heretics-第15部分

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doubtless　he　would　jump　off　the　Monument；　but　he　would　not　jump



off　the　Monument　all　day　long　to　the　delight　of　the　City。



But　if　we　took　it　to　a　blind　man；　saying；　〃This　will　enable　you　to　see；〃



he　would　be　under　a　heavier　temptation。　　It　would　be　hard　for　him



not　to　rub　it　on　his　eyes　whenever　he　heard　the　hoof　of　a　noble



horse　or　the　birds　singing　at　daybreak。　　It　is　easy　to　deny　one's



self　festivity；　it　is　difficult　to　deny　one's　self　normality。



Hence　comes　the　fact　which　every　doctor　knows；　that　it　is　often



perilous　to　give　alcohol　to　the　sick　even　when　they　need　it。



I　need　hardly　say　that　I　do　not　mean　that　I　think　the　giving



of　alcohol　to　the　sick　for　stimulus　is　necessarily　unjustifiable。



But　I　do　mean　that　giving　it　to　the　healthy　for　fun　is　the　proper



use　of　it；　and　a　great　deal　more　consistent　with　health。







The　sound　rule　in　the　matter　would　appear　to　be　like　many　other



sound　rulesa　paradox。　　Drink　because　you　are　happy；　but　never　because



you　are　miserable。　　Never　drink　when　you　are　wretched　without　it；



or　you　will　be　like　the　grey…faced　gin…drinker　in　the　slum；



but　drink　when　you　would　be　happy　without　it；　and　you　will　be　like



the　laughing　peasant　of　Italy。　　Never　drink　because　you　need　it；



for　this　is　rational　drinking；　and　the　way　to　death　and　hell。



But　drink　because　you　do　not　need　it；　for　this　is　irrational　drinking；



and　the　ancient　health　of　the　world。







For　more　than　thirty　years　the　shadow　and　glory　of　a　great



Eastern　figure　has　lain　upon　our　English　literature。



Fitzgerald's　translation　of　Omar　Khayyam　concentrated　into　an



immortal　poignancy　all　the　dark　and　drifting　hedonism　of　our　time。



Of　the　literary　splendour　of　that　work　it　would　be　merely　banal　to　speak；



in　few　other　of　the　books　of　men　has　there　been　anything　so　combining



the　gay　pugnacity　of　an　epigram　with　the　vague　sadness　of　a　song。



But　of　its　philosophical；　ethical；　and　religious　influence　which　has



been　almost　as　great　as　its　brilliancy；　I　should　like　to　say　a　word；



and　that　word；　I　confess；　one　of　uncompromising　hostility。



There　are　a　great　many　things　which　might　be　said　against



the　spirit　of　the　Rubaiyat；　and　against　its　prodigious　influence。



But　one　matter　of　indictment　towers　ominously　above　the　rest



a　genuine　disgrace　to　it；　a　genuine　calamity　to　us。　　This　is　the　terrible



blow　that　this　great　poem　has　struck　against　sociability　and　the　joy



of　life。　　Some　one　called　Omar　〃the　sad；　glad　old　Persian。〃



Sad　he　is；　glad　he　is　not；　in　any　sense　of　the　word　whatever。



He　has　been　a　worse　foe　to　gladness　than　the　Puritans。







A　pensive　and　graceful　Oriental　lies　under　the　rose…tree



with　his　wine…pot　and　his　scroll　of　poems。　　It　may　seem　strange



that　any　one's　thoughts　should；　at　the　moment　of　regarding　him；



fly　back　to　the　dark　bedside　where　the　doctor　doles　out　brandy。



It　may　seem　stranger　still　that　they　should　go　back



to　the　grey　wastrel　shaking　with　gin　in　Houndsditch。



But　a　great　philosophical　unity　links　the　three　in　an　evil　bond。



Omar　Khayyam's　wine…bibbing　is　bad；　not　because　it　is　wine…bibbing。



It　is　bad；　and　very　bad；　because　it　is　medical　wine…bibbing。　It



is　the　drinking　of　a　man　who　drinks　because　he　is　not　happy。



His　is　the　wine　that　shuts　out　the　universe；　not　the　wine　that　reveals　it。



It　is　not　poetical　drinking；　which　is　joyous　and　instinctive；



it　is　rational　drinking；　which　is　as　prosaic　as　an　investment；



as　unsavoury　as　a　dose　of　camomile。　　Whole　heavens　above　it；



from　the　point　of　view　of　sentiment；　though　not　of　style；



rises　the　splendour　of　some　old　English　drinking…song







　　〃Then　pass　the　bowl；　my　comrades　all；



　　　And　let　the　zider　vlow。〃







For　this　song　was　caught　up　by　happy　men　to　express　the　worth



of　truly　worthy　things；　of　brotherhood　and　garrulity；　and　the　brief



and　kindly　leisure　of　the　poor。　　Of　course；　the　great　part　of



the　more　stolid　reproaches　directed　against　the　Omarite　morality



are　as　false　and　babyish　as　such　reproaches　usually　are。　　One　critic；



whose　work　I　have　read；　had　the　incredible　foolishness　to　call　Omar



an　atheist　and　a　materialist。　　It　is　almost　impossible　for　an　Oriental



to　be　either；　the　East　understands　metaphysics　too　well　for　that。



Of　course；　the　real　objection　which　a　philosophical　Christian



would　bring　against　the　religion　of　Omar；　is　not　that　he　gives



no　place　to　God；　it　is　that　he　gives　too　much　place　to　God。



His　is　that　terrible　theism　which　can　imagine　nothing　else　but　deity；



and　which　denies　altogether　the　outlines　of　human　personality



and　human　will。







　　〃The　ball　no　question　makes　of　Ayes　or　Noes；



　　　But　Here　or　There　as　strikes　the　Player　goes；



　　　And　He　that　tossed　you　down　into　the　field；



　　　He　knows　about　it　allhe　knowshe　knows。〃







A　Christian　thinker　such　as　Augustine　or　Dante　would　object　to　this



because　it　ignores　free…will；　which　is　the　valour　and　dignity　of　the　soul。



The　quarrel　of　the　highest　Christianity　with　this　scepticism　is



not　in　the　least　that　the　scepticism　denies　the　existence　of　God；



it　is　that　it　denies　the　existence　of　man。







In　this　cult　of　the　pessimistic　pleasure…seeker　the　Rubaiyat



stands　first　in　our　time；　but　it　does　not　stand　alone。



Many　of　the　most　brilliant　intellects　of　our　time　have　urged



us　to　the　same　self…conscious　snatching　at　a　rare　delight。



Walter　Pater　said　that　we　were　all　under　sentence　of　death；



and　the　only　course　was　to　enjoy　exquisite　moments　simply



for　those　moments'　sake。　　The　same　lesson　was　taught　by　the



very　powerful　and　very　desolate　philosophy　of　Oscar　Wilde。



It　is　the　carpe　diem　religion；　but　the　carpe　diem　religion　is



not　the　religion　of　happy　people；　but　of　very　unhappy　people。



Great　joy　does；　not　gather　the　rosebuds　while　it　may；



its　eyes　are　fixed　on　the　immortal　rose　which　Dante　saw。



Great　joy　has　in　it　the　sense　of　immortality；　the　very　splendour



of　youth　is　the　sense　that　it　has　all　space　to　stretch　its　legs　in。



In　all　great　comic　literature；　in　〃Tristram　Shandy〃



or　〃Pickwick〃；　there　is　this　sense　of　space　and　incorruptibility；



we　feel　the　characters　are　deathless　people　in　an　endless　tale。







It　is　true　enough；　of　course；　that　a　pungent　happiness　comes　chiefly



in　certain　passing　moments；　but　it　is　not　true　that　we　should　think



of　them　as　passing；　or　enjoy　them　simply　〃for　those　moments'　sake。〃



To　do　this　is　to　rationalize　the　happiness；　and　therefore　to　destroy　it。



Happiness　is　a　mystery　like　religion；　and　should　never　be　rationalized。



Suppose　a　man　experiences　a　really　splendid　moment　of　pleasure。



I　do　not　mean　something　connected　with　a　bit　of　enamel；　I　mean



something　with　a　violent　happiness　in　itan　almost　painful　happiness。



A　man　may　have；　for　instance；　a　moment　of　ecstasy　in　first　love；



or　a　moment　of　victory　in　battle。　　The　lover　enjoys　the　moment；



but　precisely　not　for　the　moment's　sake。　　He　enjoys　it　for　the



woman's　sake；　or　his　own　sake。　　The　warrior　enjoys　the　moment；　but　not



for　the　sake　of　the　moment；　he　enjoys　it　for　the　sake　of　the　flag。



The　cause　which　the　flag　stands　for　may　be　foolish　and　fleeting；



the　love　may　be　calf…love；　and　last　a　week。　　But　the　patriot　thinks



of　the　flag　as　eternal；　the　lover　thinks　of　his　love　as　something



that　cannot　end。　　These　moments　are　filled　with　eternity；



these　moments　are　joyful　because　they　do　not　seem　momentary。



Once　look　at　them　as　moments　after　Pater's　manner；　and　they　become



as　cold　as　Pater　and　his　style。　　Man　cannot　love　mortal　things。



He　can　only　love　immortal　things　for　an　instant。







Pater's　mistake　is　revealed　in　his　most　famous　phrase。



He　asks　us　to　burn　with　a　hard；　gem…like　flame。　　Flames　are　never



hard　and　never　gem…likethey　cannot　be　handled　or　arranged。



So　human　emotions　are　never　hard　and　never　gem…like；　they　are



always　dangerous；　like　flames；　to　touch　or　even　to　examine。



There　is　only　one　way　in　which　our　passions　can　become　hard



and　gem…like；　and　that　is　by　becoming　as　cold　as　gems。



No　blow　then　has　ever　been　struck　at　the　natural　loves　and　laughter



of　men　so　sterilizing　as　this　carpe　diem　of　the　aesthetes。



For　any　kind　of　pleasure　a　totally　different　spirit　is　required；



a　certain　shyness；　a　certain　indeterminate　hope；　a　certain



boyish　expectation。　　Purity　and　simplicity　are　essential　to　passions



yes　even　to　evil　passions。　　Even　vice　demands　a　sort　of　virginity。







Omar's　（or　Fitzgerald's）　effect　upon　the　other　world　we　may　let　go；



his　hand　upon　this　world　has　been　heavy　and　paralyzing。