orthodoxy-第15章

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thing　is　quite　distinct　from　another；　that　there　is　no　logical



connection　between　flying　and　laying　eggs。　　It　is　the　man　who



talks　about　〃a　law〃　that　he　has　never　seen　who　is　the　mystic。　



Nay；　the　ordinary　scientific　man　is　strictly　a　sentimentalist。　



He　is　a　sentimentalist　in　this　essential　sense；　that　he　is　soaked



and　swept　away　by　mere　associations。　　He　has　so　often　seen　birds



fly　and　lay　eggs　that　he　feels　as　if　there　must　be　some　dreamy；



tender　connection　between　the　two　ideas；　whereas　there　is　none。　



A　forlorn　lover　might　be　unable　to　dissociate　the　moon　from　lost　love；



so　the　materialist　is　unable　to　dissociate　the　moon　from　the　tide。　



In　both　cases　there　is　no　connection；　except　that　one　has　seen



them　together。　　A　sentimentalist　might　shed　tears　at　the　smell



of　apple…blossom；　because；　by　a　dark　association　of　his　own；



it　reminded　him　of　his　boyhood。　　So　the　materialist　professor　（though



he　conceals　his　tears）　is　yet　a　sentimentalist；　because；　by　a　dark



association　of　his　own；　apple…blossoms　remind　him　of　apples。　　But　the



cool　rationalist　from　fairyland　does　not　see　why；　in　the　abstract；



the　apple　tree　should　not　grow　crimson　tulips；　it　sometimes　does　in



his　country。







　　　　　This　elementary　wonder；　however；　is　not　a　mere　fancy　derived



from　the　fairy　tales；　on　the　contrary；　all　the　fire　of　the　fairy



tales　is　derived　from　this。　　Just　as　we　all　like　love　tales　because



there　is　an　instinct　of　sex；　we　all　like　astonishing　tales　because



they　touch　the　nerve　of　the　ancient　instinct　of　astonishment。　



This　is　proved　by　the　fact　that　when　we　are　very　young　children



we　do　not　need　fairy　tales：　　we　only　need　tales。　　Mere　life　is



interesting　enough。　　A　child　of　seven　is　excited　by　being　told　that



Tommy　opened　a　door　and　saw　a　dragon。　　But　a　child　of　three　is　excited



by　being　told　that　Tommy　opened　a　door。　　Boys　like　romantic　tales；



but　babies　like　realistic　talesbecause　they　find　them　romantic。　



In　fact；　a　baby　is　about　the　only　person；　I　should　think；　to　whom



a　modern　realistic　novel　could　be　read　without　boring　him。　



This　proves　that　even　nursery　tales　only　echo　an　almost　pre…natal



leap　of　interest　and　amazement。　　These　tales　say　that　apples　were



golden　only　to　refresh　the　forgotten　moment　when　we　found　that　they



were　green。　　They　make　rivers　run　with　wine　only　to　make　us　remember；



for　one　wild　moment；　that　they　run　with　water。　　I　have　said　that　this



is　wholly　reasonable　and　even　agnostic。　　And；　indeed；　on　this　point



I　am　all　for　the　higher　agnosticism；　its　better　name　is　Ignorance。　



We　have　all　read　in　scientific　books；　and；　indeed；　in　all　romances；



the　story　of　the　man　who　has　forgotten　his　name。　　This　man　walks



about　the　streets　and　can　see　and　appreciate　everything；　only　he



cannot　remember　who　he　is。　　Well；　every　man　is　that　man　in　the　story。　



Every　man　has　forgotten　who　he　is。　　One　may　understand　the　cosmos；



but　never　the　ego；　the　self　is　more　distant　than　any　star。　



Thou　shalt　love　the　Lord　thy　God；　but　thou　shalt　not　know　thyself。　



We　are　all　under　the　same　mental　calamity；　we　have　all　forgotten



our　names。　　We　have　all　forgotten　what　we　really　are。　　All　that　we



call　common　sense　and　rationality　and　practicality　and　positivism



only　means　that　for　certain　dead　levels　of　our　life　we　forget



that　we　have　forgotten。　　All　that　we　call　spirit　and　art　and



ecstasy　only　means　that　for　one　awful　instant　we　remember　that



we　forget。







　　　　　But　though　（like　the　man　without　memory　in　the　novel）　we　walk　the



streets　with　a　sort　of　half…witted　admiration；　still　it　is　admiration。　



It　is　admiration　in　English　and　not　only　admiration　in　Latin。　



The　wonder　has　a　positive　element　of　praise。　　This　is　the　next



milestone　to　be　definitely　marked　on　our　road　through　fairyland。　



I　shall　speak　in　the　next　chapter　about　optimists　and　pessimists



in　their　intellectual　aspect；　so　far　as　they　have　one。　　Here　I　am　only



trying　to　describe　the　enormous　emotions　which　cannot　be　described。　



And　the　strongest　emotion　was　that　life　was　as　precious　as　it



was　puzzling。　　It　was　an　ecstasy　because　it　was　an　adventure；



it　was　an　adventure　because　it　was　an　opportunity。　　The　goodness



of　the　fairy　tale　was　not　affected　by　the　fact　that　there　might　be



more　dragons　than　princesses；　it　was　good　to　be　in　a　fairy　tale。　



The　test　of　all　happiness　is　gratitude；　and　I　felt　grateful；



though　I　hardly　knew　to　whom。　　Children　are　grateful　when　Santa



Claus　puts　in　their　stockings　gifts　of　toys　or　sweets。　　Could　I



not　be　grateful　to　Santa　Claus　when　he　put　in　my　stockings　the　gift



of　two　miraculous　legs？　　We　thank　people　for　birthday　presents



of　cigars　and　slippers。　　Can　I　thank　no　one　for　the　birthday　present



of　birth？







　　　　　There　were；　then；　these　two　first　feelings；　indefensible　and



indisputable。　　The　world　was　a　shock；　but　it　was　not　merely　shocking；



existence　was　a　surprise；　but　it　was　a　pleasant　surprise。　　In　fact；



all　my　first　views　were　exactly　uttered　in　a　riddle　that　stuck



in　my　brain　from　boyhood。　　The　question　was；　〃What　did　the　first



frog　say？〃　　And　the　answer　was；　〃Lord；　how　you　made　me　jump！〃　



That　says　succinctly　all　that　I　am　saying。　　God　made　the　frog　jump；



but　the　frog　prefers　jumping。　　But　when　these　things　are　settled



there　enters　the　second　great　principle　of　the　fairy　philosophy。







　　　　　Any　one　can　see　it　who　will　simply　read　〃Grimm's　Fairy　Tales〃



or　the　fine　collections　of　Mr。　Andrew　Lang。　　For　the　pleasure



of　pedantry　I　will　call　it　the　Doctrine　of　Conditional　Joy。　



Touchstone　talked　of　much　virtue　in　an　〃if〃；　according　to　elfin　ethics



all　virtue　is　in　an　〃if。〃　　The　note　of　the　fairy　utterance　always　is；



〃You　may　live　in　a　palace　of　gold　and　sapphire；　if　you　do　not　say



the　word　‘cow'〃；　or　〃You　may　live　happily　with　the　King's　daughter；



if　you　do　not　show　her　an　onion。〃　　The　vision　always　hangs　upon　a　veto。　



All　the　dizzy　and　colossal　things　conceded　depend　upon　one　small



thing　withheld。　　All　the　wild　and　whirling　things　that　are　let



loose　depend　upon　one　thing　that　is　forbidden。　　Mr。　W。B。Yeats；



in　his　exquisite　and　piercing　elfin　poetry；　describes　the　elves



as　lawless；　they　plunge　in　innocent　anarchy　on　the　unbridled　horses



of　the　air







　　　　　〃Ride　on　the　crest　of　the　dishevelled　tide；　　　　　　And　dance



upon　the　mountains　like　a　flame。〃







It　is　a　dreadful　thing　to　say　that　Mr。　W。B。Yeats　does　not



understand　fairyland。　　But　I　do　say　it。　　He　is　an　ironical　Irishman；



full　of　intellectual　reactions。　　He　is　not　stupid　enough　to



understand　fairyland。　　Fairies　prefer　people　of　the　yokel　type



like　myself；　people　who　gape　and　grin　and　do　as　they　are　told。　



Mr。　Yeats　reads　into　elfland　all　the　righteous　insurrection　of　his



own　race。　　But　the　lawlessness　of　Ireland　is　a　Christian　lawlessness；



founded　on　reason　and　justice。　　The　Fenian　is　rebelling　against



something　he　understands　only　too　well；　but　the　true　citizen　of



fairyland　is　obeying　something　that　he　does　not　understand　at　all。　



In　the　fairy　tale　an　incomprehensible　happiness　rests　upon　an



incomprehensible　condition。　　A　box　is　opened；　and　all　evils　fly　out。　



A　word　is　forgotten；　and　cities　perish。　　A　lamp　is　lit；　and　love



flies　away。　　A　flower　is　plucked；　and　human　lives　are　forfeited。　



An　apple　is　eaten；　and　the　hope　of　God　is　gone。







　　　　　This　is　the　tone　of　fairy　tales；　and　it　is　certainly　not



lawlessness　or　even　liberty；　though　men　under　a　mean　modern　tyranny



may　think　it　liberty　by　comparison。　　People　out　of　Portland



Gaol　might　think　Fleet　Street　free；　but　closer　study　will　prove