by those Stratfordolaters out of a hatful of rags and a barrel of
sawdust, but there is a plenty of other things we can prove it by,
if I could think of them. We are The Reasoning Race, and when we
find a vague file of chipmunk-tracks stringing through the dust of
Stratford village, we know by our reasoning powers that Hercules
has been along there. I feel that our fetish is safe for three
centuries yet. The bust, too–there in the Stratford Church. The
precious bust, the priceless bust, the calm bust, the serene bust,
the emotionless bust, with the dandy moustache, and the putty face,
unseamed of care–that face which has looked passionlessly down
upon the awed pilgrim for a hundred and fifty years and will still
look down upon the awed pilgrim three hundred more, with the deep,
deep, deep, subtle, subtle, subtle, expression of a bladder.
CHAPTER XII
Irreverence
One of the most trying defects which I find in these–these–what
shall I call them? for I will not apply injurious epithets to them,
the way they do to us, such violations of courtesy being repugnant
to my nature and my dignity. The furthest I can go in that
direction is to call them by names of limited reverence–names
merely descriptive, never unkind, never offensive, never tainted by
harsh feeling. If THEY would do like this, they would feel better
in their hearts. Very well, then–to proceed. One of the most
trying defects which I find in these Stratfordolaters, these
Shakesperoids, these thugs, these bangalores, these troglodytes,
these herumfrodites, these blatherskites, these buccaneers, these
bandoleers, is their spirit of irreverence. It is detectable in
every utterance of theirs when they are talking about us. I am
thankful that in me there is nothing of that spirit. When a thing
is sacred to me it is impossible for me to be irreverent toward it.
I cannot call to mind a single instance where I have ever been
irreverent, except toward the things which were sacred to other
people. Am I in the right? I think so. But I ask no one to take
my unsupported word; no, look at the dictionary; let the dictionary
decide. Here is the definition:
Irreverence. The quality or condition of irreverence toward God
and sacred things.
What does the Hindu say? He says it is correct. He says
irreverence is lack of respect for Vishnu, and Brahma, and
Chrishna, and his other gods, and for his sacred cattle, and for
his temples and the things within them. He endorses the
definition, you see; and there are 300,000,000 Hindus or their
equivalents back of him.
The dictionary had the acute idea that by using the capital G it
could restrict irreverence to lack of reverence for OUR Deity and
our sacred things, but that ingenious and rather sly idea
miscarried: for by the simple process of spelling HIS deities with
capitals the Hindu confiscates the definition and restricts it to
his own sects, thus making it clearly compulsory upon us to revere
HIS gods and HIS sacred things, and nobody’s else. We can’t say a
word, for he has our own dictionary at his back, and its decision
is final.
This law, reduced to its simplest terms, is this: 1. Whatever is
sacred to the Christian must be held in reverence by everybody
else; 2, whatever is sacred to the Hindu must be held in reverence
by everybody else; 3, therefore, by consequence, logically, and
indisputably, whatever is sacred to ME must be held in reverence by
everybody else.
Now then, what aggravates me is, that these troglodytes and
muscovites and bandoleers and buccaneers are ALSO trying to crowd
in and share the benefit of the law, and compel everybody to revere
their Shakespeare and hold him sacred. We can’t have that:
there’s enough of us already. If you go on widening and spreading
and inflating the privilege, it will presently come to be conceded
that each man’s sacred things are the ONLY ones, and the rest of
the human race will have to be humbly reverent toward them or
suffer for it. That can surely happen, and when it happens, the
word Irreverence will be regarded as the most meaningless, and