“But, Crumpett, the problem shapes itself in my mind,” said Sir Topman Murtle, “will the acceptance of that which one is bound to consider as an undoubted honour, be wholly consistent with that reverence for the dignity of letters which I hope I don’t exaggerate?”
“I am sure, Murtle,” said Mr. Octavius Crumpett, with a conviction of singular depth, “one feels that whatever you did it would be impossible for you to degrade the position in the world of letters to which your talents have called you.”
“I have a profound faith in your judgment, Crumpett,” said Sir Topman Murtle, “I am always stimulated by your clearness of thought and your depth of conviction. But, in a manner of speaking, would it not be possible to betray the higher tenets of one’s calling by giving one’s assent to official recognition, however honourable and however greatly to be cherished by a private individual? You will remember that Carlyle refused a baronetcy?”
“No, Murtle,” said Mr. Octavius Crumpett, with a conviction that seemed to grow deeper than ever, “there is not a shade of doubt in my mind that your sensitiveness upon this point is over-nice. Carlyle refused a baronetcy, but Scott accepted one; and Joseph Addison, one of the earliest names upon our books, accepted office in the government of his day.”
“All the same, Crumpett,” said Sir Topman Murtle, “I feel qualms.”
“They are uncalled for, I assure you, Murtle,” said Mr. Octavius Crumpett, with splendid finality, “wholly uncalled for.”
“One can hardly fancy the Right Honourable William Shakespeare, P.C.,” said Sir Topman Murtle, with an air of grave perplexity.
“Had Shakespeare been an educated man,” said Mr. Octavius Crumpett, thoughtfully balancing his paper-knife of solid silver on the point of his forefinger, “I believe it is generally recognized that there is no honour to which he might not have aspired. And let me say this, Murtle,” continued Mr. Octavius Crumpett, warming to his theme with an energy of which few would have suspected him to be capable, “let me say this. It is due to your sense of the higher citizenship that such a one as yourself should allow the welfare of the public to be paramount.”
“Ah, the public,” said Sir Topman Murtle, “the public; upon my word for the moment I had nearly forgotten the public!”
“No representative man must ever forget what he owes to the public,” said Mr. Octavius Crumpett, with a sententiousness in which he seldom permitted himself to indulge.