Glancing back to the early journalism of the past century, when Dickens and Thackeray wrote for the newspapers (“there were giants in those days”), one cannot help being struck by the great deterioration in the whole “tone” of the press at the present time, as contrasted with that which prevailed in the dawn of the Victorian era. There is dignity, refinement, and power in the leading articles of the Times and other journals then in vogue, such as must needs have compelled people not only to read, but to think. The vulgar “personal” note, the flippant sneer at this, that, or t’other personage,—the monkey-like mockery of women,—the senseless gibes flung at poets and poetry,—the clownish kick at sentiment,—were all apparently unknown.
True it is that the Times still holds its own as a journal in which one may look in vain for “sensationalism” but its position is rather like that of a grim old lion surrounded by cubs of all sizes and ages, that yap and snap at its whiskers and take liberties with its tail. It can be said, however, that all the better, higher-class periodicals are in the same situation—the yapping and snapping goes on around them precisely in the same way—“Circulation Five Times as Large as that of any Penny Morning Journal,” etcetera, etcetera. And the question of the circulation of any particular newspaper resolves itself into two points,—first, the amount of money it puts into the pockets of its proprietors or proprietor,—and secondly, the influence it has, or is likely to have, on the manners and morals of the public. The last is by far the most important matter, though the first is naturally the leading motive of its publication. Herein we touch the keynote of responsibility. How, and in what way are the majority of people swayed or affected by the statements and opinions of some one man or several men employed on the world’s press? On this point it may perhaps be asked whether any newspaper is really justified in setting before readers of all ages and temperaments, a daily fare of suicides, murders, divorce-cases, sudden deaths, or abnormal “horrors” of every kind to startle, depress or warp the mind away from a sane and healthful outlook upon life and the things of life in general? A very brilliant and able journalist tells me that “if we don’t put these things in, we are so deadly dull!” One can but smile at this candid statement of inefficiency. The idea that there can be any “lively” reading in the sorrowful details of sickness, crime or mania, leaves much room for doubt. And when it is remembered how powerfully the human mind is affected by suggestion, it is surely worth while enquiring as to whether the newspapers could not manage to offer their readers noble and instructive subjects of thought, rather than morbid or degrading ones. Fortunately for all classes, the bulk of what may be called “magazine literature” makes distinctly for the instruction and enlightenment of the public, and though a “gutter press” exists in Great Britain, as in America, a great portion of the public are now educated enough to recognize its type and to treat it with the contempt it merits. I quote here part of a letter which recently appeared in the Westminster Gazette signed “Observer,” and entitled:
“A Press-governed Empire.
“To the Editor of the Westminster Gazette.
“Sir,—We have it on the highest authority that the Government acts on the same information as is at the disposal of ‘the man in the street’ (vide Mr. Balfour at Manchester). The man in the street obviously must depend on the Press for his information. How has the Press served him?
“Let me take a recent illustration. A great experiment was to be made by the Navy. A battleship with all its tremendous armament was to pound a battleship. Naturally the Press was well represented, and the public was eager for its report.
“In due course a narrative appeared describing the terrible havoc wrought. The greatest stress was laid upon the instant ignition and complete destruction by fire of all the woodwork on the doomed ship. Elaborate leading articles appeared enforcing the lesson that wood was no longer a possible material for the accessory furniture of a battleship.
“A day or two after, a quiet answer in the House of Commons from Mr. Goschen informed the limited public who read it, that no fire whatever had occurred on the occasion so graphically described by the host of Press correspondents.
“The events dealt with on these occasions took place in our own country, and under our own eyes, so to speak. If such untrue reports are set forth with the verisimilitude of accurate and detailed personal description of eye-witnesses, what are we to say of the truth in the reports of events occurring at a distance?
“Special knowledge, special experience long continued, speaking under a sense of responsibility, are set at nought. The regular channels of information are neglected, and the conduct of affairs is based on newspaper reports. Any private business conducted and managed on these lines would be immediately ruined. The business of the Empire is more important, and the results of its mismanagement are more serious. For how long will it be possible to continue its management, trusting to the light thrown on events by an irresponsible Press?”
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The “irresponsibility” here complained of comes out perhaps more often and most glaringly in those papers which profess to chronicle the sayings and doings of kings and queens, prime ministers, and personages more or less well known in the world of art, letters and society. In nine cases out of ten, the journalist who reports these sayings and doings has never set eyes on the people about whom he writes with such a free and easy flippancy. Even if he has, his authority to make their conversation public may be questioned. It is surely not too much to ask of the editors of newspapers that they should, by applying directly to the individuals concerned, ascertain whether such and such a statement made to them is true before giving it currency. A couple of penny stamps expended in private correspondence would settle the matter to the satisfaction of both parties.
“Personalities,” however, would seem to be greatly in vogue. Note the following:
“At seven o’clock the King left the hotel and walked to the spring to drink more of the water. Altogether, His Majesty has to drink about a quart of the water every morning, before breakfast.
“Standing among the throng, in which every type and nationality of humanity was represented, the King sipped his second pint glass of water.
“After drinking the quart of water, the regulations laid down for the ‘cure’ further require the King to walk for two hours before eating a morsel of food.
“This His Majesty performed by pacing up and down the promenade from the Kruez spring at one end, to the Ferdinand spring at the other.