orthodoxy-第18章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！





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　accident。　



But　a　key　and　a　lock　are　both　complex。　　And　if　a　key　fits　a　lock；



you　know　it　is　the　right　key。







　　　　　But　this　involved　accuracy　of　the　thing　makes　it　very　difficult



to　do　what　I　now　have　to　do；　to　describe　this　accumulation　of　truth。　



It　is　very　hard　for　a　man　to　defend　anything　of　which　he　is



entirely　convinced。　　It　is　comparatively　easy　when　he　is　only



partially　convinced。　　He　is　partially　convinced　because　he　has



found　this　or　that　proof　of　the　thing；　and　he　can　expound　it。　



But　a　man　is　not　really　convinced　of　a　philosophic　theory　when　he



finds　that　something　proves　it。　　He　is　only　really　convinced　when　he



finds　that　everything　proves　it。　　And　the　more　converging　reasons　he



finds　pointing　to　this　conviction；　the　more　bewildered　he　is　if　asked



suddenly　to　sum　them　up。　　Thus；　if　one　asked　an　ordinary　intelligent　man；



on　the　spur　of　the　moment；　〃Why　do　you　prefer　civilization　to　savagery？〃



he　would　look　wildly　round　at　object　after　object；　and　would　only　be



able　to　answer　vaguely；　〃Why；　there　is　that　bookcase　。　。　。　and　the



coals　in　the　coal…scuttle　。　。　。　and　pianos　。　。　。　and　policemen。〃　



The　whole　case　for　civilization　is　that　the　case　for　it　is　complex。　



It　has　done　so　many　things。　　But　that　very　multiplicity　of　proof



which　ought　to　make　reply　overwhelming　makes　reply　impossible。







　　　　　There　is；　therefore；　about　all　complete　conviction　a　kind



of　huge　helplessness。　　The　belief　is　so　big　that　it　takes　a　long



time　to　get　it　into　action。　　And　this　hesitation　chiefly　arises；



oddly　enough；　from　an　indifference　about　where　one　should　begin。　



All　roads　lead　to　Rome；　which　is　one　reason　why　many　people　never



get　there。　　In　the　case　of　this　defence　of　the　Christian　conviction



I　confess　that　I　would　as　soon　begin　the　argument　with　one　thing



as　another；　I　would　begin　it　with　a　turnip　or　a　taximeter　cab。　



But　if　I　am　to　be　at　all　careful　about　making　my　meaning　clear；



it　will；　I　think；　be　wiser　to　continue　the　current　arguments



of　the　last　chapter；　which　was　concerned　to　urge　the　first　of



these　mystical　coincidences；　or　rather　ratifications。　　All　I　had



hitherto　heard　of　Christian　theology　had　alienated　me　from　it。　



I　was　a　pagan　at　the　age　of　twelve；　and　a　complete　agnostic　by　the



age　of　sixteen；　and　I　cannot　understand　any　one　passing　the　age



of　seventeen　without　having　asked　himself　so　simple　a　question。　



I　did；　indeed；　retain　a　cloudy　reverence　for　a　cosmic　deity



and　a　great　historical　interest　in　the　Founder　of　Christianity。　



But　I　certainly　regarded　Him　as　a　man；　though　perhaps　I　thought　that；



even　in　that　point；　He　had　an　advantage　over　some　of　His　modern　critics。　



I　read　the　scientific　and　sceptical　literature　of　my　timeall　of　it；



at　least；　that　I　could　find　written　in　English　and　lying　about；



and　I　read　nothing　else；　I　mean　I　read　nothing　else　on　any　other



note　of　philosophy。　　The　penny　dreadfuls　which　I　also　read



were　indeed　in　a　healthy　and　heroic　tradition　of　Christianity；



but　I　did　not　know　this　at　the　time。　　I　never　read　a　line　of



Christian　apologetics。　　I　read　as　little　as　I　can　of　them　now。　



It　was　Huxley　and　Herbert　Spencer　and　Bradlaugh　who　brought　me



back　to　orthodox　theology。　　They　sowed　in　my　mind　my　first　wild



doubts　of　doubt。　　Our　grandmothers　were　quite　right　when　they　said



that　Tom　Paine　and　the　free…thinkers　unsettled　the　mind。　　They　do。　



They　unsettled　mine　horribly。　　The　rationalist　made　me　question



whether　reason　was　of　any　use　whatever；　and　when　I　had　finished



Herbert　Spencer　I　had　got　as　far　as　doubting　（for　the　first　time）



whether　evolution　had　occurred　at　all。　　As　I　laid　down　the　last　of



Colonel　Ingersoll's　atheistic　lectures　the　dreadful　thought　broke



across　my　mind；　〃Almost　thou　persuadest　me　to　be　a　Christian。〃　　I　was



in　a　desperate　way。







　　　　　This　odd　effect　of　the　great　agnostics　in　arousing　doubts



deeper　than　their　own　might　be　illustrated　in　many　ways。　



I　take　only　one。　　As　I　read　and　re…read　all　the　non…Christian



or　anti…Christian　accounts　of　the　faith；　from　Huxley　to　Bradlaugh；



a　slow　and　awful　impression　grew　gradually　but　graphically



upon　my　mindthe　impression　that　Christianity　must　be　a　most



extraordinary　thing。　　For　not　only　（as　I　understood）　had　Christianity



the　most　flaming　vices；　but　it　had　apparently　a　mystical　talent



for　combining　vices　which　seemed　inconsistent　with　each　other。　



It　was　attacked　on　all　sides　and　for　all　contradictory　reasons。　



No　sooner　had　one　rationalist　demonstrated　that　it　was　too　far



to　the　east　than　another　demonstrated　with　equal　clearness　that　it



was　much　too　far　to　the　west。　　No　sooner　had　my　indignation　died



down　at　its　angular　and　aggressive　squareness　than　I　was　called　up



again　to　notice　and　condemn　its　enervating　and　sensual　roundness。　



In　case　any　reader　has　not　come　across　the　thing　I　mean；　I　will　give



such　instances　as　I　remember　at　random　of　this　self…contradiction



in　the　sceptical　attack。　　I　give　four　or　five　of　them；　there　are



fifty　more。







　　　　　Thus；　for　instance；　I　was　much　moved　by　the　eloquent　attack



on　Christianity　as　a　thing　of　inhuman　gloom；　for　I　thought



（and　still　think）　sincere　pessimism　the　unpardonable　sin。　



Insincere　pessimism　is　a　social　accomplishment；　rather　agreeable



than　otherwise；　and　fortunately　nearly　all　pessimism　is　insincere。　



But　if　Christianity　was；　as　these　people　said；　a　thing　purely



pessimistic　and　opposed　to　life；　then　I　was　quite　prepared　to　blow



up　St。　Paul's　Cathedral。　　But　the　extraordinary　thing　is　this。　



They　did　prove　to　me　in　Chapter　I。　（to　my　complete　satisfaction）



that　Christianity　was　too　pessimistic；　and　then；　in　Chapter　II。；



they　began　to　prove　to　me　that　it　was　a　great　deal　too　optimistic。　



One　accusation　against　Christianity　was　that　it　prevented　men；



by　morbid　tears　and　terrors；　from　seeking　joy　and　liberty　in　the　bosom



of　Nature。　　But　another　accusation　was　that　it　comforted　men　with　a



fictitious　providence；　and　put　them　in　a　pink…and…white　nursery。　



One　great　agnostic　asked　why　Nature　was　not　beautiful　enough；



and　why　it　was　hard　to　be　free。　　Another　great　agnostic　objected



that　Christian　optimism；　〃the　garment　of　make…believe　woven　by



pious　hands；〃　hid　from　us　the　fact　that　Nature　was　ugly；　and　that



it　was　impossible　to　be　free。　　One　rationalist　had　hardly　done



calling　Christianity　a　nightmare　before　another　began　to　call　it



a　fool's　paradise。　　This　puzzled　me；　the　charges　seemed　inconsistent。　



Christianity　could　not　at　once　be　the　black　mask　on　a　white　world；



and　also　the　white　mask　on　a　black　world。　　The　state　of　the　Christian



could　not　be　at　once　so　comfortable　that　he　was　a　coward　to　cling



to　it；　and　so　uncomfortable　that　he　was　a　fool　to　stand　it。　



If　it　falsified　human　vision　it　must　falsify　it　one　way　or　another；



it　could　not　wear　both　green　and　rose…coloured　spectacles。　



I　rolled　on　my　tongue　with　a　terrible　joy；　as　did　all　young　men



of　that　time；　the　taunts　which　Swinburne　hurled　at　the　dreariness　of



the　creed







　　　　　〃Thou　hast　conquered；　O　pale　Galilaean；　the　world　has　grown



gray　with　Thy　breath。〃







But　when　I　read　the　same　poet's　accounts　of　paganism　（as



in　〃Atalanta〃）；　I　gathered　that　the　world　was；　if　possible；



more　gray　before　the　Galilean　breathed　on　it　than　afterwards。　



The　poet　maintained；　indeed；　in　the　abstract；　that　life　itself



was　pitch　dark。　　And　yet；　somehow；　Christianity　had　darkened　it。　



The　very　man　who　denounced　Christianity　for　pessimism　was　himself



a　pessimist。　　I　thought　there　must　be　something　wrong。　　And　it　did



for　one　wild　moment　cross　my　mind　that；　perhaps；　those　might　not　be



the　very　best　judges　of　the　relation　of　religion　to　happiness　who；



by　their　own　account；　had　neither　one　nor　the　other。







　　　　　It　must　be　understood　that　I　did　not　conclude　hastily　that　the



accusations　were　false　or　the　accusers　fools。　　I　simply　deduced



that　Christianity　must　be　something　even　weirder　and　wickeder



than　they　made　out。　　A　thing　might　have　these　two　opposite　vices；



but　it　must　be　a　rather　queer　thing　if　it　did。　　A　man　might　be　too　fat



in　one　place　and　too　thin　in　another；　but　he　would　be　an　odd　shape。　



At　this　point　my　thoughts　were　only　of　the　odd　shape　of　the　Christian



religion；　I　did　not　allege　any　odd　shape　in　the　rationalistic　mind。







　　　　　Here　is　another　case　of　the　same　kind。　　I　felt　that　a　strong



case　against　Christianity　lay　in　the　charge　that　there　is　somethi