THE DECAY OF LYING

THE DECAY OF LYINGA DIALOGUE. Persons: Cyril and Vivian. Scene: the Library of acountry house in Nottinghamshire.CYRIL (coming in through the open window from the terrace). Mydear Vivian, don't coop yourself up all day in the library. It isa perfectly lovely afternoon. The air is exquisite. There is amist upon the woods, like the purple bloom upon a plum. Let us goand lie on the grass and smoke cigarettes and enjoy Nature.VIVIAN. Enjoy Nature! I am glad to say that I have entirely lostthat faculty. People tell us that Art makes us love Nature morethan we loved her before; that it reveals her secrets to us; andthat after a careful study of Corot and Constable we see things inher that had escaped our observation. My own experience is thatthe more we study Art, the less we care for Nature. What Artreally reveals to us is Nature's lack of design, her curiouscrudities, her extraordinary monotony, her absolutely unfinishedcondition. Nature has good intentions, of course, but, asAristotle once said, she cannot carry them out. When I look at alandscape I cannot help seeing all its defects. It is fortunatefor us, however, that Nature is so imperfect, as otherwise weshould have no art at all. Art is our spirited protest, ourgallant attempt to teach Nature her proper place. As for theinfinite variety of Nature, that is a pure myth. It is not to befound in Nature herself. It resides in the imagination, or fancy,or cultivated blindness of the man who looks at her.CYRIL. Well, you need not look at the landscape. You can lie onthe grass and smoke and talk.VIVIAN. But Nature is so uncomfortable. Grass is hard and lumpyand damp, and full of dreadful black insects. Why, even Morris'spoorest workman could make you a more comfortable seat than thewhole of Nature can. Nature pales before the furniture of 'thestreet which from Oxford has borrowed its name,' as the poet youlove so much once vilely phrased it. I don't complain. If Naturehad been comfortable, mankind would never have inventedarchitecture, and I prefer houses to the open air. In a house weall feel of the proper proportions. Everything is subordinated tous, fashioned for our use and our pleasure. Egotism itself, whichis so necessary to a proper sense of human dignity, is entirely theresult of indoor life. Out of doors one becomes abstract andimpersonal. One's individuality absolutely leaves one. And thenNature is so indifferent, so unappreciative. Whenever I am walkingin the park here, I always feel that I am no more to her than thecattle that browse on the slope, or the burdock that blooms in theditch. Nothing is more evident than that Nature hates Mind.Thinking is the most unhealthy thing in the world, and people dieof it just as they die of any other disease. Fortunately, inEngland at any rate, thought is not catching. Our splendidphysique as a people is entirely due to our national stupidity. Ionly hope we shall be able to keep this great historic bulwark ofour happiness for many years to come; but I am afraid that we arebeginning to be over-educated; at least everybody who is incapableof learning has taken to teaching - that is really what ourenthusiasm for education has come to. In the meantime, you hadbetter go back to your wearisome uncomfortable Nature, and leave meto correct my proofs.