But taking them all round, the newspapers of America have handled the questions of the War with conspicuous fairness and ability. They are all fundamentally pro-Ally; and the only criticism which can be directed at them from an Allied quarter is that in their anxiety to give both sides a hearing, they have been a little too indulgent to Germany's claims to moral consideration, and have been a little over-inclined to accept the German Chancellor's pious manifestoes at their face value. But generally speaking it may be said that the greater the newspaper, the firmer the stand that it has taken for the Allied cause. The New York Times, the weightiest and most authoritative newspaper in America, has been both pro-Ally and pro-British throughout the War, and has never shrunk from the delicate task of interpreting satisfactorily to the British people the attitude of the President.
Journalistic criticism of Great Britain in America is frequently extremely candid, and not altogether unmerited. Occasionally it goes too far; but the occasion usually arises from ignorance of the situation, or the desire to score an epigrammatic point. For instance, during the struggle for Verdun in the spring, a New York newspaper, sufficiently well-conducted to have known better, published a cartoon representing John Bull as standing aloof, but encouraging the French to persevere in their efforts by parodying Nelson's phrase:—"England expects that every Frenchman will do his duty." The truth of course was that Sir Douglas Haig had offered General Joffre all the British help that might be required. The offer was accepted to this extent, that the British took over forty additional miles of trenches from the French, thus setting free many divisions of French soldiers to participate in a glorious and purely French victory.
But this sort of foolish calumny dies hard, together with such phrases as:—"England is prepared to hold on, to the last Frenchman!" While not strictly relevant to our present discussion, the following figures may be of interest. In August 1914 the British Regular Army consisted of about a hundred and fifty thousand men. To-day, British troops in France number two million; in Salonica, a hundred and forty thousand; in Egypt, a hundred and eighty thousand; in Mesopotamia, a hundred and twenty thousand. The Navy absorbs another four hundred thousand, while a full million are occupied in purely naval construction and repair. And at home again enormous masses of new troops are undergoing training. This seems to dispose of the suggestion that Great Britain is winning the War by proxy.
And for the upkeep of this mighty host, and for this general comforting of the Allies, the British taxpayer is now paying cheerfully and willingly, in addition to such trifling impositions as a 60 per cent tax on his commercial profits, income tax at the rate of twenty-five cents in the dollar.
On the other side of the account, Life, the American equivalent of Punch, (if it is possible for the humour of a particular nation to find its equivalent in any other nation), published not long ago a special "John Bull" number, which will for ever remain a monument of journalistic generosity and international courtesy. Life's good deed was gracefully acknowledged by Punch and The Spectator.
But in spite of Life's good example, enough has been said under this head to illuminate the fact that a common language is a doubtful blessing. The joint possession of the tongue that Shakespeare and Milton and Longfellow and Abraham Lincoln spoke has bestowed little upon our two nations but a convenient medium, too often, for shrewish altercation, coupled with the profound conviction of either side that the other side is unable to speak correct English.
Well, this nonsense must stop.