Let us raise him aloft upon our Brummagem shields. Long
live our coward, falsehearted chief!--fit leader for such soldiers as
we! Long live the Lord-of-Lies, anointed! Long live poor King
Appearances, to whom all mankind bows the knee!
But we must hold him aloft very carefully, oh, my brother warriors!
He needs much "keeping up." He has no bones and sinews of his own,
the poor old flimsy fellow! If we take our hands from him, he will
fall a heap of worn-out rags, and the angry wind will whirl him away,
and leave us forlorn. Oh, let us spend our lives keeping him up, and
serving him, and making him great--that is, evermore puffed out with
air and nothingness--until he burst, and we along with him!
Burst one day he must, as it is in the nature of bubbles to burst,
especially when they grow big. Meanwhile, he still reigns over us,
and the world grows more and more a world of pretense and exaggeration
and lies; and he who pretends and exaggerates and lies the most
successfully, is the greatest of us all.
The world is a gingerbread fair, and we all stand outside our booths
and point to the gorgeous-colored pictures, and beat the big drum and
brag.
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