5 On Thinking
Canon Dimnet of Cambrai lately wrote a little book upon the Art of Thinking. He wrote it，I believe，in the English tongue；but whether it be a translation or from his own pen （which is the more likely，for he writes English like an Englishman），it is a book without the mark of a foreign origin；and perhaps he chose English for his medium on the consideration that thinking had often been condemned during the last century and even lately in the English tongue as a solvent of judgment and instinctive power. I desire to take the title of this book for a text，and to affirm that the business of Thinking has been somewhat under-estimated of late：I desire to proclaim its modest value：to urge its use （in moderation，of course），and to say，even though I must say it timidly，a word in its favour. Come，let us take up the unpopular side，play the devil's advocate，and write a cautious brief in defence of this half-forgotten exercise，Thinking.
It was said some months ago by a witty Englishman，in praise of his own people，on returning from some foreign conference or other，that there was written up in flaming red letters upon the cliffs of Dover，for all returning men to read：
Thou shalt not Think. Thought is the foe of action. Therefore by Thinking men and nations perish.
It is a precept which has been repeated in various forms a thousand times. I doubt its soundness. It still seems to me that Thinking must have some good about it，and that those who decry Thinking are misled by an abuse of terms：an ambiguity. For the word “thinking” is used of musing，as when we say of a man run over by a motor car that he was plunged in thought：and it is used of doubt，as when one says：“I don't think the earth is flat：I know it”；it is used of vain illusion，as of Algernon，who thought himself the hell of a fellow，but it should more properly be used of discernment，so that by thought we see clearly the consequence of things，and by intelligence decide affairs and reach success in conclusions.
I have noticed not infrequently upon my rambles through this world that men （my brethren and similars）would order animals about：great strong animals，such as horned beeves，fierce dogs，and nervous horses：and that they were able so to do （it seemed to me）was due to their superior power of Thought. Observing this result，I have ever felt a certain anxiety lest，if we give up Thinking altogether，we may not become the prey of other nations more exercised in the practice.
Then，also，I have noticed that fame （which we all desire）is not unattached to this art of Thinking. Of close and clear thinkers there occur to me — Euclid，Descartes，Aquinas，even Cicero，and no one can say that they will be easily forgotten. Newton，by the way，should be added，and Locke，and John Stuart Mill；three prominent men who seemed to have rebelled against the patriotic order emblazoned on the cliffs of Dover.
But，talking of patriotism，there have been other rebels. For instance，not only was political economy founded here in England，where we are told no man should be allowed to Think，but the inferences and deductions of geology as well；for beginnings of Geology are English. Then there is the whole science and practice of the Law，wherein I admit men will continually protest they prefer good honest sense to thinking，but wherein also I notice there is quite a lot of Thinking done，sometimes a little too finely.
Then there are all those of the delicate profession，if I may use that term. I mean，the careers in which men advance by a certain light dexterity in appreciation of others and by the laying of subtle plans. Such are promoters，share-shufflers，big business men，money dealers，sharpers，those of the three-card trick and the great army of snatchers and lifters. Which of them would survive if he did not think — rapidly，clearly，and continually？
When，therefore，I hear the phrase that what is of importance to mortals is character，not intellect，I am so moved that I fall into verse — a thing habitual with versifiers when their emotions are stirred — and on this very matter have I composed a short epic，the first lines of which I will now humbly put before you，reminding you，however，that they are copyright，and reserving the sequel that I may sell it again later：
I knew a man who used to say
（Not once，but twenty times a day）
That in the turmoil and the strife —
His very phrase — of human life，
The thing of ultimate effect
Was character not intellect.
He therefore was at constant pains
To atrophy his puny brains，
And registered success in this
Beyond the dreams of avarice.
The epic goes on to describe his career，how，when he had become completely imbecile，he was selected for the highest posts in the land，and died — for even such men must die at last — saturated with glory，rolling in money and a model for all of us.
But this poem，I must warn you，was by way of satire，or something the opposite of what it plainly states. It was malicious. It was not to be taken literally，for within my own great soul I knew well that some measure of intellect was essential，even to public life，let alone to the running of a whelk stall.
I fancy that those who decry the ancient and honorable practice of Thinking are mixing it up with two things very different，which are called Deduction from Insufficient Premises，and Deduction from False Premises：or perhaps they are mixing it up with Argufying — which of all the detestable habits of man is perhaps the most intolerable — unless，indeed，it be set to work upon matters wholly undiscoverable，wherein it is a very tolerable pastime. Indeed，you may note that men in their cups generally talk metaphysics. And this，let me tell you，is not particularly true of the over-educated，but of all men whatsoever. It was but the other day I heard two men，with no pretence to any excess of culture，shouting at each other in the bar of an inn close against the shores of the Southern Sea，and one of them kept on saying，“How d'you know that what you saw was Bill's ketch，anyhow？” And the other kept on replying，“Why，it stands to reason that if I saw the thing it was there.” Wherein was developed all the quarrel of Kant and the sceptics with the peripatetics，and of sophists with common sense from the beginning of time；also the dear little fuss about phenomena.
And as for Thinking interfering with action，that is using one word in two senses. It is not Thinking that interferes with action；Thinking decides action. It is hesitation in Thought that interferes with action，it is paralysis in Thought that interferes with action，like that weariness of mind wherein a tune goes on buzzing in one's head. The man who keeps on saying，“Shall I？Shall I not？” is not Thinking，he is cutting the nerve of Thought. And even if Thinking have no practical value （though I stoutly maintain it has），at the least it is an absorbing exercise，bridging over those empty moments when we have neither scandal to talk against our neighbors，nor money to filch from them，nor vapid books to read.
Therefore do I think that I shall continue to think；and whether you think I think right in so thinking I care not，for I think so.
Belloc此文触及到的问题极多，但由于种种关系，敢于放开多谈的地方却较有限，几乎处处予人以这样一种感觉，即一切都不便太多深入，而只能点到为止，亦即总以不致涉入争端为妙。这种欲谈又止心事重重的迹象是明显的。但这事放在一个本来极有勇气的人的身上，似乎便颇觉可怪。不过这可能也很平常，而为人所难免。至于说到他的轻快的一面，则诙谐俏皮，遒劲冷隽乃至机敏多智等等，都是不可及的，读来确实令人歆羡仰慕不已。