Life — June 13, 1912 — page 26: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Intimate ARADOXES! Little ones and big ones, short and tall, rich and poor, jostling and tumbling over each other—each one trying to elbow his way to the front, mingling and dis- bursing, wrangling—a heterogenous mass of them looking like a pack of dogs all howling together in the cozy little Chesterton back yard on the out- skirts of London! And in the center, HED E = Interviews “Well, I don’t know. There ought to be enough commonplace ideas to last, and you know the receipt is per- fectly simple; you take something that everybody has accepted as being true, and prove that it doesn’t exist, or else that it is entirely wrong.” “Yes, but I already suspect that even to do this requires the ability of an artist and the patience of a saint.” “What would we do for a living?” familiarly at ease with them all, Gilbert Chesterton faced Gilbert Chesterton. “Sometimes I feel,” said Gilbert Chesterton, looking at himself re- proachfully, “as if we ought to get rid of the whole pack.” “But if we did,” replied Gilbert Chesterton, “ what would we do for a living? We should have to depend upon legitimate literature.” “And that might be fatal, especially in these days when nobody wants to read legitimate literature.” “But, old man, can we keep this thing up? Can we be eternally taking a commonplace and hitherto accepted idea and reversing it?” “Well, haven't we got them?” “Possibly. But we have achieved too much of a reputation for being clever. To be too clever is fatal.” At this point Gilbert Chesterton, motioning off the pack, leaned over to Gilbert Chesterton. “Ah!” he whispered, “I have an idea; something that has never oc- curred to you before, It may save us from obscuri “And that “My dear fellow, nothing simpler; hereafter we will try to write just ordinary common sense. Think of it! No writer is even trying to do that, and with our talent——” Half Moments with the World's Best Authors (in the present day rush and bustle no one has time for more) Oo" Scots, wha hae wi’ Wallace bled, When Linden’s sun was low, Confusion on thy banners wait, On the Reef of Norman's woe! When good King Arthur ruled the land, Speak, speak, thou fearful guest! ‘Tis false, 'tis false, my Arab steed! And clasped her to his breast. Fire! Out blazed the rifle blast, Warwick in blood did wade! Full fathoms five thy father lies,— Jump, jump! The boy obcyed. A moment there Lord Marmion stood, King Henry to deride; Give way, give way! Ye cursed French! The dog it was that died! Lie there! he cried; fell pirate! Thus I my vengeance slake! Back Laertius! Back Herminius! Trumpet to trumpet spake! It must be so,—thou reasonest well; Is this a dagger? Say! Farewell, farewell! but this I tell, I’m to be Queen o’ the May! Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan, And brave Lord Willoughby! Were the last words of Marmion, As he put out to sea. The Wedding Guest he beat his breast, Loud cried the fathers all, And thousands heard with brutal joy The harp thro’ Tara’s hall. Kamal is out with twenty men, Across the dying day, The Blessed Damosel leaned out— And frightened Miss Muffet away! Carolyn Wells, Gilbert Chesterton got up. He shook his head. “It’s no use,” he exclaimed. “ No- body would read us. No, my dear fellow, we shall have to keep on, and——" “And what?” “ Peter out.” comicbooks.com