Or, better still, let him drop
in at the House of Commons or the House of Lords. Even Mr. McCabe
would admit that these men are solemn--more solemn than I am.
And even Mr. McCabe, I think, would admit that these men are frivolous--
more frivolous than I am. Why should Mr. McCabe be so eloquent
about the danger arising from fantastic and paradoxical writers?
Why should he be so ardent in desiring grave and verbose writers?
There are not so very many fantastic and paradoxical writers.
But there are a gigantic number of grave and verbose writers;
and it is by the efforts of the grave and verbose writers
that everything that Mr. McCabe detests (and everything that
I detest, for that matter) is kept in existence and energy.
How can it have come about that a man as intelligent as Mr. McCabe
can think that paradox and jesting stop the way? It is solemnity
that is stopping the way in every department of modern effort.
It is his own favourite "serious methods;" it is his own favourite
"momentousness;" it is his own favourite "judgment" which stops
the way everywhere. Every man who has ever headed a deputation
to a minister knows this. Every man who has ever written a letter
to the Times knows it. Every rich man who wishes to stop the mouths
of the poor talks about "momentousness.
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