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Beerbohm, Max, Sir, 1872-1956

"Yet Again"

Anon the verger will have stepped briskly forward,
drawing a deep breath, with his flock well to heel, and will be
telling the secrets of the next tomb on his tragic beat.
To be a verger in Westminster Abbey--what life could be more
unutterably tragic? We are, all of us, more or less enslaved to
sameness; but not all of us are saying, every day, hour after hour,
exactly the same thing, in exactly the same place, in exactly the same
tone of voice, to people who hear it for the first time and receive it
with a gasp of respectful interest. In the name of humanity, I suggest
to the Dean and Chapter that they should relieve these sad-faced men
of their intolerable mission, and purchase parrots. On every tomb, by
every bust or statue, under every memorial window, let a parrot be
chained by the ankle to a comfortable perch, therefrom to enlighten
the rustic and the foreigner. There can be no objection on the ground
of expense; for parrots live long. Vergers do not, I am sure.
It is only the rustic and the foreigner who go to Westminster Abbey
for general enlightenment. If you pause beside any one of the verger-
led groups, and analyse the murmur emitted whenever the verger has
said his say, you will find the constituent parts of the sound to be
such phrases as `Lor!' `Ach so!' `Deary me!' `Tiens!' and `My!' `My!'
preponderates; for antiquities appeal with greatest force to the one
race that has none of them; and it is ever the Americans who hang the
most tenaciously, in the greatest numbers, on the vergers' tired lips.


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