orthodoxy-第34章

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the　same　father；　but　she　has　no　authority　over　us；　we　have　to　admire；



but　not　to　imitate。　　This　gives　to　the　typically　Christian　pleasure



in　this　earth　a　strange　touch　of　lightness　that　is　almost　frivolity。　



Nature　was　a　solemn　mother　to　the　worshippers　of　Isis　and　Cybele。　



Nature　was　a　solemn　mother　to　Wordsworth　or　to　Emerson。　



But　Nature　is　not　solemn　to　Francis　of　Assisi　or　to　George　Herbert。　



To　St。　Francis；　Nature　is　a　sister；　and　even　a　younger　sister：　



a　little；　dancing　sister；　to　be　laughed　at　as　well　as　loved。







　　　　　This；　however；　is　hardly　our　main　point　at　present；　I　have　admitted



it　only　in　order　to　show　how　constantly；　and　as　it　were　accidentally；



the　key　would　fit　the　smallest　doors。　　Our　main　point　is　here；



that　if　there　be　a　mere　trend　of　impersonal　improvement　in　Nature；



it　must　presumably　be　a　simple　trend　towards　some　simple　triumph。　



One　can　imagine　that　some　automatic　tendency　in　biology　might　work



for　giving　us　longer　and　longer　noses。　　But　the　question　is；



do　we　want　to　have　longer　and　longer　noses？　　I　fancy　not；



I　believe　that　we　most　of　us　want　to　say　to　our　noses；　〃thus　far；



and　no　farther；　and　here　shall　thy　proud　point　be　stayed：〃　



we　require　a　nose　of　such　length　as　may　ensure　an　interesting　face。　



But　we　cannot　imagine　a　mere　biological　trend　towards　producing



interesting　faces；　because　an　interesting　face　is　one　particular



arrangement　of　eyes；　nose；　and　mouth；　in　a　most　complex　relation



to　each　other。　　Proportion　cannot　be　a　drift：　　it　is　either



an　accident　or　a　design。　　So　with　the　ideal　of　human　morality



and　its　relation　to　the　humanitarians　and　the　anti…humanitarians。



It　is　conceivable　that　we　are　going　more　and　more　to　keep　our　hands



off　things：　　not　to　drive　horses；　not　to　pick　flowers。　　We　may



eventually　be　bound　not　to　disturb　a　man's　mind　even　by　argument；



not　to　disturb　the　sleep　of　birds　even　by　coughing。　　The　ultimate



apotheosis　would　appear　to　be　that　of　a　man　sitting　quite　still；



nor　daring　to　stir　for　fear　of　disturbing　a　fly；　nor　to　eat　for　fear



of　incommoding　a　microbe。　　To　so　crude　a　consummation　as　that　we



might　perhaps　unconsciously　drift。　　But　do　we　want　so　crude



a　consummation？　　Similarly；　we　might　unconsciously　evolve　along



the　opposite　or　Nietzschian　line　of　developmentsuperman　crushing



superman　in　one　tower　of　tyrants　until　the　universe　is　smashed



up　for　fun。　　But　do　we　want　the　universe　smashed　up　for　fun？　



Is　it　not　quite　clear　that　what　we　really　hope　for　is　one　particular



management　and　proposition　of　these　two　things；　a　certain　amount



of　restraint　and　respect；　a　certain　amount　of　energy　and　mastery？　



If　our　life　is　ever　really　as　beautiful　as　a　fairy…tale；　we　shall



have　to　remember　that　all　the　beauty　of　a　fairy…tale　lies　in　this：　



that　the　prince　has　a　wonder　which　just　stops　short　of　being　fear。　



If　he　is　afraid　of　the　giant；　there　is　an　end　of　him；　but　also　if　he



is　not　astonished　at　the　giant；　there　is　an　end　of　the　fairy…tale。　The



whole　point　depends　upon　his　being　at　once　humble　enough　to　wonder；



and　haughty　enough　to　defy。　　So　our　attitude　to　the　giant　of　the　world



must　not　merely　be　increasing　delicacy　or　increasing　contempt：　



it　must　be　one　particular　proportion　of　the　twowhich　is　exactly　right。　



We　must　have　in　us　enough　reverence　for　all　things　outside　us



to　make　us　tread　fearfully　on　the　grass。　　We　must　also　have　enough



disdain　for　all　things　outside　us；　to　make　us；　on　due　occasion；



spit　at　the　stars。　　Yet　these　two　things　（if　we　are　to　be　good



or　happy）　must　be　combined；　not　in　any　combination；　but　in　one



particular　combination。　　The　perfect　happiness　of　men　on　the　earth



（if　it　ever　comes）　will　not　be　a　flat　and　solid　thing；　like　the



satisfaction　of　animals。　　It　will　be　an　exact　and　perilous　balance；



like　that　of　a　desperate　romance。　　Man　must　have　just　enough　faith



in　himself　to　have　adventures；　and　just　enough　doubt　of　himself　to



enjoy　them。







　　　　　This；　then；　is　our　second　requirement　for　the　ideal　of　progress。　



First；　it　must　be　fixed；　second；　it　must　be　composite。　　It　must　not



（if　it　is　to　satisfy　our　souls）　be　the　mere　victory　of　some　one　thing



swallowing　up　everything　else；　love　or　pride　or　peace　or　adventure；



it　must　be　a　definite　picture　composed　of　these　elements　in　their　best



proportion　and　relation。　　I　am　not　concerned　at　this　moment　to　deny



that　some　such　good　culmination　may　be；　by　the　constitution　of　things；



reserved　for　the　human　race。　　I　only　point　out　that　if　this　composite



happiness　is　fixed　for　us　it　must　be　fixed　by　some　mind；　for　only



a　mind　can　place　the　exact　proportions　of　a　composite　happiness。　



If　the　beatification　of　the　world　is　a　mere　work　of　nature；　then　it



must　be　as　simple　as　the　freezing　of　the　world；　or　the　burning



up　of　the　world。　　But　if　the　beatification　of　the　world　is　not



a　work　of　nature　but　a　work　of　art；　then　it　involves　an　artist。　



And　here　again　my　contemplation　was　cloven　by　the　ancient　voice



which　said；　〃I　could　have　told　you　all　this　a　long　time　ago。　



If　there　is　any　certain　progress　it　can　only　be　my　kind　of　progress；



the　progress　towards　a　complete　city　of　virtues　and　dominations



where　righteousness　and　peace　contrive　to　kiss　each　other。　



An　impersonal　force　might　be　leading　you　to　a　wilderness　of　perfect



flatness　or　a　peak　of　perfect　height。　　But　only　a　personal　God　can



possibly　be　leading　you　（if；　indeed；　you　are　being　led）　to　a　city



with　just　streets　and　architectural　proportions；　a　city　in　which　each



of　you　can　contribute　exactly　the　right　amount　of　your　own　colour



to　the　many　coloured　coat　of　Joseph。〃







　　　　　Twice　again；　therefore；　Christianity　had　come　in　with　the　exact



answer　that　I　required。　　I　had　said；　〃The　ideal　must　be　fixed；〃



and　the　Church　had　answered；　〃Mine　is　literally　fixed；　for　it



existed　before　anything　else。〃　　I　said　secondly；　〃It　must　be



artistically　combined；　like　a　picture〃；　and　the　Church　answered；



〃Mine　is　quite　literally　a　picture；　for　I　know　who　painted　it。〃　



Then　I　went　on　to　the　third　thing；　which；　as　it　seemed　to　me；



was　needed　for　an　Utopia　or　goal　of　progress。　　And　of　all　the　three　it



is　infinitely　the　hardest　to　express。　　Perhaps　it　might　be　put　thus：　



that　we　need　watchfulness　even　in　Utopia；　lest　we　fall　from　Utopia



as　we　fell　from　Eden。







　　　　　We　have　remarked　that　one　reason　offered　for　being　a　progressive



is　that　things　naturally　tend　to　grow　better。　　But　the　only　real



reason　for　being　a　progressive　is　that　things　naturally　tend



to　grow　worse。　　The　corruption　in　things　is　not　only　the　best



argument　for　being　progressive；　it　is　also　the　only　argument



against　being　conservative。　　The　conservative　theory　would　really



be　quite　sweeping　and　unanswerable　if　it　were　not　for　this　one　fact。　



But　all　conservatism　is　based　upon　the　idea　that　if　you　leave



things　alone　you　leave　them　as　they　are。　　But　you　do　not。　



If　you　leave　a　thing　alone　you　leave　it　to　a　torrent　of　change。　



If　you　leave　a　white　post　alone　it　will　soon　be　a　black　post。　　If　you



particularly　want　it　to　be　white　you　must　be　always　painting　it　again；



that　is；　you　must　be　always　having　a　revolution。　　Briefly；　if　you



want　the　old　white　post　you　must　have　a　new　white　post。　　But　this



which　is　true　even　of　inanimate　things　is　in　a　quite　special　and



terrible　sense　true　of　all　human　things。　　An　almost　unnatural　vigilance



is　really　required　of　the　citizen　because　of　the　horrible　rapidity



with　which　human　institutions　grow　old。　　It　is　the　custom　in　passing



romance　and　journalism　to　talk　of　men　suffering　under　old　tyra