heretics-第6部分
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but that interdependence and efficiency which belongs quite
as much to engineers； or sailors； or mules； or railway engines。
And thus it is that when he writes of engineers； or sailors；
or mules； or steam…engines； he writes at his best。 The real poetry；
the 〃true romance〃 which Mr。 Kipling has taught； is the romance
of the division of labour and the discipline of all the trades。
He sings the arts of peace much more accurately than the arts of war。
And his main contention is vital and valuable。 Every thing is military
in the sense that everything depends upon obedience。 There is no
perfectly epicurean corner； there is no perfectly irresponsible place。
Everywhere men have made the way for us with sweat and submission。
We may fling ourselves into a hammock in a fit of divine carelessness。
But we are glad that the net…maker did not make the hammock in a fit of
divine carelessness。 We may jump upon a child's rocking…horse for a joke。
But we are glad that the carpenter did not leave the legs of it
unglued for a joke。 So far from having merely preached that a soldier
cleaning his side…arm is to be adored because he is military；
Kipling at his best and clearest has preached that the baker baking
loaves and the tailor cutting coats is as military as anybody。
Being devoted to this multitudinous vision of duty； Mr。 Kipling
is naturally a cosmopolitan。 He happens to find his examples
in the British Empire； but almost any other empire would
do as well； or； indeed； any other highly civilized country。
That which he admires in the British army he would find even more
apparent in the German army； that which he desires in the British
police he would find flourishing； in the French police。
The ideal of discipline is not the whole of life； but it is spread
over the whole of the world。 And the worship of it tends to confirm
in Mr。 Kipling a certain note of worldly wisdom； of the experience
of the wanderer； which is one of the genuine charms of his best work。
The great gap in his mind is what may be roughly called the lack
of patriotismthat is to say； he lacks altogether the faculty of attaching
himself to any cause or community finally and tragically； for all
finality must be tragic。 He admires England； but he does not love her；
for we admire things with reasons； but love them without reasons。
He admires England because she is strong； not because she is English。
There is no harshness in saying this； for； to do him justice； he avows
it with his usual picturesque candour。 In a very interesting poem；
he says that
〃If England was what England seems〃
that is； weak and inefficient； if England were not what （as he believes）
she isthat is； powerful and practical
〃How quick we'd chuck 'er！ But she ain't！〃
He admits； that is； that his devotion is the result of a criticism；
and this is quite enough to put it in another category altogether from
the patriotism of the Boers； whom he hounded down in South Africa。
In speaking of the really patriotic peoples； such as the Irish； he has
some difficulty in keeping a shrill irritation out of his language。
The frame of mind which he really describes with beauty and
nobility is the frame of mind of the cosmopolitan man who has seen
men and cities。
〃For to admire and for to see；
For to be'old this world so wide。〃
He is a perfect master of that light melancholy with which a man
looks back on having been the citizen of many communities；
of that light melancholy with which a man looks back on having been
the lover of many women。 He is the philanderer of the nations。
But a man may have learnt much about women in flirtations；
and still be ignorant of first love； a man may have known as many
lands as Ulysses； and still be ignorant of patriotism。
Mr。 Rudyard Kipling has asked in a celebrated epigram what they can
know of England who know England only。 It is a far deeper and sharper
question to ask； 〃What can they know of England who know only the world？〃
for the world does not include England any more than it includes
the Church。 The moment we care for anything deeply； the world
that is； all the other miscellaneous interestsbecomes our enemy。
Christians showed it when they talked of keeping one's self
〃unspotted from the world；〃 but lovers talk of it just as much
when they talk of the 〃world well lost。〃 Astronomically speaking；
I understand that England is situated on the world； similarly； I suppose
that the Church was a part of the world； and even the lovers
inhabitants of that orb。 But they all felt a certain truth
the truth that the moment you love anything the world becomes your foe。
Thus Mr。 Kipling does certainly know the world； he is a man of the world；
with all the narrowness that belongs to those imprisoned in that planet。
He knows England as an intelligent English gentleman knows Venice。
He has been to England a great many times； he has stopped there
for long visits。 But he does not belong to it； or to any place；
and the proof of it is this； that he thinks of England as a place。
The moment we are rooted in a place； the place vanishes。
We live like a tree with the whole strength of the universe。
The globe…trotter lives in a smaller world than the peasant。
He is always breathing； an air of locality。 London is a place； to be
compared to Chicago； Chicago is a place； to be compared to Timbuctoo。
But Timbuctoo is not a place； since there； at least； live men
who regard it as the universe； and breathe； not an air of locality；
but the winds of the world。 The man in the saloon steamer has
seen all the races of men； and he is thinking of the things that
divide mendiet； dress； decorum； rings in the nose as in Africa；
or in the ears as in Europe； blue paint among the ancients； or red
paint among the modern Britons。 The man in the cabbage field has
seen nothing at all； but he is thinking of the things that unite men
hunger and babies； and the beauty of women； and the promise or menace
of the sky。 Mr。 Kipling； with all his merits； is the globe…trotter；
he has not the patience to become part of anything。
So great and genuine a man is not to be accused of a merely
cynical cosmopolitanism； still； his cosmopolitanism is his weakness。
That weakness is splendidly expressed in one of his finest poems；
〃The Sestina of the Tramp Royal；〃 in which a man declares that he can
endure anything in the way of hunger or horror； but not permanent
presence in one place。 In this there is certainly danger。
The more dead and dry and dusty a thing is the more it travels about；
dust is like this and the thistle…down and the High Commissioner
in South Africa。 Fertile things are somewhat heavier； like the heavy
fruit trees on the pregnant mud of the Nile。 In the heated idleness
of youth we were all rather inclined to quarrel with the implication
of that proverb which says that a rolling stone gathers no moss。 We were
inclined to ask； 〃Who wants to gather moss； except silly old ladies？〃
But for all that we begin to perceive that the proverb is right。
The rolling stone rolls echoing from rock to rock； but the rolling
stone is dead。 The moss is silent because the moss is alive。
The truth is that exploration and enlargement make the world smaller。
The telegraph and the steamboat make the world smaller。
The telescope makes the world smaller； it is only the microscope
that makes it larger。 Before long the world will be cloven
with a war between the telescopists and the microscopists。
The first study large things and live in a small world； the second
study small things and live in a large world。 It is inspiriting
without doubt to whizz in a motor…car round the earth； to feel Arabia
as a whirl of sand or China as a flash of rice…fields。 But Arabia
is not a whirl of sand and China is not a flash of rice…fields。 They
are ancient civilizations with strange virtues buried like treasures。
If we wish to understand them it must not be as tourists or inquirers；
it must be with the loyalty of children and the great patience of poets。
To conquer these places is to lose them。 The man standing
in his own kitchen…garden； with fairyland opening at the gate；
is the man with large ideas。 His mind creates distance； the motor…car
stupidly destroys it。 Moderns think of the earth as a globe；
as something one can easily get round； the spirit of a schoolmistress。
This is shown in the odd mistake perpetually made about Cecil Rhodes。
His enemies say that he may have had large ideas； but he was a bad man。
His friends say that he may have been a bad man； but he certainly
had large ideas。 The truth is that he was not a man essentially bad；
he was a man of much geniality and many good intentions； but a man
with singularly small views。 There is nothing large about painting
the map red； it is an innocent game for children。 It is just as easy
to think in continents as to think in cobble…stones。 The difficulty
comes in when we seek to know the substance of either of them。
Rhodes' prophecies about the Boer resistance are an admirable
comment on how the 〃large ideas〃 prosper when it is not a question
of thinking in continents but of understanding a few two…legged men。
And under all this vast illusion of the cosmopolitan planet；
with its empires and its Reuter's agency； the real life of man
goes on conce
