"G.K.Chesterton. The man who was Thursday. A nightmare (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

assemble, as the Christians assembled in the Catacombs. But if, by some
incredible accident, there were here to-night a man who all his life had
thus immensely misunderstood us, I would put this question to him: 'When
those Christians met in those Catacombs, what sort of moral reputation had
they in the streets above? What tales were told of their atrocities by one
educated Roman to another? Suppose' (I would say to him), 'suppose that we
are only repeating that still mysterious paradox of history. Suppose we seem
as shocking as the Christians because we are really as harmless as the
Christians. Suppose we seem as mad as the Christians because we are really
as meek."'
The applause that had greeted the opening sentences had been gradually
growing fainter, and at the last word it stopped suddenly. In the abrupt
silence, the man with the velvet jacket said, in a high, squeaky voice--
"I'm not meek!"
"Comrade Witherspoon tells us," resumed Gregory, "that he is not meek.
Ah, how little he knows himself! His words are, indeed, extravagant; his
appearance is ferocious, and even (to an ordinary taste) unattractive. But
only the eye of a friendship as deep and delicate as mine can perceive the
deep foundation of solid meekness which lies at the base of him, too deep
even for himself to see. I repeat, we are the true early Christians, only
that we come too late. We are simple, as they revere simple-- look at
Comrade Witherspoon. We are modest, as they were modest--look at me. We are
merciful--"
"No, no!" called out Mr. Witherspoon with the velvet jacket.
"I say we are merciful," repeated Gregory furiously, "as the early
Christians were merciful. Yet this did not prevent their being accused of
eating human flesh. We do not eat human flesh--"
"Shame!" cried Witherspoon. "Why not?"
"Comrade Witherspoon," said Gregory, with a feverish gaiety, "is
anxious to know why nobody eats him (laughter). In our society, at any rate,
which loves him sincerely, which is founded upon love--"
"No, no!" said Witherspoon, "down with love."
"Which is founded upon love," repeated Gregory, grinding his teeth,
"there will be no difficulty about the aims which we shall pursue as a body,
or which I should pursue were I chosen as the representative of that body.
Superbly careless of the slanders that represent us as assassins and enemies
of human society, we shall pursue with moral courage and quiet intellectual
pressure, the permanent ideals of brotherhood and simplicity."
Gregory resumed his seat and passed his hand across his forehead. The
silence was sudden and awkward, but the chairman rose like an automaton, and
said in a colourless voice--
"Does anyone oppose the election of Comrade Gregory?"
The assembly seemed vague and sub-consciously disappointed, and Comrade
Witherspoon moved restlessly on his seat and muttered in his thick beard. By
the sheer rush of routine, however, the motion would have been put and
carried. But as the chairman was opening his mouth to put it, Syme sprang to
his feet and said in a small and quiet voice--
"Yes, Mr. Chairman, I oppose."
The most effective fact in oratory is an unexpected change in the
voice. Mr. Gabriel Syme evidently understood oratory. Having said these