Thus we see from the upward trend of creation a faculty for enjoyment steadily emerging, and existing side by side with fears, risks, and hardships which the struggle for existence entails—probably an even increased faculty for enjoyment, as those fears and risks become more consciously part of their lives. And I question whether we should think that the wild deer had chosen well, could it resign its apprehension of death at the drinking-place for the sake of becoming a worm—the wriggling but scarcely conscious prey of the early bird.
Man (the most conscious prey of death) has also his compensations; but, wishing to eat his cake and have it, he insists that his increased self-consciousness is the hall-mark of an immortality which he is unwilling to concede to others. He sees (or the majority of those see, who preach personal immortality after death) no moral necessity for conceding immortality to the worm because the early bird cuts short its career, or to the wild deer because it enjoys life, shrinks from death, and endures pain; or to the peewit, because she loves her young; or to the parrot, because it dies with a vocabulary still inadequate for expressing that contempt for the human species with which the caged experience of a life-time has filled its brain. Yet, for these and similar reasons applied to himself, man thinks that immortality is his due.
In doing so, he does but pursue, to a rather injudicious extent, that instinct for the ornamentation and embellishment of the facts of life which I spoke of to begin with. For whether it be well-founded or not, a belief in immortality gives ornament to existence.
Of course, it may be bad ornament; and I think it becomes bad ornament the moment he bases it upon the idea that this life is evil and not good. If he says “Life is so good that I want it to go on for ever and ever,” and thinks that he can make it better by asserting that it will go on for ever and ever, that is a playful statement which may have quite a stimulating effect on his career, and make him a much more charming and social and imaginative person than he would otherwise be. But if he wants a future life merely because he regards this life as a “vale of misery”—and wants that future life to contain evil as well as good—a Hell as well as a Heaven (in order that he may visualise retribution meted out on a satisfactory scale upon those whom he cannot satisfactorily visit with retribution to-day) then, I think, that it tends to become bad ornament, and is likely to make him less charming, less social, and less imaginatively inventive for the getting rid of evil conditions from present existence than he would be if he had not so over-loaded his brain with doctrinal adornments.
Still, it is ornament of a kind; and with ornament, good or bad (the moment he has got for himself leisure or any elbow-room at all in the struggle for existence) man cannot help embellishing the facts of life—the things that he really knows.
Now that instinct for embellishment is of course latent in Nature itself, or we should not find it in man; and it comes of Nature (the great super-mathematician) putting two and two together in a way which does not merely make four. When two and two are put together by Nature, they come to life in a new shape; and man is (up-to-date) the most appreciative receptacle of that fact which Nature has yet produced. Man builds up his whole appreciation of life by association—by studying a method of putting two and two together which comes to something very much more than a dead numerical result.
This, as I have said, is Nature’s way of giving to our investments in life a compound interest. Man throws into life his whole capital, body, soul, and spirit; and as a result of that investment Nature steadily returns to him year by year—not detached portions of his original outlay, but something new and different. Out of every contact between man’s energy and Nature’s, something new arises. And yet, though new, it is not strange; it has features of familiarity; it is partly his, partly hers; and if his spirit rises above the merely mechanical, it is endeared to him by and derives its fullest value from association. All beautiful work, all work which is of real use and benefit to the community, bears implicitly within it this mark of parentage—of the way it has been come by, through patience, skill, ingenuity, something more intimate and subtle than the dead impenetrable surface of a thing mechanically formed without the accompaniment either of hope or joy.
This creation of new values by association (which you can trace through all right processes of labour) is seen even in things which have very little of human about them.
The germ of its expression is to be found in that simplest of arithmetic propositions to which I have just referred: two and two make—not two twos but four, which is, in fact, a fresh concept; and the mind that can embrace so much—the idea of four as a number with an identity of its own has already raised itself above the lowest level of savagery. In that mind something has begun out of which the social idea may presently be developed; for the man who has conceived the number four will presently be identifying his new concept with a variety of correspondencies under fresh aspects: he will discover that certain animals have four legs, whereas, until then, his view of them was rather that of the child who said that a horse had two legs in front, two legs behind, and two at each side—a statement which shows, indeed, that the horse has been earnestly considered from as many points of view as are sometimes necessary to enable a Cabinet Minister to make up his mind, but, for all that, never as a whole; and in such a mind, though the identity of the horse may be established from whatever point of view he presents himself, the thought of the horse, as a being of harmoniously related parts, having order and species, has not yet been established. Until a man can count, and sum up the results of his counting in synthesis, Nature is composed merely of a series of units—and the mind cannot begin that grouping and defining process which leads to association and from that to the development of the social idea.
You will remember in Alice through the Looking Glass, when the two Queens set to work to test her educational proficiency—you will remember how the White Queen says (in order to discover whether Alice can do addition) “What’s one, and one, and one, and one, and one, and one?”