orthodoxy- 第12部分

Tradition　may　be　defined　as　an　extension　of　the　franchise。　



Tradition　means　giving　votes　to　the　most　obscure　of　all　classes；



our　ancestors。　　It　is　the　democracy　of　the　dead。　　Tradition　refuses



to　submit　to　the　small　and　arrogant　oligarchy　of　those　who　merely



happen　to　be　walking　about。　　All　democrats　object　to　men　being



disqualified　by　the　accident　of　birth；　tradition　objects　to　their



being　disqualified　by　the　accident　of　death。　　Democracy　tells　us



not　to　neglect　a　good　man's　opinion；　even　if　he　is　our　groom；



tradition　asks　us　not　to　neglect　a　good　man's　opinion；　even　if　he　is



our　father。　　I；　at　any　rate；　cannot　separate　the　two　ideas　of　democracy



and　tradition；　it　seems　evident　to　me　that　they　are　the　same　idea。　



We　will　have　the　dead　at　our　councils。　　The　ancient　Greeks　voted



by　stones；　these　shall　vote　by　tombstones。　　It　is　all　quite　regular



and　official；　for　most　tombstones；　like　most　ballot　papers；　are　marked



with　a　cross。







　　　　　I　have　first　to　say；　therefore；　that　if　I　have　had　a　bias；　it　was



always　a　bias　in　favour　of　democracy；　and　therefore　of　tradition。　



Before　we　come　to　any　theoretic　or　logical　beginnings　I　am　content



to　allow　for　that　personal　equation；　I　have　always　been　more



inclined　to　believe　the　ruck　of　hard…working　people　than　to　believe



that　special　and　troublesome　literary　class　to　which　I　belong。　



I　prefer　even　the　fancies　and　prejudices　of　the　people　who　see



life　from　the　inside　to　the　clearest　demonstrations　of　the　people



who　see　life　from　the　outside。　　I　would　always　trust　the　old　wives'



fables　against　the　old　maids'　facts。　　As　long　as　wit　is　mother　wit　it



can　be　as　wild　as　it　pleases。







　　　　　Now；　I　have　to　put　together　a　general　position；　and　I　pretend



to　no　training　in　such　things。　　I　propose　to　do　it；　therefore；



by　writing　down　one　after　another　the　three　or　four　fundamental



ideas　which　I　have　found　for　myself；　pretty　much　in　the　way



that　I　found　them。　　Then　I　shall　roughly　synthesise　them；



summing　up　my　personal　philosophy　or　natural　religion；　then　I



shall　describe　my　startling　discovery　that　the　whole　thing　had



been　discovered　before。　　It　had　been　discovered　by　Christianity。　



But　of　these　profound　persuasions　which　I　have　to　recount　in　order；



the　earliest　was　concerned　with　this　element　of　popular　tradition。　



And　without　the　foregoing　explanation　touching　tradition　and



democracy　I　could　hardly　make　my　mental　experience　clear。　　As　it　is；



I　do　not　know　whether　I　can　make　it　clear；　but　I　now　propose　to　try。







　　　　　My　first　and　last　philosophy；　that　which　I　believe　in　with



unbroken　certainty；　I　learnt　in　the　nursery。　　I　generally　learnt　it



from　a　nurse；　that　is；　from　the　solemn　and　star…appointed　priestess



at　once　of　democracy　and　tradition。　　The　things　I　believed　most　then；



the　things　I　believe　most　now；　are　the　things　called　fairy　tales。　



They　seem　to　me　to　be　the　entirely　reasonable　things。　　They　are



not　fantasies：　　compared　with　them　other　things　are　fantastic。　



Compared　with　them　religion　and　rationalism　are　both　abnormal；



though　religion　is　abnormally　right　and　rationalism　abnormally　wrong。　



Fairyland　is　nothing　but　the　sunny　country　of　common　sense。　



It　is　not　earth　that　judges　heaven；　but　heaven　that　judges　earth；



so　for　me　at　least　it　was　not　earth　that　criticised　elfland；



but　elfland　that　criticised　the　earth。　　I　knew　the　magic　beanstalk



before　I　had　tasted　beans；　I　was　sure　of　the　Man　in　the　Moon　before　I



was　certain　of　the　moon。　　This　was　at　one　with　all　popular　tradition。　



Modern　minor　poets　are　naturalists；　and　talk　about　the　bush　or　the　brook；



but　the　singers　of　the　old　epics　and　fables　were　supernaturalists；



and　talked　about　the　gods　of　brook　and　bush。　　That　is　what　the　moderns



mean　when　they　say　that　the　ancients　did　not　〃appreciate　Nature；〃



because　they　said　that　Nature　was　divine。　　Old　nurses　do　not



tell　children　about　the　grass；　but　about　the　fairies　that　dance



on　the　grass；　and　the　old　Greeks　could　not　see　the　trees　for



the　dryads。







　　　　　But　I　deal　here　with　what　ethic　and　philosophy　come　from　being



fed　on　fairy　tales。　　If　I　were　describing　them　in　detail　I　could



note　many　noble　and　healthy　principles　that　arise　from　them。　



There　is　the　chivalrous　lesson　of　〃Jack　the　Giant　Killer〃；　that　giants



should　be　killed　because　they　are　gigantic。　　It　is　a　manly　mutiny



against　pride　as　such。　　For　the　rebel　is　older　than　all　the　kingdoms；



and　the　Jacobin　has　more　tradition　than　the　Jacobite。　　There　is　the



lesson　of　〃Cinderella；〃　which　is　the　same　as　that　of　the　Magnificat



EXALTAVIT　HUMILES。　　There　is　the　great　lesson　of　〃Beauty　and　the　Beast〃；



that　a　thing　must　be　loved　BEFORE　it　is　loveable。　　There　is　the



terrible　allegory　of　the　〃Sleeping　Beauty；〃　which　tells　how　the　human



creature　was　blessed　with　all　birthday　gifts；　yet　cursed　with　death；



and　how　death　also　may　perhaps　be　softened　to　a　sleep。　　But　I　am



not　concerned　with　any　of　the　separate　statutes　of　elfland；　but　with



the　whole　spirit　of　its　law；　which　I　learnt　before　I　could　speak；



and　shall　retain　when　I　cannot　write。　　I　am　concerned　with　a　certain



way　of　looking　at　life；　which　was　created　in　me　by　the　fairy　tales；



but　has　since　been　meekly　ratified　by　the　mere　facts。







　　　　　It　might　be　stated　this　way。　　There　are　certain　sequences



or　developments　（cases　of　one　thing　following　another）；　which　are；



in　the　true　sense　of　the　word；　reasonable。　　They　are；　in　the　true



sense　of　the　word；　necessary。　　Such　are　mathematical　and　merely



logical　sequences。　　We　in　fairyland　（who　are　the　most　reasonable



of　all　creatures）　admit　that　reason　and　that　necessity。　



For　instance；　if　the　Ugly　Sisters　are　older　than　Cinderella；



it　is　（in　an　iron　and　awful　sense）　NECESSARY　that　Cinderella　is



younger　than　the　Ugly　Sisters。　　There　is　no　getting　out　of　it。　



Haeckel　may　talk　as　much　fatalism　about　that　fact　as　he　pleases：　



it　really　must　be。　　If　Jack　is　the　son　of　a　miller；　a　miller　is



the　father　of　Jack。　　Cold　reason　decrees　it　from　her　awful　throne：　



and　we　in　fairyland　submit。　　If　the　three　brothers　all　ride　horses；



there　are　six　animals　and　eighteen　legs　involved：　　that　is　true



rationalism；　and　fairyland　is　full　of　it。　　But　as　I　put　my　head　over



the　hedge　of　the　elves　and　began　to　take　notice　of　the　natural　world；



I　observed　an　extraordinary　thing。　　I　observed　that　learned　men



in　spectacles　were　talking　of　the　actual　things　that　happened



dawn　and　death　and　so　onas　if　THEY　were　rational　and　inevitable。　



They　talked　as　if　the　fact　that　trees　bear　fruit　were　just　as　NECESSARY



as　the　fact　that　two　and　one　trees　make　three。　　But　it　is　not。　



There　is　an　enormous　difference　by　the　test　of　fairyland；　which　is



the　test　of　the　imagination。　　You　cannot　IMAGINE　two　and　one　not



making　three。　　But　you　can　easily　imagine　trees　not　growing　fruit；



you　can　imagine　them　growing　golden　candlesticks　or　tigers　hanging



on　by　the　tail。　　These　men　in　spectacles　spoke　much　of　a　man



named　Newton；　who　was　hit　by　an　apple；　and　who　discovered　a　law。　



But　they　could　not　be　got　to　see　the　distinction　between　a　true　law；



a　law　of　reason；　and　the　mere　fact　of　apples　falling。　　If　the　apple　hit



Newton's　nose；　Newton's　nose　hit　the　apple。　　That　is　a　true　necessity：　



because　we　cannot　conceive　the　one　occurring　without　the　other。　



But　we　can　quite　well　conceive　the　apple　not　falling　on　his　nose；



we　can　fancy　it　flying　ardently　through　the　air　to　hit　some　other　nose；



of　which　it　had　a　more　definite　dislike。　　We　have　always　in　our　fairy



tales　kept　this　sharp　distinction　between　the　science　of　mental　relations；



in　which　there　really　are　laws；　and　the　science　of　physical　facts；



in　which　there　are　no　laws；　but　only　weird　repetitions。　　We　believe



in　bodily　miracles；　but　not　in　mental　impossibilities。　　We　believe



that　a　Bean…stalk　climbed　up　to　Heaven；　but　that　does　not　at　all



confuse　our　convictions　on　the　philosophical　question　of　how　many　beans



make　five。







　　　　　Here　is　the　peculiar　perfection　of　tone　and　truth　in　the



nursery　tales。　　The　man　of　science　says；　〃Cut　the　stalk；　and　the　apple



will　fall〃；　but　he　says　it　calmly；　as　if　the　one　idea　really　led　up



to　the　other。　　The　witch　in　the　fairy　tale　says；　〃Blow　the　horn；



and　the　ogre's　castle　will　fall〃；　but　she　does　not　say　it　as　if　it



were　something　in　which　the　effect　obviously　arose　out　of　the　cause。　



Doubtless　she　has　given　the　advice　to　many　champions；　and　has　seen　many



castles　fall；　but　she　does　not　lose　either　her　wonder　or　her　reason。