“Have you got the leader?” came a voice from the door of the night editor’s room.
“Laudetur Jesus Christus, my Lord Bishop,” ejaculated Father Jost.
“Have you got the leader?” repeated Bishop Linda, coming hurriedly into the room. “Who was it that wrote this morning’s leader? Heaven forgive me, what a pretty mess you’ve made with it. What idiot wrote it?”
“I … I did,” stammered Father Jost, retreating; “Bishop … Your Lordship … I thought …”
“You’ve no right to think,” roared Bishop Linda, his eyeglasses flashing at him eerily. “Here, take the thing”; and crumpling up that morning’s issue of The People’s Friend in his hand, he flung it at Jost’s feet. “I thought! Look at him, he thinks! Why didn’t you telephone? Why didn’t you ask what you were to write? And you, Kostal, how could you put it in the paper? You thought, too, did you? Novotny!”
“Yes, sir,” exclaimed the trembling printer.
“Why did you have that stuff set up in type? Did you think, too?”
“Oh, no, sir,” protested the printer. “I have to set what they send me …”
“Nobody has to do anything but what I want,” Bishop Linda declared decisively. “Jost, sit down and read the drivel you put together this morning. Read it, I tell you.”
“For a long time past,” Father Jost read, in trembling tones, from his own leading article—“for a long time past the public has been disturbed by the knavish imposture …”
“What?”
“Knavish imposture, my lord,” groaned Father Jost. “I thought—I—I see now …”
“What do you see?”
“That ‘knavish imposture’ is a little too forcible.”
“So I should think. Read on!”
“… knavish imposture carried on with the so-called Absolute … by means of which the Freemasons, the Jews and other progressives are befooling the world. It has been scientifically demonstrated …”
“Look at Jost! Look at him!” cried Bishop Linda. “He has scientifically demonstrated something! Read on.”
“… scientifically demonstrated,” stammered the unfortunate Jost, “that the so-called Absolute … is just as impious a deception … as the tricks performed by mediums …”
“Stop,” said the Bishop with a sudden amiability. “Take down the following leading article: ‘It has been scientifically demonstrated …’ Have you got that? … ‘demonstrated that I, Father Jost, am a jackass, a dolt and an idiot.’ … Have you got that?”
“Yes,” whispered Jost, utterly bewildered. “Please go on, my … my lord.”
“Throw that into the waste-paper basket, my son,” said the Bishop, “and open your stupid ears. Have you read today’s papers?”
“Yes, my l …”
“Ah, well, I don’t know. This morning, my reverend friend, there appeared first of all a communication from the Monist Association, asserting that the Absolute is that Unity which the Monists have always proclaimed to be God, and that therefore the cult of the Absolute is in complete correspondence with the doctrine of Monism. Did you read that?”
“Yes.”
“There was also the announcement that the Masonic Lodges commend the Absolute to the support of their members. Did you read that?”
“Yes.”
“Further, that at the Synodical Congress of the Lutherans, Superintendent Maartens gave a five-hour address in which he proved the identity of the Absolute with God made manifest. Did you read that?”
“Yes.”
“Also that at the convention of the Seventh International the Russian delegate, Paruskin-Rebenfeld, moved that honour should be paid to Comrade God who had proved His sympathy for the workers by entering the factories. It had been noted with gratitude that the Most High Comrade had decided to work in place of the expropriated classes. A motion was brought forward that as a further proof of solidarity He should begin a general strike in all His undertakings. After the presiding officers had deliberated in private, the motion was recalled as premature. Did you read that?”
“Yes.”
“Finally a resolution was passed that the Absolute was the exclusive property of the proletariat, and that the bourgeoisie had no right to do honour to Him or to benefit by His miracles. Instructions were given to devise a scheme for a workers’ cult of the Absolute and to carry out secret defensive measures in case capital should attempt to exploit or appropriate the Absolute. Did you read that?”
“Yes.”
“There also appeared an announcement by the Free Thought Society, a notice sent in by the Salvation Army, a communiqué from the Theosophical Centre ‘Adyar,’ an open letter addressed to the Absolute and signed by the Benevolent Association of Landlords, an announcement by the Federation of Merry-Go-Round Proprietors, signed by the President, J. Binder, besides The Voice of the Union of Constance, special numbers of the Voice from the Beyond, the Anabaptist Reader and the Abstainer—did you read all that, my friend?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, my dear son, you see this: that in every case they make the most solemn claim that the Absolute is their own private property, they do Him honour, and make Him splendid offers, appoint Him honorary member, patron, protector, and Heaven knows what else—and meanwhile on our side some crazy lunatic of a Father Jost—Jost, if you please, an insignificant object called Jost—shouts out to the universe that it’s all a knavish imposture and a swindle already scientifically exposed. Saints and martyrs, you’ve got us into a pretty fix!”
“But, my lord, I had orders to … write against … those phenomena …”
“So you had,” the Bishop interrupted him sternly. “But didn’t you see that the situation had entirely changed? Jost,” cried the Bishop, rising to his feet, “our churches are empty, our flock is running after the Absolute. Jost, you blockhead, if we wish to bring our flock back to us, we must secure the Absolute. We will set up Atomic Karburators in all our churches … but that, my little priest, is above your head. Bear in mind this one thing: the Absolute must work for us; He must be ours, i.e. He must be ours alone. Capiscis, mi fili?”
“Capisco,” whispered Father
