a miscellany of men-第28部分

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The　roots　of　the　real　England　are　in　the　early　Middle　Ages；　and　no　Englishman　will　ever　understand　his　own　language　（or　even　his　own　conscience）　till　he　understands　them。　　And　he　will　never　understand　them　till　he　understands　this　word　〃charter。〃　　I　will　attempt　in　a　moment　to　state　in　older；　more　suitable　terms；　what　a　charter　was。　　In　modern；　practical；　and　political　terms；　it　is　quite　easy　to　state　what　a　charter　was。　　A　charter　was　the　thing　that　the　railway　workers　wanted　last　Christmas　and　did　not　get；　and　apparently　will　never　get。　　It　is　called　in　the　current　jargon　〃recognition〃；　the　acknowledgment　in　so　many　words　by　society　of　the　immunities　or　freedoms　of　a　certain　set　of　men。　　If　there　had　been　railways　in　the　Middle　Ages　there　would　probably　have　been　a　railwaymen's　guild；　and　it　would　have　had　a　charter　from　the　King；　defining　their　rights。　　A　charter　is　the　expression　of　an　idea　still　true　and　then　almost　universal：　that　authority　is　necessary　for　nothing　so　much　as　for　the　granting　of　liberties。　　Like　everything　mediaeval；　it　ramified　back　to　a　root　in　religion；　and　was　a　sort　of　small　copy　of　the　Christian　idea　of　man's　creation。　　Man　was　free；　not　because　there　was　no　God；　but　because　it　needed　a　God　to　set　him　free。　　By　authority　he　was　free。　　By　authority　the　craftsmen　of　the　guilds　were　free。　　Many　other　great　philosophers　took　and　take　the　other　view：　the　Lucretian　pagans；　the　Moslem　fatalists；　the　modern　monists　and　determinists；　all　roughly　confine　themselves　to　saying　that　God　gave　man　a　law。　　The　mediaeval　Christian　insisted　that　God　gave　man　a　charter。　Modern　feeling　may　not　sympathise　with　its　list　of　liberties；　which　included　the　liberty　to　be　damned；　but　that　has　nothing　to　do　with　the　fact　that　it　was　a　gift　of　liberties　and　not　of　laws。　　This　was　mirrored；　however　dimly；　in　the　whole　system。　　There　was　a　great　deal　of　gross　inequality；　and　in　other　aspects　absolute　equality　was　taken　for　granted。　　But　the　point　is　that　equality　and　inequality　were　ranksor　rights。　　There　were　not　only　things　one　was　forbidden　to　do；　but　things　one　was　forbidden　to　forbid。　A　man　was　not　only　definitely　responsible；　but　definitely　irresponsible。　The　holidays　of　his　soul　were　immovable　feasts。　　All　a　charter　really　meant　lingers　alive　in　that　poetic　phrase　that　calls　the　wind　a　〃chartered〃　libertine。

Lie　awake　at　night　and　hear　the　wind　blowing；　hear　it　knock　at　every　man's　door　and　shout　down　every　man's　chimney。　　Feel　how　it　takes　liberties　with　everything；　having　taken　primary　liberty　for　itself；　feel　that　the　wind　is　always　a　vagabond　and　sometimes　almost　a　housebreaker。　But　remember　that　in　the　days　when　free　men　had　charters；　they　held　that　the　wind　itself　was　wild　by　authority；　and　was　only　free　because　it　had　a　father。



THE　CONTENTED　MAN


The　word　content　is　not　inspiring　nowadays；　rather　it　is　irritating　because　it　is　dull。　　It　prepares　the　mind　for　a　little　sermon　in　the　style　of　the　Vicar　of　Wakefield　about　how　you　and　I　should　be　satisfied　with　our　countrified　innocence　and　our　simple　village　sports。　　The　word；　however；　has　two　meanings；　somewhat　singularly　connected；　the　〃sweet　content〃　of　the　poet　and　the　〃cubic　content〃　of　the　mathematician。　　Some　distinguish　these　by　stressing　the　different　syllables。　　Thus；　it　might　happen　to　any　of　us；　at　some　social　juncture；　to　remark　gaily；　〃Of　the　content　of　the　King　of　the　Cannibal　Islands'　Stewpot　I　am　content　to　be　ignorant〃；　or　〃Not　content　with　measuring　the　cubic　content　of　my　safe；　you　are　stealing　the　spoons。〃　　And　there　really　is　an　analogy　between　the　mathematical　and　the　moral　use　of　the　term；　for　lack　of　the　observation　of　which　the　latter　has　been　much　weakened　and　misused。

The　preaching　of　contentment　is　in　disrepute；　well　deserved　in　so　far　that　the　moral　is　really　quite　inapplicable　to　the　anarchy　and　insane　peril　of　our　tall　and　toppling　cities。　　Content　suggests　some　kind　of　security；　and　it　is　not　strange　that　our　workers　should　often　think　about　rising　above　their　position；　since　they　have　so　continually　to　think　about　sinking　below　it。　　The　philanthropist　who　urges　the　poor　to　saving　and　simple　pleasures　deserves　all　the　derision　that　he　gets。　　To　advise　people　to　be　content　with　what　they　have　got　may　or　may　not　be　sound　moral　philosophy。

But　to　urge　people　to　be　content　with　what　they　haven't　got　is　a　piece　of　impudence　hard　for　even　the　English　poor　to　pardon。　　But　though　the　creed　of　content　is　unsuited　to　certain　special　riddles　and　wrongs；　it　remains　true　for　the　normal　of　mortal　life。　　We　speak　of　divine　discontent；　discontent　may　sometimes　be　a　divine　thing；　but　content　must　always　be　the　human　thing。　　It　may　be　true　that　a　par…titular　man；　in　his　relation　to　his　master　or　his　neighbour；　to　his　country　or　his　enemies；　will　do　well　to　be　fiercely　unsatisfied　or　thirsting　for　an　angry　justice。　　But　it　is　not　true；　no　sane　person　can　call　it　true；　that　man　as　a　whole　in　his　general　attitude　towards　the　world；　in　his　posture　towards　death　or　green　fields；　towards　the　weather　or　the　baby；　will　be　wise　to　cultivate　dissatisfaction。　　In　a　broad　estimate　of　our　earthly　experience；　the　great　truism　on　the　tablet　remains：　he　must　not　covet　his　neighbour's　ox　nor　his　ass　nor　anything　that　is　his。　　In　highly　complex　and　scientific　civilisations　he　may　sometimes　find　himself　forced　into　an　exceptional　vigilance。　　But；　then；　in　highly　complex　and　scientific　civilisations；　nine　times　out　of　ten；　he　only　wants　his　own　ass　back。

But　I　wish　to　urge　the　case　for　cubic　content；　in　which　（even　more　than　in　moral　content）　I　take　a　personal　interest。　　Now；　moral　content　has　been　undervalued　and　neglected　because　of　its　separation　from　the　other　meaning。　　It　has　become　a　negative　rather　than　a　positive　thing。　　In　some　accounts　of　contentment　it　seems　to　be　little　more　than　a　meek　despair。

But　this　is　not　the　true　meaning　of　the　term；　it　should　stand　for　the　idea　of　a　positive　and　thorough　appreciation　of　the　content　of　anything；　for　feeling　the　substance　and　not　merely　the　surface　of　experience。　〃Content〃　ought　to　mean　in　English；　as　it　does　in　French；　being　pleased；　placidly；　perhaps；　but　still　positively　pleased。　　Being　contented　with　bread　and　cheese　ought　not　to　mean　not　caring　what　you　eat。　　It　ought　to　mean　caring　for　bread　and　cheese；　handling　and　enjoying　the　cubic　content　of　the　bread　and　cheese　and　adding　it　to　your　own。　　Being　content　with　an　attic　ought　not　to　mean　being　unable　to　move　from　it　and　resigned　to　living　in　it。　　It　ought　to　mean　appreciating　what　there　is　to　appreciate　in　such　a　position；　such　as　the　quaint　and　elvish　slope　of　the　ceiling　or　the　sublime　aerial　view　of　the　opposite　chimney…pots。　　And　in　this　sense　contentment　is　a　real　and　even　an　active　virtue；　it　is　not　only　affirmative；　but　creative。　　The　poet　in　the　attic　does　not　forget　the　attic　in　poetic　musings；　he　remembers　whatever　the　attic　has　of　poetry；　he　realises　how　high；　how　starry；　how　cool；　how　unadorned　and　simplein　short；　how　Attic　is　the　attic。

True　contentment　is　a　thing　as　active　as　agriculture。　　It　is　the　power　of　getting　out　of　any　situation　all　that　there　is　in　it。　　It　is　arduous　and　it　is　rare。　　The　absence　of　this　digestive　talent　is　what　makes　so　cold　and　incredible　the　tales　of　so　many　people　who　say　they　have　been　〃through〃　things；　when　it　is　evident　that　they　have　come　out　on　the　other　side　quite　unchanged。　　A　man　might　have　gone　〃through〃　a　plum　pudding　as　a　bullet　might　go　through　a　plum　pudding；　it　depends　on　the　size　of　the　puddingand　the　man。　　But　the　awful　and　sacred　question　is　〃Has　the　pudding　been　through　him？〃　　Has　he　tasted；　appreciated；　and　absorbed　the　solid　pudding；　with　its　three　dimensions　and　its　three　thousand　tastes　and　smells？　　Can　he　offer　himself　to　the　eyes　of　men　as　one　who　has　cubically　conquered　and　contained　a　pudding？

In　the　same　way　we　may　ask　of　those　who　profess　to　have　passed　through　trivial　or　tragic　experiences　whether　they　have　absorbed　the　content　of　them；　whether　they　licked　up　such　living　water　as　there　was。　　It　is　a　pertinent　question　in　connection　with　many　modern　problems。

Thus　the　young　genius　says；　〃I　have　lived　in　my　dreary　and　squalid　village　before　I　found　success　in　Paris　or　Vienna。〃　　The　sound　philosopher　will　answer；　〃You　have　never　lived　in　your　village；　or　you　would　not　call　it　dreary　and　squalid。〃

Thus　the　Imperialist；　the　Colonial　idealist　（who　commonly　speaks　and　always　thinks　with　a　Yankee　accent）　will　say；　〃I've　been　right　away　from　these　little　muddy　islands；　and　seen　God's　great　seas　and　prairies。〃　　The　sound　philosopher　will　reply；　〃You　have　never　been　in　thee　islands；　you　have　never　seen　the　weald　of　Sussex　or　the　plain　of　Salisbury；　otherwise　you　could　never　have　called　them　either　muddy　or　little。〃

Thus　the　Suffragette　will　say；　〃I　have　passed　through　the　paltry　duties　of　pots　and　pans；　the　drudgery　of　the　vulgar　kitchen；　but　I　have　come　out　to　intellectual　liberty。〃　　The　sound　philosopher　will　answer；　〃You　have　never　passed　through　the　kitchen；　or　you　never　would　call　it　vulgar。　Wiser　and　stronger　women　than　you　have　really　seen　a　poetry　in　pots　and　pans；　naturally；　because　there　is　a　poetry　in　them。〃　　It　is　right　for　the　village　violinist　to　climb　into　fame　in　Paris　or　Vienna；　it　is　right　for　the　stray　Englishman　to　climb　across　the　high　shoulder　of　the　world；　it　is　right　for　the　woman　to　climb　into　whatever　cathedrae　or　high　places　she　can　allow　to　her　sexual　dignity。　　But　it　is　wrong　that　any　of　these　climbers　should　kick　the　ladder　by　which　they　have　climbed。　　But　indeed　these　bitter　people　who　record　their　experiences　really　record　their　lack　of　experiences。　　It　is　the　countryman　who　has　not　succeeded　in　being　a　countryman　who　comes　up　to　London。　　It　is　the　clerk　who　has　not　succeeded　in　being　a　clerk　who　tries　（on　vegetarian　principles）　to　be　a　countryman。　And　the　woman　with　a　past　is　generally　a　woman　angry　about　the　past　she　never　had。

When　you　have　really　exhausted　an　experience　you　always　reverence　and　love　it。　　The　two　things　that　nearly　all　of　us　have　thoroughly　and　really　been　through　are　childhood　and　youth。　　And　though　we　would　not　have　them　back　again　on　any　account；　we　feel　that　they　are　both　beautiful；　because　we　have　drunk　them　dry。



T