orthodoxy-第21章

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what　we　need　is　not　the　cold　acceptance　of　the　world　as　a　compromise；



but　some　way　in　which　we　can　heartily　hate　and　heartily　love　it。　



We　do　not　want　joy　and　anger　to　neutralize　each　other　and　produce　a



surly　contentment；　we　want　a　fiercer　delight　and　a　fiercer　discontent。　



We　have　to　feel　the　universe　at　once　as　an　ogre's　castle；



to　be　stormed；　and　yet　as　our　own　cottage；　to　which　we　can　return



at　evening。







　　　　　No　one　doubts　that　an　ordinary　man　can　get　on　with　this　world：　



but　we　demand　not　strength　enough　to　get　on　with　it；　but　strength



enough　to　get　it　on。　　Can　he　hate　it　enough　to　change　it；



and　yet　love　it　enough　to　think　it　worth　changing？　　Can　he　look



up　at　its　colossal　good　without　once　feeling　acquiescence？　



Can　he　look　up　at　its　colossal　evil　without　once　feeling　despair？　



Can　he；　in　short；　be　at　once　not　only　a　pessimist　and　an　optimist；



but　a　fanatical　pessimist　and　a　fanatical　optimist？　　Is　he　enough　of　a



pagan　to　die　for　the　world；　and　enough　of　a　Christian　to　die　to　it？　



In　this　combination；　I　maintain；　it　is　the　rational　optimist　who　fails；



the　irrational　optimist　who　succeeds。　　He　is　ready　to　smash　the　whole



universe　for　the　sake　of　itself。







　　　　　I　put　these　things　not　in　their　mature　logical　sequence；　but　as



they　came：　　and　this　view　was　cleared　and　sharpened　by　an　accident



of　the　time。　　Under　the　lengthening　shadow　of　Ibsen；　an　argument



arose　whether　it　was　not　a　very　nice　thing　to　murder　one's　self。　



Grave　moderns　told　us　that　we　must　not　even　say　〃poor　fellow；〃



of　a　man　who　had　blown　his　brains　out；　since　he　was　an　enviable　person；



and　had　only　blown　them　out　because　of　their　exceptional　excellence。　



Mr。　William　Archer　even　suggested　that　in　the　golden　age　there



would　be　penny…in…the…slot　machines；　by　which　a　man　could　kill



himself　for　a　penny。　　In　all　this　I　found　myself　utterly　hostile



to　many　who　called　themselves　liberal　and　humane。　　Not　only　is



suicide　a　sin；　it　is　the　sin。　　It　is　the　ultimate　and　absolute　evil；



the　refusal　to　take　an　interest　in　existence；　the　refusal　to　take



the　oath　of　loyalty　to　life。　　The　man　who　kills　a　man；　kills　a　man。　



The　man　who　kills　himself；　kills　all　men；　as　far　as　he　is　concerned



he　wipes　out　the　world。　　His　act　is　worse　（symbolically　considered）



than　any　rape　or　dynamite　outrage。　　For　it　destroys　all　buildings：　



it　insults　all　women。　　The　thief　is　satisfied　with　diamonds；



but　the　suicide　is　not：　　that　is　his　crime。　　He　cannot　be　bribed；



even　by　the　blazing　stones　of　the　Celestial　City。　　The　thief



compliments　the　things　he　steals；　if　not　the　owner　of　them。　



But　the　suicide　insults　everything　on　earth　by　not　stealing　it。　



He　defiles　every　flower　by　refusing　to　live　for　its　sake。　



There　is　not　a　tiny　creature　in　the　cosmos　at　whom　his　death



is　not　a　sneer。　　When　a　man　hangs　himself　on　a　tree；　the　leaves



might　fall　off　in　anger　and　the　birds　fly　away　in　fury：　



for　each　has　received　a　personal　affront。　　Of　course　there　may　be



pathetic　emotional　excuses　for　the　act。　　There　often　are　for　rape；



and　there　almost　always　are　for　dynamite。　　But　if　it　comes　to　clear



ideas　and　the　intelligent　meaning　of　things；　then　there　is　much



more　rational　and　philosophic　truth　in　the　burial　at　the　cross…roads



and　the　stake　driven　through　the　body；　than　in　Mr。　Archer's　suicidal



automatic　machines。　　There　is　a　meaning　in　burying　the　suicide　apart。　



The　man's　crime　is　different　from　other　crimesfor　it　makes　even



crimes　impossible。







　　　　　About　the　same　time　I　read　a　solemn　flippancy　by　some　free　thinker：　



he　said　that　a　suicide　was　only　the　same　as　a　martyr。　　The　open



fallacy　of　this　helped　to　clear　the　question。　　Obviously　a　suicide



is　the　opposite　of　a　martyr。　　A　martyr　is　a　man　who　cares　so　much



for　something　outside　him；　that　he　forgets　his　own　personal　life。　



A　suicide　is　a　man　who　cares　so　little　for　anything　outside　him；



that　he　wants　to　see　the　last　of　everything。　　One　wants　something



to　begin：　　the　other　wants　everything　to　end。　　In　other　words；



the　martyr　is　noble；　exactly　because　（however　he　renounces　the　world



or　execrates　all　humanity）　he　confesses　this　ultimate　link　with　life；



he　sets　his　heart　outside　himself：　　he　dies　that　something　may　live。　



The　suicide　is　ignoble　because　he　has　not　this　link　with　being：　



he　is　a　mere　destroyer；　spiritually；　he　destroys　the　universe。　



And　then　I　remembered　the　stake　and　the　cross…roads；　and　the　queer



fact　that　Christianity　had　shown　this　weird　harshness　to　the　suicide。　



For　Christianity　had　shown　a　wild　encouragement　of　the　martyr。　



Historic　Christianity　was　accused；　not　entirely　without　reason；



of　carrying　martyrdom　and　asceticism　to　a　point；　desolate



and　pessimistic。　　The　early　Christian　martyrs　talked　of　death



with　a　horrible　happiness。　　They　blasphemed　the　beautiful　duties



of　the　body：　　they　smelt　the　grave　afar　off　like　a　field　of　flowers。　



All　this　has　seemed　to　many　the　very　poetry　of　pessimism。　　Yet　there



is　the　stake　at　the　crossroads　to　show　what　Christianity　thought　of



the　pessimist。







　　　　　This　was　the　first　of　the　long　train　of　enigmas　with　which



Christianity　entered　the　discussion。　　And　there　went　with　it　a



peculiarity　of　which　I　shall　have　to　speak　more　markedly；　as　a　note



of　all　Christian　notions；　but　which　distinctly　began　in　this　one。　



The　Christian　attitude　to　the　martyr　and　the　suicide　was　not　what　is



so　often　affirmed　in　modern　morals。　　It　was　not　a　matter　of　degree。　



It　was　not　that　a　line　must　be　drawn　somewhere；　and　that　the



self…slayer　in　exaltation　fell　within　the　line；　the　self…slayer



in　sadness　just　beyond　it。　　The　Christian　feeling　evidently



was　not　merely　that　the　suicide　was　carrying　martyrdom　too　far。　



The　Christian　feeling　was　furiously　for　one　and　furiously　against



the　other：　　these　two　things　that　looked　so　much　alike　were　at



opposite　ends　of　heaven　and　hell。　　One　man　flung　away　his　life；



he　was　so　good　that　his　dry　bones　could　heal　cities　in　pestilence。　



Another　man　flung　away　life；　he　was　so　bad　that　his　bones　would



pollute　his　brethren's。　I　am　not　saying　this　fierceness　was　right；



but　why　was　it　so　fierce？







　　　　　Here　it　was　that　I　first　found　that　my　wandering　feet　were



in　some　beaten　track。　　Christianity　had　also　felt　this　opposition



of　the　martyr　to　the　suicide：　　had　it　perhaps　felt　it　for　the



same　reason？　　Had　Christianity　felt　what　I　felt；　but　could　not



（and　cannot）　expressthis　need　for　a　first　loyalty　to　things；



and　then　for　a　ruinous　reform　of　things？　　Then　I　remembered



that　it　was　actually　the　charge　against　Christianity　that　it



combined　these　two　things　which　I　was　wildly　trying　to　combine。　



Christianity　was　accused；　at　one　and　the　same　time；　of　being



too　optimistic　about　the　universe　and　of　being　too　pessimistic



about　the　world。　　The　coincidence　made　me　suddenly　stand　still。







　　　　　An　imbecile　habit　has　arisen　in　modern　controversy　of　saying



that　such　and　such　a　creed　can　be　held　in　one　age　but　cannot



be　held　in　another。　　Some　dogma；　we　are　told；　was　credible



in　the　twelfth　century；　but　is　not　credible　in　the　twentieth。　



You　might　as　well　say　that　a　certain　philosophy　can　be　believed



on　Mondays；　but　cannot　be　believed　on　Tuesdays。　　You　might　as　well



say　of　a　view　of　the　cosmos　that　it　was　suitable　to　half…past　three；



but　not　suitable　to　half…past　four。　　What　a　man　can　believe



depends　upon　his　philosophy；　not　upon　the　clock　or　the　century。　



If　a　man　believes　in　unalterable　natural　law；　he　cannot　believe



in　any　miracle　in　any　age。　　If　a　man　believes　in　a　will　behind