heretics- 第25部分

for　a　moment；　that　the　flight　to　this　narrower　life　may　not　be



the　right　thing　for　the　individual；　any　more　than　I　say　the　same



thing　about　flight　into　a　monastery。　　But　I　do　say　that　anything



is　bad　and　artificial　which　tends　to　make　these　people　succumb



to　the　strange　delusion　that　they　are　stepping　into　a　world



which　is　actually　larger　and　more　varied　than　their　own。



The　best　way　that　a　man　could　test　his　readiness　to　encounter　the　common



variety　of　mankind　would　be　to　climb　down　a　chimney　into　any　house



at　random；　and　get　on　as　well　as　possible　with　the　people　inside。



And　that　is　essentially　what　each　one　of　us　did　on　the　day　that



he　was　born。







This　is；　indeed；　the　sublime　and　special　romance　of　the　family。　　It　is



romantic　because　it　is　a　toss…up。　It　is　romantic　because　it　is　everything



that　its　enemies　call　it。　　It　is　romantic　because　it　is　arbitrary。



It　is　romantic　because　it　is　there。　　So　long　as　you　have　groups　of　men



chosen　rationally；　you　have　some　special　or　sectarian　atmosphere。



It　is　when　you　have　groups　of　men　chosen　irrationally　that　you　have　men。



The　element　of　adventure　begins　to　exist；　for　an　adventure　is；



by　its　nature；　a　thing　that　comes　to　us。　　It　is　a　thing　that　chooses　us；



not　a　thing　that　we　choose。　　Falling　in　love　has　been　often



regarded　as　the　supreme　adventure；　the　supreme　romantic　accident。



In　so　much　as　there　is　in　it　something　outside　ourselves；



something　of　a　sort　of　merry　fatalism；　this　is　very　true。



Love　does　take　us　and　transfigure　and　torture　us。　　It　does　break　our



hearts　with　an　unbearable　beauty；　like　the　unbearable　beauty　of　music。



But　in　so　far　as　we　have　certainly　something　to　do　with　the　matter；



in　so　far　as　we　are　in　some　sense　prepared　to　fall　in　love　and　in　some



sense　jump　into　it；　in　so　far　as　we　do　to　some　extent　choose　and　to　some



extent　even　judgein　all　this　falling　in　love　is　not　truly　romantic；



is　not　truly　adventurous　at　all。　　In　this　degree　the　supreme　adventure



is　not　falling　in　love。　　The　supreme　adventure　is　being　born。



There　we　do　walk　suddenly　into　a　splendid　and　startling　trap。



There　we　do　see　something　of　which　we　have　not　dreamed　before。



Our　father　and　mother　do　lie　in　wait　for　us　and　leap　out　on　us；



like　brigands　from　a　bush。　　Our　uncle　is　a　surprise。　　Our　aunt　is；



in　the　beautiful　common　expression；　a　bolt　from　the　blue。



When　we　step　into　the　family；　by　the　act　of　being　born；　we　do



step　into　a　world　which　is　incalculable；　into　a　world　which　has



its　own　strange　laws；　into　a　world　which　could　do　without　us；



into　a　world　that　we　have　not　made。　　In　other　words；　when　we　step



into　the　family　we　step　into　a　fairy…tale。







This　colour　as　of　a　fantastic　narrative　ought　to　cling



to　the　family　and　to　our　relations　with　it　throughout　life。



Romance　is　the　deepest　thing　in　life；　romance　is　deeper　even



than　reality。　　For　even　if　reality　could　be　proved　to　be　misleading；



it　still　could　not　be　proved　to　be　unimportant　or　unimpressive。



Even　if　the　facts　are　false；　they　are　still　very　strange。



And　this　strangeness　of　life；　this　unexpected　and　even　perverse



element　of　things　as　they　fall　out；　remains　incurably　interesting。



The　circumstances　we　can　regulate　may　become　tame　or　pessimistic；



but　the　〃circumstances　over　which　we　have　no　control〃　remain　god…like



to　those　who；　like　Mr。　Micawber；　can　call　on　them　and　renew



their　strength。　　People　wonder　why　the　novel　is　the　most　popular



form　of　literature；　people　wonder　why　it　is　read　more　than　books



of　science　or　books　of　metaphysics。　　The　reason　is　very　simple；



it　is　merely　that　the　novel　is　more　true　than　they　are。



Life　may　sometimes　legitimately　appear　as　a　book　of　science。



Life　may　sometimes　appear；　and　with　a　much　greater　legitimacy；



as　a　book　of　metaphysics。　　But　life　is　always　a　novel。　　Our　existence



may　cease　to　be　a　song；　it　may　cease　even　to　be　a　beautiful　lament。



Our　existence　may　not　be　an　intelligible　justice；　or　even　a



recognizable　wrong。　　But　our　existence　is　still　a　story。　　In　the　fiery



alphabet　of　every　sunset　is　written；　〃to　be　continued　in　our　next。〃



If　we　have　sufficient　intellect；　we　can　finish　a　philosophical



and　exact　deduction；　and　be　certain　that　we　are　finishing　it　right。



With　the　adequate　brain…power　we　could　finish　any　scientific



discovery；　and　be　certain　that　we　were　finishing　it　right。



But　not　with　the　most　gigantic　intellect　could　we　finish　the　simplest



or　silliest　story；　and　be　certain　that　we　were　finishing　it　right。



That　is　because　a　story　has　behind　it；　not　merely　intellect　which



is　partly　mechanical；　but　will；　which　is　in　its　essence　divine。



The　narrative　writer　can　send　his　hero　to　the　gallows　if　he　likes



in　the　last　chapter　but　one。　　He　can　do　it　by　the　same　divine



caprice　whereby　he；　the　author；　can　go　to　the　gallows　himself；



and　to　hell　afterwards　if　he　chooses。　　And　the　same　civilization；



the　chivalric　European　civilization　which　asserted　freewill　in　the



thirteenth　century；　produced　the　thing　called　〃fiction〃　in　the　eighteenth。



When　Thomas　Aquinas　asserted　the　spiritual　liberty　of　man；



he　created　all　the　bad　novels　in　the　circulating　libraries。







But　in　order　that　life　should　be　a　story　or　romance　to　us；



it　is　necessary　that　a　great　part　of　it；　at　any　rate；　should　be



settled　for　us　without　our　permission。　　If　we　wish　life　to　be



a　system；　this　may　be　a　nuisance；　but　if　we　wish　it　to　be　a　drama；



it　is　an　essential。　　It　may　often　happen；　no　doubt；　that　a　drama



may　be　written　by　somebody　else　which　we　like　very　little。



But　we　should　like　it　still　less　if　the　author　came　before　the　curtain



every　hour　or　so；　and　forced　on　us　the　whole　trouble　of　inventing



the　next　act。　　A　man　has　control　over　many　things　in　his　life；



he　has　control　over　enough　things　to　be　the　hero　of　a　novel。



But　if　he　had　control　over　everything；　there　would　be　so　much



hero　that　there　would　be　no　novel。　　And　the　reason　why　the　lives



of　the　rich　are　at　bottom　so　tame　and　uneventful　is　simply　that　they



can　choose　the　events。　　They　are　dull　because　they　are　omnipotent。



They　fail　to　feel　adventures　because　they　can　make　the　adventures。



The　thing　which　keeps　life　romantic　and　full　of　fiery　possibilities



is　the　existence　of　these　great　plain　limitations　which　force　all　of　us



to　meet　the　things　we　do　not　like　or　do　not　expect。　　It　is　vain　for



the　supercilious　moderns　to　talk　of　being　in　uncongenial　surroundings。



To　be　in　a　romance　is　to　be　in　uncongenial　surroundings。



To　be　born　into　this　earth　is　to　be　born　into　uncongenial　surroundings；



hence　to　be　born　into　a　romance。　　Of　all　these　great　limitations



and　frameworks　which　fashion　and　create　the　poetry　and　variety



of　life；　the　family　is　the　most　definite　and　important。



Hence　it　is　misunderstood　by　the　moderns；　who　imagine　that　romance　would



exist　most　perfectly　in　a　complete　state　of　what　they　call　liberty。



They　think　that　if　a　man　makes　a　gesture　it　would　be　a　startling



and　romantic　matter　that　the　sun　should　fall　from　the　sky。



But　the　startling　and　romantic　thing　about　the　sun　is　that　it　does



not　fall　from　the　sky。　　They　are　seeking　under　every　shape　and　form



a　world　where　there　are　no　limitationsthat　is；　a　world　where　there



are　no　outlines；　that　is；　a　world　where　there　are　no　shapes。



There　is　nothing　baser　than　that　infinity。　　They　say　they　wish　to　be；



as　strong　as　the　universe；　but　they　really　wish　the　whole　universe



as　weak　as　themselves。















XV　On　Smart　Novelists　and　the　Smart　Set











In　one　sense；　at　any　rate；　it　is　more　valuable　to　read　bad　literature



than　good　literature。　　Good　literature　may　tell　us　the　mind



of　one　man；　but　bad　literature　may　tell　us　the　mind　of　many　men。



A　good　novel　tells　us　the　truth　about　its　hero；　but　a　bad　novel



tells　us　the　truth　about　its　author。　　It　does　much　more　than　that；



it　tells　us　the　truth　about　its　readers；　and；　oddly　enough；



it　tells　us　this　all　the　more　the　more　cynical　and　immoral



be　the　motive　of　its　manufacture。　　The　more　dishonest　a　book



is　as　a　book　the　more　honest　it　is　as　a　public　document。



A　sincere　novel　exhibits　the　simplicity　of　one　particular　man；



an　insincere　novel　exhibits　the　simplicity　of　mankind。



The　pedantic　decisions　and　definable　readjustments　of　man



may　be　found　in　scrolls　and　statute　books　and　scriptures；



but　men's　basic　assumptions　and　everlasting　energies　are　to　be



found　in　penny　dreadfuls　and　halfpenny　novelettes。　　Thus　a　man；



like　many　men　of　real　culture　in　our　day；　might　learn　from　good



literature　nothing　except　the　power　to　appreciate　good　literature。



But　from　bad　literature　he　might　learn　to　govern　empires　and　look



over　the　map　of　mankind。







There　is　one　rather　interesting　example　of　this　state　of　things



in　which　the　weaker　literature　is　really　the　stronger　and　the　stronger



the　weaker。　　It　is　the　case　of　what　may　be　called；　for　the　sake



of　an　approximate　description；　the　literature　of　aristocracy；



or；　if　you　prefer　the　description；　the　literature　of　snobbishness。



Now　if　any　one　wishes　to　find　a　really　effective　and　comprehensible



and　permanent　case　for　aristocracy　well　and　sincerely　stated；



let　him　read；　not　the　modern　philosophical　conservatives；



not　even　Nietzsche；　let　him　read　the　Bow　Bells　Novelettes。



Of　the　case　of　Nietzsche　I　am　confessedly　more　doubtful。



Nietzsche　and　the　Bow　Bells　Novelettes　have　both　obviously



the　same　fundamental　character；　they　both　worship　the　tall　man