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not to disturb the sleep of birds even by coughing。 The ultimate
apotheosis would appear to be that of a man sitting quite still；
nor daring to stir for fear of disturbing a fly； nor to eat for fear
of incommoding a microbe。 To so crude a consummation as that we
might perhaps unconsciously drift。 But do we want so crude
a consummation？ Similarly； we might unconsciously evolve along
the opposite or Nietzschian line of developmentsuperman crushing
superman in one tower of tyrants until the universe is smashed
up for fun。 But do we want the universe smashed up for fun？
Is it not quite clear that what we really hope for is one particular
management and proposition of these two things； a certain amount
of restraint and respect； a certain amount of energy and mastery？
If our life is ever really as beautiful as a fairy…tale； we shall
have to remember that all the beauty of a fairy…tale lies in this：
that the prince has a wonder which just stops short of being fear。
If he is afraid of the giant； there is an end of him； but also if he
is not astonished at the giant； there is an end of the fairy…tale。 The
whole point depends upon his being at once humble enough to wonder；
and haughty enough to defy。 So our attitude to the giant of the world
must not merely be increasing delicacy or increasing contempt：
it must be one particular proportion of the twowhich is exactly right。
We must have in us enough reverence for all things outside us
to make us tread fearfully on the grass。 We must also have enough
disdain for all things outside us； to make us； on due occasion；
spit at the stars。 Yet these two things （if we are to be good
or happy） must be combined； not in any combination； but in one
particular combination。 The perfect happiness of men on the earth
（if it ever comes） will not be a flat and solid thing； like the
satisfaction of animals。 It will be an exact and perilous balance；
like that of a desperate romance。 Man must have just enough faith
in himself to have adventures； and just enough doubt of himself to
enjoy them。
This； then； is our second requirement for the ideal of progress。
First； it must be fixed； second； it must be composite。 It must not
（if it is to satisfy our souls） be the mere victory of some one thing
swallowing up everything else； love or pride or peace or adventure；
it must be a definite picture composed of these elements in their best
proportion and relation。 I am not concerned at this moment to deny
that some such good culmination may be； by the constitution of things；
reserved for the human race。 I only point out that if this composite
happiness is fixed for us it must be fixed by some mind； for only
a mind can place the exact proportions of a composite happiness。
If the beatification of the world is a mere work of nature； then it
must be as simple as the freezing of the world； or the burning
up of the world。 But if the beatification of the world is not
a work of nature but a work of art； then it involves an artist。
And here again my contemplation was cloven by the ancient voice
which said； 〃I could have told you all this a long time ago。
If there is any certain progress it can only be my kind of progress；
the progress towards a complete city of virtues and dominations
where righteousness and peace contrive to kiss each other。
An impersonal force might be leading you to a wilderness of perfect
flatness or a peak of perfect height。 But only a personal God can
possibly be leading you （if； indeed； you are being led） to a city
with just streets and architectural proportions； a city in which each
of you can contribute exactly the right amount of your own colour
to the many coloured coat of Joseph。〃
Twice again； therefore； Christianity had come in with the exact
answer that I required。 I had said； 〃The ideal must be fixed；〃
and the Church had answered； 〃Mine is literally fixed； for it
existed before anything else。〃 I said secondly； 〃It must be
artistically combined； like a picture〃； and the Church answered；
〃Mine is quite literally a picture； for I know who painted it。〃
Then I went on to the third thing； which； as it seemed to me；
was needed for an Utopia or goal of progress。 And of all the three it
is infinitely the hardest to express。 Perhaps it might be put thus：
that we need watchfulness even in Utopia； lest we fall from Utopia
as we fell from Eden。
We have remarked that one reason offered for being a progressive
is that things naturally tend to grow better。 But the only real
reason for being a progressive is that things naturally tend
to grow worse。 The corruption in things is not only the best
argument for being progressive； it is also the only argument
against being conservative。 The conservative theory would really
be quite sweeping and unanswerable if it were not for this one fact。
But all conservatism is based upon the idea that if you leave
things alone you leave them as they are。 But you do not。
If you leave a thing alone you leave it to a torrent of change。
If you leave a white post alone it will soon be a black post。 If you
particularly want it to be white you must be always painting it again；
that is； you must be always having a revolution。 Briefly； if you
want the old white post you must have a new white post。 But this
which is true even of inanimate things is in a quite special and
terrible sense true of all human things。 An almost unnatural vigilance
is really required of the citizen because of the horrible rapidity
with which human institutions grow old。 It is the custom in passing
romance and journalism to talk of men suffering under old tyrannies。
But； as a fact； men have almost always suffered under new tyrannies；
under tyrannies that had been public liberties hardly twenty
years before。 Thus England went mad with joy over the patriotic
monarchy of Elizabeth； and then （almost immediately afterwards）
went mad with rage in the trap of the tyranny of Charles the First。
So； again； in France the monarchy became intolerable； not just
after it had been tolerated； but just after it had been adored。
The son of Louis the well…beloved was Louis the guillotined。
So in the same way in England in the nineteenth century the Radical
manufacturer was entirely trusted as a mere tribune of the people；
until suddenly we heard the cry of the Socialist that he was a tyrant
eating the people like bread。 So again； we have almost up to the
last instant trusted the newspapers as organs of public opinion。
Just recently some of us have seen （not slowl