《Synge And The Ireland Of His Time》第8章

t　translations　he　has　not　equalled　since；　has　done　much　for　national　dignity。　when　i　was　a　boy　i　was　often　troubled　and　sorrowful　because　scottish　dialect　was　capable　of　noble　use；　but　the　irish　of　obvious　roystering　humour　only；　and　this　error　fixed　on　my　imagination　by　so　many　novelists　and　rhymers　made　me　listen　badly。　synge　wrote　down　words　and　phrases　wherever　he　went；　and　with　that　knowledge　of　irish　which　made　all　our　country　idioms　easy　to　his　hand；　found　it　so　rich　a　thing；　that　he　had　begun　translating　into　it　fragments　of　the　great　literatures　of　the　world；　and　had　planned　a　plete　version　of　the　imitation　of　christ。　it　gave　him　imaginative　richness　and　yet　left　to　him　the　sting　and　tang　of　reality。　how　vivid　in　his　translation　from　villon　are　those　eyes　with　a　big　gay　look　out　of　them　would　bring　folly　from　a　great　scholar。　more　vivid　surely　than　anything　in　swinburnes　version；　and　how　noble　those　words　which　are　yet　simple　country　speech；　in　which　his　petrarch　mourns　that　death　came　upon　laura　just　as　time　was　making　chastity　easy；　and　the　day　e　when　lovers　may　sit　together　and　say　out　all　things　arc　in　their　hearts；　and　my　sweet　enemy　was　making　a　start；　little　by　little；　to　give　over　her　great　wariness；　the　way　she　was　wringing　a　sweet　thing　out　of　my　sharp　sorrow。
％％。
Synge　And　The　Ireland　Of　His　TimeXIV
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once　when　i　had　been　saying　that　though　it　seemed　to　me　that　a　conventional　descriptive　passage　encumbered　the　action　at　the　moment　of　crisis。　i　liked　the　shadow　of　the　glen　better　than　riders　to　the　sea　that　is；　for　all　the　nobility　of　its　end；　its　mood　of　greek　tragedy；　too　passive　in　suffering；　and　had　quoted　from　matthew　arnolds　introduction　to　empedocles　on　etna；　synge　answered；　it　is　a　curious　thing　that　〃the　riders　to　the sea〃　succeeds　with　an　english　but　not　with　an　irish　audience；　and　〃the　shadow　of　the　glen〃　which　is　not　liked　by　an　english　audience　is　always　liked　in　ireland；　though　it　is　disliked　there　in　theory。　since　then　the　riders　to　the　sea　has　grown　into　great　popularity　in　dublin；　partly　because　with　the　tactical　instinct　of　an　irish　mob；　the　demonstrators　against　the　playboy　both　in　the　press　and　in　the　theatre；　where　it　began　the　evening；　selected　it　for　applause。　it　is　now　what　shelleys　cloud　was　for　many　years；　a　fort　to　those　who　do　not　like　to　deny　altogether　the　genius　they　cannot　understand。　yet　i　am　certain　that；　in　the　long　run；　his　grotesque　plays　with　their　lyric　beauty；　their　violent　laughter；　the　playboy　of　the　western　world　most　of　all；　will　be　loved　for　holding　so　much　of　the　mind　of　ireland。　synge　has　written　of　the　playboy　anyone　who　has　lived　in　real　intimacy　with　the　irish　peasantry　will　know　that　the　wildest　sayings　in　this　play　are　tame　indeed　pared　with　the　fancies　one　may　hear　at　any　little　hillside　cottage　of　geesala；　or　carraroe；　or　dingle　bay。
it　is　the　strangest；　the　most　beautiful　expression　in　drama　of　that　irish　fantasy；　which　overflowing　through　all　irish　literature　that　has　e　out　of　ireland　itself　（pare　the　fantastic　irish　account　of　the　battle　of　clontarf　with　the　sober　norse　account）　is　the　unbroken　character　of　irish　genius。　in　modern　days　this　genius　has　delighted　in　mischievous　extravagance；　like　that　of　the　gaelic　poets　curse　upon　his　children；　there　are　three　things　that　i　hate；　the　devil　that　is　waiting　for　my　soul；　the　worms　that　are　waiting　for　my　body；　my　children；　who　are　waiting　for　my　wealth　and　care　neither　for　my　body　nor　my　soul：　oh；　christ　hang　all　in　the　same　noose！　i　think　those　words　were　spoken　with　a　delight　in　their　vehemence　that　took　out　of　anger　half　the　bitterness　with　all　the　gloom。　an　old　man　on　the　aran　islands　told　me　the　very　tale　on　which　the　playboy　is　founded；　beginning　with　the　words；　if　any　gentleman　has　done　a　crime　well　hide　him。　there　was　a　gentleman　that　killed　his　father；　&　i　had　him　in　my　own　house　six　months　till　he　got　away　to　america。　despite　the　solemnity　of　his　slow　speech　his　eyes　shone　as　the　eyes　must　have　shone　in　that　trinity　college　branch　of　the　gaelic　league；　which　began　every　meeting　with　prayers　for　the　death　of　an　old　fellow　of　college　who　disliked　their　movement；　or　as　they　certainly　do　when　patriots　are　telling　how　short　a　time　the　prayers　took　to　the　killing　of　him。　i　have　seen　a　crowd；　when　certain　dublin　papers　had　wrought　themselves　into　an　imaginary　loyalty；　so　possessed　by　what　seemed　the　very　genius　of　satiric　fantasy；　that　one　all　but　looked　to　find　some　feathered　heel　among　the　cobble　stones。　part　of　the　delight　of　crowd　or　individual　is　always　that　somebody　will　be　angry；　somebody　take　the　sport　for　gloomy　earnest。　we　are　mocking　at　his　solemnity；　let　us　therefore　so　hide　our　malice　that　he　may　be　more　solemn　still；　and　the　laugh　run　higher　yet。　why　should　we　speak　his　language　and　so　wake　him　from　a　dream　of　all　those　emotions　which　men　feel　because　they　should；　and　not　because　they　must？　our　minds；　being　sufficient　to　themselves；　do　not　wish　for　victory　but　are　content　to　elaborate　our　extravagance；　if　fortune　aid；　into　wit　or　lyric　beauty；　and　as　for　the　rest　there　are　nights　when　a　king　like　conchobar　would　spit　upon　his　arm？ring　and　queens　will　stick　out　their　tongues　at　the　rising　moon。
this　habit　of　the　mind　has　made　oscar　wilde　and　mr。　bernard　shaw　the　most　celebrated　makers　of　edy　to　our　time；　and　if　it　has　sounded　plainer　still　in　the　conversation　of　the　one；　and　in　some　few　speeches　of　the　other；　that　is　but　because　they　have　not　been　able　to　turn　out　of　their　plays　an　alien　trick　of　zeal　picked　up　in　struggling　youth。　yet；　in　synges　plays　also；　fantasy　gives　the　form　and　not　the　thought；　for　the　core　is　always　as　in　all　great　art；　an　over？powering　vision　of　certain　virtues；　and　our　capacity　for　sharing　in　that　vision　is　the　measure　of　our　delight。　great　art　chills　us　at　first　by　its　coldness　or　its　strangeness；　by　what　seems　capricious；　and　yet　it　is　from　these　qualities　it　has　authority；　as　though　it　had　fed　on　locust　and　wild　honey。　the　imaginative　writer　shows　us　the　world　as　a　painter　does　his　picture；　reversed　in　a　looking？glass　that　we　may　see　it；　not　as　it　seems　to　eyes　habit　has　made　dull；　but　as　we　were　adam　and　this　the　first　morning；　and　whe