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"advantage of the public, but for the "benefit of certain individuals."

Here again it is not easy to underIstand what is meant. All English papers which give correct news are so far conducted for the instruction or advantage of the public. Beyond this,

every English paper is conducted for the instruction and advantage of the public, which honestly and ably advocates certain definite views. For that part of the public which does not hold with such views is nevertheless benefited by having them well and distinctly put, though it may not acknowledge the obligation. But, after thus much has been allowed, I must say that the sort of paper here shadowed out as the typical English newspaper does not seem to be at all the kind of thing we want. What are we to make of a newspaper conducted for the "instruction and advantage of the public,” and "not for the benefit of certain individuals?" You don't know where to have such a paper. It is neither fish, flesh, nor fowl. The description is rather grand, but too vague. One is reminded of the creed of the Yankee candidate

"Kind o' promiscuous I go it

For the whole country, and the
ground

I take, as fur as I can show it,
Is, pretty generally all round."

The warning drawn from the French press is not in point. The cases are not parallel. Our social organization, our customs and habits, are so different from theirs, that what was a danger for them, while they had a free press, is none for us. Their leading writers were scrambling for political power; successful journalism was recognised as a stepping-stone to high office. There is happily, as yet, nothing of the kind amongst us. The aspirants to office have to make their claims good in another field altogether. In nine cases out of ten our ministers are chosen from those men of a certain rank and social position who have taken up public life as a profession, and who can afford to do this. In the tenth case,

as a rule, it is a professional man, or man of business, who rises to high office, and not a public writer. Reputation as an anonymous journalist would be more likely to hinder than help him. Our system has its bad side, no doubt, but the good greatly outweighs the evil; and, at any rate, it is undeniably our system. It might be different if our public writing were not anonymous. Then, if a man had been known for years as a consistent and clear-sighted writer on politics, he would very probably be recognised as a fit man for office. But as there is the open arena of political life where he must win his spurs in his own name, it would tell against him; his competitors would think (and with good reason) that he was not fighting fair if he were known to be playing his own game, and writing up himself and his own doings anonymously, in a newspaper.

But, to return to the character of our English journals; one must gladly admit that there are several which are conducted in a larger sense than has been hitherto admitted, "for the instruction and advantage of the public." But why? Because the chief writers are, so far as internal evidence goes, men of strong convictions and large views, who think on the questions of the day by the light of certain fixed principles, and are bent on making those principles triumphant, whatever temporary popularity they may sacrifice in the process. But these are just the journals to which the Times' definition, if I understand it, will not apply. They do not in the least set up for representing or reflecting public opinion; they constantly run counter to it, and aim at directing, and not at reflecting. The value and comfort of them is, that you are sure of the ground they stand on. You turn to them with the certainty that, in discussing any new question, they will start from old principles which you know, and get to their conclusions by processes which you recognise, and are familiar with. You are sure that, even when in doubt from the deficiency or conflict of evidence, they will never be sending up

balloons to see which way the wind is likely to blow. These journals make no pretence whatever of representing the public, or reflecting public opinion, and therein lies their worth. If they were the rule, and not the rare exception, it would scarcely be worth while to raise the question as to anonymous writing.

The

But the fact is far otherwise. characteristic of our English newspapers to which the Times alludes, and of which it is itself the great example, is, that they strive, before all things, to be the organs and mirrors of public opinion. I quite admit that they may do this honestly, believing it to be the best thing for England; I only question whether it is so now, or can be so under any circumstances. "The public," and

The

public opinion," are mere abstractions. The words can't mean "the nation" and "the nation's opinion," because on every question there is a large minority in the nation, and no single newspaper, therefore, can have a right to put itself forward as representing the nation. The sense in which the words "public opinion" seem to be used is, "the "opinion of the majority for the time "being," which opinion is generally wrong, and always fluctuating. consequence is, that the papers which set up for reflecting it are constantly balancing, especially when any new question of grave interest comes up. You never can be sure of the principles they go upon; you never can be sure even after they have apparently pledged themselves to some definite view, that they will not suddenly "'bout ship," and be off on the other tack. The skill and ability with which the best of them (the Times, of course, conspicuously) do their work is marvellous; but, if the work is one which had much better not be done, this only makes matters worse. The sagacity with which they manage to keep a little ahead of John Bullputting into words the idea which is just coming to maturity in his brain, and always managing to be on his right side has the effect of keeping him in

nursing his already sufficiently strong belief that he is quite the freest and finest Bull on the earth's pastures, but leaves him without any fixed principles whatever to guide himself by, which he is sadly in need of in these days.

But would all this be mended if anonymous writing were dropped? Probably, at least to some small extent; for, when we were writing in our own names, we should not be inclined to use such tall language about big "we," as if little we had been just that minute authorized by the whole British nation to speak in its name. Then, again, we should probably set to work to get some fixed principles, and to grub a little deeper through the crust of politics, which most of us hardly care to do while we are writing anonymously. Our readers, on the other hand, would derive the greatest benefit, for they would pretty soon take our measure, and would read the lucubrations of some of us, and skip those of others; just as they treat the speeches of our brethren of the third estate of the realm already. (By the way, what right have we of the fourth estate to such an advantage over them? The greatest bore in the House is not allowed to shout in a feigned voice from behind a door.) The time which would be saved to any busy citizen who might take no particular interest in high art, by being able at a glance to see whenever the party who does the balancing business for his journal was going on, would be a serious gain to the nation.

But the habit of anonymous writing is apt to foster much worse sins than those of sometimes doing Sir Oracle, and taking the paying side of every question. The sort of scurrilous and blasphemous abuse of those who differ from them, which distinguishes some of the socalled religious newspapers, would surely never see the light if the authors had to sign it. But there is no need to go so low for examples of the evils of impersonality when they are ready to one's hand in the highest class of papers. Take the Saturday Review, for instance, the most successful, if not the most

which prides itself on its tone, and on being written by men of refined minds, and of scholastic acquirements. In these pages, if anywhere, the courtesies of journalism were to be illustrated and observed. One could almost fancy that every contributor must write in white kid gloves, when one found them objecting to the omission of "Mr." before Tennyson's name, and taking up suchlike small points of punctilio seriously. Although it savoured a little of trousers to the legs of the piano, yet it was a move in the right direction. On the other hand, there was an absence of cant about the Saturday, and a determination to call things by their plain names, and not to give in to any popular cry, but to test and sift it, and show what it was worth, which, in the early and best days of that paper, made it a very valuable and refreshing antidote to much of the current newspaper twaddle of the day. From the first, indeed, there was too much of the critical element in it, too little sympathy with, or faith in, anybody or anything. The writers seemed to be dwelling in some serene sphere above the influence of human hope, and grief, and joy, whence they could look down on the world and all in it, and pour unimpassioned and epigrammatic comment on the heads of blundering purblind mortals. Still, at that time, they were well up to their parts. If they dwelt in Olympus, and celestial ichor, instead of blood, circulated in their veins, at any rate they made good use of their superior height, and took care that we should always feel that there was another side to every question, for which quite as much could be said as for the one we held, but, that on the whole, the less. said about either, by any one but the Saturday, the better. This view, brought out again and again with much quaint ingenuity, and humour, and sadness, was the key-note of the paper-that wherein its strength lay. I can't resist giving perhaps the most striking and characteristic specimen of it, which has hung in my mind ever since it appeared, and in which the Saturday may be said to have

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by the shore of that silent sea, than "to boast with puerile exultation over "the little sand-castles which we have 66 employed our short leisure in building up. Life can never be matter of ex❝ultation, nor can the progress of arts "and sciences ever really fill the heart "of a man, who has a heart to be "filled. In its relation to what is to "be hereafter, there is, no doubt, no "human occupation which is not awful "and sacred, for such occupations are "the work which is here given us to "do; our portion in the days of our "vanity. But their intrinsic value is "like that of schoolboys' lessons. They

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are worth just nothing at all, except 66 as a discipline and a task. It is right "that a man should rejoice in his own "works, but it is very wrong to allow "them for one instant to obscure that "eternity from which alone they derive "their importance. Steam-engines and "cotton-mills have their greatness, but "life and death are greater and older. "Men lived, and died, and sorrowed, "and rejoiced before these things were known, and they could do so again. Why mankind was created at all, why we still continue to exist, what "has become of that vast multitude "which has passed, with more or less "sin and misery, through this mysterious

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earth, and what will become of those "vaster multitudes which are treading, "and will tread the same wonderful "path-these are the great insoluble

"problems which ought to be seldom

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mentioned, but never for one instant forgotten. Strange as it may appear "to popular lecturers, they really do "make it seem rather unimportant "whether, on an average, there is, or is "not a little more or less good-nature,

a little more or less comfort, and a "little more or less knowledge in the "world."

This is not much of a gospel for poor men, who have to work and not to talk in the world, and have a dim sort of notion of trying to set the crooked things about them somewhat straighter, to make the rough places of life somewhat smoother, for those with whom their lot brings them into contact. But yet it

is good as far as it goes; a manful if not hopeful putting of a view of life, which, if it will not help and strengthen men to do wise and good acts, will, at any rate, be likely to keep them from doing silly ones.

But whether it be that success has made Saturday Reviewers reckless, or that the writers are no longer the same, or that they are getting tired of Olympus, certain it is that of late the immortals have given up their high style, and have come down on the common pavement amongst ordinary mortals. Alas! that instead of setting us a good example when there, they should have broken out into the sort of virulent sauciness which the street-boys and costermongers of the press give us quite enough of already, and which might well have been left to them. Probably they don't like the discovery that ordinary mortals have elbows.

Out of dozens of instances of what I mean, which the files of the Saturday for the last few months would furnish, I will only refer to one, and to that one because I was myself part of the subject-matter operated upon. The article in question was entitled "Genial Socialism." I suppose from the context that the writer thought he was saying something very diagreeable to me when he hit upon the nickname, whereas I should have considered it a compliment had there been

notion of the real meaning of either of the words he was using. But the article is chiefly an attack on Trades Unions. An instance of one murder is cited (as to the truth of which I know nothing, and neither deny or admit that it was traceable to a Union. Then the article goes on, "similar outrages have "been committed in other parts of the country, but we need not lengthen the "list ;" and then it comments with the usual flippancy on "the sentimentalism of assassination," and "the murders of the Trades Unions."

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Now here the writer is speaking, I should hope, without having made any inquiry, or taken the least trouble to ascertain the truth. But, if this be so, he had no right as a gentleman to make charges against hundreds of thousands of his fellow-countrymen founded on superficial and hostile newspaper gossip. If it be not so-if he has really made himself acquainted with the character and action of the trades societies for the last few years-why, I can only say he is publishing anonymously a gross and wicked libel, knowing it to be such.1

This is the spirit of much of the recent speech of Saturday Reviewers. They have also lately given us a glimpse of their opinions on one of the most important points connected with public writing.

In a recent article on "The Weapons of Controversy" (the good taste of which article, under all the circumstances, is much more than questionable), we are

1 The writers in the Saturday Review seem to respect Mr. J. S. Mill's writings. The following passage from his last work might suggest a different treatment of the trades societies question to them :--"On the question of "strikes, for instance, it is doubtful if there "is so much as one of the leading members of "either house, who is not firmly convinced that "the reason of the matter is unqualifiedly on "the side of the masters, and that the men's "view is simply absurd. Those who have "studied the question know how far this is "from being the case, and in how different "and how infinitely less superficial a manner "the point would have to be argued if the "classes who strike were able to make them"selves heard in Parliament."-Representative Government, p. 57. For " Parliament" read

instructed in the nature and objects of ridicule as a weapon of controversy, from the point of view of the Saturday. The position taken up by the writer is, that ridicule used against opinions or acts which are not ridiculous is harmless. This is true, no doubt, in the long run. The truth can never, in the end, be hurt by ridicule, or any other weapon of controversy. But it is not true-it is just the reverse of true-as regards both those who raise such laughs as the Saturday approves, and those who join in them. To leave us in no doubt as to what in his eyes is a fair use of ridicule, the writer quotes a passage from Sydney Smith's writings, in which he answers a complaint of the Methodists against his mode of attacking them, by comparing them to fleas and lice, who are 66 to be "caught, killed, and cracked, in the manner and by the instruments which 66 are found most efficacious for their "destruction; and the more they cry "out, the greater, plainly, is the skill

used against them." Now, the Methodists, with all their faults, were a body of his fellow-citizens, many of whom, in all points, except powers of satire and ridicule, might well have borne a comparison with the witty canon. The whole of his works would not, probably, afford so gross an instance of low and bad ridicule; and this is the one which the Saturday selects to indorse. So far as it is able, I must allow that it consistently strives to reach the bad taste of its model. The fact is, that in very few human beings or human societies is the tone so pure and noble, that some petty dislike or jealousy of men, some impatience of new and unpalatable truth, will not be warmed into life by, and start out to enjoy and applaud, the most unjust and shallow ridicule-the more unjust and shallow the better for this purpose. Moreover, it does often happen that the men who have hold of, and are struggling by word and act to express, some truth not yet received, are themselves inconsiderate, and hasty, and eccentric. Nothing is easier than for those who sit in the seat of the scorner

he is witnessing in one common contempt, and for the time to blind the eyes of fools, and raise the laugh of the thoughtless; but it is not the kind of work which does any one good at the time, or for which the world has any reason to be thankful. What do we think now of Jeffrey's ridicule of Wordsworth? But it hindered many from reading and profiting by his poems. Has not every one of us seen instances of the poorest ridicule hindering boys or men from taking a manly and righteous course?

Such ridicule as that of the Saturday of late never did nor ever can do any good. If they care for it at all, it only drives men further wrong. The only ridicule which can do good is that behind which lies sympathy with the persons ridiculed, and a sincere desire to bring them right, and not to lead them further astray.

Would not these failings of the Saturday, too, be likely to disappear if the writers had to sign? They could not thereby certainly acquire any sort of belief, or be put into sympathy with any class of their countrymen, but they would learn to keep within bounds, to think rather more of what they really have to say, and rather less of mere smartness.

These are the two leading instances of the specially English newspaper, according to the Times definition-the newspaper without cause, or party, or definite principle, but conducted "for the instruction and advantage of the public," generally. Not that I mean to compare such dissimilar entities. The Times is like a great stalwart leader at the head of a mob, who shoulders you from the wall, and if you remonstrate, kicks you into the gutter; who is just as likely to meet you in the face if you are going east as if you are going west; but, nevertheless, is thoroughly English when he has made up his mind which way he means to go for the time being. The Saturday is the very opposite of all this, and gets its following (apart from its ability) by fine-gentle

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