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into　its　place　with　a　kind　of　click　of　relief。　　Having　got　one



part　right；　all　the　other　parts　were　repeating　that　rectitude；



as　clock　after　clock　strikes　noon。　　Instinct　after　instinct　was



answered　by　doctrine　after　doctrine。　　Or；　to　vary　the　metaphor；



I　was　like　one　who　had　advanced　into　a　hostile　country　to　take



one　high　fortress。　　And　when　that　fort　had　fallen　the　whole　country



surrendered　and　turned　solid　behind　me。　　The　whole　land　was　lit　up；



as　it　were；　back　to　the　first　fields　of　my　childhood。　　All　those　blind



fancies　of　boyhood　which　in　the　fourth　chapter　I　have　tried　in　vain



to　trace　on　the　darkness；　became　suddenly　transparent　and　sane。　



I　was　right　when　I　felt　that　roses　were　red　by　some　sort　of　choice：　



it　was　the　divine　choice。　　I　was　right　when　I　felt　that　I　would



almost　rather　say　that　grass　was　the　wrong　colour　than　say　it　must



by　necessity　have　been　that　colour：　　it　might　verily　have　been



any　other。　　My　sense　that　happiness　hung　on　the　crazy　thread　of　a



condition　did　mean　something　when　all　was　said：　　it　meant　the　whole



doctrine　of　the　Fall。　　Even　those　dim　and　shapeless　monsters　of



notions　which　I　have　not　been　able　to　describe；　much　less　defend；



stepped　quietly　into　their　places　like　colossal　caryatides



of　the　creed。　　The　fancy　that　the　cosmos　was　not　vast　and　void；



but　small　and　cosy；　had　a　fulfilled　significance　now；　for　anything



that　is　a　work　of　art　must　be　small　in　the　sight　of　the　artist；



to　God　the　stars　might　be　only　small　and　dear；　like　diamonds。　



And　my　haunting　instinct　that　somehow　good　was　not　merely　a　tool　to



be　used；　but　a　relic　to　be　guarded；　like　the　goods　from　Crusoe's　ship



even　that　had　been　the　wild　whisper　of　something　originally　wise；　for；



according　to　Christianity；　we　were　indeed　the　survivors　of　a　wreck；



the　crew　of　a　golden　ship　that　had　gone　down　before　the　beginning　of



the　world。







　　　　　But　the　important　matter　was　this；　that　it　entirely　reversed



the　reason　for　optimism。　　And　the　instant　the　reversal　was　made　it



felt　like　the　abrupt　ease　when　a　bone　is　put　back　in　the　socket。　



I　had　often　called　myself　an　optimist；　to　avoid　the　too　evident



blasphemy　of　pessimism。　　But　all　the　optimism　of　the　age　had　been



false　and　disheartening　for　this　reason；　that　it　had　always　been



trying　to　prove　that　we　fit　in　to　the　world。　　The　Christian



optimism　is　based　on　the　fact　that　we　do　NOT　fit　in　to　the　world。　



I　had　tried　to　be　happy　by　telling　myself　that　man　is　an　animal；



like　any　other　which　sought　its　meat　from　God。　　But　now　I　really



was　happy；　for　I　had　learnt　that　man　is　a　monstrosity。　　I　had　been



right　in　feeling　all　things　as　odd；　for　I　myself　was　at　once　worse



and　better　than　all　things。　　The　optimist's　pleasure　was　prosaic；



for　it　dwelt　on　the　naturalness　of　everything；　the　Christian



pleasure　was　poetic；　for　it　dwelt　on　the　unnaturalness　of　everything



in　the　light　of　the　supernatural。　　The　modern　philosopher　had　told



me　again　and　again　that　I　was　in　the　right　place；　and　I　had　still



felt　depressed　even　in　acquiescence。　　But　I　had　heard　that　I　was　in



the　WRONG　place；　and　my　soul　sang　for　joy；　like　a　bird　in　spring。　



The　knowledge　found　out　and　illuminated　forgotten　chambers　in　the　dark



house　of　infancy。　　I　knew　now　why　grass　had　always　seemed　to　me



as　queer　as　the　green　beard　of　a　giant；　and　why　I　could　feel　homesick



at　home。















VI　THE　PARADOXES　OF　CHRISTIANITY











　　　　　The　real　trouble　with　this　world　of　ours　is　not　that　it　is　an



unreasonable　world；　nor　even　that　it　is　a　reasonable　one。　　The　commonest



kind　of　trouble　is　that　it　is　nearly　reasonable；　but　not　quite。　



Life　is　not　an　illogicality；　yet　it　is　a　trap　for　logicians。　



It　looks　just　a　little　more　mathematical　and　regular　than　it　is；



its　exactitude　is　obvious；　but　its　inexactitude　is　hidden；



its　wildness　lies　in　wait。　　I　give　one　coarse　instance　of　what　I　mean。　



Suppose　some　mathematical　creature　from　the　moon　were　to　reckon



up　the　human　body；　he　would　at　once　see　that　the　essential　thing



about　it　was　that　it　was　duplicate。　　A　man　is　two　men；　he　on　the



right　exactly　resembling　him　on　the　left。　　Having　noted　that　there



was　an　arm　on　the　right　and　one　on　the　left；　a　leg　on　the　right



and　one　on　the　left；　he　might　go　further　and　still　find　on　each　side



the　same　number　of　fingers；　the　same　number　of　toes；　twin　eyes；



twin　ears；　twin　nostrils；　and　even　twin　lobes　of　the　brain。　



At　last　he　would　take　it　as　a　law；　and　then；　where　he　found　a　heart



on　one　side；　would　deduce　that　there　was　another　heart　on　the　other。　



And　just　then；　where　he　most　felt　he　was　right；　he　would　be　wrong。







　　　　　It　is　this　silent　swerving　from　accuracy　by　an　inch　that　is



the　uncanny　element　in　everything。　　It　seems　a　sort　of　secret



treason　in　the　universe。　　An　apple　or　an　orange　is　round　enough



to　get　itself　called　round；　and　yet　is　not　round　after　all。　



The　earth　itself　is　shaped　like　an　orange　in　order　to　lure　some



simple　astronomer　into　calling　it　a　globe。　　A　blade　of　grass　is



called　after　the　blade　of　a　sword；　because　it　comes　to　a　point；



but　it　doesn't。　Everywhere　in　things　there　is　this　element　of　the



quiet　and　incalculable。　　It　escapes　the　rationalists；　but　it　never



escapes　till　the　last　moment。　　From　the　grand　curve　of　our　earth　it



could　easily　be　inferred　that　every　inch　of　it　was　thus　curved。　



It　would　seem　rational　that　as　a　man　has　a　brain　on　both　sides；



he　should　have　a　heart　on　both　sides。　　Yet　scientific　men　are　still



organizing　expeditions　to　find　the　North　Pole；　because　they　are



so　fond　of　flat　country。　　Scientific　men　are　also　still　organizing



expeditions　to　find　a　man's　heart；　and　when　they　try　to　find　it；



they　generally　get　on　the　wrong　side　of　him。







　　　　　Now；　actual　insight　or　inspiration　is　best　tested　by　whether　it



guesses　these　hidden　malformations　or　surprises。　　If　our　mathematician



from　the　moon　saw　the　two　arms　and　the　two　ears；　he　might　deduce



the　two　shoulder…blades　and　the　two　halves　of　the　brain。　　But　if　he



guessed　that　the　man's　heart　was　in　the　right　place；　then　I　should



call　him　something　more　than　a　mathematician。　　Now；　this　is　exactly



the　claim　which　I　have　since　come　to　propound　for　Christianity。　



Not　merely　that　it　deduces　logical　truths；　but　that　when　it　suddenly



becomes　illogical；　it　has　found；　so　to　speak；　an　illogical　truth。　



It　not　only　goes　right　about　things；　but　it　goes　wrong　（if　one



may　say　so）　exactly　where　the　things　go　wrong。　　Its　plan　suits



the　secret　irregularities；　and　expects　the　unexpected。　　It　is　simple



about　the　simple　truth；　but　it　is　stubborn　about　the　subtle　truth。　



It　will　admit　that　a　man　has　two　hands；　it　will　not　admit　（though　all



the　Modernists　wail　to　it）　the　obvious　deduction　that　he　has　two　hearts。　



It　is　my　only　purpose　in　this　chapter　to　point　this　out；　to　show



that　whenever　we　feel　there　is　something　odd　in　Christian　theology；



we　shall　generally　find　that　there　is　something　odd　in　the　truth。







　　　　　I　have　alluded　to　an　unmeaning　phrase　to　the　effect　that



such　and　such　a　creed　cannot　be　believed　in　our　age。　　Of　course；



anything　can　be　believed　in　any　age。　　But；　oddly　enough；　there　really



is　a　sense　in　which　a　creed；　if　it　is　believed　at　all；　can　be



believed　more　fixedly　in　a　complex　society　than　in　a　simple　one。　



If　a　man　finds　Christianity　true　in　Birmingham；　he　has　actually　clearer



reasons　for　faith　than　if　he　had　found　it　true　in　Mercia。　　For　the　more



complicated　seems　the　coincidence；　the　less　it　can　be　a　coincidence。　



If　snowflakes　fell　in　the　shape；　say；　of　the　heart　of　Midlothian；



it　might　be　an　accident。　　But　if　snowflakes　fell　in　the　exact　shape



of　the　maze　at　Hampton　Court；　I　think　one　might　call　it　a　miracle。　



It　is　exactly　as　of　such　a　miracle　that　I　have　since　come　to　feel



of　the　philosophy　of　Christianity。　　The　complication　of　our　modern



world　proves　the　truth　of　the　creed　more　perfectly　than　any　of



the　plain　problems　of　the　ages　of　faith。　　It　was　in　Notting　Hill



and　Battersea　that　I　began　to　see　that　Christianity　was　true。　



This　is　why　the　faith　has　that　elaboration　of　doctrines　and　details



which　so　much　distresses　those　who　admire　Christianity　without



believing　in　it。　　When　once　one　believes　in　a　creed；　one　is　proud



of　its　complexity；　as　scientists　are　proud　of　the　complexity



of　science。　　It　shows　how　rich　it　is　in　discoveries。　　If　it　is　right



at　all；　it　is　a　compliment　to　say　that　it's　elaborately　right。　



A　stick　might　fit　a　hole　or　a　stone　a　hollow　by