Or, again, the matter might be put in this way.  Modern martyrdoms fail even as demonstrations, because they do not prove even that the martyrs are completely serious.  I think, as a fact, that the modern martyrs generally are serious, perhaps a trifle too serious.  But their martyrdom does not prove it; and the public does not always believe it.  Undoubtedly, as a fact, Dr. Clifford is quite honourably indignant with what he considers to be clericalism, but he does not prove it by having his teapot sold; for a man might easily have his teapot sold as an actress has her diamonds stolen—­as a personal advertisement.  As a matter of fact, Miss Pankhurst is quite in earnest about votes for women.  But she does not prove it by being chucked out of meetings.  A person might be chucked out of meetings just as young men are chucked out of music-halls—­for fun.  But no man has himself eaten by a lion as a personal advertisement.  No woman is broiled on a gridiron for fun.  That is where the testimony of St. Perpetua and St. Faith comes in.  Doubtless it is no fault of these enthusiasts that they are not subjected to the old and searching penalties; very likely they would pass through them as triumphantly as St. Agatha.  I am simply advising them upon a point of policy, things being as they are.  And I say that the average man is not impressed with their sacrifices simply because they are not and cannot be more decisive than the sacrifices which the average man himself would make for mere fun if he were drunk.  Drunkards would interrupt meetings and take the consequences.  And as for selling a teapot, it is an act, I imagine, in which any properly constituted drunkard would take a positive pleasure.  The advertisement is not good enough; it does not tell.  If I were really martyred for an opinion (which is more improbable than words can say), it would certainly only be for one or two of my most central and sacred opinions.  I might, perhaps, be shot for England, but certainly not for the British Empire.  I might conceivably die for political freedom, but I certainly wouldn’t die for Free Trade.  But as for kicking up the particular kind of shindy that the Suffragettes are kicking up, I would as soon do it for my shallowest opinion as for my deepest one.  It never could be anything worse than an inconvenience; it never could be anything better than a spree.  Hence the British public, and especially the working classes, regard the whole demonstration with fundamental indifference; for, while it is a demonstration that probably is adopted from the most fanatical motives, it is a demonstration which might be adopted from the most frivolous.

ON POLITICAL SECRECY