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Curious Republic Of Gondour And Other Whimsical Sketches
ABOUT SMELLS
Mark Twain
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       _ In a recent issue of the "Independent," the Rev. T. De Witt Talmage, of
       Brooklyn, has the following utterance on the subject of "Smells":
       I have a good Christian friend who, if he sat in the front pew in
       church, and a working man should enter the door at the other end,
       would smell him instantly. My friend is not to blame for the
       sensitiveness of his nose, any more than you would flog a pointer
       for being keener on the scent than a stupid watch dog. The fact is,
       if you, had all the churches free, by reason of the mixing up of the
       common people with the uncommon, you would keep one-half of
       Christendom sick at their stomach. If you are going to kill the
       church thus with bad smells, I will have nothing to do with this
       work of evangelization.
       We have reason to believe that there will be labouring men in heaven; and
       also a number of negroes, and Esquimaux, and Terra del Fuegans, and
       Arabs, and a few Indians, and possibly even some Spaniards and
       Portuguese. All things are possible with God. We shall have all these
       sorts of people in heaven; but, alas! in getting them we shall lose the
       society of Dr. Talmage. Which is to say, we shall lose the company of
       one who could give more real "tone" to celestial society than any other
       contribution Brooklyn could furnish. And what would eternal happiness be
       without the Doctor? Blissful, unquestionably--we know that well enough
       but would it be 'distingue,' would it be 'recherche' without him? St.
       Matthew without stockings or sandals; St. Jerome bare headed, and with a
       coarse brown blanket robe dragging the ground; St. Sebastian with
       scarcely any raiment at all--these we should see, and should enjoy seeing
       them; but would we not miss a spike-tailed coat and kids, and turn away
       regretfully, and say to parties from the Orient: "These are well enough,
       but you ought to see Talmage of Brooklyn." I fear me that in the better
       world we shall not even have Dr. Talmage's "good Christian friend."
       For if he were sitting under the glory of the Throne, and the keeper of
       the keys admitted a Benjamin Franklin or other labouring man, that
       "friend," with his fine natural powers infinitely augmented by
       emancipation from hampering flesh, would detect him with a single sniff,
       and immediately take his hat and ask to be excused.
       To all outward seeming, the Rev. T. De Witt Talmage is of the same
       material as that used in the construction of his early predecessors in
       the ministry; and yet one feels that there must be a difference somewhere
       between him and the Saviour's first disciples. It may be because here,
       in the nineteenth century, Dr. T. has had advantages which Paul and
       Peter and the others could not and did not have. There was a lack of
       polish about them, and a looseness of etiquette, and a want of
       exclusiveness, which one cannot help noticing. They healed the very
       beggars, and held intercourse with people of a villainous odour every
       day. If the subject of these remarks had been chosen among the original
       Twelve Apostles, he would not have associated with the rest, because he
       could not have stood the fishy smell of some of his comrades who came
       from around the Sea of Galilee. He would have resigned his commission
       with some such remark as he makes in the extract quoted above: "Master,
       if thou art going to kill the church thus with bad smells, I will have
       nothing to do with this work of evangelization." He is a disciple, and
       makes that remark to the Master; the only difference is, that he makes it
       in the nineteenth instead of the first century.
       Is there a choir in Mr. T.'s church? And does it ever occur that they
       have no better manners than to sing that hymn which is so suggestive of
       labourers and mechanics:
       "Son of the Carpenter! receive
       This humble work of mine?"
       Now, can it be possible that in a handful of centuries the Christian
       character has fallen away from an imposing heroism that scorned even the
       stake, the cross, and the axe, to a poor little effeminacy that withers
       and wilts under an unsavoury smell? We are not prepared to believe so,
       the reverend Doctor and his friend to the contrary notwithstanding. _