THE LIMIT OF IGNORANCE.
(Mr. Arnold Bennett in one of his recent works speaks of having met a Town Clerk who had never heard of H. G. Wells.)
As in a Midland city park
Great Bennett latterly was walking,
He came across a live Town Clerk,
Who, as they stopped and fell a-talking,
Confessed—so truthful Arnold tells—
He'd never heard of H. G. Wells!
This ghastly ignorance, alas!
Of that renowned investigator,
Whom every age and every class
Hails as its only educator,
Is no experience isolated,
But can be promptly duplicated.
The only Mayor I know—at least
I know by sight—a splendid creature,
Whose presence at a civic feast
Is always a conspicuous feature,
Has lately in his favourite organ
Proclaimed his ignorance of De Morgan.
Again, the other day I ran
Against a friend ('twas in Long Acre),
A simple estimable man—
He plies the trade of undertaker—
Who filled me with dismay and awe
By asking, "Who is Bernard Shaw?"
My hatter, too, who ranks among
The leaders of his useful calling,
Shows in regard to Filson Young
An apathy that's quite appalling,
For this benighted, blighted hatter
Has never read The Things that Matter!
Saddest of all, a Don I know,
A man of curious futile learning,
Studied Jane Austen long ago
With admiration undiscerning,
Till Mr. Bennett, thanks to Jane
Ousted all others from his brain.