Here is an example from a leading Liberal paper touching the debates on
Home Rule. I am a Home Ruler; so my sympathies would be, if anything, on
the side of the Liberal paper upon that point. I merely quote it as
an example of this ridiculous way of writing, which, by insane
exaggeration, actually makes its hero look smaller than he is.
This was strange language to use about the “hypocritical sham,” and Mr.
Asquith, knowing that the biggest battle of his career was upon him,
hit back without mercy. “I should like first to know,” said he, with a
glance at his supporters, “whether my proposals are accepted?”
That’s all. And I really do not see why poor Mr. Asquith should be
represented as having violated the Christian virtue of mercy by saying
that. I myself could compose a great many paragraphs upon the same
model, each containing its stinging and perhaps unscrupulous epigram.
As, for example:--“The Archbishop of Canterbury, realising that his
choice now lay between denying God and earning the crown of martyrdom by
dying in torments, spoke with a frenzy of religious passion that might
have seemed fanatical under circumstances less intense. ‘The Children’s
Service,’ he said firmly, with his face to the congregation, ‘will be
held at half-past four this afternoon as usual.’”
Or, we might have:--“Lord Roberts, recognising that he had now to face
Armageddon, and that if he lost this last battle against overwhelming
odds the independence of England would be extinguished forever,
addressed to his soldiers (looking at them and not falling off his
horse) a speech which brought their national passions to boiling point,
and might well have seemed blood-thirsty in quieter times. It ended with
the celebrated declaration that it was a fine day.”
Or we might have the much greater excitement of reading something like
this:--“The Astronomer Royal, having realised that the earth would
certainly be smashed to pieces by a comet unless his requests in
connection with wireless telegraphy were seriously considered, gave an
address at the Royal Society which, under other circumstances, would
have seemed unduly dogmatic and emotional and deficient in scientific
agnosticism. This address (which he delivered without any attempt to
stand on his head) included a fierce and even ferocious declaration that
it is generally easier to see the stars by night than by day.”
Now, I cannot see, on my conscience and reason, that any one of my
imaginary paragraphs is more ridiculous than the real one. Nobody can
believe that Mr. Asquith regards these belated and careful compromises
about Home Rule as “the biggest battle of his career.” It is only
justice to him to say that he has had bigger battles than that. Nobody
can believe that any body of men, bodily present, either thundered or
thrilled at a man merely saying that he would like to know whether his
proposals were accepted. No; it would be far better for Parliament if
its doors were shut again, and reporters were excluded. In that case,
the outer public did hear genuine rumours of almost gigantic eloquence;
such as that which has perpetuated Pitt’s reply against the charge of
youth, or Fox’s bludgeoning of the idea of war as a compromise. It would
be much better to follow the old fashion and let in no reporters at all
than to follow the new fashion and select the stupidest reporters you
can find.