Well, that is a perfect parallel.  “After bread, the need of the people is knowledge,” said Danton.  Knowledge is now a monopoly, and comes through to the citizens in thin and selected streams, exactly as bread might come through to a besieged city.  Men must wish to know what is happening, whoever has the privilege of telling them.  They must listen to the messenger, even if he is a liar.  They must listen to the liar, even if he is a bore.  The official journalist for some time past has been both a bore and a liar; but it was impossible until lately to neglect his sheets of news altogether.  Lately the capitalist Press really has begun to be neglected; because its bad journalism was overpowering and appalling.  Lately we have really begun to find out that capitalism cannot write, just as it cannot fight, or pray, or marry, or make a joke, or do any other stricken human thing.  But this discovery has been quite recent.  The capitalist newspaper was never actually unread until it was actually unreadable.

If you retain the servile superstition that the Press, as run by the capitalists, is popular (in any sense except that in which dirty water in a desert is popular), consider the case of the solemn articles in praise of the men who own newspapers—­men of the type of Cadbury or Harmsworth, men of the type of the small club of millionaires.  Did you ever hear a plain man in a tramcar or train talking about Carnegie’s bright genial smile or Rothschild’s simple, easy hospitality?  Did you ever hear an ordinary citizen ask what was the opinion of Sir Joseph Lyons about the hopes and fears of this, our native land?  These few small-minded men publish, papers to praise themselves.  You could no more get an intelligent poor man to praise a millionaire’s soul, except for hire, than you could get him to sell a millionaire’s soap, except for hire.  And I repeat that, though there are other aspects of the matter of the new plutocratic raid, one of the most important is mere journalistic jealousy.  The Yellow Press is bad journalism:  and wishes to stop the appearance of good journalism.

There is no average member of the public who would not prefer to have Lloyd George discussed as what he is, a Welshman of genius and ideals, strangely fascinated by bad fashion and bad finance, rather than discussed as what neither he nor anyone else ever was, a perfect democrat or an utterly detestable demagogue.  There is no reader of a daily paper who would not feel more concern—­and more respect—­for Sir Rufus Isaacs as a man who has been a stockbroker, than as a man who happens to be Attorney-General.  There is no man in the street who is not more interested in Lloyd George’s investments than in his Land Campaign.  There is no man in the street who could not understand (and like) Rufus Isaacs as a Jew better than he can possibly like him as a British statesman.  There is no sane journalist alive who would say that the official account of Marconis would be better “copy” than the true account that such papers as this have dragged out.  We have committed one crime against the newspaper proprietor which he will never forgive.  We point out that his papers are dull.  And we propose to print some papers that are interesting.