diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/slman10h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/slman10h.htm | 1606 |
1 files changed, 1606 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/slman10h.htm b/old/slman10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8163908 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/slman10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1606 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>The Soul of Man</title> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">The Soul of Man, by Oscar Wilde</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Soul of Man, by Oscar Wilde +(#14 in our series by Oscar Wilde) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Soul of Man + +Author: Oscar Wilde + +Release Date: August, 1997 [EBook #1017] +[This file was first posted on August 10, 1997] +[Most recently updated: May 21, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h1>THE SOUL OF MAN</h1> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>The chief advantage that would result from the establishment of Socialism +is, undoubtedly, the fact that Socialism would relieve us from that +sordid necessity of living for others which, in the present condition +of things, presses so hardly upon almost everybody. In fact, scarcely +anyone at all escapes.</p> +<p>Now and then, in the course of the century, a great man of science, +like Darwin; a great poet, like Keats; a fine critical spirit, like +M. Renan; a supreme artist, like Flaubert, has been able to isolate +himself, to keep himself out of reach of the clamorous claims of others, +to stand ‘under the shelter of the wall,’ as Plato puts +it, and so to realise the perfection of what was in him, to his own +incomparable gain, and to the incomparable and lasting gain of the whole +world. These, however, are exceptions. The majority of people +spoil their lives by an unhealthy and exaggerated altruism—are +forced, indeed, so to spoil them. They find themselves surrounded +by hideous poverty, by hideous ugliness, by hideous starvation. +It is inevitable that they should be strongly moved by all this. +The emotions of man are stirred more quickly than man’s intelligence; +and, as I pointed out some time ago in an article on the function of +criticism, it is much more easy to have sympathy with suffering than +it is to have sympathy with thought. Accordingly, with admirable, +though misdirected intentions, they very seriously and very sentimentally +set themselves to the task of remedying the evils that they see. +But their remedies do not cure the disease: they merely prolong it. +Indeed, their remedies are part of the disease.</p> +<p>They try to solve the problem of poverty, for instance, by keeping +the poor alive; or, in the case of a very advanced school, by amusing +the poor.</p> +<p>But this is not a solution: it is an aggravation of the difficulty. +The proper aim is to try and reconstruct society on such a basis that +poverty will be impossible. And the altruistic virtues have really +prevented the carrying out of this aim. Just as the worst slave-owners +were those who were kind to their slaves, and so prevented the horror +of the system being realised by those who suffered from it, and understood +by those who contemplated it, so, in the present state of things in +England, the people who do most harm are the people who try to do most +good; and at last we have had the spectacle of men who have really studied +the problem and know the life—educated men who live in the East +End—coming forward and imploring the community to restrain its +altruistic impulses of charity, benevolence, and the like. They +do so on the ground that such charity degrades and demoralises. +They are perfectly right. Charity creates a multitude of sins.</p> +<p>There is also this to be said. It is immoral to use private +property in order to alleviate the horrible evils that result from the +institution of private property. It is both immoral and unfair.</p> +<p>Under Socialism all this will, of course, be altered. There +will be no people living in fetid dens and fetid rags, and bringing +up unhealthy, hunger-pinched children in the midst of impossible and +absolutely repulsive surroundings. The security of society will +not depend, as it does now, on the state of the weather. If a +frost comes we shall not have a hundred thousand men out of work, tramping +about the streets in a state of disgusting misery, or whining to their +neighbours for alms, or crowding round the doors of loathsome shelters +to try and secure a hunch of bread and a night’s unclean lodging. +Each member of the society will share in the general prosperity and +happiness of the society, and if a frost comes no one will practically +be anything the worse.</p> +<p>Upon the other hand, Socialism itself will be of value simply because +it will lead to Individualism.</p> +<p>Socialism, Communism, or whatever one chooses to call it, by converting +private property into public wealth, and substituting co-operation for +competition, will restore society to its proper condition of a thoroughly +healthy organism, and insure the material well-being of each member +of the community. It will, in fact, give Life its proper basis +and its proper environment. But for the full development of Life +to its highest mode of perfection, something more is needed. What +is needed is Individualism. If the Socialism is Authoritarian; +if there are Governments armed with economic power as they are now with +political power; if, in a word, we are to have Industrial Tyrannies, +then the last state of man will be worse than the first. At present, +in consequence of the existence of private property, a great many people +are enabled to develop a certain very limited amount of Individualism. +They are either under no necessity to work for their living, or are +enabled to choose the sphere of activity that is really congenial to +them, and gives them pleasure. These are the poets, the philosophers, +the men of science, the men of culture—in a word, the real men, +the men who have realised themselves, and in whom all Humanity gains +a partial realisation. Upon the other hand, there are a great +many people who, having no private property of their own, and being +always on the brink of sheer starvation, are compelled to do the work +of beasts of burden, to do work that is quite uncongenial to them, and +to which they are forced by the peremptory, unreasonable, degrading +Tyranny of want. These are the poor, and amongst them there is +no grace of manner, or charm of speech, or civilisation, or culture, +or refinement in pleasures, or joy of life. From their collective +force Humanity gains much in material prosperity. But it is only +the material result that it gains, and the man who is poor is in himself +absolutely of no importance. He is merely the infinitesimal atom +of a force that, so far from regarding him, crushes him: indeed, prefers +him crushed, as in that case he is far more obedient.</p> +<p>Of course, it might be said that the Individualism generated under +conditions of private property is not always, or even as a rule, of +a fine or wonderful type, and that the poor, if they have not culture +and charm, have still many virtues. Both these statements would +be quite true. The possession of private property is very often +extremely demoralising, and that is, of course, one of the reasons why +Socialism wants to get rid of the institution. In fact, property +is really a nuisance. Some years ago people went about the country +saying that property has duties. They said it so often and so +tediously that, at last, the Church has begun to say it. One hears +it now from every pulpit. It is perfectly true. Property +not merely has duties, but has so many duties that its possession to +any large extent is a bore. It involves endless claims upon one, +endless attention to business, endless bother. If property had +simply pleasures, we could stand it; but its duties make it unbearable. +In the interest of the rich we must get rid of it. The virtues +of the poor may be readily admitted, and are much to be regretted. +We are often told that the poor are grateful for charity. Some +of them are, no doubt, but the best amongst the poor are never grateful. +They are ungrateful, discontented, disobedient, and rebellious. +They are quite right to be so. Charity they feel to be a ridiculously +inadequate mode of partial restitution, or a sentimental dole, usually +accompanied by some impertinent attempt on the part of the sentimentalist +to tyrannise over their private lives. Why should they be grateful +for the crumbs that fall from the rich man’s table? They +should be seated at the board, and are beginning to know it. As +for being discontented, a man who would not be discontented with such +surroundings and such a low mode of life would be a perfect brute. +Disobedience, in the eyes of anyone who has read history, is man’s +original virtue. It is through disobedience that progress has +been made, through disobedience and through rebellion. Sometimes +the poor are praised for being thrifty. But to recommend thrift +to the poor is both grotesque and insulting. It is like advising +a man who is starving to eat less. For a town or country labourer +to practise thrift would be absolutely immoral. Man should not +be ready to show that he can live like a badly-fed animal. He +should decline to live like that, and should either steal or go on the +rates, which is considered by many to be a form of stealing. As +for begging, it is safer to beg than to take, but it is finer to take +than to beg. No: a poor man who is ungrateful, unthrifty, discontented, +and rebellious, is probably a real personality, and has much in him. +He is at any rate a healthy protest. As for the virtuous poor, +one can pity them, of course, but one cannot possibly admire them. +They have made private terms with the enemy, and sold their birthright +for very bad pottage. They must also be extraordinarily stupid. +I can quite understand a man accepting laws that protect private property, +and admit of its accumulation, as long as he himself is able under those +conditions to realise some form of beautiful and intellectual life. +But it is almost incredible to me how a man whose life is marred and +made hideous by such laws can possibly acquiesce in their continuance.</p> +<p>However, the explanation is not really difficult to find. It +is simply this. Misery and poverty are so absolutely degrading, +and exercise such a paralysing effect over the nature of men, that no +class is ever really conscious of its own suffering. They have +to be told of it by other people, and they often entirely disbelieve +them. What is said by great employers of labour against agitators +is unquestionably true. Agitators are a set of interfering, meddling +people, who come down to some perfectly contented class of the community, +and sow the seeds of discontent amongst them. That is the reason +why agitators are so absolutely necessary. Without them, in our +incomplete state, there would be no advance towards civilisation. +Slavery was put down in America, not in consequence of any action on +the part of the slaves, or even any express desire on their part that +they should be free. It was put down entirely through the grossly +illegal conduct of certain agitators in Boston and elsewhere, who were +not slaves themselves, nor owners of slaves, nor had anything to do +with the question really. It was, undoubtedly, the Abolitionists +who set the torch alight, who began the whole thing. And it is +curious to note that from the slaves themselves they received, not merely +very little assistance, but hardly any sympathy even; and when at the +close of the war the slaves found themselves free, found themselves +indeed so absolutely free that they were free to starve, many of them +bitterly regretted the new state of things. To the thinker, the +most tragic fact in the whole of the French Revolution is not that Marie +Antoinette was killed for being a queen, but that the starved peasant +of the Vendée voluntarily went out to die for the hideous cause +of feudalism.</p> +<p>It is clear, then, that no Authoritarian Socialism will do. +For while under the present system a very large number of people can +lead lives of a certain amount of freedom and expression and happiness, +under an industrial-barrack system, or a system of economic tyranny, +nobody would be able to have any such freedom at all. It is to +be regretted that a portion of our community should be practically in +slavery, but to propose to solve the problem by enslaving the entire +community is childish. Every man must be left quite free to choose +his own work. No form of compulsion must be exercised over him. +If there is, his work will not be good for him, will not be good in +itself, and will not be good for others. And by work I simply +mean activity of any kind.</p> +<p>I hardly think that any Socialist, nowadays, would seriously propose +that an inspector should call every morning at each house to see that +each citizen rose up and did manual labour for eight hours. Humanity +has got beyond that stage, and reserves such a form of life for the +people whom, in a very arbitrary manner, it chooses to call criminals. +But I confess that many of the socialistic views that I have come across +seem to me to be tainted with ideas of authority, if not of actual compulsion. +Of course, authority and compulsion are out of the question. All +association must be quite voluntary. It is only in voluntary associations +that man is fine.</p> +<p>But it may be asked how Individualism, which is now more or less +dependent on the existence of private property for its development, +will benefit by the abolition of such private property. The answer +is very simple. It is true that, under existing conditions, a +few men who have had private means of their own, such as Byron, Shelley, +Browning, Victor Hugo, Baudelaire, and others, have been able to realise +their personality more or less completely. Not one of these men +ever did a single day’s work for hire. They were relieved +from poverty. They had an immense advantage. The question +is whether it would be for the good of Individualism that such an advantage +should be taken away. Let us suppose that it is taken away. +What happens then to Individualism? How will it benefit?</p> +<p>It will benefit in this way. Under the new conditions Individualism +will be far freer, far finer, and far more intensified than it is now. +I am not talking of the great imaginatively-realised Individualism of +such poets as I have mentioned, but of the great actual Individualism +latent and potential in mankind generally. For the recognition +of private property has really harmed Individualism, and obscured it, +by confusing a man with what he possesses. It has led Individualism +entirely astray. It has made gain not growth its aim. So +that man thought that the important thing was to have, and did not know +that the important thing is to be. The true perfection of man +lies, not in what man has, but in what man is.</p> +<p>Private property has crushed true Individualism, and set up an Individualism +that is false. It has debarred one part of the community from +being individual by starving them. It has debarred the other part +of the community from being individual by putting them on the wrong +road, and encumbering them. Indeed, so completely has man’s +personality been absorbed by his possessions that the English law has +always treated offences against a man’s property with far more +severity than offences against his person, and property is still the +test of complete citizenship. The industry necessary for the making +money is also very demoralising. In a community like ours, where +property confers immense distinction, social position, honour, respect, +titles, and other pleasant things of the kind, man, being naturally +ambitious, makes it his aim to accumulate this property, and goes on +wearily and tediously accumulating it long after he has got far more +than he wants, or can use, or enjoy, or perhaps even know of. +Man will kill himself by overwork in order to secure property, and really, +considering the enormous advantages that property brings, one is hardly +surprised. One’s regret is that society should be constructed +on such a basis that man has been forced into a groove in which he cannot +freely develop what is wonderful, and fascinating, and delightful in +him—in which, in fact, he misses the true pleasure and joy of +living. He is also, under existing conditions, very insecure. +An enormously wealthy merchant may be—often is—at every +moment of his life at the mercy of things that are not under his control. +If the wind blows an extra point or so, or the weather suddenly changes, +or some trivial thing happens, his ship may go down, his speculations +may go wrong, and he finds himself a poor man, with his social position +quite gone. Now, nothing should be able to harm a man except himself. +Nothing should be able to rob a man at all. What a man really +has, is what is in him. What is outside of him should be a matter +of no importance.</p> +<p>With the abolition of private property, then, we shall have true, +beautiful, healthy Individualism. Nobody will waste his life in +accumulating things, and the symbols for things. One will live. +To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that +is all.</p> +<p>It is a question whether we have ever seen the full expression of +a personality, except on the imaginative plane of art. In action, +we never have. Caesar, says Mommsen, was the complete and perfect +man. But how tragically insecure was Caesar! Wherever there +is a man who exercises authority, there is a man who resists authority. +Caesar was very perfect, but his perfection travelled by too dangerous +a road. Marcus Aurelius was the perfect man, says Renan. +Yes; the great emperor was a perfect man. But how intolerable +were the endless claims upon him! He staggered under the burden +of the empire. He was conscious how inadequate one man was to +bear the weight of that Titan and too vast orb. What I mean by +a perfect man is one who develops under perfect conditions; one who +is not wounded, or worried or maimed, or in danger. Most personalities +have been obliged to be rebels. Half their strength has been wasted +in friction. Byron’s personality, for instance, was terribly +wasted in its battle with the stupidity, and hypocrisy, and Philistinism +of the English. Such battles do not always intensify strength: +they often exaggerate weakness. Byron was never able to give us +what he might have given us. Shelley escaped better. Like +Byron, he got out of England as soon as possible. But he was not +so well known. If the English had had any idea of what a great +poet he really was, they would have fallen on him with tooth and nail, +and made his life as unbearable to him as they possibly could. +But he was not a remarkable figure in society, and consequently he escaped, +to a certain degree. Still, even in Shelley the note of rebellion +is sometimes too strong. The note of the perfect personality is +not rebellion, but peace.</p> +<p>It will be a marvellous thing—the true personality of man—when +we see it. It will grow naturally and simply, flowerlike, or as +a tree grows. It will not be at discord. It will never argue +or dispute. It will not prove things. It will know everything. +And yet it will not busy itself about knowledge. It will have +wisdom. Its value will not be measured by material things. +It will have nothing. And yet it will have everything, and whatever +one takes from it, it will still have, so rich will it be. It +will not be always meddling with others, or asking them to be like itself. +It will love them because they will be different. And yet while +it will not meddle with others, it will help all, as a beautiful thing +helps us, by being what it is. The personality of man will be +very wonderful. It will be as wonderful as the personality of +a child.</p> +<p>In its development it will be assisted by Christianity, if men desire +that; but if men do not desire that, it will develop none the less surely. +For it will not worry itself about the past, nor care whether things +happened or did not happen. Nor will it admit any laws but its +own laws; nor any authority but its own authority. Yet it will +love those who sought to intensify it, and speak often of them. +And of these Christ was one.</p> +<p>‘Know thyself’ was written over the portal of the antique +world. Over the portal of the new world, ‘Be thyself’ +shall be written. And the message of Christ to man was simply +‘Be thyself.’ That is the secret of Christ.</p> +<p>When Jesus talks about the poor he simply means personalities, just +as when he talks about the rich he simply means people who have not +developed their personalities. Jesus moved in a community that +allowed the accumulation of private property just as ours does, and +the gospel that he preached was not that in such a community it is an +advantage for a man to live on scanty, unwholesome food, to wear ragged, +unwholesome clothes, to sleep in horrid, unwholesome dwellings, and +a disadvantage for a man to live under healthy, pleasant, and decent +conditions. Such a view would have been wrong there and then, +and would, of course, be still more wrong now and in England; for as +man moves northward the material necessities of life become of more +vital importance, and our society is infinitely more complex, and displays +far greater extremes of luxury and pauperism than any society of the +antique world. What Jesus meant, was this. He said to man, +‘You have a wonderful personality. Develop it. Be +yourself. Don’t imagine that your perfection lies in accumulating +or possessing external things. Your affection is inside of you. +If only you could realise that, you would not want to be rich. +Ordinary riches can be stolen from a man. Real riches cannot. +In the treasury-house of your soul, there are infinitely precious things, +that may not be taken from you. And so, try to so shape your life +that external things will not harm you. And try also to get rid +of personal property. It involves sordid preoccupation, endless +industry, continual wrong. Personal property hinders Individualism +at every step.’ It is to be noted that Jesus never says +that impoverished people are necessarily good, or wealthy people necessarily +bad. That would not have been true. Wealthy people are, +as a class, better than impoverished people, more moral, more intellectual, +more well-behaved. There is only one class in the community that +thinks more about money than the rich, and that is the poor. The +poor can think of nothing else. That is the misery of being poor. +What Jesus does say is that man reaches his perfection, not through +what he has, not even through what he does, but entirely through what +he is. And so the wealthy young man who comes to Jesus is represented +as a thoroughly good citizen, who has broken none of the laws of his +state, none of the commandments of his religion. He is quite respectable, +in the ordinary sense of that extraordinary word. Jesus says to +him, ‘You should give up private property. It hinders you +from realising your perfection. It is a drag upon you. It +is a burden. Your personality does not need it. It is within +you, and not outside of you, that you will find what you really are, +and what you really want.’ To his own friends he says the +same thing. He tells them to be themselves, and not to be always +worrying about other things. What do other things matter? +Man is complete in himself. When they go into the world, the world +will disagree with them. That is inevitable. The world hates +Individualism. But that is not to trouble them. They are +to be calm and self-centred. If a man takes their cloak, they +are to give him their coat, just to show that material things are of +no importance. If people abuse them, they are not to answer back. +What does it signify? The things people say of a man do not alter +a man. He is what he is. Public opinion is of no value whatsoever. +Even if people employ actual violence, they are not to be violent in +turn. That would be to fall to the same low level. After +all, even in prison, a man can be quite free. His soul can be +free. His personality can be untroubled. He can be at peace. +And, above all things, they are not to interfere with other people or +judge them in any way. Personality is a very mysterious thing. +A man cannot always be estimated by what he does. He may keep +the law, and yet be worthless. He may break the law, and yet be +fine. He may be bad, without ever doing anything bad. He +may commit a sin against society, and yet realise through that sin his +true perfection.</p> +<p>There was a woman who was taken in adultery. We are not told +the history of her love, but that love must have been very great; for +Jesus said that her sins were forgiven her, not because she repented, +but because her love was so intense and wonderful. Later on, a +short time before his death, as he sat at a feast, the woman came in +and poured costly perfumes on his hair. His friends tried to interfere +with her, and said that it was an extravagance, and that the money that +the perfume cost should have been expended on charitable relief of people +in want, or something of that kind. Jesus did not accept that +view. He pointed out that the material needs of Man were great +and very permanent, but that the spiritual needs of Man were greater +still, and that in one divine moment, and by selecting its own mode +of expression, a personality might make itself perfect. The world +worships the woman, even now, as a saint.</p> +<p>Yes; there are suggestive things in Individualism. Socialism +annihilates family life, for instance. With the abolition of private +property, marriage in its present form must disappear. This is +part of the programme. Individualism accepts this and makes it +fine. It converts the abolition of legal restraint into a form +of freedom that will help the full development of personality, and make +the love of man and woman more wonderful, more beautiful, and more ennobling. +Jesus knew this. He rejected the claims of family life, although +they existed in his day and community in a very marked form. ‘Who +is my mother? Who are my brothers?’ he said, when he was +told that they wished to speak to him. When one of his followers +asked leave to go and bury his father, ‘Let the dead bury the +dead,’ was his terrible answer. He would allow no claim +whatsoever to be made on personality.</p> +<p>And so he who would lead a Christlike life is he who is perfectly +and absolutely himself. He may be a great poet, or a great man +of science; or a young student at a University, or one who watches sheep +upon a moor; or a maker of dramas, like Shakespeare, or a thinker about +God, like Spinoza; or a child who plays in a garden, or a fisherman +who throws his net into the sea. It does not matter what he is, +as long as he realises the perfection of the soul that is within him. +All imitation in morals and in life is wrong. Through the streets +of Jerusalem at the present day crawls one who is mad and carries a +wooden cross on his shoulders. He is a symbol of the lives that +are marred by imitation. Father Damien was Christlike when he +went out to live with the lepers, because in such service he realised +fully what was best in him. But he was not more Christlike than +Wagner when he realised his soul in music; or than Shelley, when he +realised his soul in song. There is no one type for man. +There are as many perfections as there are imperfect men. And +while to the claims of charity a man may yield and yet be free, to the +claims of conformity no man may yield and remain free at all.</p> +<p>Individualism, then, is what through Socialism we are to attain to. +As a natural result the State must give up all idea of government. +It must give it up because, as a wise man once said many centuries before +Christ, there is such a thing as leaving mankind alone; there is no +such thing as governing mankind. All modes of government are failures. +Despotism is unjust to everybody, including the despot, who was probably +made for better things. Oligarchies are unjust to the many, and +ochlocracies are unjust to the few. High hopes were once formed +of democracy; but democracy means simply the bludgeoning of the people +by the people for the people. It has been found out. I must +say that it was high time, for all authority is quite degrading. +It degrades those who exercise it, and degrades those over whom it is +exercised. When it is violently, grossly, and cruelly used, it +produces a good effect, by creating, or at any rate bringing out, the +spirit of revolt and Individualism that is to kill it. When it +is used with a certain amount of kindness, and accompanied by prizes +and rewards, it is dreadfully demoralising. People, in that case, +are less conscious of the horrible pressure that is being put on them, +and so go through their lives in a sort of coarse comfort, like petted +animals, without ever realising that they are probably thinking other +people’s thoughts, living by other people’s standards, wearing +practically what one may call other people’s second-hand clothes, +and never being themselves for a single moment. ‘He who +would be free,’ says a fine thinker, ‘must not conform.’ +And authority, by bribing people to conform, produces a very gross kind +of over-fed barbarism amongst us.</p> +<p>With authority, punishment will pass away. This will be a great +gain—a gain, in fact, of incalculable value. As one reads +history, not in the expurgated editions written for school-boys and +passmen, but in the original authorities of each time, one is absolutely +sickened, not by the crimes that the wicked have committed, but by the +punishments that the good have inflicted; and a community is infinitely +more brutalised by the habitual employment of punishment, than it is +by the occurrence of crime. It obviously follows that the more +punishment is inflicted the more crime is produced, and most modern +legislation has clearly recognised this, and has made it its task to +diminish punishment as far as it thinks it can. Wherever it has +really diminished it, the results have always been extremely good. +The less punishment, the less crime. When there is no punishment +at all, crime will either cease to exist, or, if it occurs, will be +treated by physicians as a very distressing form of dementia, to be +cured by care and kindness. For what are called criminals nowadays +are not criminals at all. Starvation, and not sin, is the parent +of modern crime. That indeed is the reason why our criminals are, +as a class, so absolutely uninteresting from any psychological point +of view. They are not marvellous Macbeths and terrible Vautrins. +They are merely what ordinary, respectable, commonplace people would +be if they had not got enough to eat. When private property is +abolished there will be no necessity for crime, no demand for it; it +will cease to exist. Of course, all crimes are not crimes against +property, though such are the crimes that the English law, valuing what +a man has more than what a man is, punishes with the harshest and most +horrible severity, if we except the crime of murder, and regard death +as worse than penal servitude, a point on which our criminals, I believe, +disagree. But though a crime may not be against property, it may +spring from the misery and rage and depression produced by our wrong +system of property-holding, and so, when that system is abolished, will +disappear. When each member of the community has sufficient for +his wants, and is not interfered with by his neighbour, it will not +be an object of any interest to him to interfere with anyone else. +Jealousy, which is an extraordinary source of crime in modern life, +is an emotion closely bound up with our conceptions of property, and +under Socialism and Individualism will die out. It is remarkable +that in communistic tribes jealousy is entirely unknown.</p> +<p>Now as the State is not to govern, it may be asked what the State +is to do. The State is to be a voluntary association that will +organise labour, and be the manufacturer and distributor of necessary +commodities. The State is to make what is useful. The individual +is to make what is beautiful. And as I have mentioned the word +labour, I cannot help saying that a great deal of nonsense is being +written and talked nowadays about the dignity of manual labour. +There is nothing necessarily dignified about manual labour at all, and +most of it is absolutely degrading. It is mentally and morally +injurious to man to do anything in which he does not find pleasure, +and many forms of labour are quite pleasureless activities, and should +be regarded as such. To sweep a slushy crossing for eight hours, +on a day when the east wind is blowing is a disgusting occupation. +To sweep it with mental, moral, or physical dignity seems to me to be +impossible. To sweep it with joy would be appalling. Man +is made for something better than disturbing dirt. All work of +that kind should be done by a machine.</p> +<p>And I have no doubt that it will be so. Up to the present, +man has been, to a certain extent, the slave of machinery, and there +is something tragic in the fact that as soon as man had invented a machine +to do his work he began to starve. This, however, is, of course, +the result of our property system and our system of competition. +One man owns a machine which does the work of five hundred men. +Five hundred men are, in consequence, thrown out of employment, and, +having no work to do, become hungry and take to thieving. The +one man secures the produce of the machine and keeps it, and has five +hundred times as much as he should have, and probably, which is of much +more importance, a great deal more than he really wants. Were +that machine the property of all, every one would benefit by it. +It would be an immense advantage to the community. All unintellectual +labour, all monotonous, dull labour, all labour that deals with dreadful +things, and involves unpleasant conditions, must be done by machinery. +Machinery must work for us in coal mines, and do all sanitary services, +and be the stoker of steamers, and clean the streets, and run messages +on wet days, and do anything that is tedious or distressing. At +present machinery competes against man. Under proper conditions +machinery will serve man. There is no doubt at all that this is +the future of machinery, and just as trees grow while the country gentleman +is asleep, so while Humanity will be amusing itself, or enjoying cultivated +leisure—which, and not labour, is the aim of man—or making +beautiful things, or reading beautiful things, or simply contemplating +the world with admiration and delight, machinery will be doing all the +necessary and unpleasant work. The fact is, that civilisation +requires slaves. The Greeks were quite right there. Unless +there are slaves to do the ugly, horrible, uninteresting work, culture +and contemplation become almost impossible. Human slavery is wrong, +insecure, and demoralising. On mechanical slavery, on the slavery +of the machine, the future of the world depends. And when scientific +men are no longer called upon to go down to a depressing East End and +distribute bad cocoa and worse blankets to starving people, they will +have delightful leisure in which to devise wonderful and marvellous +things for their own joy and the joy of everyone else. There will +be great storages of force for every city, and for every house if required, +and this force man will convert into heat, light, or motion, according +to his needs. Is this Utopian? A map of the world that does +not include Utopia is not worth even glancing at, for it leaves out +the one country at which Humanity is always landing. And when +Humanity lands there, it looks out, and, seeing a better country, sets +sail. Progress is the realisation of Utopias.</p> +<p>Now, I have said that the community by means of organisation of machinery +will supply the useful things, and that the beautiful things will be +made by the individual. This is not merely necessary, but it is +the only possible way by which we can get either the one or the other. +An individual who has to make things for the use of others, and with +reference to their wants and their wishes, does not work with interest, +and consequently cannot put into his work what is best in him. +Upon the other hand, whenever a community or a powerful section of a +community, or a government of any kind, attempts to dictate to the artist +what he is to do, Art either entirely vanishes, or becomes stereotyped, +or degenerates into a low and ignoble form of craft. A work of +art is the unique result of a unique temperament. Its beauty comes +from the fact that the author is what he is. It has nothing to +do with the fact that other people want what they want. Indeed, +the moment that an artist takes notice of what other people want, and +tries to supply the demand, he ceases to be an artist, and becomes a +dull or an amusing craftsman, an honest or a dishonest tradesman. +He has no further claim to be considered as an artist. Art is +the most intense mode of Individualism that the world has known. +I am inclined to say that it is the only real mode of Individualism +that the world has known. Crime, which, under certain conditions, +may seem to have created Individualism, must take cognisance of other +people and interfere with them. It belongs to the sphere of action. +But alone, without any reference to his neighbours, without any interference, +the artist can fashion a beautiful thing; and if he does not do it solely +for his own pleasure, he is not an artist at all.</p> +<p>And it is to be noted that it is the fact that Art is this intense +form of Individualism that makes the public try to exercise over it +in an authority that is as immoral as it is ridiculous, and as corrupting +as it is contemptible. It is not quite their fault. The +public has always, and in every age, been badly brought up. They +are continually asking Art to be popular, to please their want of taste, +to flatter their absurd vanity, to tell them what they have been told +before, to show them what they ought to be tired of seeing, to amuse +them when they feel heavy after eating too much, and to distract their +thoughts when they are wearied of their own stupidity. Now Art +should never try to be popular. The public should try to make +itself artistic. There is a very wide difference. If a man +of science were told that the results of his experiments, and the conclusions +that he arrived at, should be of such a character that they would not +upset the received popular notions on the subject, or disturb popular +prejudice, or hurt the sensibilities of people who knew nothing about +science; if a philosopher were told that he had a perfect right to speculate +in the highest spheres of thought, provided that he arrived at the same +conclusions as were held by those who had never thought in any sphere +at all—well, nowadays the man of science and the philosopher would +be considerably amused. Yet it is really a very few years since +both philosophy and science were subjected to brutal popular control, +to authority—in fact the authority of either the general ignorance +of the community, or the terror and greed for power of an ecclesiastical +or governmental class. Of course, we have to a very great extent +got rid of any attempt on the part of the community, or the Church, +or the Government, to interfere with the individualism of speculative +thought, but the attempt to interfere with the individualism of imaginative +art still lingers. In fact, it does more than linger; it is aggressive, +offensive, and brutalising.</p> +<p>In England, the arts that have escaped best are the arts in which +the public take no interest. Poetry is an instance of what I mean. +We have been able to have fine poetry in England because the public +do not read it, and consequently do not influence it. The public +like to insult poets because they are individual, but once they have +insulted them, they leave them alone. In the case of the novel +and the drama, arts in which the public do take an interest, the result +of the exercise of popular authority has been absolutely ridiculous. +No country produces such badly-written fiction, such tedious, common +work in the novel form, such silly, vulgar plays as England. It +must necessarily be so. The popular standard is of such a character +that no artist can get to it. It is at once too easy and too difficult +to be a popular novelist. It is too easy, because the requirements +of the public as far as plot, style, psychology, treatment of life, +and treatment of literature are concerned are within the reach of the +very meanest capacity and the most uncultivated mind. It is too +difficult, because to meet such requirements the artist would have to +do violence to his temperament, would have to write not for the artistic +joy of writing, but for the amusement of half-educated people, and so +would have to suppress his individualism, forget his culture, annihilate +his style, and surrender everything that is valuable in him. In +the case of the drama, things are a little better: the theatre-going +public like the obvious, it is true, but they do not like the tedious; +and burlesque and farcical comedy, the two most popular forms, are distinct +forms of art. Delightful work may be produced under burlesque +and farcical conditions, and in work of this kind the artist in England +is allowed very great freedom. It is when one comes to the higher +forms of the drama that the result of popular control is seen. +The one thing that the public dislike is novelty. Any attempt +to extend the subject-matter of art is extremely distasteful to the +public; and yet the vitality and progress of art depend in a large measure +on the continual extension of subject-matter. The public dislike +novelty because they are afraid of it. It represents to them a +mode of Individualism, an assertion on the part of the artist that he +selects his own subject, and treats it as he chooses. The public +are quite right in their attitude. Art is Individualism, and Individualism +is a disturbing and disintegrating force. Therein lies its immense +value. For what it seeks to disturb is monotony of type, slavery +of custom, tyranny of habit, and the reduction of man to the level of +a machine. In Art, the public accept what has been, because they +cannot alter it, not because they appreciate it. They swallow +their classics whole, and never taste them. They endure them as +the inevitable, and as they cannot mar them, they mouth about them. +Strangely enough, or not strangely, according to one’s own views, +this acceptance of the classics does a great deal of harm. The +uncritical admiration of the Bible and Shakespeare in England is an +instance of what I mean. With regard to the Bible, considerations +of ecclesiastical authority enter into the matter, so that I need not +dwell upon the point. But in the case of Shakespeare it is quite +obvious that the public really see neither the beauties nor the defects +of his plays. If they saw the beauties, they would not object +to the development of the drama; and if they saw the defects, they would +not object to the development of the drama either. The fact is, +the public make use of the classics of a country as a means of checking +the progress of Art. They degrade the classics into authorities. +They use them as bludgeons for preventing the free expression of Beauty +in new forms. They are always asking a writer why he does not +write like somebody else, or a painter why he does not paint like somebody +else, quite oblivious of the fact that if either of them did anything +of the kind he would cease to be an artist. A fresh mode of Beauty +is absolutely distasteful to them, and whenever it appears they get +so angry, and bewildered that they always use two stupid expressions—one +is that the work of art is grossly unintelligible; the other, that the +work of art is grossly immoral. What they mean by these words +seems to me to be this. When they say a work is grossly unintelligible, +they mean that the artist has said or made a beautiful thing that is +new; when they describe a work as grossly immoral, they mean that the +artist has said or made a beautiful thing that is true. The former +expression has reference to style; the latter to subject-matter. +But they probably use the words very vaguely, as an ordinary mob will +use ready-made paving-stones. There is not a single real poet +or prose-writer of this century, for instance, on whom the British public +have not solemnly conferred diplomas of immorality, and these diplomas +practically take the place, with us, of what in France, is the formal +recognition of an Academy of Letters, and fortunately make the establishment +of such an institution quite unnecessary in England. Of course, +the public are very reckless in their use of the word. That they +should have called Wordsworth an immoral poet, was only to be expected. +Wordsworth was a poet. But that they should have called Charles +Kingsley an immoral novelist is extraordinary. Kingsley’s +prose was not of a very fine quality. Still, there is the word, +and they use it as best they can. An artist is, of course, not +disturbed by it. The true artist is a man who believes absolutely +in himself, because he is absolutely himself. But I can fancy +that if an artist produced a work of art in England that immediately +on its appearance was recognised by the public, through their medium, +which is the public press, as a work that was quite intelligible and +highly moral, he would begin to seriously question whether in its creation +he had really been himself at all, and consequently whether the work +was not quite unworthy of him, and either of a thoroughly second-rate +order, or of no artistic value whatsoever.</p> +<p>Perhaps, however, I have wronged the public in limiting them to such +words as ‘immoral,’ ‘unintelligible,’ ‘exotic,’ +and ‘unhealthy.’ There is one other word that they +use. That word is ‘morbid.’ They do not use +it often. The meaning of the word is so simple that they are afraid +of using it. Still, they use it sometimes, and, now and then, +one comes across it in popular newspapers. It is, of course, a +ridiculous word to apply to a work of art. For what is morbidity +but a mood of emotion or a mode of thought that one cannot express? +The public are all morbid, because the public can never find expression +for anything. The artist is never morbid. He expresses everything. +He stands outside his subject, and through its medium produces incomparable +and artistic effects. To call an artist morbid because he deals +with morbidity as his subject-matter is as silly as if one called Shakespeare +mad because he wrote ‘King Lear.’</p> +<p>On the whole, an artist in England gains something by being attacked. +His individuality is intensified. He becomes more completely himself. +Of course, the attacks are very gross, very impertinent, and very contemptible. +But then no artist expects grace from the vulgar mind, or style from +the suburban intellect. Vulgarity and stupidity are two very vivid +facts in modern life. One regrets them, naturally. But there +they are. They are subjects for study, like everything else. +And it is only fair to state, with regard to modern journalists, that +they always apologise to one in private for what they have written against +one in public.</p> +<p>Within the last few years two other adjectives, it may be mentioned, +have been added to the very limited vocabulary of art-abuse that is +at the disposal of the public. One is the word ‘unhealthy,’ +the other is the word ‘exotic.’ The latter merely +expresses the rage of the momentary mushroom against the immortal, entrancing, +and exquisitely lovely orchid. It is a tribute, but a tribute +of no importance. The word ‘unhealthy,’ however, admits +of analysis. It is a rather interesting word. In fact, it +is so interesting that the people who use it do not know what it means.</p> +<p>What does it mean? What is a healthy, or an unhealthy work +of art? All terms that one applies to a work of art, provided +that one applies them rationally, have reference to either its style +or its subject, or to both together. From the point of view of +style, a healthy work of art is one whose style recognises the beauty +of the material it employs, be that material one of words or of bronze, +of colour or of ivory, and uses that beauty as a factor in producing +the aesthetic effect. From the point of view of subject, a healthy +work of art is one the choice of whose subject is conditioned by the +temperament of the artist, and comes directly out of it. In fine, +a healthy work of art is one that has both perfection and personality. +Of course, form and substance cannot be separated in a work of art; +they are always one. But for purposes of analysis, and setting +the wholeness of aesthetic impression aside for a moment, we can intellectually +so separate them. An unhealthy work of art, on the other hand, +is a work whose style is obvious, old-fashioned, and common, and whose +subject is deliberately chosen, not because the artist has any pleasure +in it, but because he thinks that the public will pay him for it. +In fact, the popular novel that the public calls healthy is always a +thoroughly unhealthy production; and what the public call an unhealthy +novel is always a beautiful and healthy work of art.</p> +<p>I need hardly say that I am not, for a single moment, complaining +that the public and the public press misuse these words. I do +not see how, with their lack of comprehension of what Art is, they could +possibly use them in the proper sense. I am merely pointing out +the misuse; and as for the origin of the misuse and the meaning that +lies behind it all, the explanation is very simple. It comes from +the barbarous conception of authority. It comes from the natural +inability of a community corrupted by authority to understand or appreciate +Individualism. In a word, it comes from that monstrous and ignorant +thing that is called Public Opinion, which, bad and well-meaning as +it is when it tries to control action, is infamous and of evil meaning +when it tries to control Thought or Art.</p> +<p>Indeed, there is much more to be said in favour of the physical force +of the public than there is in favour of the public’s opinion. +The former may be fine. The latter must be foolish. It is +often said that force is no argument. That, however, entirely +depends on what one wants to prove. Many of the most important +problems of the last few centuries, such as the continuance of personal +government in England, or of feudalism in France, have been solved entirely +by means of physical force. The very violence of a revolution +may make the public grand and splendid for a moment. It was a +fatal day when the public discovered that the pen is mightier than the +paving-stone, and can be made as offensive as the brickbat. They +at once sought for the journalist, found him, developed him, and made +him their industrious and well-paid servant. It is greatly to +be regretted, for both their sakes. Behind the barricade there +may be much that is noble and heroic. But what is there behind +the leading-article but prejudice, stupidity, cant, and twaddle? +And when these four are joined together they make a terrible force, +and constitute the new authority.</p> +<p>In old days men had the rack. Now they have the press. +That is an improvement certainly. But still it is very bad, and +wrong, and demoralising. Somebody—was it Burke?—called +journalism the fourth estate. That was true at the time, no doubt. +But at the present moment it really is the only estate. It has +eaten up the other three. The Lords Temporal say nothing, the +Lords Spiritual have nothing to say, and the House of Commons has nothing +to say and says it. We are dominated by Journalism. In America +the President reigns for four years, and Journalism governs for ever +and ever. Fortunately in America Journalism has carried its authority +to the grossest and most brutal extreme. As a natural consequence +it has begun to create a spirit of revolt. People are amused by +it, or disgusted by it, according to their temperaments. But it +is no longer the real force it was. It is not seriously treated. +In England, Journalism, not, except in a few well-known instances, having +been carried to such excesses of brutality, is still a great factor, +a really remarkable power. The tyranny that it proposes to exercise +over people’s private lives seems to me to be quite extraordinary. +The fact is, that the public have an insatiable curiosity to know everything, +except what is worth knowing. Journalism, conscious of this, and +having tradesman-like habits, supplies their demands. In centuries +before ours the public nailed the ears of journalists to the pump. +That was quite hideous. In this century journalists have nailed +their own ears to the keyhole. That is much worse. And what +aggravates the mischief is that the journalists who are most to blame +are not the amusing journalists who write for what are called Society +papers. The harm is done by the serious, thoughtful, earnest journalists, +who solemnly, as they are doing at present, will drag before the eyes +of the public some incident in the private life of a great statesman, +of a man who is a leader of political thought as he is a creator of +political force, and invite the public to discuss the incident, to exercise +authority in the matter, to give their views, and not merely to give +their views, but to carry them into action, to dictate to the man upon +all other points, to dictate to his party, to dictate to his country; +in fact, to make themselves ridiculous, offensive, and harmful. +The private lives of men and women should not be told to the public. +The public have nothing to do with them at all. In France they +manage these things better. There they do not allow the details +of the trials that take place in the divorce courts to be published +for the amusement or criticism of the public. All that the public +are allowed to know is that the divorce has taken place and was granted +on petition of one or other or both of the married parties concerned. +In France, in fact, they limit the journalist, and allow the artist +almost perfect freedom. Here we allow absolute freedom to the +journalist, and entirely limit the artist. English public opinion, +that is to say, tries to constrain and impede and warp the man who makes +things that are beautiful in effect, and compels the journalist to retail +things that are ugly, or disgusting, or revolting in fact, so that we +have the most serious journalists in the world, and the most indecent +newspapers. It is no exaggeration to talk of compulsion. +There are possibly some journalists who take a real pleasure in publishing +horrible things, or who, being poor, look to scandals as forming a sort +of permanent basis for an income. But there are other journalists, +I feel certain, men of education and cultivation, who really dislike +publishing these things, who know that it is wrong to do so, and only +do it because the unhealthy conditions under which their occupation +is carried on oblige them to supply the public with what the public +wants, and to compete with other journalists in making that supply as +full and satisfying to the gross popular appetite as possible. +It is a very degrading position for any body of educated men to be placed +in, and I have no doubt that most of them feel it acutely.</p> +<p>However, let us leave what is really a very sordid side of the subject, +and return to the question of popular control in the matter of Art, +by which I mean Public Opinion dictating to the artist the form which +he is to use, the mode in which he is to use it, and the materials with +which he is to work. I have pointed out that the arts which have +escaped best in England are the arts in which the public have not been +interested. They are, however, interested in the drama, and as +a certain advance has been made in the drama within the last ten or +fifteen years, it is important to point out that this advance is entirely +due to a few individual artists refusing to accept the popular want +of taste as their standard, and refusing to regard Art as a mere matter +of demand and supply. With his marvellous and vivid personality, +with a style that has really a true colour-element in it, with his extraordinary +power, not over mere mimicry but over imaginative and intellectual creation, +Mr Irving, had his sole object been to give the public what they wanted, +could have produced the commonest plays in the commonest manner, and +made as much success and money as a man could possibly desire. +But his object was not that. His object was to realise his own +perfection as an artist, under certain conditions, and in certain forms +of Art. At first he appealed to the few: now he has educated the +many. He has created in the public both taste and temperament. +The public appreciate his artistic success immensely. I often +wonder, however, whether the public understand that that success is +entirely due to the fact that he did not accept their standard, but +realised his own. With their standard the Lyceum would have been +a sort of second-rate booth, as some of the popular theatres in London +are at present. Whether they understand it or not the fact however +remains, that taste and temperament have, to a certain extent been created +in the public, and that the public is capable of developing these qualities. +The problem then is, why do not the public become more civilised? +They have the capacity. What stops them?</p> +<p>The thing that stops them, it must be said again, is their desire +to exercise authority over the artist and over works of art. To +certain theatres, such as the Lyceum and the Haymarket, the public seem +to come in a proper mood. In both of these theatres there have +been individual artists, who have succeeded in creating in their audiences—and +every theatre in London has its own audience—the temperament to +which Art appeals. And what is that temperament? It is the +temperament of receptivity. That is all.</p> +<p>If a man approaches a work of art with any desire to exercise authority +over it and the artist, he approaches it in such a spirit that he cannot +receive any artistic impression from it at all. The work of art +is to dominate the spectator: the spectator is not to dominate the work +of art. The spectator is to be receptive. He is to be the +violin on which the master is to play. And the more completely +he can suppress his own silly views, his own foolish prejudices, his +own absurd ideas of what Art should be, or should not be, the more likely +he is to understand and appreciate the work of art in question. +This is, of course, quite obvious in the case of the vulgar theatre-going +public of English men and women. But it is equally true of what +are called educated people. For an educated person’s ideas +of Art are drawn naturally from what Art has been, whereas the new work +of art is beautiful by being what Art has never been; and to measure +it by the standard of the past is to measure it by a standard on the +rejection of which its real perfection depends. A temperament +capable of receiving, through an imaginative medium, and under imaginative +conditions, new and beautiful impressions, is the only temperament that +can appreciate a work of art. And true as this is in the case +of the appreciation of sculpture and painting, it is still more true +of the appreciation of such arts as the drama. For a picture and +a statue are not at war with Time. They take no count of its succession. +In one moment their unity may be apprehended. In the case of literature +it is different. Time must be traversed before the unity of effect +is realised. And so, in the drama, there may occur in the first +act of the play something whose real artistic value may not be evident +to the spectator till the third or fourth act is reached. Is the +silly fellow to get angry and call out, and disturb the play, and annoy +the artists? No. The honest man is to sit quietly, and know +the delightful emotions of wonder, curiosity, and suspense. He +is not to go to the play to lose a vulgar temper. He is to go +to the play to realise an artistic temperament. He is to go to +the play to gain an artistic temperament. He is not the arbiter +of the work of art. He is one who is admitted to contemplate the +work of art, and, if the work be fine, to forget in its contemplation +and the egotism that mars him—the egotism of his ignorance, or +the egotism of his information. This point about the drama is +hardly, I think, sufficiently recognised. I can quite understand +that were ‘Macbeth’ produced for the first time before a +modern London audience, many of the people present would strongly and +vigorously object to the introduction of the witches in the first act, +with their grotesque phrases and their ridiculous words. But when +the play is over one realises that the laughter of the witches in ‘Macbeth’ +is as terrible as the laughter of madness in ‘Lear,’ more +terrible than the laughter of Iago in the tragedy of the Moor. +No spectator of art needs a more perfect mood of receptivity than the +spectator of a play. The moment he seeks to exercise authority +he becomes the avowed enemy of Art and of himself. Art does not +mind. It is he who suffers.</p> +<p>With the novel it is the same thing. Popular authority and +the recognition of popular authority are fatal. Thackeray’s +‘Esmond’ is a beautiful work of art because he wrote it +to please himself. In his other novels, in ‘Pendennis,’ +in ‘Philip,’ in ‘Vanity Fair’ even, at times, +he is too conscious of the public, and spoils his work by appealing +directly to the sympathies of the public, or by directly mocking at +them. A true artist takes no notice whatever of the public. +The public are to him non-existent. He has no poppied or honeyed +cakes through which to give the monster sleep or sustenance. He +leaves that to the popular novelist. One incomparable novelist +we have now in England, Mr George Meredith. There are better artists +in France, but France has no one whose view of life is so large, so +varied, so imaginatively true. There are tellers of stories in +Russia who have a more vivid sense of what pain in fiction may be. +But to him belongs philosophy in fiction. His people not merely +live, but they live in thought. One can see them from myriad points +of view. They are suggestive. There is soul in them and +around them. They are interpretative and symbolic. And he +who made them, those wonderful quickly-moving figures, made them for +his own pleasure, and has never asked the public what they wanted, has +never cared to know what they wanted, has never allowed the public to +dictate to him or influence him in any way but has gone on intensifying +his own personality, and producing his own individual work. At +first none came to him. That did not matter. Then the few +came to him. That did not change him. The many have come +now. He is still the same. He is an incomparable novelist. +With the decorative arts it is not different. The public clung +with really pathetic tenacity to what I believe were the direct traditions +of the Great Exhibition of international vulgarity, traditions that +were so appalling that the houses in which people lived were only fit +for blind people to live in. Beautiful things began to be made, +beautiful colours came from the dyer’s hand, beautiful patterns +from the artist’s brain, and the use of beautiful things and their +value and importance were set forth. The public were really very +indignant. They lost their temper. They said silly things. +No one minded. No one was a whit the worse. No one accepted +the authority of public opinion. And now it is almost impossible +to enter any modern house without seeing some recognition of good taste, +some recognition of the value of lovely surroundings, some sign of appreciation +of beauty. In fact, people’s houses are, as a rule, quite +charming nowadays. People have been to a very great extent civilised. +It is only fair to state, however, that the extraordinary success of +the revolution in house-decoration and furniture and the like has not +really been due to the majority of the public developing a very fine +taste in such matters. It has been chiefly due to the fact that +the craftsmen of things so appreciated the pleasure of making what was +beautiful, and woke to such a vivid consciousness of the hideousness +and vulgarity of what the public had previously wanted, that they simply +starved the public out. It would be quite impossible at the present +moment to furnish a room as rooms were furnished a few years ago, without +going for everything to an auction of second-hand furniture from some +third-rate lodging-house. The things are no longer made. +However they may object to it, people must nowadays have something charming +in their surroundings. Fortunately for them, their assumption +of authority in these art-matters came to entire grief.</p> +<p>It is evident, then, that all authority in such things is bad. +People sometimes inquire what form of government is most suitable for +an artist to live under. To this question there is only one answer. +The form of government that is most suitable to the artist is no government +at all. Authority over him and his art is ridiculous. It +has been stated that under despotisms artists have produced lovely work. +This is not quite so. Artists have visited despots, not as subjects +to be tyrannised over, but as wandering wonder-makers, as fascinating +vagrant personalities, to be entertained and charmed and suffered to +be at peace, and allowed to create. There is this to be said in +favour of the despot, that he, being an individual, may have culture, +while the mob, being a monster, has none. One who is an Emperor +and King may stoop down to pick up a brush for a painter, but when the +democracy stoops down it is merely to throw mud. And yet the democracy +have not so far to stoop as the emperor. In fact, when they want +to throw mud they have not to stoop at all. But there is no necessity +to separate the monarch from the mob; all authority is equally bad.</p> +<p>There are three kinds of despots. There is the despot who tyrannises +over the body. There is the despot who tyrannises over the soul. +There is the despot who tyrannises over the soul and body alike. +The first is called the Prince. The second is called the Pope. +The third is called the People. The Prince may be cultivated. +Many Princes have been. Yet in the Prince there is danger. +One thinks of Dante at the bitter feast in Verona, of Tasso in Ferrara’s +madman’s cell. It is better for the artist not to live with +Princes. The Pope may be cultivated. Many Popes have been; +the bad Popes have been. The bad Popes loved Beauty, almost as +passionately, nay, with as much passion as the good Popes hated Thought. +To the wickedness of the Papacy humanity owes much. The goodness +of the Papacy owes a terrible debt to humanity. Yet, though the +Vatican has kept the rhetoric of its thunders, and lost the rod of its +lightning, it is better for the artist not to live with Popes. +It was a Pope who said of Cellini to a conclave of Cardinals that common +laws and common authority were not made for men such as he; but it was +a Pope who thrust Cellini into prison, and kept him there till he sickened +with rage, and created unreal visions for himself, and saw the gilded +sun enter his room, and grew so enamoured of it that he sought to escape, +and crept out from tower to tower, and falling through dizzy air at +dawn, maimed himself, and was by a vine-dresser covered with vine leaves, +and carried in a cart to one who, loving beautiful things, had care +of him. There is danger in Popes. And as for the People, +what of them and their authority? Perhaps of them and their authority +one has spoken enough. Their authority is a thing blind, deaf, +hideous, grotesque, tragic, amusing, serious, and obscene. It +is impossible for the artist to live with the People. All despots +bribe. The people bribe and brutalise. Who told them to +exercise authority? They were made to live, to listen, and to +love. Someone has done them a great wrong. They have marred +themselves by imitation of their inferiors. They have taken the +sceptre of the Prince. How should they use it? They have +taken the triple tiara of the Pope. How should they carry its +burden? They are as a clown whose heart is broken. They +are as a priest whose soul is not yet born. Let all who love Beauty +pity them. Though they themselves love not Beauty, yet let them +pity themselves. Who taught them the trick of tyranny?</p> +<p>There are many other things that one might point out. One might +point out how the Renaissance was great, because it sought to solve +no social problem, and busied itself not about such things, but suffered +the individual to develop freely, beautifully, and naturally, and so +had great and individual artists, and great and individual men. +One might point out how Louis XIV., by creating the modern state, destroyed +the individualism of the artist, and made things monstrous in their +monotony of repetition, and contemptible in their conformity to rule, +and destroyed throughout all France all those fine freedoms of expression +that had made tradition new in beauty, and new modes one with antique +form. But the past is of no importance. The present is of +no importance. It is with the future that we have to deal. +For the past is what man should not have been. The present is +what man ought not to be. The future is what artists are.</p> +<p>It will, of course, be said that such a scheme as is set forth here +is quite unpractical, and goes against human nature. This is perfectly +true. It is unpractical, and it goes against human nature. +This is why it is worth carrying out, and that is why one proposes it. +For what is a practical scheme? A practical scheme is either a +scheme that is already in existence, or a scheme that could be carried +out under existing conditions. But it is exactly the existing +conditions that one objects to; and any scheme that could accept these +conditions is wrong and foolish. The conditions will be done away +with, and human nature will change. The only thing that one really +knows about human nature is that it changes. Change is the one +quality we can predicate of it. The systems that fail are those +that rely on the permanency of human nature, and not on its growth and +development. The error of Louis XIV. was that he thought human +nature would always be the same. The result of his error was the +French Revolution. It was an admirable result. All the results +of the mistakes of governments are quite admirable.</p> +<p>It is to be noted also that Individualism does not come to man with +any sickly cant about duty, which merely means doing what other people +want because they want it; or any hideous cant about self-sacrifice, +which is merely a survival of savage mutilation. In fact, it does +not come to man with any claims upon him at all. It comes naturally +and inevitably out of man. It is the point to which all development +tends. It is the differentiation to which all organisms grow. +It is the perfection that is inherent in every mode of life, and towards +which every mode of life quickens. And so Individualism exercises +no compulsion over man. On the contrary, it says to man that he +should suffer no compulsion to be exercised over him. It does +not try to force people to be good. It knows that people are good +when they are let alone. Man will develop Individualism out of +himself. Man is now so developing Individualism. To ask +whether Individualism is practical is like asking whether Evolution +is practical. Evolution is the law of life, and there is no evolution +except towards Individualism. Where this tendency is not expressed, +it is a case of artificially-arrested growth, or of disease, or of death.</p> +<p>Individualism will also be unselfish and unaffected. It has +been pointed out that one of the results of the extraordinary tyranny +of authority is that words are absolutely distorted from their proper +and simple meaning, and are used to express the obverse of their right +signification. What is true about Art is true about Life. +A man is called affected, nowadays, if he dresses as he likes to dress. +But in doing that he is acting in a perfectly natural manner. +Affectation, in such matters, consists in dressing according to the +views of one’s neighbour, whose views, as they are the views of +the majority, will probably be extremely stupid. Or a man is called +selfish if he lives in the manner that seems to him most suitable for +the full realisation of his own personality; if, in fact, the primary +aim of his life is self-development. But this is the way in which +everyone should live. Selfishness is not living as one wishes +to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live. And +unselfishness is letting other people’s lives alone, not interfering +with them. Selfishness always aims at creating around it an absolute +uniformity of type. Unselfishness recognises infinite variety +of type as a delightful thing, accepts it, acquiesces in it, enjoys +it. It is not selfish to think for oneself. A man who does +not think for himself does not think at all. It is grossly selfish +to require of ones neighbour that he should think in the same way, and +hold the same opinions. Why should he? If he can think, +he will probably think differently. If he cannot think, it is +monstrous to require thought of any kind from him. A red rose +is not selfish because it wants to be a red rose. It would be +horribly selfish if it wanted all the other flowers in the garden to +be both red and roses. Under Individualism people will be quite +natural and absolutely unselfish, and will know the meanings of the +words, and realise them in their free, beautiful lives. Nor will +men be egotistic as they are now. For the egotist is he who makes +claims upon others, and the Individualist will not desire to do that. +It will not give him pleasure. When man has realised Individualism, +he will also realise sympathy and exercise it freely and spontaneously. +Up to the present man has hardly cultivated sympathy at all. He +has merely sympathy with pain, and sympathy with pain is not the highest +form of sympathy. All sympathy is fine, but sympathy with suffering +is the least fine mode. It is tainted with egotism. It is +apt to become morbid. There is in it a certain element of terror +for our own safety. We become afraid that we ourselves might be +as the leper or as the blind, and that no man would have care of us. +It is curiously limiting, too. One should sympathise with the +entirety of life, not with life’s sores and maladies merely, but +with life’s joy and beauty and energy and health and freedom. +The wider sympathy is, of course, the more difficult. It requires +more unselfishness. Anybody can sympathise with the sufferings +of a friend, but it requires a very fine nature—it requires, in +fact, the nature of a true Individualist—to sympathise with a +friend’s success.</p> +<p>In the modern stress of competition and struggle for place, such +sympathy is naturally rare, and is also very much stifled by the immoral +ideal of uniformity of type and conformity to rule which is so prevalent +everywhere, and is perhaps most obnoxious in England.</p> +<p>Sympathy with pain there will, of course, always be. It is +one of the first instincts of man. The animals which are individual, +the higher animals, that is to say, share it with us. But it must +be remembered that while sympathy with joy intensifies the sum of joy +in the world, sympathy with pain does not really diminish the amount +of pain. It may make man better able to endure evil, but the evil +remains. Sympathy with consumption does not cure consumption; +that is what Science does. And when Socialism has solved the problem +of poverty, and Science solved the problem of disease, the area of the +sentimentalists will be lessened, and the sympathy of man will be large, +healthy, and spontaneous. Man will have joy in the contemplation +of the joyous life of others.</p> +<p>For it is through joy that the Individualism of the future will develop +itself. Christ made no attempt to reconstruct society, and consequently +the Individualism that he preached to man could be realised only through +pain or in solitude. The ideals that we owe to Christ are the +ideals of the man who abandons society entirely, or of the man who resists +society absolutely. But man is naturally social. Even the +Thebaid became peopled at last. And though the cenobite realises +his personality, it is often an impoverished personality that he so +realises. Upon the other hand, the terrible truth that pain is +a mode through which man may realise himself exercises a wonderful fascination +over the world. Shallow speakers and shallow thinkers in pulpits +and on platforms often talk about the world’s worship of pleasure, +and whine against it. But it is rarely in the world’s history +that its ideal has been one of joy and beauty. The worship of +pain has far more often dominated the world. Mediaevalism, with +its saints and martyrs, its love of self-torture, its wild passion for +wounding itself, its gashing with knives, and its whipping with rods—Mediaevalism +is real Christianity, and the mediaeval Christ is the real Christ. +When the Renaissance dawned upon the world, and brought with it the +new ideals of the beauty of life and the joy of living, men could not +understand Christ. Even Art shows us that. The painters +of the Renaissance drew Christ as a little boy playing with another +boy in a palace or a garden, or lying back in his mother’s arms, +smiling at her, or at a flower, or at a bright bird; or as a noble, +stately figure moving nobly through the world; or as a wonderful figure +rising in a sort of ecstasy from death to life. Even when they +drew him crucified they drew him as a beautiful God on whom evil men +had inflicted suffering. But he did not preoccupy them much. +What delighted them was to paint the men and women whom they admired, +and to show the loveliness of this lovely earth. They painted +many religious pictures—in fact, they painted far too many, and +the monotony of type and motive is wearisome, and was bad for art. +It was the result of the authority of the public in art-matters, and +is to be deplored. But their soul was not in the subject. +Raphael was a great artist when he painted his portrait of the Pope. +When he painted his Madonnas and infant Christs, he is not a great artist +at all. Christ had no message for the Renaissance, which was wonderful +because it brought an ideal at variance with his, and to find the presentation +of the real Christ we must go to mediaeval art. There he is one +maimed and marred; one who is not comely to look on, because Beauty +is a joy; one who is not in fair raiment, because that may be a joy +also: he is a beggar who has a marvellous soul; he is a leper whose +soul is divine; he needs neither property nor health; he is a God realising +his perfection through pain.</p> +<p>The evolution of man is slow. The injustice of men is great. +It was necessary that pain should be put forward as a mode of self-realisation. +Even now, in some places in the world, the message of Christ is necessary. +No one who lived in modern Russia could possibly realise his perfection +except by pain. A few Russian artists have realised themselves +in Art; in a fiction that is mediaeval in character, because its dominant +note is the realisation of men through suffering. But for those +who are not artists, and to whom there is no mode of life but the actual +life of fact, pain is the only door to perfection. A Russian who +lives happily under the present system of government in Russia must +either believe that man has no soul, or that, if he has, it is not worth +developing. A Nihilist who rejects all authority, because he knows +authority to be evil, and welcomes all pain, because through that he +realises his personality, is a real Christian. To him the Christian +ideal is a true thing.</p> +<p>And yet, Christ did not revolt against authority. He accepted +the imperial authority of the Roman Empire and paid tribute. He +endured the ecclesiastical authority of the Jewish Church, and would +not repel its violence by any violence of his own. He had, as +I said before, no scheme for the reconstruction of society. But +the modern world has schemes. It proposes to do away with poverty +and the suffering that it entails. It desires to get rid of pain, +and the suffering that pain entails. It trusts to Socialism and +to Science as its methods. What it aims at is an Individualism +expressing itself through joy. This Individualism will be larger, +fuller, lovelier than any Individualism has ever been. Pain is +not the ultimate mode of perfection. It is merely provisional +and a protest. It has reference to wrong, unhealthy, unjust surroundings. +When the wrong, and the disease, and the injustice are removed, it will +have no further place. It will have done its work. It was +a great work, but it is almost over. Its sphere lessens every +day.</p> +<p>Nor will man miss it. For what man has sought for is, indeed, +neither pain nor pleasure, but simply Life. Man has sought to +live intensely, fully, perfectly. When he can do so without exercising +restraint on others, or suffering it ever, and his activities are all +pleasurable to him, he will be saner, healthier, more civilised, more +himself. Pleasure is Nature’s test, her sign of approval. +When man is happy, he is in harmony with himself and his environment. +The new Individualism, for whose service Socialism, whether it wills +it or not, is working, will be perfect harmony. It will be what +the Greeks sought for, but could not, except in Thought, realise completely, +because they had slaves, and fed them; it will be what the Renaissance +sought for, but could not realise completely except in Art, because +they had slaves, and starved them. It will be complete, and through +it each man will attain to his perfection. The new Individualism +is the new Hellenism.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE SOUL OF MAN ***</p> +<pre> + +******This file should be named slman10h.htm or slman10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, slman11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, slman10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext05 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext05 + +Or /etext04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, +91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + + PROJECT GUTENBERG LITERARY ARCHIVE FOUNDATION + 809 North 1500 West + Salt Lake City, UT 84116 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart hart@pobox.com + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* +</pre></body> +</html> |