[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
the same thing, or else we should not call it a stronger light or recognize
it as such. If the character of light were not fixed in the mind, we should
be quite as likely to call a denser shadow a stronger light, or vice versâ.
If the character of light became even for an instant unfixed, if it became
even by a hair s-breadth doubtful, if, for example, there crept into our
idea of light some vague idea of blueness, then in that flash we have
become doubtful whether the new light has more light or less. In brief,
the progress may be as varying as a cloud, but the direction must be as
rigid as a French road. North and South are relative in the sense that I
am North of Bournemouth and South of Spitzbergen. But if there be
any doubt of the position of the North Pole, there is in equal degree a
doubt of whether I am South of Spitzbergen at all. The absolute idea
of light may be practically unattainable. We may not be able to procure
pure light. We may not be able to get to the North Pole. But because
the North Pole is unattainable, it does not follow that it is indefinable.
And it is only because the North Pole is not indefinable that we can
make a satisfactory map of Brighton and Worthing.
106
THE CRITICAL HERITAGE
In other words, Plato turned his face to truth, but his back on Mr.
H.G.Wells, when he turned to his museum of specified ideals. It is precisely
here that Plato shows his sense. It is not true that everything changes;
the things that change are all the manifest and material things. There
is something that does not change; and that is precisely the abstract
quality, the invisible idea. Mr. Wells says truly enough, that a thing which
we have seen in one connection as dark we may see in another connection
as light. But the thing common to both incidents is the mere idea of
light which we have not seen at all. Mr. Wells might grow taller and
taller for unending æons till his head was higher than the loneliest star.
I can imagine his writing a good novel about it. In that case he would
see the trees first as tall things and then as short things; he would see
the clouds first as high and then as low. But there would remain with
him through the ages in that starry loneliness the idea of tallness; he
would have in the awful spaces for companion and comfort the definite
conception that he was growing taller and not (for instance) growing
fatter.
And now it comes to my mind that Mr. H.G.Wells actually has written
a very delightful romance about men growing as tall as trees; and that
here, again, he seems to me to have been a victim of this vague relativism.
The Food of the Gods is, like Mr. Bernard Shaw s play, in essence a
study of the Superman idea. And it lies, I think, even through the veil
of a half-pantomimic allegory, open to the same intellectual attack. We
cannot be expected to have any regard for a great creature if he does
not in any manner conform to our standards. For unless he passes our
standard of greatness we cannot even call him great. Nietszche summed
up all that is interesting in the Superman idea when he said, Man is a
thing which has to be surpassed. But the very word surpass implies
the existence of a standard common to us and the thing surpassing us.
If the Superman is more manly than men are, of course they will ultimately
deify him, even if they happen to kill him first. But if he is simply more
supermanly, they may be quite indifferent to him as they would be to
another seemingly aimless monstrosity. He must submit to our test even
in order to overawe us. Mere force or size even is a standard; but that
alone will never make men think a man their superior. Giants, as in
the wise old fairy-tales, are vermin. Supermen, if not good men, are
vermin.
The Food of the Gods is the tale of Jack the Giant-Killer told from
the point of view of the giant. This has not, I think, been done before
in literature; but I have little doubt that the psychological substance
107
H.G.WELLS
of it existed in fact. I have little doubt that the giant whom Jack killed
did regard himself as the Superman. It is likely enough that he considered
Jack a narrow and parochial person who wished to frustrate a great
forward movement of the life-force. If (as not unfrequently was the
case) he happened to have two heads, he would point out the elementary
maxim which declares them to be better than one. He would enlarge
on the subtle modernity of such an equipment, enabling a giant to
look at a subject from two points of view, or to correct himself with
promptitude. But Jack was the champion of the enduring human
standards, of the principle of one man one head and one man one
conscience, of the single head and the single heart and the single eye.
Jack was quite unimpressed by the question of whether the giant was
a particularly gigantic giant. All he wished to know was whether he
was a good giant that is, a giant who was any good to us. What were
the giant s religious views; what his views on politics and the duties
of the citizen? Was he fond of children or fond of them only in a
dark and sinister sense? To use a fine phrase for emotional sanity, was
his heart in the right place? Jack had sometimes to cut him up with a
sword in order to find out.
The old and correct story of Jack the Giant-Killer is simply the whole
story of man; if it were understood we should need no Bibles or histories.
But the modern world in particular does not seem to understand it at
all. The modern world, like Mr. Wells, is on the side of the giants;
the safest place, and therefore the meanest and the most prosaic. The
modern world, when it praises its little Cæsars, talks of being strong
and brave: but it does not seem to see the eternal paradox involved
in the conjunction of these ideas. The strong cannot be brave. Only
the weak can be brave; and yet again, in practice, only those who can
be brave can be trusted, in time of doubt, to be strong. The only way
in which a giant could really keep himself in training against the inevitable
Jack would be by continually fighting other giants ten times as big as
himself. That is by ceasing to be a giant and becoming a Jack. Thus
that sympathy with the small or the defeated as such, with which we
Liberals and Nationalists have been often reproached, is not a useless [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl freetocraft.keep.pl
the same thing, or else we should not call it a stronger light or recognize
it as such. If the character of light were not fixed in the mind, we should
be quite as likely to call a denser shadow a stronger light, or vice versâ.
If the character of light became even for an instant unfixed, if it became
even by a hair s-breadth doubtful, if, for example, there crept into our
idea of light some vague idea of blueness, then in that flash we have
become doubtful whether the new light has more light or less. In brief,
the progress may be as varying as a cloud, but the direction must be as
rigid as a French road. North and South are relative in the sense that I
am North of Bournemouth and South of Spitzbergen. But if there be
any doubt of the position of the North Pole, there is in equal degree a
doubt of whether I am South of Spitzbergen at all. The absolute idea
of light may be practically unattainable. We may not be able to procure
pure light. We may not be able to get to the North Pole. But because
the North Pole is unattainable, it does not follow that it is indefinable.
And it is only because the North Pole is not indefinable that we can
make a satisfactory map of Brighton and Worthing.
106
THE CRITICAL HERITAGE
In other words, Plato turned his face to truth, but his back on Mr.
H.G.Wells, when he turned to his museum of specified ideals. It is precisely
here that Plato shows his sense. It is not true that everything changes;
the things that change are all the manifest and material things. There
is something that does not change; and that is precisely the abstract
quality, the invisible idea. Mr. Wells says truly enough, that a thing which
we have seen in one connection as dark we may see in another connection
as light. But the thing common to both incidents is the mere idea of
light which we have not seen at all. Mr. Wells might grow taller and
taller for unending æons till his head was higher than the loneliest star.
I can imagine his writing a good novel about it. In that case he would
see the trees first as tall things and then as short things; he would see
the clouds first as high and then as low. But there would remain with
him through the ages in that starry loneliness the idea of tallness; he
would have in the awful spaces for companion and comfort the definite
conception that he was growing taller and not (for instance) growing
fatter.
And now it comes to my mind that Mr. H.G.Wells actually has written
a very delightful romance about men growing as tall as trees; and that
here, again, he seems to me to have been a victim of this vague relativism.
The Food of the Gods is, like Mr. Bernard Shaw s play, in essence a
study of the Superman idea. And it lies, I think, even through the veil
of a half-pantomimic allegory, open to the same intellectual attack. We
cannot be expected to have any regard for a great creature if he does
not in any manner conform to our standards. For unless he passes our
standard of greatness we cannot even call him great. Nietszche summed
up all that is interesting in the Superman idea when he said, Man is a
thing which has to be surpassed. But the very word surpass implies
the existence of a standard common to us and the thing surpassing us.
If the Superman is more manly than men are, of course they will ultimately
deify him, even if they happen to kill him first. But if he is simply more
supermanly, they may be quite indifferent to him as they would be to
another seemingly aimless monstrosity. He must submit to our test even
in order to overawe us. Mere force or size even is a standard; but that
alone will never make men think a man their superior. Giants, as in
the wise old fairy-tales, are vermin. Supermen, if not good men, are
vermin.
The Food of the Gods is the tale of Jack the Giant-Killer told from
the point of view of the giant. This has not, I think, been done before
in literature; but I have little doubt that the psychological substance
107
H.G.WELLS
of it existed in fact. I have little doubt that the giant whom Jack killed
did regard himself as the Superman. It is likely enough that he considered
Jack a narrow and parochial person who wished to frustrate a great
forward movement of the life-force. If (as not unfrequently was the
case) he happened to have two heads, he would point out the elementary
maxim which declares them to be better than one. He would enlarge
on the subtle modernity of such an equipment, enabling a giant to
look at a subject from two points of view, or to correct himself with
promptitude. But Jack was the champion of the enduring human
standards, of the principle of one man one head and one man one
conscience, of the single head and the single heart and the single eye.
Jack was quite unimpressed by the question of whether the giant was
a particularly gigantic giant. All he wished to know was whether he
was a good giant that is, a giant who was any good to us. What were
the giant s religious views; what his views on politics and the duties
of the citizen? Was he fond of children or fond of them only in a
dark and sinister sense? To use a fine phrase for emotional sanity, was
his heart in the right place? Jack had sometimes to cut him up with a
sword in order to find out.
The old and correct story of Jack the Giant-Killer is simply the whole
story of man; if it were understood we should need no Bibles or histories.
But the modern world in particular does not seem to understand it at
all. The modern world, like Mr. Wells, is on the side of the giants;
the safest place, and therefore the meanest and the most prosaic. The
modern world, when it praises its little Cæsars, talks of being strong
and brave: but it does not seem to see the eternal paradox involved
in the conjunction of these ideas. The strong cannot be brave. Only
the weak can be brave; and yet again, in practice, only those who can
be brave can be trusted, in time of doubt, to be strong. The only way
in which a giant could really keep himself in training against the inevitable
Jack would be by continually fighting other giants ten times as big as
himself. That is by ceasing to be a giant and becoming a Jack. Thus
that sympathy with the small or the defeated as such, with which we
Liberals and Nationalists have been often reproached, is not a useless [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]