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!