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all thoughts and theories were once judged by whether they tended
to make a man lose his soul； so for our present purpose all modern
thoughts and theories may be judged by whether they tend to make
a man lose his wits。
It is true that some speak lightly and loosely of insanity
as in itself attractive。 But a moment's thought will show that if
disease is beautiful； it is generally some one else's disease。
A blind man may be picturesque； but it requires two eyes to see
the picture。 And similarly even the wildest poetry of insanity can
only be enjoyed by the sane。 To the insane man his insanity is
quite prosaic； because it is quite true。 A man who thinks himself
a chicken is to himself as ordinary as a chicken。 A man who thinks
he is a bit of glass is to himself as dull as a bit of glass。
It is the homogeneity of his mind which makes him dull； and which
makes him mad。 It is only because we see the irony of his idea
that we think him even amusing； it is only because he does not see
the irony of his idea that he is put in Hanwell at all。 In short；
oddities only strike ordinary people。 Oddities do not strike
odd people。 This is why ordinary people have a much more exciting time；
while odd people are always complaining of the dulness of life。
This is also why the new novels die so quickly； and why the old
fairy tales endure for ever。 The old fairy tale makes the hero
a normal human boy； it is his adventures that are startling；
they startle him because he is normal。 But in the modern
psychological novel the hero is abnormal； the centre is not central。
Hence the fiercest adventures fail to affect him adequately；
and the book is monotonous。 You can make a story out of a hero
among dragons； but not out of a dragon among dragons。 The fairy
tale discusses what a sane man will do in a mad world。 The sober
realistic novel of to…day discusses what an essential lunatic will
do in a dull world。
Let us begin； then； with the mad…house； from this evil and fantastic
inn let us set forth on our intellectual journey。 Now； if we are
to glance at the philosophy of sanity； the first thing to do in the
matter is to blot out one big and common mistake。 There is a notion
adrift everywhere that imagination； especially mystical imagination；
is dangerous to man's mental balance。 Poets are commonly spoken of as
psychologically unreliable； and generally there is a vague association
between wreathing laurels in your hair and sticking straws in it。
Facts and history utterly contradict this view。 Most of the very
great poets have been not only sane； but extremely business…like；
and if Shakespeare ever really held horses； it was because he was much
the safest man to hold them。 Imagination does not breed insanity。
Exactly what does breed insanity is reason。 Poets do not go mad；
but chess…players do。 Mathematicians go mad； and cashiers；
but creative artists very seldom。 I am not； as will be seen；
in any sense attacking logic： I only say that this danger does
lie in logic； not in imagination。 Artistic paternity is as
wholesome as physical paternity。 Moreover； it is worthy of remark
that when a poet really was morbid it was commonly because he had
some weak spot of rationality on his brain。 Poe； for instance；
really was morbid； not because he was poetical； but because he
was specially analytical。 Even chess was too poetical for him；
he disliked chess because it was full of knights and castles；
like a poem。 He avowedly preferred the black discs of draughts；
because they were more like the mere black dots on a diagram。
Perhaps the strongest case of all is this： that only one great English
poet went mad； Cowper。 And he was definitely driven mad by logic；
by the ugly and alien logic of predestination。 Poetry was not
the disease； but the medicine； poetry partly kept him in health。
He could sometimes forget the red and thirsty hell to which his
hideous necessitarianism dragged him among the wide waters and
the white flat lilies of the Ouse。 He was damned by John Calvin；
he was almost saved by John Gilpin。 Everywhere we see that men
do not go mad by dreaming。 Critics are much madder than poets。
Homer is complete and calm enough； it is his critics who tear him
into extravagant tatters。 Shakespeare is quite himself； it is only
some of his critics who have discovered that he was somebody else。
And though St。 John the Evangelist saw many strange monsters in
his vision； he saw no creature so wild as one of his own commentators。
The general fact is simple。 Poetry is sane because it floats
easily in an infinite sea； reason seeks to cross the infinite sea；
and so make it finite。 The result is mental exhaustion；
like the physical exhaustion of Mr。 Holbein。 To accept everything
is an exercise； to understand everything a strain。 The poet only
desires exaltation and expansion； a world to stretch himself in。
The poet only asks to get his head into the heavens。 It is the logician
who seeks to get the heavens into his head。 And it is his head
that splits。
It is a small matter； but not irrelevant； that this striking
mistake is commonly supported by a striking misquotation。 We have
all heard people cite the celebrated line of Dryden as 〃Great genius
is to madness near allied。〃 But Dryden did not say that great genius
was to madness near allied。 Dryden was a great genius himself；
and knew better。 It would have been hard to find a man more romantic
than he； or more sensible。 What Dryden said was this； 〃Great wits
are oft to madness near allied〃； and that is true。 It is the pure
promptitude of the intellect that is in peril of a breakdown。
Also people might remember of what sort of man Dryden was talking。
He was not talking of any unworldly visionary like Vaughan or
George Herbert。 He was talking of a cynical man of the world；
a sceptic； a diplomatist； a great practical politician。 Such men
are indeed to madness near allied。 Their incessant calculation
of their own brains and other people's brains is a dangerous trade。
It is always perilous to the mind to reckon up the mind。 A flippant
person has asked why we say； 〃As mad as a hatter。〃 A more flippant
person might answer that a hatter is mad because he has to measure
the human head。
And if great reasoners are often maniacal； it is equally true
that maniacs are commonly great reasoners。 When I was engaged
in a controversy with the CLARION on the matter of free will；
that able writer Mr。 R。B。Suthers said that free will was lunacy；
because it meant causeless actions； and the actions of a lunatic
would be causeless。 I do not dwell here upon the disastrous lapse
in determinist logic。 Obviously if any actions； even a lunatic's；
can be causeless； determinism is done for。 If the chain of
causation can be broken for a madman； it can be broken for a man。
But my purpose is to point out something more practical。
It was natural； perhaps； that a modern Marxian Socialist should not
know anything about free will。 But it was certainly remarkable that
a modern Marxian Socialist should not know anything about lunatics。
Mr。 Suthers evidently did not know anything about lunatics。
The last thing that can be said of a lunatic is that his actions
are causeless。 If any human acts may loosely be called causeless；
they are the minor acts of a healthy man； whistling as he walks；
slashing the grass with a stick； kicking his heels or rubbing
his hands。 It is the happy man who does the useless things；
the sick man is not strong enough to be idle。 It is exactly such
careless and causeless actions that the madman could never understand；
for the madman （like the determinist） generally sees too much cause
in everything。 The madman would read a conspiratorial significance
into those empty activities。 He would think that the lopping
of the grass was an attack on private property。 He would think
that the kicking of the heels was a signal to an accomplice。
If the madman could for an instant become careless； he would
become sane。 Every one who has had the misfortune to talk with people
in the heart or on the edge of mental disorder； knows that their
most sinister quality is a horrible clarity of detail； a connecting
of one thing with another in a map more elaborate than a maze。
If you argue with a madman； it is extremely probable that you will
get the worst of it；