SIR,—There was a time when Shaw contemp- tuously complained of
critics who ought to be newsboys.
Mr. Gilbert Harding is no doubt a joy to millions. So is ' Mrs. Dale's Diary' and ' The Grove Family,' and I would be the last to suggest that either viewers or listeners should ever be deprived of these pleasures. But when the Spectator solemnly commits itself to the view that there is ' size and splendour' about Mr. Harding's entertain- ment, I can only conclude it is not so much that critics ought to be newsboys; perhaps they are newsboys.
To leave no doubt in the reader's mind, this appraisal was followed by the ambiguous assertion that ' the small screen can't make big people out of little people.' It depends, of course, on what you mean by ' big.' What horrifies me is the suspicion that your critic first confuses the term with being popular, and then doubles the error by claiming Mr. Harding is popular, and must therefore be big.
Now if I resent a paper of your authority setting such false standards, it is on account of a responsibility criticism all too frequently ignores. One of its functions is to encourage and maintain some level of taste and judge- ment. I. don't care a rap how ' Grimsby glows ' or ' Hartlepool hugs itself ' over Mr. Harding's frequent appearances. I do care when this particular form of entertainment is misrepresented as the criterion of what is highest and best.
For ' size and splendour' our minds used to turn immediately to names like Max Beerbohm, Chesterton, Belloc and, in a different sense, Tommy Handley. Your critic enjoins us not to fool around trying to build up pygmies by giving them high heels and top hats.' By comparison with the giants I have named, what, precisely, does he think he is doing ?—Yours faithfully,
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