So the man
of the future, he will be made up of many men--the courage of one,
the wisdom of another, the kindliness of a third."
"Take a City man," he would continue, "say the Lord Mayor; add to
him a poet, say Swinburne; mix them with a religious enthusiast, say
General Booth. There you will have the man fit for the higher
life."
Garibaldi and Bismarck, he held, should make a very fine mixture,
correcting one another; if needful, extract of Ibsen might be added,
as seasoning. He thought that Irish politicians would mix admirably
with Scotch divines; that Oxford Dons would go well with lady
novelists. He was convinced that Count Tolstoi, a few Gaiety
Johnnies (we called them "mashers" in those days), together with a
humourist--he was kind enough to suggest myself--would produce
something very choice. Queen Elizabeth, he fancied, was probably
being reserved to go--let us hope in the long distant future--with
Ouida. It sounds a whimsical theory, set down here in my words, not
his; but the old fellow was so much in earnest that few of us ever
thought to laugh as he talked. Indeed, there were moments on starry
nights, as walking home from the office, we would pause on Waterloo
Bridge to enjoy the witchery of the long line of the Embankment
lights, when I could almost believe, as I listened to him, in the
not impossibility of his dreams.
Pages:
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211