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heretics-第38节

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and consciously or unconsciously; therefore; we proceed to make it up。



Of this pure and placid invention; a good example; for instance;



can be found in a recent poem of Mr。 Rudyard Kipling's。 Speaking of



the English people and the South African War Mr。 Kipling says that



〃we fawned on the younger nations for the men that could shoot and ride。〃



Some people considered this sentence insulting。  All that I am



concerned with at present is the evident fact that it is not true。



The colonies provided very useful volunteer troops; but they did not



provide the best troops; nor achieve the most successful exploits。



The best work in the war on the English side was done;



as might have been expected; by the best English regiments。



The men who could shoot and ride were not the enthusiastic corn



merchants from Melbourne; any more than they were the enthusiastic



clerks from Cheapside。  The men who could shoot and ride were



the men who had been taught to shoot and ride in the discipline



of the standing army of a great European power。  Of course;



the colonials are as brave and athletic as any other average white men。



Of course; they acquitted themselves with reasonable credit。



All I have here to indicate is that; for the purposes of this theory



of the new nation; it is necessary to maintain that the colonial



forces were more useful or more heroic than the gunners at Colenso



or the Fighting Fifth。  And of this contention there is not;



and never has been; one stick or straw of evidence。







A similar attempt is made; and with even less success; to represent the



literature of the colonies as something fresh and vigorous and important。



The imperialist magazines are constantly springing upon us some



genius from Queensland or Canada; through whom we are expected



to smell the odours of the bush or the prairie。  As a matter of fact;



any one who is even slightly interested in literature as such (and I;



for one; confess that I am only slightly interested in literature



as such); will freely admit that the stories of these geniuses smell



of nothing but printer's ink; and that not of first…rate quality。



By a great effort of Imperial imagination the generous



English people reads into these works a force and a novelty。



But the force and the novelty are not in the new writers;



the force and the novelty are in the ancient heart of the English。



Anybody who studies them impartially will know that the first…rate



writers of the colonies are not even particularly novel in their



note and atmosphere; are not only not producing a new kind



of good literature; but are not even in any particular sense



producing a new kind of bad literature。  The first…rate writers



of the new countries are really almost exactly like the second…rate



writers of the old countries。  Of course they do feel the mystery



of the wilderness; the mystery of the bush; for all simple and honest



men feel this in Melbourne; or Margate; or South St。 Pancras。



But when they write most sincerely and most successfully; it is not



with a background of the mystery of the bush; but with a background;



expressed or assumed; of our own romantic cockney civilization。



What really moves their souls with a kindly terror is not the mystery



of the wilderness; but the Mystery of a Hansom Cab。







Of course there are some exceptions to this generalization。



The one really arresting exception is Olive Schreiner; and she



is quite as certainly an exception that proves the rule。



Olive Schreiner is a fierce; brilliant; and realistic novelist;



but she is all this precisely because she is not English at all。



Her tribal kinship is with the country of Teniers and Maarten Maartens



that is; with a country of realists。  Her literary kinship is with



the pessimistic fiction of the continent; with the novelists whose



very pity is cruel。  Olive Schreiner is the one English colonial who is



not conventional; for the simple reason that South Africa is the one



English colony which is not English; and probably never will be。



And; of course; there are individual exceptions in a minor way。



I remember in particular some Australian tales by Mr。 McIlwain



which were really able and effective; and which; for that reason;



I suppose; are not presented to the public with blasts of a trumpet。



But my general contention if put before any one with a love



of letters; will not be disputed if it is understood。  It is not



the truth that the colonial civilization as a whole is giving us;



or shows any signs of giving us; a literature which will startle



and renovate our own。  It may be a very good thing for us to have



an affectionate illusion in the matter; that is quite another affair。



The colonies may have given England a new emotion; I only say



that they have not given the world a new book。







Touching these English colonies; I do not wish to be misunderstood。



I do not say of them or of America that they have not a future;



or that they will not be great nations。  I merely deny the whole



established modern expression about them。  I deny that they are 〃destined〃



to a future。  I deny that they are 〃destined〃 to be great nations。



I deny (of course) that any human thing is destined to be anything。



All the absurd physical metaphors; such as youth and age;



living and dying; are; when applied to nations; but pseudo…scientific



attempts to conceal from men the awful liberty of their lonely souls。







In the case of America; indeed; a warning to this effect is instant



and essential。  America; of course; like every other human thing;



can in spiritual sense live or die as much as it chooses。



But at the present moment the matter which America has very seriously



to consider is not how near it is to its birth and beginning;



but how near it may be to its end。  It is only a verbal question



whether the American civilization is young; it may become



a very practical and urgent question whether it is dying。



When once we have cast aside; as we inevitably have after a



moment's thought; the fanciful physical metaphor involved in the word



〃youth;〃 what serious evidence have we that America is a fresh



force and not a stale one?  It has a great many people; like China;



it has a great deal of money; like defeated Carthage or dying Venice。



It is full of bustle and excitability; like Athens after its ruin;



and all the Greek cities in their decline。  It is fond of new things;



but the old are always fond of new things。  Young men read chronicles;



but old men read newspapers。  It admires strength and good looks;



it admires a big and barbaric beauty in its women; for instance;



but so did Rome when the Goth was at the gates。  All these are



things quite compatible with fundamental tedium and decay。



There are three main shapes or symbols in which a nation can show



itself essentially glad and greatby the heroic in government;



by the heroic in arms; and by the heroic in art。  Beyond government;



which is; as it were; the very shape and body of a nation;



the most significant thing about any citizen is his artistic



attitude towards a holiday and his moral attitude towards a fight



that is; his way of accepting life and his way of accepting death。







Subjected to these eternal tests; America does not appear by any means



as particularly fresh or untouched。  She appears with all the weakness



and weariness of modern England or of any other Western power。



In her politics she has broken up exactly as England has broken up;



into a bewildering opportunism and insincerity。  In the matter of war



and the national attitude towards war; her resemblance to England



is even more manifest and melancholy。  It may be said with rough



accuracy that there are three stages in the life of a strong people。



First; it is a small power; and fights small powers。  Then it is



a great power; and fights great powers。  Then it is a great power;



and fights small powers; but pretends that they are great powers;



in order to rekindle the ashes of its ancient emotion and vanity。



After that; the next step is to become a small power itself。



England exhibited this symptom of decadence very badly in the war with



the Transvaal; but America exhibited it worse in the war with Spain。



There was exhibited more sharply and absurdly than anywhere



else the ironic contrast between the very careless choice



of a strong line and the very careful choice of a weak enemy。



America added to all her other late Roman or Byzantine elements



the element of the Caracallan triumph

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