Heretics | Page 4

a Divine Frivolity
17. On the Wit of Whistler 18. The Fallacy of the Young Nation 19.
Slum Novelists and the Slums 20. Concluding Remarks on the
Importance of Orthodoxy
I. Introductory Remarks on the Importance of Orthodoxy
Nothing more strangely indicates an enormous and silent evil of
modern society than the extraordinary use which is made nowadays of

the word "orthodox." In former days the heretic was proud of not being
a heretic. It was the kingdoms of the world and the police and the
judges who were heretics. He was orthodox. He had no pride in having
rebelled against them; they had rebelled against him. The armies with
their cruel security, the kings with their cold faces, the decorous
processes of State, the reasonable processes of law--all these like sheep
had gone astray. The man was proud of being orthodox, was proud of
being right. If he stood alone in a howling wilderness he was more than
a man; he was a church. He was the centre of the universe; it was round
him that the stars swung. All the tortures torn out of forgotten hells
could not make him admit that he was heretical. But a few modern
phrases have made him boast of it. He says, with a conscious laugh, "I
suppose I am very heretical," and looks round for applause. The word
"heresy" not only means no longer being wrong; it practically means
being clear-headed and courageous. The word "orthodoxy" not only no
longer means being right; it practically means being wrong. All this can
mean one thing, and one thing only. It means that people care less for
whether they are philosophically right. For obviously a man ought to
confess himself crazy before he confesses himself heretical. The
Bohemian, with a red tie, ought to pique himself on his orthodoxy. The
dynamiter, laying a bomb, ought to feel that, whatever else he is, at
least he is orthodox.
It is foolish, generally speaking, for a philosopher to set fire to another
philosopher in Smithfield Market because they do not agree in their
theory of the universe. That was done very frequently in the last
decadence of the Middle Ages, and it failed altogether in its object. But
there is one thing that is infinitely more absurd and unpractical than
burning a man for his philosophy. This is the habit of saying that his
philosophy does not matter, and this is done universally in the twentieth
century, in the decadence of the great revolutionary period. General
theories are everywhere contemned; the doctrine of the Rights of Man
is dismissed with the doctrine of the Fall of Man. Atheism itself is too
theological for us to-day. Revolution itself is too much of a system;
liberty itself is too much of a restraint. We will have no generalizations.
Mr. Bernard Shaw has put the view in a perfect epigram: "The golden
rule is that there is no golden rule." We are more and more to discuss

details in art, politics, literature. A man's opinion on tramcars matters;
his opinion on Botticelli matters; his opinion on all things does not
matter. He may turn over and explore a million objects, but he must not
find that strange object, the universe; for if he does he will have a
religion, and be lost. Everything matters--except everything.
Examples are scarcely needed of this total levity on the subject of
cosmic philosophy. Examples are scarcely needed to show that,
whatever else we think of as affecting practical affairs, we do not think
it matters whether a man is a pessimist or an optimist, a Cartesian or a
Hegelian, a materialist or a spiritualist. Let me, however, take a random
instance. At any innocent tea-table we may easily hear a man say, "Life
is not worth living." We regard it as we regard the statement that it is a
fine day; nobody thinks that it can possibly have any serious effect on
the man or on the world. And yet if that utterance were really believed,
the world would stand on its head. Murderers would be given medals
for saving men from life; firemen would be denounced for keeping men
from death; poisons would be used as medicines; doctors would be
called in when people were well; the Royal Humane Society would be
rooted out like a horde of assassins. Yet we never speculate as to
whether the conversational pessimist will strengthen or disorganize
society; for we are convinced that theories do not matter.
This was certainly not the idea of those who introduced our freedom.
When the old Liberals removed the gags from all the heresies, their
idea was that religious and philosophical discoveries might thus be
made. Their view was that cosmic truth was so important that every
one ought to bear