Autobiographical fiction; Domestic fiction; Male authors -- Fiction; Men -- Fiction; Psychological fiction
If a man be in any vague latent doubt about the intrinsic correctness
and excellence of his general life-theory and practical course of life;
then, if that man chance to light on any other man, or any little
treatise, or sermon, which unintendingly, as it were, yet very palpably
illustrates to him the intrinsic incorrectness and non-excellence of
both the theory and the practice of his life; then that man will--more
or less unconsciously--try hard to hold himself back from the
self-admitted comprehension of a matter which thus condemns him. For in
this case, to comprehend, is himself to condemn himself, which is always
highly inconvenient and uncomfortable to a man. Again. If a man be told
a thing wholly new, then--during the time of its first announcement to
him--it is entirely impossible for him to comprehend it. For--absurd as
it may seem--men are only made to comprehend things which they
comprehended before (though but in the embryo, as it were). Things new
it is impossible to make them comprehend, by merely talking to them
about it. True, sometimes they pretend to comprehend; in their own
hearts they really believe they do comprehend; outwardly look as though
they _did_ comprehend; wag their bushy tails comprehendingly; but for
all that, they do not comprehend. Possibly, they may afterward come, of
themselves, to inhale this new idea from the circumambient air, and so
come to comprehend it; but not otherwise at all. It will be observed,
that, neither points of the above speculations do we, in set terms,
attribute to Pierre in connection with the rag pamphlet. Possibly both
might be applicable; possibly neither. Certain it is, however, that at
the time, in his own heart, he seemed to think that he did not fully
comprehend the strange writer's conceit in all its bearings. Yet was
this conceit apparently one of the plainest in the world; so natural, a
child might almost have originated it. Nevertheless, again so profound,
that scarce Juggularius himself could be the author; and still again so
exceedingly trivial, that Juggularius' smallest child might well have
been ashamed of it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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