Two
Kinds of Writer
CHRISTOPHER: I recently
read a journal by Eugene Ionesco, in which Jean-Paul
Sartre was described as petty bourgeois, and as a petty bourgeois, moreover,
who was envious of the grand bourgeoisie.
Would you agree?
LAWRENCE: No, not at all! He was essentially a grand bourgeois himself,
though of a different kind from the people of whom he is alleged to have been
envious.
CHRISTOPHER: What do
you mean by 'of a different kind'?
LAWRENCE: Just this:
that there are always two kinds of bourgeoisie, which, at the risk of
oversimplification, we may call the spiritual kind and the materialist kind -
those in the former category including priests, teachers, artists, writers,
judges, et cetera, and those in the latter category including businessmen,
doctors, scientists, technologists, politicians, et cetera. The spiritual kind live in the realm of ideas
and produce books, sermons, lectures, lessons, papers, et cetera, whereas the
materialist kind live in the realm of concrete phenomena and produce or uphold
a variety of material products ... ranging from pills and lotions to vacuum
cleaners and computers. Sartre, being a
writer and thinker, appertained to the spiritual category of bourgeois, even
though, within that category, he was more of a materialist or, at any rate, had
a materialistic bias, as his copious political writings adequately attest. He belonged to a subcategory composed of
writers like Koestler, Camus,
and Orwell, rather than to that of writers like Gide,
Huxley, and Hesse, in whose books religious concerns
tend to preponderate.
CHRISTOPHER: And you
would say he was a grand bourgeois?
LAWRENCE: Yes, I would. Each kind of bourgeois, whether of the
spiritual or the materialist categories, is divisible into those who are petty
and those who are grand. In the
materialist category, for example, we all recognize the difference of status
between a small businessman, like a private shopkeeper, and a big one, who may
be the owner of a powerful corporation or the manager of a large factory. No-one is going to confound the petty
bourgeois with the grand bourgeois there; for the disparity of wealth and power
can be enormous. Now what applies to
businessmen must also apply to every other kind of materialist, where similar
differences are to be found. There are
petty-bourgeois politicians and grand-bourgeois politicians - backbenchers and
cabinet ministers. There are
petty-bourgeois doctors and grand-bourgeois doctors - ordinary GPs and
specialist surgeons. There are lieutenants
and generals, obscure backroom scientists and world-famous scientists, et
cetera. It would be impossible not to
acknowledge the disparities of status which exist between these various types
of commercial or professional people.
Yet the same distinction also applies to the spiritual category, where
we have parish priests and bishops, teachers and professors, obscure artists
and world-famous artists, mediocre writers and great writers, and so on. Clearly in Sartre's case we are not dealing
with a beginner or a mediocrity, but with a world-famous writer, who is
therefore a grand bourgeois in the context of his profession. To regard him as petty bourgeois, as Ionesco apparently does, would be either to fall into the
error of regarding all writers, no matter what their individual standings in the
world, as essentially petty-bourgeois types or to commit the even worse mistake
of taking only successful materialists, and especially businessmen, for
grand-bourgeois types, and then comparing writers to them, so that the almost
inevitable inequality of wealth between the two categories will be regarded as
confirmation of the latters' petty-bourgeois
status. But this is nonsense! A writer appertains to the spiritual kind of
bourgeois and should be less wealthy than the materialist kind; for, in being a
writer, he has proclaimed his preference for the spiritual over the material
life and cannot therefore be regarded as a man for whom wealth is an important
acquisition. On the contrary, what is
important to him, and particularly to a writer of Sartre's type, is the
acquisition of knowledge and, to a lesser extent, recognition. It is precisely because he is not a
materialist that money holds less importance for him. He never sought to get rich but to become famous. His criteria are completely different from
the materialist's, and so he cannot be regarded as a petty bourgeois in
relation to the materialistic grand bourgeoisie, as though he were some sort of
shopkeeper or manager of a small firm.
He can only be compared, in this respect, to members of his own
profession and to other types of spiritual bourgeoisie. So if we stick to the example of Sartre, and
compare him to an up-and-coming writer or to an established writer whose books
are neither particularly brilliant nor famous, we are obliged to conclude that
Sartre was a grand bourgeois in his senior years and that, if he was ever
petty, it could only have been during the time when he was relatively unknown
and struggling to establish his reputation as a writer.
CHRISTOPHER: I
see! He was a grand bourgeois in
relation to lesser or younger writers.
But where would that place him, in your estimation, with regard to a
materialistic grand bourgeois, like a wealthy businessman?
LAWRENCE: I would say
that, since the spiritual should take precedence over the material in any
morally objective appreciation of the world or of the people in it, the
spiritual kind of bourgeois is generally a superior kettle-of-fish to his
materialist counterpart, in consequence of which a writer of Sartre's standing
should be regarded as a higher kind of man than a businessman, no matter how
successful the latter may happen to be.
Whether he should also be regarded as such in relation to an outstanding
statesman ... is another matter; though I would be inclined to grant him the
benefit of the doubt! There is only one
category of man to whom a truly great writer may feel inferior, and that is the
priestly category, especially those in the upper echelons of it. A holy man, or sage, is superior to a writer,
although this doesn't necessarily apply to a Christian priest who, even when
well-advanced in his vocation, may well be inferior because what he stands for,
namely the Christian religion, is becoming increasingly anachronistic or
irrelevant, and the role of spiritual or moral leadership has accordingly
passed elsewhere. It is somewhat
unlikely that a man like Sartre, who was a Marxist-turned-Existentialist, would
regard any of the upholders of Christianity as his intellectual or moral
superiors! On the contrary, if he looked
up to anyone at all, it would have been to certain statesmen of a revolutionary
stamp, like Mao or Castro. For he was, after all, a predominantly materialistic, and therefore
political, type of writer.
CHRISTOPHER: Yes, I
entirely agree! But how therefore would
he compare with those writers, such as Huxley, Hesse,
and Gide, whom you have dubbed predominantly
spiritual, and hence religious? Would a
similar distinction apply?
LAWRENCE: Yes, I believe
so! Although it is possible for a progressive
materialistic writer to be superior to a regressive or reactionary
spiritualistic one. At any rate,
he can be more important because relevant to the age.... What we really come
down to here, in connection with the better spiritual writers, is the
distinction between social realists and avant-gardists,
that is to say, between those who specialize in appearances and those, by
contrast, whose speciality is essence.
Broadly Sartre appertains, together with writers like Koestler and Camus, to the first
category, whereas Gide, Hesse,
and Huxley appertain to the second, though by no means exclusively so! For there was a commitment
to bourgeois tradition in each of the last-named authors which precludes us
from regarding any of them as strictly avant-garde. Neither, for similar reasons, can we regard
the other three as strictly social realist.
Nevertheless the fact remains that the spiritually-biased writer is a
superior type of writer to the materially-biased one, since essence must take
objective priority over appearance, even if, for a given period of time,
circumstances favour works treating of the apparent, i.e. the world, society,
politics, economics, science, et cetera.
CHRISTOPHER: So you
would regard Huxley, for example, as a superior type of writer to Sartre,
because he gave greater importance to essence, or the spirit, in his writings?
LAWRENCE: Yes, broadly speaking
I would. Although one should perhaps
emphasize the fact that it isn't so much a question of conscious choice as to
whether an author gives greater importance or more attention to essence than to
appearance in his writings, but primarily a question of temperament and
intelligence - two factors he was born with.
A Sartre is born to be a Sartre, a Huxley to be a Huxley. You cannot turn a materialist into a
spiritualist, or vice versa. What an
author writes is largely a consequence of what he is predisposed, through
intelligence and temperament, not to mention experience and environment, to
write. Huxley could no more have become
a social realist than Sartre ... an avant-gardist. They were largely shaped by their respective
temperaments.
CHRISTOPHER: As, I
should imagine, were you, whose bias is towards the spiritual, and who may well
become a grand bourgeois in your own profession one day, assuming you become
world famous.
LAWRENCE: Actually I prefer to
regard myself as a master of proletarian inclination though petty-bourgeois
antecedents. By which I mean that I am
one of those paradoxical writers who, because he concentrates on truth and educational
matters rather than illusion and entertainment, puts his publisher in the
position of a servant. The lesser or
popular writer, on the other hand, works to make his publisher wealthy and so
becomes a slave of his publisher's commercial requirements, writing for someone
else. I, however, write for myself or,
rather, in pursuit of truth, and am accordingly a master, like Schopenhauer and
Nietzsche. Masters are published by the
best publishers who, because they also have a number of slave authors working
for them, can afford the luxury, as it were, of publishing an uncommercial book from time to time. The most successful and noble publishers are
inevitably those who can afford to publish the most number of masters. A firm with five masters on its list can only
be superior, in this respect, to a firm with merely two.
CHRISTOPHER: I am
almost disposed to believe it! Though
one must also bear in mind the nature and quality of any individual master's
works, surely?
LAWRENCE: Yes, giving priority
to the spiritual ones, which must necessarily place such
masters as Gide, Hesse, and
Huxley above Koestler, Camus,
and Sartre. Or, for that matter,
Henry Miller above, say, Norman Mailer.
After all, Miller is also of the predominantly spiritual breed, since
one of the most avant-garde of twentieth-century authors and a grand bourgeois
in his own right. To combine the maximum
of autobiography with the maximum of philosophy - you can't do much better than
that!
CHRISTOPHER: No, I
guess not. But you can always go beyond
Miller by improving on the quality of your truth.
LAWRENCE: Not to mention the
nature of your autobiography!