National education, progressing steadily for years, has taught the Public to make up its own mind more quickly than ever it did before, as regards the books it reads. It will take what it wants and leave the rest; and the Press can neither persuade it nor repel it against its own inclination. So that the author in these days has more difficulties and responsibilities than in the past. He has to fight his battle alone. He has many more rivals to compete with, and many more readers to please. And the Press cannot help him. The Press may recommend, may even “boom” his work; but several instances have occurred lately where such recommendation has not been accepted. For, sometimes the Public fight shy of a “boom.” They think it has been worked up by the author’s friends, and they are not always mistaken. And they silently express the fact that they are quite capable of choosing the books they wish to read, without advice or assistance. This being the case, the Press is beginning to leave books and authors alone to shift for themselves as best they may, and is turning to other pastime. Nations, peoples, governments! These are the great footballs it occasionally kicks in the struggle for journalistic pre-eminence. And I hope I shall not be misunderstood if I venture to say that it is a somewhat dangerous game! Because, however powerful the Press may be, it is not the People. It is the printed opinion of certain editors and their staff. The People are outside it altogether. And if some one on the Press insults a monarch or a nation, that insult should not be taken as a People’s insult. It is the insult of the editor or proprietor who deliberately allows it to be printed in the particular journal he controls.
It is a thousand pities, for example, that a section of the lower boulevard press in Paris should be accepted in any quarter, as being representative of the feeling of the whole French people. When flippant and irresponsible newspaper scribes resort to calumny for the sake of notoriety, they prove themselves unworthy to be trusted with the Power of the Pen. In any case it can only be a God-forsaken creature who seeks to earn his living by scurrility. Such an one may excite individual contempt, but does not merit the notice of a great nation.
As an author and as a lover of literature, I care very much for the honour and dignity of the British Press, and I cannot but earnestly deprecate the too free exchange of petty or malicious innuendo between foreign and English writers on their various respective journals. Bismarck used to say, “The windows which our Press breaks we shall have to pay for.” The power of the pen is abused when such windows are broken as can only be mended by the sufferings of nations. If France or Germany sneers at us, or misreads our intentions, I do not see that we are called upon to sneer at them in return. That is mere schoolboy conduct. Our dignity should shame their flippancy. The Press of such an empire as Great Britain can afford to be magnanimous and dignified. It is too big and strong a boy to throw stones at its little brothers.
On such a subject as the Power of the Pen, one might speak endless discourses, and write endless volumes, for it is practically inexhaustible. It is a power for good and evil—as I have said—but the author wrongs his vocation if he does not always, most steadfastly and honestly, use it for Good. The Power of the Pen should define Right from Wrong with absolute certainty,—it should not so mix the two together that the reader cannot tell one from the other. In what is called the “problem” novel or the “problem” play, the authors manage so to befuddle the brains of their readers, that they hardly know whether virtue is vice or vice virtue. This is putting the power of the pen to unfair and harmful uses. And when a writer—any writer—employs his or her power to promote the spirit of Atheism and Materialism, the pen is turned into a merely murderous tool of the utmost iniquity. And whosoever uses it in this sense will have to answer at a Higher Tribunal for much mischief and cruelty wrought in the world.
Many people are familiar with Shakespeare’s town, Stratford-on-Avon, quaint and peaceful and beautiful in itself, and in all its surroundings. Outside it, many roads lead to many lovely glimpses of landscape; but there is one road in particular which winds uphill, and from which, at certain times, the town itself is lost sight of, and only the tapering spire of Holy Trinity Church—Shakespeare’s Church—can be seen. Frequently at sunset, when the rosy hue of the low clouds mingles with the silvery mist of the river Avon, all the houses, bridges and streets are veiled in an opaque glow of colour—and look like “mirage,” or a picture in a dream. And then, the spire of Shakespeare’s Church, seen by itself, rising clear up from the surrounding haze, puts on the distinct appearance of a Pen,—pointing upwards, as though prepared to write upon the sky!
Often and often have I seen it so, and others have seen it with me, glittering against clouds, or lit up by a flashing sunbeam. I have always thought it a true symbol of what the Power of the Pen should be—to point upwards. To point to the highest aims of life, the best, the greatest things; to rise clear out of the darkness and point straight to the sunshine! For, if so uplifted, the Power of the Pen becomes truly invincible. It can do almost anything. It can shame the knave—it can abash the fool. It can lower the proud,—it can raise the humble. It can assist the march of Science,—it can crush opposition. Armed with truth and justice, its authority is greater than that of governments,—for it can upset governments. It would seem impossible to dethrone an unworthy king; but it has been done—by the Power of the Pen! It is difficult to put down the arrogance of a county snob,—but it can be done!—by the Power of the Pen! It may seem a terrible task to root up lies, to destroy hypocrisies, shams, false things of every kind, and make havoc among rogues, sensualists, and scoundrels of both high and low degree,—but it can be done, by the Power of the Pen! And to those who are given this power in its truest sense, is also added the gift of prophecy—the quick prescience of things To Be—the spiritual hearing which catches the first sound of the approaching time. And beyond the things of time this spiritual sense projects itself, and hears, and almost sees, all that shall be found most glorious after death!
With the Power of the Pen we can uphold all noble things; we can denounce all vile things. May all who have that power so deal with it—and point us on—and upward! For as our great poet, Tennyson, says:—
What is true at last will tell;
Few at first will place thee well;