In keeping himself as the chief link of his paper with the world and confining himself at the office only to duties of guidance Delane remained always the best and finest judge of the course to be taken at the moment. This is speaking journalistically, because Delane’s acuteness of judgment as to the psychology of London society was far from being consonant with the verdict of history or with special gifts of prophecy. To use Lord Salisbury’s phrase Delane often “put his money on the wrong horse,” notably in backing up the South against the North in the American civil war and in expecting an easy win for the French against the Prussians in 1870.[10]
[10] Although the Times soon saw that the Germans were gaining the upper hand, Delane originally wrote to Russell, “I would lay my last shilling on Casquette against Pumpernickel.”
However that might be there was no revolting in the office against him. Henry Reeve, a writer on foreign politics in the Times from 1840 to 1855, at one period tried to take an independent line against the views of his editor and relying upon influential official support rebelled against various alterations in his articles. He was soon suppressed and on a repetition of the trouble was encouraged to resign. Another incident, illustrating quite admirably the skill with which Delane handled one of the banes of an editor’s life, the foreign correspondent who lives in his own set abroad and reflects only their opinions without regard to the views of the paper at home, occurred before the Crimean war, when events in Constantinople were drawing Europe’s eyes towards the circle round Lord Stratford de Redcliffe. In September, 1853, we find Delane writing, rather savagely, to the Times correspondent there—“The tone, which you have recently taken, compels me to address you, for it is impossible for you to continue to be our correspondent if you persist in taking a line so diametrically opposed to the interests of this country. As it would seem that you never take the trouble of reading the opinions of the paper with which you correspond, I must begin by informing you that whatever concern it may have in the well-being of Turkey, it owes a higher duty to the people of the United Kingdom, who are willing to support Turkey so far as they conceive it to be for their interest, but acknowledge no obligation, either by treaty or by implication, to shed their blood or spend their money in its behalf. You seem to imagine that England can desire nothing better than to sacrifice all its greatest interests and its most cherished objects to support barbarism against civilization, the Moslem against the Christian, slavery against liberty, to exchange peace for war—all to oblige the Turk. Pray undeceive yourself.” That is strong writing, but for all that events a few months later pulled the way of the correspondent and not of the paper.
An instance of Delane’s forcible common-sense and grasp of essentials is given in a letter written to Russell at Versailles, pointing out the right line to be taken in dealing with the victorious but unpopular Germans. “Now I by no means believe that Bismarck has wings under his white coat, but I think that those who live in his camp are bound not to see cloven hoofs in his boots and there has been a tendency in all the correspondents to make such a discovery lately, to exaggerate the dangers of a position, which has no doubt been critical and to welcome any news, however false, of French success. Under such circumstances and remembering that the Germans have been sorely disappointed in the resistance of Paris and are suffering greatly and not so much at ease as to their prospects as before, I am by no means surprised that they should be sulky and should regard all correspondents with disfavour and should make you, as the representative of the whole body, the butt of their ill-humour.”
When we come to war correspondence, we touch upon what many people regard as the culminating romance of journalism. To us, who are inside the circle, it does not always appear in the same light. There are greater triumphs than securing the first news of a battle but none whose results are so immediate. For the correspondent himself the situation is dangerous without romance, responsible often with little credit. His chief enemies are dirt, ill-humour and neglect. He has the rough edge of most tempers and must professionally regard with suspicion any advances that may appear too friendly. Men whose business is killing and who are paid to be killed cannot be aux petits soins with a profession generally looked upon in military circles, as an evil, which only the vehement and detestable curiosity of the public now makes necessary, which they hope some day to make harmless by isolation if it cannot be abolished altogether. Yet these are only the preliminary difficulties. Mr. J. B. Atkins in his life of W. H. Russell (afterwards Sir William), himself a war-correspondent, who has gone through several wars, remarks that Russell with all his experience did not cease to be troubled by the overwhelming question, which will always perplex correspondents, as to the best position from which to see a battle. It is a question which becomes increasingly difficult as the range of fire increases. “To-day,” says Mr. Atkins, “no man, who applies himself to get what people call a ‘realistic’ impression of fighting can hope to have an accurate or even a coherent idea of the tactical handling of troops along a wide front. In modern warfare the employment of many correspondents is necessary to enable a newspaper to produce a connected account of a single battle. The only correspondent who can acquaint himself with the general issue, is he who stays in the rear, where the field telegraph and telephone wires converge upon headquarters.”
“Billy” Russell, as he was familiarly called, had a varied and successful career, which will probably never be equalled, now that the future of the profession must become a more composite one. He saw the Danish campaign of 1850, the Crimean war, the Indian Mutiny, the famous rout at Bull Run, the battles of Sadowa and Sedan besides many minor conflicts and the siege of Paris. He lived to predict to a friend during “Black Week” in 1899 that, even as in the American war the early reverses of the North only acted upon the Transatlantic branch of the race as reverses have always acted upon this, to encourage them to more persistent sacrifices, so the Boers must be ultimately worn out by attrition as had happened to the forces of the South.
Russell’s achievements in the Crimean war have passed into history. We can see now that the greatness of his success was due to the apparent obstacles, which were placed in his way by ignorance, contempt and deliberate repression. Such discouragements are an incentive to a man of courage and perseverance and especially so to an Irishman. The fact that Russell was everywhere cold-shouldered, left without rations or quarters, excluded from all important information and even at one time expelled from the shelter he had procured for himself, rendered him free from those embarrassing obligations which accompany favours conferred and left him a stark spectator of one of the greatest tragedies of inept military administration. A smaller man might have been embittered and goaded to retaliatory criticism, but Russell was above this weakness. The weapon he used, as few have had the opportunity to use it, was the terrible one of the mere truth, what Lord Morley has called, “the irony of literal statement.” It was used effectively and brought down the government at home and altered the conduct of the war.
One can understand how the old generals trained in Peninsular principles, were quite unaware of the new power that had grown up to overshadow ministers and even to give lessons to the Crown. It is more surprising that Russell, who had been a journalist for a dozen years, should himself be quite unconscious of all the attributes, with which he was invested. He knew that his position was an independent and responsible one but the realization of how much influence he had on the future of the men, who helped or bullied him daily, only came to him later. In his own words, “I did not then grasp the fact that I had it in my power to give a halo of glory to some unknown warrior by putting his name in type. Indeed, for many a month I never understood that particular attribute of my unfortunate position, and I may say now in all sincerity and truth, I never knowingly made use of it.”
The same qualities of unbending resistance to all the arts of browbeating were required by Russell in his American campaign. Here he had to face not only the unpopularity honestly earned by himself for his unvarnished tale of the panic of the Federals after the battle of Bull Run—unfortunately for himself he never saw the whole battle—but he had to bear by proxy the natural resentment of a whole nation to the line of policy pursued by the Times. For this he was in no way responsible; in fact he would have altered it if he could, for ever since his visit to the South before the outbreak of war he could never forgive what he saw of the grosser aspects of slavery.
Russell’s correspondence during the Franco-Prussian war is interesting because we find him competing for the first time on equal terms with a new star and a new method. The successes of each were honourable to both, as, although frequently beaten at first through the lavish use of the telegraph by Archibald Forbes and the Daily News, he regained his ascendency in the end by the advantages of his old prestige and his command of the best information. This new star was to some extent a star of his own making for it was at one of Russell’s lectures on his campaigns that Forbes’s heart took fire with military zeal and drove him into the dragoons and later to become a journalist and his inspirer’s successful rival. In the early part of the war Forbes’s repeated anticipations of the Times became the cause of much heartburning in Printing House Square and Russell for years did not understand how he was beaten. Many years later Forbes wrote him a friendly letter explaining his method, which relied a good deal on chance, perhaps more so than the Times would have permitted. Being attached to the staff of the Crown Prince of Saxony, where discipline was less strict than with the Prussians, Forbes would transmit beforehand information of the proposed attack, of the number, calibre, and position of the guns and of various details of the coming clockwork battle. As the Germans were usually successful in their combination Forbes had only to wire a brief confirmation or alteration in order to have a very fairly accurate account appearing in his paper. One can imagine, however, that a correspondent reporting Marengo or Waterloo in that fashion would get into trouble with his manager.