数量上,也在质量上。从人类的经历中找到一个类似例子很容易。

[41] 同样的思考也适用于与永久虚无状态这一观念一样有差别的一个概念。它既不从现实中索取,也不为其贡献。在虚无状态的心理学体验上,我们自己的虚无状态只有考虑到2000年之后所发生的事才能真正拥有意义。从其某一个方面来看,永久的虚无状态正是由将来的一定量生活构成,那些生活不属于我们。

[42] 这里的意志只是施动者:意在保持清醒。它提供了一种生活的准则,可以察觉得到。

[43] 重要的是一致性。我们在这里从接受世界出发,但是东方思想教导我们,人通过选择反对世界而能够沉溺于同样的逻辑尝试。这个同样合理,并给予了本文的视角和限度。然而当同样严格程度地追求世界的否定时,诸如关于作品的无差别性,人们常常(用某些吠陀派的说法)获得同样的结果。在一部重要的著作——《选择》中,让·格勒尼埃以这种方式确立了名副其实的“无差别哲学”。(吠陀(Veda)是印度最古老的宗教文献和文学作品的总称。——译者注)

[44] 阿兰(1868—1951),法国现象学家,受德国现象学家胡塞尔影响很大。——译者注