a miscellany of men-第18部分

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　But　we　who　have　preserved　everythingwe　cannot　restore　anything。　　Take；　for　the　sake　of　argument；　the　complex　and　manycoloured　ritual　of　the　Coronation　recently　completed。　　That　rite　is　stratified　with　the　separate　centuries；　from　the　first　rude　need　of　discipline　to　the　last　fine　shade　of　culture　or　corruption；　there　is　nothing　that　cannot　be　detected　or　even　dated。　The　fierce　and　childish　vow　of　the　lords　to　serve　their　lord　〃against　all　manner　of　folk〃　obviously　comes　from　the　real　Dark　Ages；　no　longer　confused；　even　by　the　ignorant；　with　the　Middle　Ages。　　It　comes　from　some　chaos　of　Europe；　when　there　was　one　old　Roman　road　across　four　of　our　counties；　and　when　hostile〃　folk〃　might　live　in　the　next　village。　　The　sacramental　separation　of　one　man　to　be　the　friend　of　the　fatherless　and　the　nameless　belongs　to　the　true　Middle　Ages；　with　their　great　attempt　to　make　a　moral　and　invisible　Roman　Empire；　or　（as　the　Coronation　Service　says）　to　set　the　cross　for　ever　above　the　ball。　　Elaborate　local　tomfooleries；　such　as　that　by　which　the　Lord　of　the　Manor　of　Work…sop　is　alone　allowed　to　do　something　or　other；　these　probably　belong　to　the　decay　of　the　Middle　Ages；　when　that　great　civilisation　died　out　in　grotesque　literalism　and　entangled　heraldry。　　Things　like　the　presentation　of　the　Bible　bear　witness　to　the　intellectual　outburst　at　the　Reformation；　things　like　the　Declaration　against　the　Mass　bear　witness　to　the　great　wars　of　the　Puritans；　and　things　like　the　allegiance　of　the　Bishops　bear　witness　to　the　wordy　and　parenthetical　political　compromises　which　（to　my　deep　regret）　ended　the　wars　of　religion。

But　my　purpose　here　is　only　to　point　out　one　particular　thing。　　In　all　that　long　list　of　variations　there　must　be；　and　there　are；　things　which　energetic　modern　minds　would　really　wish；　with　the　reasonable　modification；　to　restore。　　Dr。　Clifford　would　probably　be　glad　to　see　again　the　great　Puritan　idealism　that　forced　the　Bible　into　an　antique　and　almost　frozen　formality。　　Dr。　Horton　probably　really　regrets　the　old　passion　that　excommunicated　Rome。　　In　the　same　way　Mr。　Belloc　would　really　prefer　the　Middle　Ages；　as　Lord　Rosebery　would　prefer　the　Erastian　oligarchy　of　the　eighteenth　century。　　The　Dark　Ages　would　probably　be　disputed　（from　widely　different　motives）　by　Mr。　Rudyard　Kipling　and　Mr。　Cunninghame　Graham。　　But　Mr。　Cunninghame　Graham　would　win。

But　the　black　case　against　Conservative　（or　Evolutionary）　politics　is　that　none　of　these　sincere　men　can　win。　　Dr。　Clifford　cannot　get　back　to　the　Puritans；　Mr。　Belloc　cannot　get　back　to　the　mediaevals；　because　（alas）　there　has　been　no　Revolution　to　leave　them　a　clear　space　for　building　or　rebuilding。　Frenchmen　have　all　the　ages　behind　them；　and　can　wander　back　and　pick　and　choose。　　But　Englishmen　have　all　the　ages　on　top　of　them；　and　can　only　lie　groaning　under　that　imposing　tower；　without　being　able　to　take　so　much　as　a　brick　out　of　it。　　If　the　French　decide　that　their　Republic　is　bad　they　can　get　rid　of　it；　but　if　we　decide　that　a　Republic　was　good；　we　should　have　much　more　difficulty。　　If　the　French　democracy　actually　desired　every　detail　of　the　mediaeval　monarchy；　they　could　have　it。　　I　do　not　think　they　will　or　should；　but　they　could。　　If　another　Dauphin　were　actually　crowned　at　Rheims；　if　another　Joan　of　Arc　actually　bore　a　miraculous　banner　before　him；　if　mediaeval　swords　shook　and。　　blazed　in　every　gauntlet；　if　the　golden　lilies　glowed　from　every　tapestry；　if　this　were　really　proved　to　be　the　will　of　France　and　the　purpose　of　Providencesuch　a　scene　would　still　be　the　lasting　and　final　justification　of　the　French　Revolution。

For　no　such　scene　could　conceivably　have　happened　under　Louis　XVI。



THE　SEPARATIST　AND　SACRED　THINGS


In　the　very　laudable　and　fascinating　extensions　of　our　interest　in　Asiatic　arts　or　faiths；　there　are　two　incidental　injustices　which　we　tend　nowadays　to　do　to　our　own　records　and　our　own　religion。　　The　first　is　a　tendency　to　talk　as　if　certain　things　were　not　only　present　in　the　higher　Orientals；　but　were　peculiar　to　them。　　Thus　our　magazines　will　fall　into　a　habit　of　wondering　praise　of　Bushido；　the　Japanese　chivalry；　as　if　no　Western　knights　had　ever　vowed　noble　vows；　or　as　if　no　Eastern　knights　had　ever　broken　them。　　Or　again；　our　drawing…rooms　will　be　full　of　the　praises　of　Indian　renunciation　and　Indian　unworldliness；　as　if　no　Christians　had　been　saints；　or　as　if　all　Buddhists　had　been。　　But　if　the　first　injustice　is　to　think　of　human　virtues　as　peculiarly　Eastern；　the　other　injustice　is　a　failure　to　appreciate　what　really　is　peculiarly　Eastern。　　It　is　too　much　taken　for　granted　that　the　Eastern　sort　of　idealism　is　certainly　superior　and　convincing；　whereas　in　truth　it　is　only　separate　and　peculiar。　　All　that　is　richest；　deepest；　and　subtlest　in　the　East　is　rooted　in　Pantheism；　but　all　that　is　richest；　deepest；　and　subtlest　in　us　is　concerned　with　denying　passionately　that　Pantheism　is　either　the　highest　or　the　purest　religion。

Thus；　in　turning　over　some　excellent　books　recently　written　on　the　spirit　of　Indian　or　Chinese　art　and　decoration；　I　found　it　quietly　and　curiously　assumed　that　the　artist　must　be　at　his　best　if　he　flows　with　the　full　stream　of　Nature；　and　identifies　himself　with　all　things；　so　that　the　stars　are　his　sleepless　eyes　and　the　forests　his　far…flung　arms。　　Now　in　this　way　of　talking　both　the　two　injustices　will　be　found。　　In　so　far　as　what　is　claimed　is　a　strong　sense　of　the　divine　in　all　things；　the　Eastern　artists　have　no　more　monopoly　of　it　than　they　have　of　hunger　and　thirst。

I　have　no　doubt　that　the　painters　and　poets　of　the　Far　East　do　exhibit　this；　but　I　rebel　at　being　asked　to　admit　that　we　must　go　to　the　Far　East　to　find　it。　　Traces　of　such　sentiments　can　be　found；　I　fancy；　even　in　other　painters　and　poets。　　I　do　not　question　that　the　poet　Wo　Wo　（that　ornament　of　the　eighth　dynasty）　may　have　written　the　words：　〃Even　the　most　undignified　vegetable　is　for　this　person　capable　of　producing　meditations　not　to　be　exhibited　by　much　weeping。〃　　But；　I　do　not　therefore　admit　that　a　Western　gentleman　named　Wordsworth　（who　made　a　somewhat　similar　remark）　had　plagiarised　from　Wo　Wo；　or　was　a　mere　Occidental　fable　and　travesty　of　that　celebrated　figure。　　I　do　not　deny　that　Tinishona　wrote　that　exquisite　example　of　the　short　Japanese　poem　entitled　〃Honourable　Chrysanthemum　in　Honourable　Hole　in　Wall。〃　　But　I　do　not　therefore　admit　that　Tennyson's　little　verse　about　the　flower　in　the　cranny　was　not　original　and　even　sincere。

It　is　recorded　（for　all　I　know）　of　the　philanthropic　Emperor　Bo；　that　when　engaged　in　cutting　his　garden　lawn　with　a　mower　made　of　alabaster　and　chrysoberyl；　he　chanced　to　cut　down　a　small　flower；　whereupon；　being　much　affected；　he　commanded　his　wise　men　immediately　to　take　down　upon　tablets　of　ivory　the　lines　beginning：　〃Small　and　unobtrusive　blossom　with　ruby　extremities。〃　　But　this　incident；　touching　as　it　is；　does　not　shake　my　belief　in　the　incident　of　Robert　Burns　and　the　daisy；　and　I　am　left　with　an　impression　that　poets　are　pretty　much　the　same　everywhere　in　their　poetryand　in　their　prose。

I　have　tried　to　convey　my　sympathy　and　admiration　for　Eastern　art　and　its　admirers；　and　if　I　have　not　conveyed　them　I　must　give　it　up　and　go　on　to　more　general　considerations。　　I　therefore　proceed　to　saywith　the　utmost　respect；　that　it　is　Cheek；　a　rarefied　and　etherealised　form　of　Cheek；　for　this　school　to　speak　in　this　way　about　the　mother　that　bore　them；　the　great　civilisation　of　the　West。　　The　West　also　has　its　magic　landscapes；　only　through　our　incurable　materialism　they　look　like　landscapes　as　well　as　like　magic。　　The　West　also　has　its　symbolic　figures；　only　they　look　like　men　as　well　as　symbols。　　It　will　be　answered　（and　most　justly）　that　Oriental　art　ought　to　be　free　to　follow　its　own　instinct　and　tradition；　that　its　artists　are　concerned　to　suggest　one　thing　and　our　artists　another；　that　both　should　be　admired　in　their　difference。　　Profoundly　true；　but　what　is　the　difference？　　It　is　certainly　not　as　the　Orientalisers　assert；　that　we　must　go　to　the　Far　East　for　a　sympathetic　and　transcendental　interpretation　of　Nature。　　We　have　paid　a　long　enough　toll　of　mystics　and　even　of　madmen　to　be　quit　of　that　disability。

Yet　there　is　a　difference；　and　it　is　just　what　I　suggested。　　The　Eastern　mysticism　is　an　ecstasy　of　unity；　the　Christian　mysticism　is　an　ecstasy　of　creation；　that　is　of　separation　and　mutual　surprise。　The　latter　says；　like　St。　　Francis；　〃My　brother　fire　and　my　sister　water　〃；　the　former　says；　〃Myself　fire　and　myself　water。〃　　Whether　you　call　the　Eastern　attitude　an　extension　of　oneself　into　everything　or　a　contraction　of　oneself　into　nothing　is　a　matter　of　metaphysical　definition。　　The　effect　is　the　same；　an　effect　which　lives　and　throbs　throughout　all　the　exquisite　arts　of　the　East。　　This　effect　is　the　Sing　called　rhythm；　a　pulsation　of　pattern；　or　of　ritual；　or　of　colours；　or　of　cosmic　theory；　but　always　suggesting　the　unification　of　the　individual　with　the　world。　But　there　is　quite　another　kind　of　sympathy　the　sympathy　with　a　thing　because　it　is　different。　　No　one　will　say　that　Rembrandt　did　not　sympathise　with　an　old　woman；　but　no　one　will　say　that　Rembrandt　painted　like　an　old　woman。　No　one　will　say　that　Reynolds　did　not　appreciate　children；　but　no　one　will　say　he　did　it　childishly。　The　supreme　instance　of　this　divine　division　is　sex；　and　that　explains　（what　I　could　never　understand　in　my　youth）　why　Christendom　called　the　soul　the　bride　of　God。　For　real　love　is　an　intense　realisation　of　the　〃separateness〃　of　all　our　souls。　　The　most　heroic　and　human　love…poetry　of　the　world　is　never　mere　passion；　precisely　because　mere　passion　really　is　a　melting　back　into　Nature；　a　meeting　of　the　waters。　　And　water　is　plunging　and　powerful；　but　it　is　only　powerful　downhill。　　The　high　and　human　love…poetry　is　all　about　division　rather　than　identity；　and　in　the　great　love…poems　even　the　man　as　he　embraces　the　woman　sees　her；　in　the　same　instant；　afar　off；　a　virgin　and　a　stranger。

For　the　first　injustice；　of　which　we　have　spoken；　still　recurs；　and　if　we　grant　that　the　East　has　a　right　to　its　difference；　it　is　not　realised　in　what　we　differ。　　That　nursery　tale　from　nowhere　about　St。　George　and　the　Dragon　re