Trimblerigg : $b A book of revelationHousman, Laurence
Religion
Trimblerigg : $b A book of revelation
Housman, Laurence
Clergy -- Fiction; Romans à clef; Satire
All were to come dressed in white; and a city dressed in white stood
prepared to receive them. A little garish by day, the New Jerusalem
looked very beautiful by moonlight; then, with its white walls,
and pearly windows, and blue-grey roofs, crowned fantastically by
the points and perforated pinnacles of its toy-palaces, it seemed
like a city of silver. In the midst of it--the great co-operative
shopping-centre--were buildings composed entirely of glass, with
covered streets where the weather would no longer count for anything;
and on the outskirts, separated from the residential quarters by parks
and public gardens and ornamental lakes, stood the power-stations,
and water-towers, and above all these, in noble battlemented walls,
like a mediæval castle converted to spiritual ends, the gasometers
had concealed themselves. It was all very expansive and opulent, and
self-complacent, and plausible, and what perhaps in an earlier age
might have been called genteel; but what to my mind it resembled most
was the character--the public character, I mean--of Mr. Trimblerigg as
it appeared when things went well with him. In this ‘Home for Haloes’
he had finally and magnificently expressed himself as he wished he
might be. ‘Si monumentum requiris, circumspice’ was the motto with
which, after looking out of his Presidential window on that last happy
night of his career, he closed his eyes in post-prandial repose, so
as to be up blithe and fresh for ‘the Great Watch’ which at midnight
was to begin. In all the streets that lay before his gaze orderly
crowds, clothed in white and carrying lanterns and palm-branches in
their hands, paraded with happy unanimity, all marching one way as the
traffic signals directed, and singing as they went. It was a marvel of
organization; as a human demonstration--the expression of a commanding
majority devoting itself for the first time to one single spiritual
end--it was still more wonderful.
And so with a happy smile upon his illuminated face Mr. Trimblerigg lay
down in his Presidential robe, and slept like a child.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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