orthodoxy-第2节

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heartiest　sentiments　to　all　the　jolly　people　who　hate　what　I　write；



and　regard　it　（very　justly；　for　all　I　know）；　as　a　piece　of　poor



clowning　or　a　single　tiresome　joke。







　　　　　For　if　this　book　is　a　joke　it　is　a　joke　against　me。　



I　am　the　man　who　with　the　utmost　daring　discovered　what　had　been



discovered　before。　　If　there　is　an　element　of　farce　in　what　follows；



the　farce　is　at　my　own　expense；　for　this　book　explains　how　I　fancied　I



was　the　first　to　set　foot　in　Brighton　and　then　found　I　was　the　last。　



It　recounts　my　elephantine　adventures　in　pursuit　of　the　obvious。　



No　one　can　think　my　case　more　ludicrous　than　I　think　it　myself；



no　reader　can　accuse　me　here　of　trying　to　make　a　fool　of　him：　



I　am　the　fool　of　this　story；　and　no　rebel　shall　hurl　me　from



my　throne。　　I　freely　confess　all　the　idiotic　ambitions　of　the　end



of　the　nineteenth　century。　　I　did；　like　all　other　solemn　little　boys；



try　to　be　in　advance　of　the　age。　　Like　them　I　tried　to　be　some　ten



minutes　in　advance　of　the　truth。　　And　I　found　that　I　was　eighteen



hundred　years　behind　it。　　I　did　strain　my　voice　with　a　painfully



juvenile　exaggeration　in　uttering　my　truths。　　And　I　was　punished



in　the　fittest　and　funniest　way；　for　I　have　kept　my　truths：　



but　I　have　discovered；　not　that　they　were　not　truths；　but　simply　that



they　were　not　mine。　　When　I　fancied　that　I　stood　alone　I　was　really



in　the　ridiculous　position　of　being　backed　up　by　all　Christendom。　



It　may　be；　Heaven　forgive　me；　that　I　did　try　to　be　original；



but　I　only　succeeded　in　inventing　all　by　myself　an　inferior　copy



of　the　existing　traditions　of　civilized　religion。　　The　man　from



the　yacht　thought　he　was　the　first　to　find　England；　I　thought　I　was



the　first　to　find　Europe。　　I　did　try　to　found　a　heresy　of　my　own；



and　when　I　had　put　the　last　touches　to　it；　I　discovered　that　it



was　orthodoxy。







　　　　　It　may　be　that　somebody　will　be　entertained　by　the　account



of　this　happy　fiasco。　　It　might　amuse　a　friend　or　an　enemy　to



read　how　I　gradually　learnt　from　the　truth　of　some　stray　legend



or　from　the　falsehood　of　some　dominant　philosophy；　things　that　I



might　have　learnt　from　my　catechismif　I　had　ever　learnt　it。　



There　may　or　may　not　be　some　entertainment　in　reading　how　I



found　at　last　in　an　anarchist　club　or　a　Babylonian　temple　what　I



might　have　found　in　the　nearest　parish　church。　　If　any　one　is



entertained　by　learning　how　the　flowers　of　the　field　or　the



phrases　in　an　omnibus；　the　accidents　of　politics　or　the　pains



of　youth　came　together　in　a　certain　order　to　produce　a　certain



conviction　of　Christian　orthodoxy；　he　may　possibly　read　this　book。　



But　there　is　in　everything　a　reasonable　division　of　labour。　



I　have　written　the　book；　and　nothing　on　earth　would　induce　me　to　read　it。







　　　　　I　add　one　purely　pedantic　note　which　comes；　as　a　note



naturally　should；　at　the　beginning　of　the　book。　　These　essays　are



concerned　only　to　discuss　the　actual　fact　that　the　central　Christian



theology　（sufficiently　summarized　in　the　Apostles'　Creed）　is　the



best　root　of　energy　and　sound　ethics。　　They　are　not　intended



to　discuss　the　very　fascinating　but　quite　different　question



of　what　is　the　present　seat　of　authority　for　the　proclamation



of　that　creed。　　When　the　word　〃orthodoxy〃　is　used　here　it　means



the　Apostles'　Creed；　as　understood　by　everybody　calling　himself



Christian　until　a　very　short　time　ago　and　the　general　historic



conduct　of　those　who　held　such　a　creed。　　I　have　been　forced　by



mere　space　to　confine　myself　to　what　I　have　got　from　this　creed；



I　do　not　touch　the　matter　much　disputed　among　modern　Christians；



of　where　we　ourselves　got　it。　　This　is　not　an　ecclesiastical　treatise



but　a　sort　of　slovenly　autobiography。　　But　if　any　one　wants　my



opinions　about　the　actual　nature　of　the　authority；　Mr。　G。S。Street



has　only　to　throw　me　another　challenge；　and　I　will　write　him　another　book。















II　THE　MANIAC











　　　　　Thoroughly　worldly　people　never　understand　even　the　world；



they　rely　altogether　on　a　few　cynical　maxims　which　are　not　true。　



Once　I　remember　walking　with　a　prosperous　publisher；　who　made



a　remark　which　I　had　often　heard　before；　it　is；　indeed；　almost　a



motto　of　the　modern　world。　　Yet　I　had　heard　it　once　too　often；



and　I　saw　suddenly　that　there　was　nothing　in　it。　　The　publisher



said　of　somebody；　〃That　man　will　get　on；　he　believes　in　himself。〃　



And　I　remember　that　as　I　lifted　my　head　to　listen；　my　eye　caught



an　omnibus　on　which　was　written　〃Hanwell。〃　　I　said　to　him；



〃Shall　I　tell　you　where　the　men　are　who　believe　most　in　themselves？　



For　I　can　tell　you。　　I　know　of　men　who　believe　in　themselves　more



colossally　than　Napoleon　or　Caesar。　　I　know　where　flames　the　fixed



star　of　certainty　and　success。　　I　can　guide　you　to　the　thrones　of



the　Super…men。　The　men　who　really　believe　in　themselves　are　all　in



lunatic　asylums。〃　　He　said　mildly　that　there　were　a　good　many　men　after



all　who　believed　in　themselves　and　who　were　not　in　lunatic　asylums。　



〃Yes；　there　are；〃　I　retorted；　〃and　you　of　all　men　ought　to　know　them。　



That　drunken　poet　from　whom　you　would　not　take　a　dreary　tragedy；



he　believed　in　himself。　　That　elderly　minister　with　an　epic　from



whom　you　were　hiding　in　a　back　room；　he　believed　in　himself。　



If　you　consulted　your　business　experience　instead　of　your　ugly



individualistic　philosophy；　you　would　know　that　believing　in　himself



is　one　of　the　commonest　signs　of　a　rotter。　　Actors　who　can't



act　believe　in　themselves；　and　debtors　who　won't　pay。　　It　would



be　much　truer　to　say　that　a　man　will　certainly　fail；　because　he



believes　in　himself。　　Complete　self…confidence　is　not　merely　a　sin；



complete　self…confidence　is　a　weakness。　　Believing　utterly　in　one's



self　is　a　hysterical　and　superstitious　belief　like　believing　in



Joanna　Southcote：　　the　man　who　has　it　has　‘Hanwell'　written　on　his



face　as　plain　as　it　is　written　on　that　omnibus。〃　　And　to　all　this



my　friend　the　publisher　made　this　very　deep　and　effective　reply；



〃Well；　if　a　man　is　not　to　believe　in　himself；　in　what　is　he　to　believe？〃　



After　a　long　pause　I　replied；　〃I　will　go　home　and　write　a　book　in　answer



to　that　question。〃　　This　is　the　book　that　I　have　written　in　answer



to　it。







　　　　　But　I　think　this　book　may　well　start　where　our　argument　started



in　the　neighbourhood　of　the　mad…house。　Modern　masters　of　science　are



much　impressed　with　the　need　of　beginning　all　inquiry　with　a　fact。　



The　ancient　masters　of　religion　were　quite　equally　impressed　with



that　necessity。　　They　began　with　the　fact　of　sina　fact　as　practical



as　potatoes。　　Whether　or　no　man　could　be　washed　in　miraculous



waters；　there　was　no　doubt　at　any　rate　that　he　wanted　washing。　



But　certain　religious　leaders　in　London；　not　mere　materialists；



have　begun　in　our　day　not　to　deny　the　highly　disputable　water；



but　to　deny　the　indisputable　dirt。　　Certain　new　theologians　dispute



original　sin；　which　is　the　only　part　of　Christian　theology　which　can



really　be　proved。　　Some　followers　of　the　Reverend　R。J。Campbell；　in



their　almost　too　fastidious　spirituality；　admit　divine　sinlessness；



which　they　cannot　see　even　in　their　dreams。　　But　they　essentially



deny　human　sin；　which　they　can　see　in　the　street。　　The　strongest



saints　and　the　strongest　sceptics　alike　took　positive　evil　as　the



starting…point　of　their　argument。　　If　it　be　true　（as　it　certainly　is）



that　a　man　can　feel　exquisite　happiness　in　skinning　a　cat；



then　the　religious　philosopher　can　only　draw　one　of　two　deductions。　



He　must　either　deny　the　existence　of　God；　as　all　atheists　do；　or　he



must　deny　the　present　union　between　God　and　man；　as　all　Christians　do。　



The　new　theologians　seem　to　think　it　a　highly　rationalistic　solution



to　deny　the　cat。







　　　　　In　this　remarkable　situation　it　is　plainly　not　now　possible



（with　any　hope　of　a　universal　appeal）　to　start；　as　our　fathers　did；



with　the　fact　of　sin。　　This　very　fact　which　was　to　them　（and　is　to　me）



as　plain　as　a　pikestaff；　is　the　very　fact　that　has　been　specially



diluted　or　denied。　　But　though　moderns　deny　the　existence　of　sin；



I　do　not　think　that　they　have　yet　denied　the　existence　of　a



lunatic　asylum。　　We　all　agree　still　that　there　is　a　collapse　of



the　intellect　as　unmistakable　as　a　falling　house。　　Men　deny　hell；



but　not；　as　yet；　Hanwell。　　For　the　purpose　of　our　primary　argument



the　one　may　very　well　stand　where　the　other　stood。　　I　mean　that　as



all　thoughts　and　theories　were　once　judged　by　whether　they　tended



to　make　a　man　lose　his　so