|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 13
To run Mr. ARNOLD BENNETT to earth was no easy matter, for in these
days he is behind every scene, and no statesman, however new, can
get along without his counsel or correction. But, since to the
good _Punch_ man difficulties exist only as obstacles of which the
circumvention acts as intellectual cocktails or stimuli, the task was
accomplished. Mr. BENNETT agreed that the book of the other famous
Essex fictionist was a meritorious and ingenious work, but he found it
far from exhaustive. The idea of God, he held, still needed handling
in a capable efficient way. What was wrong with religion was, he said,
its mystery; if only it could be pruned of nonsense and made
practical for the man in the street, it might become really useful. He
personally had not yet thought finally on the subject of God, having
just now more tasks on hand (including a new play and universal
supervision) than he could count on the Five Fingers, but directly he
had time he meant to attend to the matter and polish it off. It was a
case where his intervention was clearly called for, since omniscience
could be handled only by omniscience.
The _Punch_ man has, however, to admit himself beaten in the matter
of Sir OLIVER LODGE. On inquiring at Birmingham University he was told
that the illustrious Principal was absent, no one knew where, but it
was believed that he was visiting the higher slopes of Mount Sinai.
All that the _Punch_ man could obtain was one of the black velvet
skull-caps which the seer wears, but, as it refused to give up any of
its secrets, he must confess to failure--at any rate until Sir OLIVER
returns.
Being in Brummagem (as it has been wittily called), the _Punch_ man
bethought him of the Rev. R.J. CAMPBELL, once the very darling of the
new gods--in fact the arch neo-theologian. But Mr. CAMPBELL, erstwhile
so articulate and confident, had nothing to say. All he could do was
to lock himself for safety in his church and look through the keyhole
with his beautiful troubled wistful orbs.
Mr. G.K. CHESTERTON loomed up to a dizzy height amid a cloud of new
witnesses. Greeting the _Punch_ man, he laid aside his proofs.
"I was just deleting the abusive epithet 'Lloyd' from all the
references to the PREMIER," he said, "but I have a moment for you.
I find a moment sufficient time for the assumption of any conviction
however lifelong."
The _Punch_ man asked if he had read the Dunmow evangel.
"I have read Mr. WELLS'S book, _God, the Invisible Man_, with the
greatest interest," said Mr. CHESTERTON.
The _Punch_ man ventured to correct him. "_God, the Invisible King_,"
he interposed.
"Very likely," replied the anti-Marconi Colossus. "But what's in a
title anyway? Books should not have titles at all, but be numbered,
like a composer's operas, Op. 1, Op. 2, and so on."
"Whether or not the opping comes, some of them," said the _Punch_ man,
"are certain to be skipped."
The giant was visibly annoyed. "You're not playing the game," he
said. "It's I who ought to have said that. Not you. You're only the
interviewer. You'd better give it to me anyway."
"And what," the _Punch_ man asked, "are your views respecting God?"
"I consider," he said instantly, "that an honest god's the noblest
work of man."
"I felt sure you would," the _Punch_ man replied. "In fact, I had a
bet on it."
The Rev. Sir WILLIAM ROBERTSON NICOLL, Editor of _The British Weekly_,
said that for many years his paper had supported Providence, to, he
believed, their mutual advantage, and it would continue to do so.
He personally recognised no need for change. Still, no one welcomed
honest analysis more warmly than himself, and he had read Mr. WELLS'S
masterpiece with all his habitual avidity and delight.
The _Punch_ man, passing on to the office of _The Times_, craved
permission to see the Editor, through smoked glass if necessary.
Having complied with a thousand formalities he was at last ushered
into the presence. The great man was engaged in selecting the various
types in which to-morrow's letters were to be set up--big for the
whales and minion for the minnows. "I can give you just two minutes,"
he said, without looking up. "These are strenuous ti----, I should
say days. Self-advertisement we leave to the lower branches of the
family."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|