MARGINAL COMMENT
By HAROLD sICOLSON
THERE is a story which I have often heard and never been able to verify of the Parisian who, when asked in 1875 to name the greatest living French poet, replied, " Victor lingo, malheurcusement." With my own ears I have heard an eminent Liberal imitate this cruel turn of phrase and reply, when asked which was the best English newspaper, " Unfortunately, The Times." J was shocked by this remark, partly because I regard it as indecorous to denigrate our national institutions in the presence of foreigners, and partly because, as a remark, it struck me as ill- considered and unimaginative. Ill-considered, since, if judged as a journal &information. The Times need not dread comparison with the Chicago Tribune or even the Christian Science Monitor. Unimaginative, since, if considered as a journal &opinion. it can without fear or favour be placed in the same class as that of our powerful weekly publications. On consideration, I came to the conclusion that my eminent Liberal was not referring to the news items, which are lucid, informative and well arranged, but that he was thinking (perhaps with some distant Czechoslovak memories wandering in his disordered brain) of the leading articles. It was here that his imagination was at fault. A Philistine, it is true, might on reading these leading articles be left with the impression that their phraseology was sententious and their meaning often obscure. But any Englishman of cultivated taste should derive pleasure, and not pain, from the curiosities of our language, and should experience excitement in following the intricacies of those heavily woven tapestries and. in noting the subtlety of the double negatives and verbal arabesques. These leaders are written in a tone of such hierophantic majesty that they convey, to the imaginative mind, an agreeable ceremonial impression, as august and soothing as a Sophoclean chorus, as sacerdotal as the incantations intoned by the priests of Hermopolis in honour of their psychopompos, the great god Dhuti or Thoth.
I must confess, however, that there have been moments, when my light is low, at which, for a fleeting instant, I have detected in the first, second and third leading articles in The Times newspaper a certain ponderousness of thought and even of expression. The perspective of those uniform but elaborate sermons stretches before one with all the grandeur of Queen's Gate ; and, since the flesh is weak, one is tempted, in the interludes of intellectual lassitude, to skip, perhaps even to ignore, the first three leaders and to take refuge in the fourth. These happy little essays are deliberately designed to " provide a measure of light relief." They contain nothing which need disturb or even bewilder the most indolent or sensitive mind ; they entertain, they enlighten, they comfort and they assuage. The Times Publishing Company Limited have now conceived the attractive idea of issuing in book form a selection from the articles which, under this rubric, have appeared during the last twelve months. It is entitled "4th Leaders," is enriched with a simple and reassuring dust-cover designed by Mr. Nicolas Bentley, and it costs 8s. 6d. " For several decades," the blurb informs us. " these light-hearted digressions have worthily upheld the honour- able traditions of Addison and Steele and their successors." This claim is not exaggerated. These articles, both in content and form, have been conceived and executed according to a formula devised for the Spectator some two hundred and fifty years ago. It is a formula by which " wit, good humour and good breeding can be reconciled with virtuous conduct." It is a specifically English formula.
These 4th Leaders are, we are informed, not the work of a single essayist, but the product of a syndicate or team. It is difficult to praise too highly the team-spirit which is displayed. In tone and manner these essays by diverse hands convey the impression that they have been composed by a single master mind. Those who
1),I e been trained in textual criticism might be able, from internal evidence, to differentiate between contributor A (the master of under-statement), contributor B (the master of military or regi- mental metaphor), contributor C (who draws his images from the wide realm of sport) and contributor D (who enjoys using French words). Yet the impact made by this volume upon the ordinary reader is one of striking uniformity, in which the intrusion of personal or temperamental affections or prejudices is firmly sub- ordinated to the general syndicate mode. That mode will be welcomed by all those who are sensitive to the charm of the English character and who rejoice in the fact that our sense of humour is superior to any which aliens possess. Indeed the central purpose of these " light-hearted digressions " (a purpose which is most efficiently achieved) is to refresh the weary, to solace the perplexed, to comfort the bewildered and to reassure the distressed. No taste- less allusions are permitted, either to internal dissensions or to external menace ; the note of healthy merriment is preserved without any noticeable discord or strain ; there is not a hint, throughout the volume, either of sex or Angst. We lay the little book down with the impression that it is indeed a privilege to belong to so tolerant, so gifted and so humane a race. We cannot but admire the excellent ingenuity with which the several contributors slip their capsules of narcotics into our fevered hands.
It should be observed that the word we" which occurs so frequently throughout these essays is not the editorial " We " (a journalistic formula which The Times has always eschewed), but designates the warm-pulsed unison of the English people. This particular narcotic, which is adroitly administered, imparts to us that almost ecstatic sense of solidarity which is aroused (in some people) by community singing. However much the foreigner may rage or sneer, " we " compose a happy bourgeois block, fond of animals, enjoying our cricket, disliking all extremes of thought of expression, and sharing with tolerant merriment a distaste for all new-fangled or pretentious ideas. In no sense, moreover, can " we'' be accused of lack of culture ; we love our Dickens and our Conan Doyle ; we can quote from Shakespeare and are familiar with several of the characters in Miss Austen's novels ; we are not ashamed to add, here and there, a cosmopolitan note to out urbanity ; we have travelled abroad. The foreigner, at the same time, is not only ridiculous but wrong. He misquotes our language and makes engaging mistakes regarding our character and institu- tions. A French account of our game of cricket is irresistibly and charmingly ludicrous ; a Rumanian criticism of corporal punish- ment at Eton convinces us once again that our own simple man- liness is a finer thing than the epicene sensibilities of those behind the iron curtain. Above all, we, in that we possess a sense of humour denied to lesser breeds, arc able to laugh at ourselves. It is this which renders all the English classes kin. How cleanly we enjoy, as pur great-grandfathers enjoyed, that delicious poly- syllabic device which enables us to call the head-dress of the Masai " a capillary zareba " or to refer to wigs as " artificial integuments." How we delight, as our forefathers delighted, in over-stating the trivial and under-stating the serious. Our. sense of humour is not only an indissoluble link uniting all classes in this generation: it remains eternally and magnificently the same.
This admirable booklet will give pleasure, comfort and hope 10 many an anxious heart. The historian of the future (if that well- meaning man survive into the dark ages to come) will find it com- mendable that we should indulge in such light-hearted digressions amid so many misfortunes ; a Pompeii le jour avant le fameux jour. And foreign anthropologuts will ponder over this book with fascinated awe.
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