“‘In sober verity I will confess a truth to thee, reader. I love a
Fool--as naturally as if I were of kith and kin to him. When a child,
with child-like apprehensions, that dived not below the surface of the
matter, I read those Parables--not guessing at the involved wisdom--I
had more yearnings towards that simple architect, that built his house
upon the sand, than I entertained for his more cautious neighbor: I
grudged at the hard censure pronounced upon the quiet soul that kept
his talent; and--prizing their simplicity beyond the more provident,
and, to my apprehension, somewhat unfeminine wariness of their
competitors--I felt a kindliness, that almost amounted to a _tendre_,
for those five thoughtless virgins.’
“Who is going to turn his back for ever on that passage? No,” K.
went on, “it won’t do. It is not possible to name one essay and one
only. But I have an amendment to propose. Instead of being permitted
to retain only one essay, why should we not be allowed a series of
passages equal in length to the longest essay--say ‘The Old Actors’?
Then we should not be quite so hopeless. That, for example, would
enable one to keep the page on Bensley’s Malvolio, the description of
Bridget Elia, a portion of the ‘Mrs. Battle,’ Ralph Bigod, a portion
of ‘Captain Jackson,’ the passages I have read, and--what I personally
should insist upon including, earlier almost than anything--the
Fallacies on rising with the Lark and retiring with the Lamb.”
“Well,” said the suggester of the original problem, “it’s a compromise
and therefore no fun. But you may play with it if you like. The
sweepingness of the first question was of course its merit. James is
the only one of you with the courage really to make a choice.”
“Oh, no,” said our host. “I chose one and one only instantly--‘Old
China.’”
“Nonsense!” said James; “you chose ‘Mackery End.’”
“There you are,” said K. “That shows.”
“Well, I refuse to be deprived of ‘Old China’ anyway,” said our host,
“even if I named ‘Mackery End.’ How could one live without ‘Old China’?
Our discussion reminds me,” he added, “of a very pretty poem--a kind of
poem that is no longer written. It is by an American who came nearer
Lamb in humour and ‘the tact of humanity’ than perhaps any writer--the
Autocrat. Let me read it to you.”