Of Newspapers

A Peep at the Art Galeries

Of Newspapers written by William Dudley Woodhead

Book Reviews

From The Canadian Forum, October 1920, p. 21

A great modern philosopher once observed: "This is the best of all possible worlds, and everything in it is a necessary evil." I suspect that he found reason to modify this assertion, when his children all went down with the measles and somebody mistook him for a football professional: but, as our wise old copy-books used to say, Littera scripta manet; print is a prison from which no dictum, wise or foolish, can escape. Indeed Lamb has conclusively proved that even the learned gentlemen who are responsible for the most familiar proverbs in the English language were either charlatans or ignoramuses. And so it goes: the process of eating our words is a punishment which none may avoid except the dumb. The diet, if unpalatable, is at least wholesome, and in an age dominated by the press it is a pity that the lesson of so many centuries is not taken more to heart. For, if philosophers are guilty of making rash statements which repentance and tears cannot recall, how much more so are the daily papers!

I would not indeed single out any particular newspaper for attack; they are all tarred with the same brush. The statement of to-day they will roundly, unblushingly contradict tomorrow, with the result that the great public, whose opinions the press claims to guide, must shift and fluctuate, veer with every gale, "to one thing constant never." Newspapers will of course indignantly repudiate this assertion, and, if confronted with the evidence of their guilt, will blame the sources of their information; but we have only the newspaper, not such sources of information, to depend upon for our daily tidings; and such shifting of the blame docs not make the general reader's position any more comfortable. Yet we must have our news: we must have something to do while we dally with our egg and munch our toast at breakfast. Was there ever such a dilemma? As we contemplate ruefully this morning's denial of the sensational story with which we regaled our incredulous friends on the way down in the street-car, we exclaim in desperation, as did the ancient poet over his mistress:

"Now kind, now cruel; bitter now,

Now sweet — there's such a charm about you,

That, while I cannot live with you,

I cannot, dearest, live without you."

Sometimes the mood of savage resentment gains the upper hand, and we bitterly reflect that, if Charles Reade really composed his sensational novels by means of carefully chosen clippings from the daily press, after all he could scarcely have found else-[p.22]where a better or more convenient assortment of fiction. And so we start off down town vowing that we have finished with the jade for good and all; but it is always the same story, directly we arrive home in the evening, our first request is inevitably for the paper.

I have a friend who confines his reading to the births, deaths, and marriages, being satisfied that these items leave but little scope for journalistic experimentation; and I was sanguine enough to follow his example until I read one morning that Mr. Ronald Jones, whose wedding with the elder Miss Blossom I had attended the day before, had just been united in matrimony to Miss Hester Thynne. Of course the paper corrected the error next day, but I could not help sympathizing with the unfortunate lady who for twenty-four hours had to suffer the perplexed congratulations of her friends. The case was aggravated by the fact that Hester was thought to be not altogether insensible to Ronald's charms.

The leading article I long ago gave up in despair: you see, I know who writes them! The advercising columns are rather heavy reading, and I have detected them also in the act of misrepresentation; there was, for instance, that second-hand bicycle which I sold so profitably last year. As to the news items, when you cancel out those of the Intelligencer with those of the Post Dispatch, which invariably contradicts it, there is nothing left.

"Well, what are we to do?" the editors may ask: "is there nothing good in our papers? Since you know so much, why not suggest some reasonable reforms?"

I will. In the first place, let the newspaper signify by its name that its contents are not to be taken too seriously — fiction is very popular, and the sales would not suffer. The Liar, Daily Fiction, The Morning Lost, The Evening Romance, are pleasing titles, I think. I would also ask them to choose some little motto, a modest, unassuming little motto, such as:

To all subscribers to the Morning Lost

A grain of salt is offered free of cost.

The headings of the articles should also occasionally convey some idea of the news contained in them. I do not like to read the caption, "Concert at Varsity", and find an article beginning: "The first European Concert will be the subject of an illustrated lecture by, etc., etc." At present the reader is left to choose for himself: the heading or the article? Both cannot be true: heads or tails? And by the way, speaking of heads, I am reminded of another point. In our old-fashioned and now, no doubt, obsolete grammars we used to read that a sentence, to be complete, should consist of subject and predicate: why then this universal practice of decapitation which prevails upon the American continent? I choose some instances which occur on the first page only of a recent issue of the ———:

SAYS HE POSTPONED BLOW-UP FOR MOVIE
GLANCES OVER LIFE IN NAVY

EXPLAINS TO COMMITTEE

I suppose that "Caliban upon Setebos" set the fashion: it is in any case as ugly as Caliban.

I would also protest against a pedantic affectation of learning which forbids one of our daily contemporaries to the use the word "Greece", "Hellas" being invariably substituted. It is as bad as substituting "natatorium" for "swimming-bath". A well-known Western daily, not content with the modest word "obituary", has displaced it by the more pretentious "necrologic". Yet from this same paper I culled the statement: "If he had had a shot-gun, he could have got termagant, which are always plentiful in these regions". I suppose, however, that "necrologic" for "obituary" is more justifiable than "termagant" for "ptarmigan", though I do not claim to be acquainted with the habits of these birds.

Such printers' errors as the last are of course innumerable: and some of them are really too good to be merely accidental. "Cement-workers take concreted action" is exceptionally ingenious. I like also the audacity of the rascal who invented the headline: "Chinese troops anxious to resume hospitalities"; and what a picture is summoned up by the description of the railway conductor, who stole a princess robe and a silk chemise, and was found with the goods on him. But such triumphs are unfortunately rare. The printer is generally only too ready to set up the imbecilities of the writer. And what of the writer? The E—— B—— published on August the First, 1914, a charming war poem containing all the usual references to the "dogs of war", the "watchful lion", etc. We were however somewhat surprised to find the following lines embedded in this gem:

"And in the van Miss Canada

Stands loyal, strong, and true.

Her hardy sons in thousands wait

To take their place and fight," etc., etc.

It will be pleaded that the censorship was not established at this date; but, I am ashamed to say, I waited in vain for any word of protest from that vigilant body, the Temperance and Moral Reform League.

W. D. Woodhead