a miscellany of men-第27部分

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　exultation　in　all　living　things　is　truly　to　be　called　Love；　for　it　is　a　higher　feeling　than　mere　affectional　convenience；　it　is　a　vision。　　It　is　heroic；　and　even　saintly；　in　this：　that　it　asks　for　nothing　in　return。　　I　love　all　the　eats　in　the　street　as　St。　　Francis　of　Assisi　loved　all　the　birds　in　the　wood　or　all　the　fishes　in　the　sea；　not　so　much；　of　course；　but　then　I　am　not　a　saint。　　But　he　did　not　wish　to　bridle　a　bird　and　ride　on　its　back；　as　one　bridles　and　rides　on　a　horse。　He　did　not　wish　to　put　a　collar　round　a　fish's　neck；　marked　with　the　name　〃Francis；〃　and　the　address　〃Assisi〃as　one　does　with　a　dog。　　He　did　not　wish　them　to　belong　to　him　or　himself　to　belong　to　them；　in　fact；　it　would　be　a　very　awkward　experience　to　belong　to　a　lot　of　fishes。　　But　a　man　does　belong　to　his　dog；　in　another　but　an　equally　real　sense　with　that　in　which　the　dog　belongs　to　him。　　The　two　bonds　of　obedience　and　responsibility　vary　very　much　with　the　dogs　and　the　men；　but　they　are　both　bonds。　　In　other　words；　a　man　does　not　merely　love　a　dog；　as　he　might　（in　a　mystical　moment）　love　any　sparrow　that　perched　on　his　window…　sill　or　any　rabbit　that　ran　across　his　path。　　A　man　likes　a　dog；　and　that　is　a　serious　matter。

To　me；　unfortunately　perhaps　（for　I　speak　merely　of　individual　taste）；　a　cat　is　a　wild　animal。　　A　cat　is　Nature　personified。　　Like　Nature；　it　is　so　mysterious　that　one　cannot　quite　repose　even　in　its　beauty。　　But　like　Nature　again；　it　is　so　beautiful　that　one　cannot　believe　that　it　is　really　cruel。　Perhaps　it　isn't；　and　there　again　it　is　like　Nature。　　Men　of　old　time　worshipped　cats　as　they　worshipped　crocodiles；　and　those　magnificent　old　mystics　knew　what　they　were　about。　　The　moment　in　which　one　really　loves　cats　is　the　same　as　that　in　which　one　（moderately　and　within　reason）　loves　crocodiles。　　It　is　that　divine　instant　when　a　man　feels　himselfno；　not　absorbed　into　the　unity　of　all　things　（a　loathsome　fancy）but　delighting　in　the　difference　of　all　things。　　At　the　moment　when　a　man　really　knows　he　is　a　man　he　will　feel；　however　faintly；　a　kind　of　fairy…tale　pleasure　in　the　fact　that　a　crocodile　is　a　crocodile。　　All　the　more　will　he　exult　in　the　things　that　are　more　evidently　beautiful　than　crocodiles；　such　as　flowers　and　birds　and　eatswhich　are　more　beautiful　than　either。　　But　it　does　not　follow　that　he　will　wish　to　pick　all　the　flowers　or　to　cage　all　the　birds　or　to　own　all　the　cats。

No　one　who　still　believes　in　democracy　and　the　rights　of　man　will　admit　that　any　division　between　men　and　men　can　be　anything　but　a　fanciful　analogy　to　the　division　between　men　and　animals。　　But　in　the　sphere　of　such　fanciful　analogy　there　are　even　human　beings　whom　I　feel　to　be　like　eats　in　this　respect：　that　I　can　love　them　without　liking　them。　　I　feel　it　about　certain　quaint　and　alien　societies；　especially　about　the　Japanese。　　The　exquisite　old　Japanese　draughtsmanship　（of　which　we　shall　see　no　more；　now　Japan　has　gone　in　for　Progress　and　Imperialism）　had　a　quality　that　was　infinitely　attractive　and　intangible。　　Japanese　pictures　were　really　rather　like　pictures　made　by　cats。　　They　were　full　of　feathery　softness　and　of　sudden　and　spirited　scratches。　　If　any　one　will　wander　in　some　gallery　fortunate　enough　to　have　a　fine　collection　of　those　slight　water…colour　sketches　on　rice　paper　which　come　from　the　remote　East；　he　will　observe　many　elements　in　them　which　a　fanciful　person　might　consider　feline。　　There　is；　for　instance；　that　odd　enjoyment　of　the　tops　of　trees；　those　airy　traceries　of　forks　and　fading　twigs；　up　to　which　certainly　no　artist；　but　only　a　cat　could　climb。　　There　is　that　elvish　love　of　the　full　moon；　as　large　and　lucid　as　a　Chinese　lantern；　hung　in　these　tenuous　branches。　　That　moon　is　so　large　and　luminous　that　one　can　imagine　a　hundred　cats　howling　under　it。　　Then　there　is　the　exhaustive　treatment　of　the　anatomy　of　birds　and　fish；　subjects　in　which　cats　are　said　to　be　interested。　Then　there　is　the　slanting　cat…like　eye　of　all　these　Eastern　gods　and　menbut　this　is　getting　altogether　too　coincident。　　We　shall　have　another　racial　theory　in　no　time　（beginning　〃Are　the　Japs　Cats？〃）；　and　though　I　shall　not　believe　in　my　theory；　somebody　else　might。　　There　are　people　among　my　esteemed　correspondents　who　might　believe　anything。　　It　is　enough　for　me　to　say　here　that　in　this　small　respect　Japs　affect　me　like　cats。　　I　mean　that　I　love　them。　　I　love　their　quaint　and　native　poetry；　their　instinct　of　easy　civilisation；　their　unique　unreplaceable　art；　the　testimony　they　bear　to　the　bustling；　irrepressible　activities　of　nature　and　man。　　If　I　were　a　real　mystic　looking　down　on　them　from　a　real　mountain；　I　am　sure　I　should　love　them　more　even　than　the　strongwinged　and　unwearied　birds　or　the　fruitful；　ever…　multiplying　fish。　　But；　as　for　liking　them；　as　one　likes　a　dogthat　is　quite　another　matter。　　That　would　mean　trusting　them。

In　the　old　English　and　Scotch　ballads　the　fairies　are　regarded　very　much　in　the　way　that　I　feel　inclined　to　regard　Japs　and　cats。　　They　are　not　specially　spoken　of　as　evil；　they　are　enjoyed　as　witching　and　wonderful；　but　they　are　not　trusted　as　good。　　You　do　not　say　the　wrong　words　or　give　the　wrong　gifts　to　them；　and　there　is　a　curious　silence　about　what　would　happen　to　you　if　you　did。　　Now　to　me；　Japan；　the　Japan　of　Art；　was　always　a　fairyland。　　What　trees　as　gay　as　flowers　and　peaks　as　white　as　wedding　cakes；　what　lanterns　as　large　as　houses　and　houses　as　frail　as　lanterns！　。。　。　but。。。　　but。。。　　the　missionary　explained　（I　read　in　the　paper）　that　the　assertion　and　denial　about　the　Japanese　use　of　torture　was　a　mere　matter　of　verbal　translation。　　〃The　Japanese　would　not　call　twisting　the　thumbs　back　'torture。'〃



THE　CHARTERED　LIBERTINE


I　find　myself　in　agreement　with　Mr。　Robert　Lynd　for　his　most　just　remark　in　connection　with　the　Malatesta　case；　that　the　police　are　becoming　a　peril　to　society。　　I　have　no　attraction　to　that　sort　of　atheist　asceticism　to　which　the　purer　types　of　Anarchism　tend；　but　both　an　atheist　and　an　ascetic　are　better　men　than　a　spy；　and　it　is　ignominious　to　see　one's　country　thus　losing　her　special　point　of　honour　about　asylum　and　liberty。　　It　will　be　quite　a　new　departure　if　we　begin　to　protect　and　whitewash　foreign　policemen。　　I　always　understood　it　was　only　English　policemen　who　were　absolutely　spotless。　　A　good　many　of　us；　however；　have　begun　to　feel　with　Mr。　Lynd；　and　on　all　sides　authorities　and　officials　are　being　questioned。　　But　there　is　one　most　graphic　and　extraordinary　fact；　which　it　did　not　lie　in　Mr。　Lynd's　way　to　touch　upon；　but　which　somebody　really　must　seize　and　emphasise。　　It　is　this：　that　at　the　very　time　when　we　are　all　beginning　to　doubt　these　authorities；　we　are　letting　laws　pass　to　increase　their　most　capricious　powers。　　All　our　commissions；　petitions；　and　letters　to　the　papers　are　asking　whether　these　authorities　can　give　an　account　of　their　stewardship。　　And　at　the　same　moment　all　our　laws　are　decreeing　that　they　shall　not　give　any　account　of　their　stewardship；　but　shall　become　yet　more　irresponsible　stewards。　　Bills　like　the　Feeble…Minded　Bill　and　the　Inebriate　Bill　（very　appropriate　names　for　them）　actually　arm　with　scorpions　the　hand　that　has　chastised　the　Malatestas　and　Maleckas　with　whips。　　The　inspector；　the　doctor；　the　police　sergeant；　the　well…paid　person　who　writes　certificates　and　〃passes〃　this；　that；　or　the　other；　this　sort　of　man　is　being　trusted　with　more　authority；　apparently　because　he　is　being　doubted　with　more　reason。　In　one　room　we　are　asking　why　the　Government　and　the　great　experts　between　them　cannot　sail　a　ship。　　In　another　room　we　are　deciding　that　the　Government　and　experts　shah　be　allowed；　without　trial　or　discussion；　to　immure　any　one's　body；　damn　any　one's　soul；　and　dispose　of　unborn　generations　with　the　levity　of　a　pagan　god。　　We　are　putting　the　official　on　the　throne　while　he　is　still　in　the　dock。

The　mere　meaning　of　words　is　now　strangely　forgotten　and　falsified；　as　when　people　talk　of　an　author's　〃message；〃　without　thinking　whom　it　is　from；　and　I　have　noted　in　these　connections　the　strange　misuse　of　another　word。　　It　is　the　excellent　mediaeval　word　〃charter。〃　　I　remember　the　Act　that　sought　to　save　gutter…boys　from　cigarettes　was　called　〃The　Children's　Charter。〃　　Similarly　the　Act　which　seeks　to　lock　up　as　lunatics　people　who　are　not　lunatics　was　actually　called　a　〃charter〃　of　the　feeble…minded。　　Now　this　terminology　is　insanely　wrong；　even　if　the　Bills　are　right。　　Even　were　they　right　in　theory　they　would　be　applied　only　to　the　poor；　like　many　better　rules　about　education　and　cruelty。　　A　woman　was　lately　punished　for　cruelty　because　her　children　were　not　washed　when　it　was　proved　that　she　had　no　water。　　From　that　it　will　be　an　easy　step　in　Advanced　Thought　to　punishing　a　man　for　wine…bibbing　when　it　is　proved　that　he　had　no　wine。　　Rifts　in　right　reason　widen　down　the　ages。　And　when　we　have　begun　by　shutting　up　a　confessedly　kind　person　for　cruelty；　we　may　yet　come　to　shutting　up　Mr。　Tom　Mann　for　feeble…　mindedness。

But　even　if　such　laws　do　good　to　children　or　idiots；　it　is　wrong　to　use　the　word　〃charter。〃　　A　charter　does　not　mean　a　thing　that　does　good　to　people。　　It　means　a　thing　that　grants　people　more　rights　and　liberties。　It　may　be　a　good　thing　for　gutter…boys　to　be　deprived　of　their　cigarettes：　it　might　be　a　good　thing　for　aldermen　to　be　deprived　of　their　cigars。　But　I　think　the　Goldsmiths'　Company　would　be　very　much　surprised　if　the　King　granted　them　a　new　charter　（in　place　of　their　mediaeval　charter）；　and　it　only　meant　that　policemen　might　pull　the　cigars　out　of　their　mouths。　　It　may　be　a　good　thing　that　all　drunkards　should　be　locked　up：　and　many　acute　statesmen　（〃King　John；　for　instance）　would　certainly　have　thought　it　a　good　thing　if　all　aristocrats　could　be　locked　up。　　But　even　that　somewhat　cynical　prince　would　scarcely　have　granted　to　the　barons　a　thing　called　〃the　Great　Charter〃　and　then　locked　them　all　up　on　the　strength　of　it。　　If　he　had；　this　interpretation　of　the　word　〃charter〃　would　have　struck　the　barons　with　considerable　surprise。　　I　doubt　if　their　narrow　mediaeval　minds　could　have　taken　it　in。

The　roots　of　the　real　England　are　in　the　early　Middle　Ages；　and　no　Englishman　will　ever　understand　his　own　language　（or　e