orthodoxy-第23章

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or　sustaining　principle　in　things　must　be　metaphorical；　because　they



must　be　verbal。　　Thus　the　pantheist　is　forced　to　speak　of　God



in　all　things　as　if　he　were　in　a　box。　　Thus　the　evolutionist　has；



in　his　very　name；　the　idea　of　being　unrolled　like　a　carpet。　



All　terms；　religious　and　irreligious；　are　open　to　this　charge。　



The　only　question　is　whether　all　terms　are　useless；　or　whether　one　can；



with　such　a　phrase；　cover　a　distinct　IDEA　about　the　origin　of　things。　



I　think　one　can；　and　so　evidently　does　the　evolutionist；　or　he　would



not　talk　about　evolution。　　And　the　root　phrase　for　all　Christian



theism　was　this；　that　God　was　a　creator；　as　an　artist　is　a　creator。　



A　poet　is　so　separate　from　his　poem　that　he　himself　speaks　of　it



as　a　little　thing　he　has　〃thrown　off。〃　　Even　in　giving　it　forth　he



has　flung　it　away。　　This　principle　that　all　creation　and　procreation



is　a　breaking　off　is　at　least　as　consistent　through　the　cosmos　as　the



evolutionary　principle　that　all　growth　is　a　branching　out。　　A　woman



loses　a　child　even　in　having　a　child。　　All　creation　is　separation。　



Birth　is　as　solemn　a　parting　as　death。







　　　　　It　was　the　prime　philosophic　principle　of　Christianity　that



this　divorce　in　the　divine　act　of　making　（such　as　severs　the　poet



from　the　poem　or　the　mother　from　the　new…born　child）　was　the　true



description　of　the　act　whereby　the　absolute　energy　made　the　world。　



According　to　most　philosophers；　God　in　making　the　world　enslaved　it。　



According　to　Christianity；　in　making　it；　He　set　it　free。　



God　had　written；　not　so　much　a　poem；　but　rather　a　play；　a　play　he



had　planned　as　perfect；　but　which　had　necessarily　been　left　to　human



actors　and　stage…managers；　who　had　since　made　a　great　mess　of　it。　



I　will　discuss　the　truth　of　this　theorem　later。　　Here　I　have　only



to　point　out　with　what　a　startling　smoothness　it　passed　the　dilemma



we　have　discussed　in　this　chapter。　　In　this　way　at　least　one　could



be　both　happy　and　indignant　without　degrading　one's　self　to　be　either



a　pessimist　or　an　optimist。　　On　this　system　one　could　fight　all



the　forces　of　existence　without　deserting　the　flag　of　existence。　



One　could　be　at　peace　with　the　universe　and　yet　be　at　war　with



the　world。　　St。　George　could　still　fight　the　dragon；　however　big



the　monster　bulked　in　the　cosmos；　though　he　were　bigger　than　the



mighty　cities　or　bigger　than　the　everlasting　hills。　　If　he　were　as



big　as　the　world　he　could　yet　be　killed　in　the　name　of　the　world。　



St。　George　had　not　to　consider　any　obvious　odds　or　proportions　in



the　scale　of　things；　but　only　the　original　secret　of　their　design。　



He　can　shake　his　sword　at　the　dragon；　even　if　it　is　everything；



even　if　the　empty　heavens　over　his　head　are　only　the　huge　arch　of　its



open　jaws。







　　　　　And　then　followed　an　experience　impossible　to　describe。　



It　was　as　if　I　had　been　blundering　about　since　my　birth　with　two



huge　and　unmanageable　machines；　of　different　shapes　and　without



apparent　connectionthe　world　and　the　Christian　tradition。　



I　had　found　this　hole　in　the　world：　　the　fact　that　one　must



somehow　find　a　way　of　loving　the　world　without　trusting　it；



somehow　one　must　love　the　world　without　being　worldly。　　I　found　this



projecting　feature　of　Christian　theology；　like　a　sort　of　hard　spike；



the　dogmatic　insistence　that　God　was　personal；　and　had　made　a　world



separate　from　Himself。　　The　spike　of　dogma　fitted　exactly　into



the　hole　in　the　worldit　had　evidently　been　meant　to　go　there



and　then　the　strange　thing　began　to　happen。　　When　once　these　two



parts　of　the　two　machines　had　come　together；　one　after　another；



all　the　other　parts　fitted　and　fell　in　with　an　eerie　exactitude。　



I　could　hear　bolt　after　bolt　over　all　the　machinery　falling



into　its　place　with　a　kind　of　click　of　relief。　　Having　got　one



part　right；　all　the　other　parts　were　repeating　that　rectitude；



as　clock　after　clock　strikes　noon。　　Instinct　after　instinct　was



answered　by　doctrine　after　doctrine。　　Or；　to　vary　the　metaphor；



I　was　like　one　who　had　advanced　into　a　hostile　country　to　take



one　high　fortress。　　And　when　that　fort　had　fallen　the　whole　country



surrendered　and　turned　solid　behind　me。　　The　whole　land　was　lit　up；



as　it　were；　back　to　the　first　fields　of　my　childhood。　　All　those　blind



fancies　of　boyhood　which　in　the　fourth　chapter　I　have　tried　in　vain



to　trace　on　the　darkness；　became　suddenly　transparent　and　sane。　



I　was　right　when　I　felt　that　roses　were　red　by　some　sort　of　choice：　



it　was　the　divine　choice。　　I　was　right　when　I　felt　that　I　would



almost　rather　say　that　grass　was　the　wrong　colour　than　say　it　must



by　necessity　have　been　that　colour：　　it　might　verily　have　been



any　other。　　My　sense　that　happiness　hung　on　the　crazy　thread　of　a



condition　did　mean　something　when　all　was　said：　　it　meant　the　whole



doctrine　of　the　Fall。　　Even　those　dim　and　shapeless　monsters　of



notions　which　I　have　not　been　able　to　describe；　much　less　defend；



stepped　quietly　into　their　places　like　colossal　caryatides



of　the　creed。　　The　fancy　that　the　cosmos　was　not　vast　and　void；



but　small　and　cosy；　had　a　fulfilled　significance　now；　for　anything



that　is　a　work　of　art　must　be　small　in　the　sight　of　the　artist；



to　God　the　stars　might　be　only　small　and　dear；　like　diamonds。　



And　my　haunting　instinct　that　somehow　good　was　not　merely　a　tool　to



be　used；　but　a　relic　to　be　guarded；　like　the　goods　from　Crusoe's　ship



even　that　had　been　the　wild　whisper　of　something　originally　wise；　for；



according　to　Christianity；　we　were　indeed　the　survivors　of　a　wreck；



the　crew　of　a　golden　ship　that　had　gone　down　before　the　beginning　of



the　world。







　　　　　But　the　important　matter　was　this；　that　it　entirely　reversed



the　reason　for　optimism。　　And　the　instant　the　reversal　was　made　it



felt　like　the　abrupt　ease　when　a　bone　is　put　back　in　the　socket。　



I　had　often　called　myself　an　optimist；　to　avoid　the　too　evident



blasphemy　of　pessimism。　　But　all　the　optimism　of　the　age　had　been



false　and　disheartening　for　this　reason；　that　it　had　always　been



trying　to　prove　that　we　fit　in　to　the　world。　　The　Christian



optimism　is　based　on　the　fact　that　we　do　NOT　fit　in　to　the　world。　



I　had　tried　to　be　happy　by　telling　myself　that　man　is　an　animal；



like　any　other　which　sought　its　meat　from　God。　　But　now　I　really



was　happy；　for　I　had　learnt　that　man　is　a　monstrosity。　　I　had　been



right　in　feeling　all　things　as　odd；　for　I　myself　was　at　once　worse



and　better　than　all　things。　　The　optimist's　pleasure　was　prosaic；



for　it　dwelt　on　the　naturalness　of　everything；　the　Christian



pleasure　was　poetic；　for　it　dwelt　on　the　unnaturalness　of　everything



in　the　light　of　the　supernatural。　　The　modern　philosopher　had　told



me　again　and　again　that　I　was　in　the　right　place；　and　I　had　still



felt　depressed　even　in　acquiescence。　　But　I　had　heard　that　I　was　in



the　WRONG　place；　and　my　soul　sang　for　joy；　like　a　bird　in　spring。　



The　knowledge　found　out　and　illuminated　forgotten　chambers　in　the　dark



house　of　infancy。　　I　knew　now　why　grass　had　always　seemed　to　me



as　queer　as　the　green　beard　of　a　giant；　and　why　I　could　feel　homesick



at　home。















VI　THE　PARADOXES　OF　CHRISTIANITY











　　　　　The　real　trouble　with　this　world　of　ours　is　not　that　it　is　an



unreasonable　world；　nor　even　that　it　is　a　reasonable　one。　　The　commonest



kind　of　trouble　is　that　it　is　nearly　reasonable；　but　not　quite。　



Life　is　not　an　illogicality；　yet　it　is　a　trap　for　logicians。　



It　looks　just　a　little　more　mathematical　and　regular　than　it　is；



its　exactitude　is　obvious；　but　its　inexactitude　is　hidden；