utopia of usurers and other essays-第19部分

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that　if；　in　my　efforts　to　shout　at　this　fellow…creature　across　the
crashing　breakers；　I　call　his　position　the　〃insularistic　position；〃　and　my
position　〃the　semi…amphibian　position；〃　much　valuable　time　may　be　lost。　　I
am　not　an　amphibian。　　I　am　a　drowning　man。　　He　is　not　an　insularist；　or
an　individualist。　　He　is　a　beast。　　Or　rather；　he　is　worse　than　any　beast
can　be。　　And　if；　instead　of　letting　me　drown；　he　makes　me　promise；　while　I
am　drowning；　that　if　I　come　on　shore　it　shall　be　as　his　bodily　slave；
having　no　human　claims　henceforward　forever；　then；　by　the　whole　theory　and
practice　of　capitalism；　he　becomes　a　capitalist；　he　also　becomes　a　cad。

Now；　the　language　of　poetry　is　simpler　than　that　of　prose；　as　anyone　can
see　who　has　read　what　the　old…fashioned　protestant　used　to　call
confidently　〃his〃　Bible。　　And；　being　simpler；　it　is　also　truer；　and；　being
truer；　it　is　also　fiercer。　　And；　for　most　of　the　infamies　of　our　time；
there　is　really　nothing　plain　enough；　except　the　plain　language　of　poetry。
Take；　let　us　say；　the　ease　of　the　recent　railway　disaster；　and　the
acquittal　of　the　capitalists'　interest。　　It　is　not　a　scientific　problem
for　us　to　investigate。　　It　is　a　crime　committed　before　our　eyes；　committed；
perhaps；　by　blind　men　or　maniacs；　or　men　hypnotised；　or　men　in　some　other
ways　unconscious；　but　committed　in　broad　daylight；　so　that　the　corpse　is
bleeding　on　our　door…step。　　Good　lives　were　lost；　because　good　lives　do
not　pay；　and　bad　coals　do　pay。　　It　seems　simply　impossible　to　get　any
other　meaning　out　of　the　matter　except　that。　　And；　if　in　human　history
there　be　anything　simple　and　anything　horrible；　it　seems　to　have　been
present　in　this　matter。　　If；　even　after　some　study　and　understanding　of
the　old　religious　passions　which　were　the　resurrection　of　Europe；　we
cannot　endure　the　extreme　infamy　of　witches　and　heretics　literally　burned
alivewell；　the　people　in　this　affair　were　quite　as　literally　burned
alive。　　If；　when　we　have　really　tried　to　extend　our　charity　beyond　the
borders　of　personal　sympathy；　to　all　the　complexities　of　class　and　creed；
we　still　feel　something　insolent　about　the　triumphant　and　acquitted　man
who　is　in　the　wrong；　here　the　men　who　are　in　the　wrong　are　triumphant　and
acquitted。　　It　is　no　subject　for　science。　　It　is　a　subject　for　poetry。
But　for　poetry　of　a　terrible　sort。







End