unspeakably moved by the disqualification of the Derby
winner for bumping and boring. In one week it
was being thrilled with sympathy by the superb heroism
and the appalling death-roll, four hundred twenty-nine,
in the Welsh colliery disaster at Senghenydd; in another
thrilled with horror and indignation at the baseness
of a sympathetic strike. In one month was immense
excitement because the strike of eleven thousand insufferable
London taxi-drivers drove everybody into the splendid
busses; and in another month immense excitement because
the strike of all the insufferable London bus-drivers
drove everybody into the splendid taxis. M. Pegond
accomplished the astounding feat of flying upside
down at Juvisy without being killed and then came and
flew upside down without being killed at Brooklands.
One man flew over the Simplon Pass and another over
the Alps. Colonel Cody flew to his death in one
waterplane, and Mr. Hawker made a superb failure to
fly around Great Britain in another waterplane.
The suffragists threw noisome and inflammable matter
into the letter boxes, bombs into Mr. Lloyd George’s
house at Walton and into other almost equally sacred
shrines of the great, stones into windows, axes into
pictures, chained their misguided bodies to railings
and gates, jammed their miserable bodies into prisons,
hunger-struck their abominable bodies out again, and
hurled their outrageous bodies in front of the sacred
race for the Derby at Epsom, and the only less sacred
race for the Gold Cup at Ascot.
It was terrific!
At one moment the loyal public were thrilled by the
magnificent enrolment of the Ulster Volunteers, and
at another moment outraged by the seditious and mutinous
enrolment of the Nationalist Volunteers; in one month
the devoted Commons read a third time the Home Rule
Bill, the Welsh Church Disestablishment Bill and the
Plural Voting Bill, and in the very same month the
stiff-necked and abominable Lords for the third time
threw out the Home Rule Bill, the Welsh Church Disestablishment
Bill and the Plural Voting Bill. It was terrific.
The newspapers could scarcely print it—or
anything—terrifically enough. Adjectives
and epithets became exhausted with overwork and burst.
The word crisis lost all meaning. There was such
a welter of crises that the explosions of those that
came to a head were unnoticed and pushed away into
the obscurest corners of the newspapers, before the
alarming swelling of those freshly rushing to a head.
It was magnificent. It was a deliciously thrilling
and emotional year. A terrific and stupendous
year. Many well-known people died.