The present method is this: the reporter sits listening to a tide of words which he does not try to understand, and does not, generally speaking, even try to take down; he waits until something occurs in the speech which for some reason sounds funny, or memorable3, or very exaggerated, or, perhaps, merely concrete; then he writes it down and waits for the next one. If the orator4 says that the Premier5 is like a porpoise6 in the sea under some special circumstances, the reporter gets in the porpoise even if he leaves out the Premier. If the orator begins by saying that Mr. Chamberlain is rather like a violoncello, the reporter does not even wait to hear why he is like a violoncello. He has got hold of something material, and so he is quite happy. The strong words all are put in; the chain of thought is left out. If the orator uses the word "donkey," down goes the word "donkey." If the orator uses the word "damnable," down goes the word "damnable." They follow each other so abruptly8 in the report that it is often hard to discover the fascinating fact as to what was damnable or who was being compared with a donkey. And the whole line of argument in which these things occurred is entirely9 lost. I have before me a newspaper report of a speech by Mr. Bernard Shaw, of which one complete and separate paragraph runs like this—
"Capital meant spare money over and above one's needs. Their country was not really their country at all except in patriotic10 songs."
I am well enough acquainted with the whole map of Mr. Bernard Shaw's philosophy to know that those two statements might have been related to each other in a hundred ways. But I think that if they were read by an ordinary intelligent man, who happened not to know Mr. Shaw's views, he would form no impression at all except that Mr. Shaw was a lunatic of more than usually abrupt7 conversation and disconnected mind. The other two methods would certainly have done Mr. Shaw more justice: the reporter should either have taken down verbatim what the speaker really said about Capital, or have given an outline of the way in which this idea was connected with the idea about patriotic songs.
But we have not the advantage of knowing what Mr. Shaw really did say, so we had better illustrate11 the different methods from something that we do know. Most of us, I suppose, know Mark Antony's Funeral Speech in "Julius Cæsar." Now Mark Antony would have no reason to complain if he were not reported at all; if the Daily Pilum or the Morning Fasces, or whatever it was, confined itself to saying, "Mr. Mark Antony also spoke," or "Mr. Mark Antony, having addressed the audience, the meeting broke up in some confusion." The next honest method, worthy12 of a noble Roman reporter, would be that since he could not report the whole of the speech, he should report some of the speech. He might say—"Mr. Mark Antony, in the course of his speech, said—
' When that the poor have cried Cæsar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.'"
In that case one good, solid argument of Mark Antony would be correctly reported. The third and far higher course for the Roman reporter would be to give a philosophical13 statement of the purport14 of the speech. As thus—"Mr. Mark Antony, in the course of a powerful speech, conceded the high motives15 of the Republican leaders, and disclaimed16 any intention of raising the people against them; he thought, however, that many instances could be quoted against the theory of Cæsar's ambition, and he concluded by reading, at the request of the audience, the will of Cæsar, which proved that he had the most benevolent17 designs towards the Roman people." That is (I admit) not quite so fine as Shakspere, but it is a statement of the man's political position. But if a Daily Mail reporter were sent to take down Antony's oration18, he would simply wait for any expressions that struck him as odd and put them down one after another without any logical connection at all. It would turn out something like this: "Mr. Mark Antony wished for his audience's ears. He had thrice offered Cæsar a crown. Cæsar was like a deer. If he were Brutus he would put a wound in every tongue. The stones of Rome would mutiny. See what a rent the envious19 Casca paid. Brutus was Cæsar's angel. The right honourable20 gentleman concluded by saying that he and the audience had all fallen down." That is the report of a political speech in a modern, progressive, or American manner, and I wonder whether the Romans would have put up with it.
The reports of the debates in the Houses of Parliament are constantly growing smaller and smaller in our newspapers. Perhaps this is partly because the speeches are growing duller and duller. I think in some degree the two things act and re-act on each other. For fear of the newspapers politicians are dull, and at last they are too dull even for the newspapers. The speeches in our time are more careful and elaborate, because they are meant to be read, and not to be heard. And exactly because they are more careful and elaborate, they are not so likely to be worthy of a careful and elaborate report. They are not interesting enough. So the moral cowardice21 of modern politicians has, after all, some punishment attached to it by the silent anger of heaven. Precisely22 because our political speeches are meant to be reported, they are not worth reporting. Precisely because they are carefully designed to be read, nobody reads them.
Thus we may concede that politicians have done something towards degrading journalism23. It was not entirely done by us, the journalists. But most of it was. It was mostly the fruit of our first and most natural sin—the habit of regarding ourselves as conjurers rather than priests, for the definition is that a conjurer is apart from his audience, while a priest is a part of his. The conjurer despises his congregation; if the priest despises any one, it must be himself. The curse of all journalism, but especially of that yellow journalism which is the shame of our profession, is that we think ourselves cleverer than the people for whom we write, whereas, in fact, we are generally even stupider. But this insolence25 has its Nemesis26; and that Nemesis is well illustrated27 in this matter of reporting.
For the journalist, having grown accustomed to talking down to the public, commonly talks too low at last, and becomes merely barbaric and unintelligible28. By his very efforts to be obvious he becomes obscure. This just punishment may specially24 be noticed in the case of those staggering and staring headlines which American journalism introduced and which some English journalism imitates. I once saw a headline in a London paper which ran simply thus: "Dobbin's Little Mary." This was intended to be familiar and popular, and therefore, presumably, lucid29. But it was some time before I realised, after reading about half the printed matter underneath30, that it had something to do with the proper feeding of horses. At first sight, I took it, as the historical leader of the future will certainly take it, as containing some allusion31 to the little daughter who so monopolised the affections of the Major at the end of "Vanity Fair." The Americans carry to an even wilder extreme this darkness by excess of light. You may find a column in an American paper headed "Poet Brown Off Orange-flowers," or "Senator Robinson Shoehorns Hats Now," and it may be quite a long time before the full meaning breaks upon you: it has not broken upon me yet.
And something of this intellectual vengeance32 pursues also those who adopt the modern method of reporting speeches. They also become mystical, simply by trying to be vulgar. They also are condemned33 to be always trying to write like George R. Sims, and succeeding, in spite of themselves, in writing like Maeterlinck. That combination of words which I have quoted from an alleged34 speech of Mr. Bernard Shaw's was written down by the reporter with the idea that he was being particularly plain and democratic. But, as a matter of fact, if there is any connection between the two sentences, it must be something as dark as the deepest roots of Browning, or something as invisible as the most airy filaments35 of Meredith. To be simple and to be democratic are two very honourable and austere36 achievements; and it is not given to all the snobs37 and self-seekers to achieve them. High above even Maeterlinck or Meredith stand those, like Homer and Milton, whom no one can misunderstand. And Homer and Milton are not only better poets than Browning (great as he was), but they would also have been very much better journalists than the young men on the Daily Mail.
As it is, however, this misrepresentation of speeches is only a part of a vast journalistic misrepresentation of all life as it is. Journalism is popular, but it is popular mainly as fiction. Life is one world, and life seen in the newspapers another; the public enjoys both, but it is more or less conscious of the difference. People do not believe, for instance, that the debates in the House of Commons are as dramatic as they appear in the daily papers. If they did they would go, not to the daily paper, but to the House of Commons. The galleries would be crowded every night as they were in the French Revolution; for instead of seeing a printed story for a penny they would be seeing an acted drama for nothing. But the, people know in their hearts that journalism is a conventional art like any other, that it selects, heightens, and falsifies. Only its Nemesis is the same as that of other arts: if it loses all care for truth it loses all form likewise. The modern who paints too cleverly produces a picture of a cow which might be the earthquake at San Francisco. And the journalist who reports a speech too cleverly makes it mean nothing at all.
点击收听单词发音
1 unreasonable | |
adj.不讲道理的,不合情理的,过度的 | |
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2 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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3 memorable | |
adj.值得回忆的,难忘的,特别的,显著的 | |
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4 orator | |
n.演说者,演讲者,雄辩家 | |
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5 premier | |
adj.首要的;n.总理,首相 | |
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6 porpoise | |
n.鼠海豚 | |
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7 abrupt | |
adj.突然的,意外的;唐突的,鲁莽的 | |
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8 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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9 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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10 patriotic | |
adj.爱国的,有爱国心的 | |
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11 illustrate | |
v.举例说明,阐明;图解,加插图 | |
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12 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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13 philosophical | |
adj.哲学家的,哲学上的,达观的 | |
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14 purport | |
n.意义,要旨,大要;v.意味著,做为...要旨,要领是... | |
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15 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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16 disclaimed | |
v.否认( disclaim的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17 benevolent | |
adj.仁慈的,乐善好施的 | |
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18 oration | |
n.演说,致辞,叙述法 | |
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19 envious | |
adj.嫉妒的,羡慕的 | |
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20 honourable | |
adj.可敬的;荣誉的,光荣的 | |
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21 cowardice | |
n.胆小,怯懦 | |
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22 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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23 journalism | |
n.新闻工作,报业 | |
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24 specially | |
adv.特定地;特殊地;明确地 | |
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25 insolence | |
n.傲慢;无礼;厚颜;傲慢的态度 | |
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26 nemesis | |
n.给以报应者,复仇者,难以对付的敌手 | |
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27 illustrated | |
adj. 有插图的,列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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28 unintelligible | |
adj.无法了解的,难解的,莫明其妙的 | |
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29 lucid | |
adj.明白易懂的,清晰的,头脑清楚的 | |
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30 underneath | |
adj.在...下面,在...底下;adv.在下面 | |
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31 allusion | |
n.暗示,间接提示 | |
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32 vengeance | |
n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
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33 condemned | |
adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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34 alleged | |
a.被指控的,嫌疑的 | |
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35 filaments | |
n.(电灯泡的)灯丝( filament的名词复数 );丝极;细丝;丝状物 | |
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36 austere | |
adj.艰苦的;朴素的,朴实无华的;严峻的 | |
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37 snobs | |
(谄上傲下的)势利小人( snob的名词复数 ); 自高自大者,自命不凡者 | |
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