heretics-第31部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！




and　politics；　in　arts　and　in　arms。　　Perhaps　the　only　quality



which　was　possessed　in　common　by　the　great　Fielding；　and　the



great　Richardson　was　that　neither　of　them　hid　their　feelings。



Swift；　indeed；　was　hard　and　logical；　because　Swift　was　Irish。



And　when　we　pass　to　the　soldiers　and　the　rulers；　the　patriots　and



the　empire…builders　of　the　eighteenth　century；　we　find；　as　I　have　said；



that　they　were；　If　possible；　more　romantic　than　the　romancers；



more　poetical　than　the　poets。　　Chatham；　who　showed　the　world



all　his　strength；　showed　the　House　of　Commons　all　his　weakness。



Wolfe　walked。　　about　the　room　with　a　drawn　sword　calling　himself



Caesar　and　Hannibal；　and　went　to　death　with　poetry　in　his　mouth。



Clive　was　a　man　of　the　same　type　as　Cromwell　or　Bunyan；　or；　for　the



matter　of　that；　Johnsonthat　is；　he　was　a　strong；　sensible　man



with　a　kind　of　running　spring　of　hysteria　and　melancholy　in　him。



Like　Johnson；　he　was　all　the　more　healthy　because　he　was　morbid。



The　tales　of　all　the　admirals　and　adventurers　of　that　England　are



full　of　braggadocio；　of　sentimentality；　of　splendid　affectation。



But　it　is　scarcely　necessary　to　multiply　examples　of　the　essentially



romantic　Englishman　when　one　example　towers　above　them　all。



Mr。　Rudyard　Kipling　has　said　complacently　of　the　English；



〃We　do　not　fall　on　the　neck　and　kiss　when　we　come　together。〃



It　is　true　that　this　ancient　and　universal　custom　has　vanished　with



the　modern　weakening　of　England。　　Sydney　would　have　thought　nothing



of　kissing　Spenser。　　But　I　willingly　concede　that　Mr。　Broderick



would　not　be　likely　to　kiss　Mr。　Arnold…Foster；　if　that　be　any　proof



of　the　increased　manliness　and　military　greatness　of　England。



But　the　Englishman　who　does　not　show　his　feelings　has　not　altogether



given　up　the　power　of　seeing　something　English　in　the　great　sea…hero



of　the　Napoleonic　war。　　You　cannot　break　the　legend　of　Nelson。



And　across　the　sunset　of　that　glory　is　written　in　flaming　letters



for　ever　the　great　English　sentiment；　〃Kiss　me；　Hardy。〃







This　ideal　of　self…repression；　then；　is；　whatever　else　it　is；　not　English。



It　is；　perhaps；　somewhat　Oriental；　it　is　slightly　Prussian；　but　in



the　main　it　does　not　come；　I　think；　from　any　racial　or　national　source。



It　is；　as　I　have　said；　in　some　sense　aristocratic；　it　comes



not　from　a　people；　but　from　a　class。　　Even　aristocracy；　I　think；



was　not　quite　so　stoical　in　the　days　when　it　was　really　strong。



But　whether　this　unemotional　ideal　be　the　genuine　tradition　of



the　gentleman；　or　only　one　of　the　inventions　of　the　modern　gentleman



（who　may　be　called　the　decayed　gentleman）；　it　certainly　has　something



to　do　with　the　unemotional　quality　in　these　society　novels。



From　representing　aristocrats　as　people　who　suppressed　their　feelings；



it　has　been　an　easy　step　to　representing　aristocrats　as　people　who　had　no



feelings　to　suppress。　　Thus　the　modern　oligarchist　has　made　a　virtue　for



the　oligarchy　of　the　hardness　as　well　as　the　brightness　of　the　diamond。



Like　a　sonneteer　addressing　his　lady　in　the　seventeenth　century；



he　seems　to　use　the　word　〃cold〃　almost　as　a　eulogium；　and　the　word



〃heartless〃　as　a　kind　of　compliment。　　Of　course；　in　people　so　incurably



kind…hearted　and　babyish　as　are　the　English　gentry；　it　would　be



impossible　to　create　anything　that　can　be　called　positive　cruelty；



so　in　these　books　they　exhibit　a　sort　of　negative　cruelty。



They　cannot　be　cruel　in　acts；　but　they　can　be　so　in　words。



All　this　means　one　thing；　and　one　thing　only。　　It　means　that　the　living



and　invigorating　ideal　of　England　must　be　looked　for　in　the　masses；



it　must　be　looked　for　where　Dickens　found　itDickens　among　whose　glories



it　was　to　be　a　humorist；　to　be　a　sentimentalist；　to　be　an　optimist；



to　be　a　poor　man；　to　be　an　Englishman；　but　the　greatest　of　whose　glories



was　that　he　saw　all　mankind　in　its　amazing　and　tropical　luxuriance；



and　did　not　even　notice　the　aristocracy；　Dickens；　the　greatest



of　whose　glories　was　that　he　could　not　describe　a　gentleman。















XVI　On　Mr。　McCabe　and　a　Divine　Frivolity











A　critic　once　remonstrated　with　me　saying；　with　an　air　of



indignant　reasonableness；　〃If　you　must　make　jokes；　at　least　you　need



not　make　them　on　such　serious　subjects。〃　　I　replied　with　a　natural



simplicity　and　wonder；　〃About　what　other　subjects　can　one　make



jokes　except　serious　subjects？〃　　It　is　quite　useless　to　talk



about　profane　jesting。　　All　jesting　is　in　its　nature　profane；



in　the　sense　that　it　must　be　the　sudden　realization　that　something



which　thinks　itself　solemn　is　not　so　very　solemn　after　all。



If　a　joke　is　not　a　joke　about　religion　or　morals；　it　is　a　joke　about



police…magistrates　or　scientific　professors　or　undergraduates　dressed



up　as　Queen　Victoria。　　And　people　joke　about　the　police…magistrate



more　than　they　joke　about　the　Pope；　not　because　the　police…magistrate



is　a　more　frivolous　subject；　but；　on　the　contrary；　because　the



police…magistrate　is　a　more　serious　subject　than　the　Pope。



The　Bishop　of　Rome　has　no　jurisdiction　in　this　realm　of　England；



whereas　the　police…magistrate　may　bring　his　solemnity　to　bear　quite



suddenly　upon　us。　　Men　make　jokes　about　old　scientific　professors；



even　more　than　they　make　them　about　bishopsnot　because　science



is　lighter　than　religion；　but　because　science　is　always　by　its



nature　more　solemn　and　austere　than　religion。　　It　is　not　I；



it　is　not　even　a　particular　class　of　journalists　or　jesters



who　make　jokes　about　the　matters　which　are　of　most　awful　import；



it　is　the　whole　human　race。　　If　there　is　one　thing　more　than　another



which　any　one　will　admit　who　has　the　smallest　knowledge　of　the　world；



it　is　that　men　are　always　speaking　gravely　and　earnestly　and　with



the　utmost　possible　care　about　the　things　that　are　not　important；



but　always　talking　frivolously　about　the　things　that　are。



Men　talk　for　hours　with　the　faces　of　a　college　of　cardinals　about



things　like　golf；　or　tobacco；　or　waistcoats；　or　party　politics。



But　all　the　most　grave　and　dreadful　things　in　the　world　are　the　oldest



jokes　in　the　worldbeing　married；　being　hanged。







One　gentleman；　however；　Mr。　McCabe；　has　in　this　matter　made



to　me　something　that　almost　amounts　to　a　personal　appeal；



and　as　he　happens　to　be　a　man　for　whose　sincerity　and　intellectual



virtue　I　have　a　high　respect；　I　do　not　feel　inclined　to　let　it



pass　without　some　attempt　to　satisfy　my　critic　in　the　matter。



Mr。　McCabe　devotes　a　considerable　part　of　the　last　essay　in



the　collection　called　〃Christianity　and　Rationalism　on　Trial〃



to　an　objection；　not　to　my　thesis；　but　to　my　method；　and　a　very



friendly　and　dignified　appeal　to　me　to　alter　it。　　I　am　much　inclined



to　defend　myself　in　this　matter　out　of　mere　respect　for　Mr。　McCabe；



and　still　more　so　out　of　mere　respect　for　the　truth　which　is；　I　think；



in　danger　by　his　error；　not　only　in　this　question；　but　in　others。



In　order　that　there　may　be　no　injustice　done　in　the　matter；



I　will　quote　Mr。　McCabe　himself。　　〃But　before　I　follow　Mr。　Chesterton



in　some　detail　I　would　make　a　general　observation　on　his　method。



He　is　as　serious　as　I　am　in　his　ultimate　purpose；　and　I　respect



him　for　that。　　He　knows；　as　I　do；　that　humanity　stands　at　a　solemn



parting　of　the　ways。　　Towards　some　unknown　goal　it　presses　through



the　ages；　impelled　by　an　overmastering　desire　of　happiness。



To…day　it　hesitates；　lightheartedly　enough；　but　every　serious



thinker　knows　how　momentous　the　decision　may　be。　　It　is；　apparently；



deserting　the　path　of　religion　and　entering　upon　the　path　of　secularism。



Will　it　lose　itself　in　quagmires　of　sensuality　down　this　new　path；



and　pant　and　toil　through　years　of　civic　and　industrial　anarchy；



only　to　learn　it　had　lost　the　road；　and　must　return　to　religion？



Or　will　it　find　that　at　last　it　is　leaving　the　mists　and　the　quagmires



behind　it；　that　it　is　ascending　the　slope　of　the　hill　so　long　dimly



discerned　ahead；　and　making　straight　for　the　long…sought　Utopia？



This　is　the　drama　of　our　time；　and　every　man　and　every　woman



should　understand　it。







〃Mr。　Chesterton　understands　it。　　Further；　he　gives　us



credit　for　understanding　it。　　He　has　nothing　of　that　paltry



meanness　or　strange　density　of　so　many　of　his　colleagues；



who　put　us　down　as　aimless　iconoclasts　or　moral　anarchists。



He　admits　that　we　are　waging　a　thankless　war　for　what　we



take　to　be　Truth　and　Progress。　　He　is　doing　the　same。



But　why；　in　the　name　of　all　that　is　reasonable；　should　we；



when　we　are　agreed　on　the　momentousness　of　the　is