our noses,
"Thus far, and no farther; and here shall thy proud point be stayed": we
require a nose of such length as may ensure an interesting face. But we
cannot imagine a mere biological trend towards producing interesting
faces; because an interesting face is one particular arrangement of
eyes, nose, and mouth, in a most complex relation to each other.
Proportion cannot be a drift: it is either an accident or a design. So
with the ideal of human morality and its relation to the humanitarians
and the anti-humanitarians. It is conceivable that we are going more and
more to keep our hands off things: not to drive horses; not to pick
flowers. We may eventually be bound not to disturb a man's mind even by
argument; not to disturb the sleep of birds even by coughing. The
ultimate apotheosis would appear to be that of a man sitting quite
still, not 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 Nietzscheian line of development--superman 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 two--which 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 perfe