While the necessary characteristic of all periodical literature has been the conveyance of news of some sort, sometimes of a general and frequently only of a special character, there has run side by side with this function the conveyance of general information and of instructed comment and incidentally the opportunity of thus moulding public opinion. In respect of this capacity there has been the widest divergence in the character of newspapers and journals. So far as they are newsgatherers and news disseminators, all papers have the same task, even when there are enormous differences of excellence and subtle differences of intention. But it is otherwise with them as organs of opinion. This is an optional duty, which a great many papers avowedly reject. Others by professing impartiality seem to follow the same policy, while in reality they attempt to exercise influence by every indirect method. A minority constitute themselves or find themselves forced into the position of becoming the official or half-avowed leaders of parties or groups, while every word of comment or criticism is admittedly stamped with the current doctrines commonly held by its special band of readers.

It is the case of these latter organs which we have specially to consider in this chapter. There are so many ways of either guiding or forming opinion by editorial comment or exposition and by the publication of signed or unsigned articles of a more or less rhetorical nature that a complete analysis of the subject means little less than the history of the press. There are, however, roughly speaking, certain broad differences of method, which afford us means for a partial classification. It has been the habit for newspapers on the continent of Europe to become the mouthpiece of certain well-known journalists or groups of journalists, who influence and lead opinion by the publication of signed articles, for whose policy the individual journalist is himself alone responsible. In the United Kingdom the prevailing practice has followed another course. Anonymous journalism has been found in the end to be a more powerful political weapon, partly because reverence attaches itself more easily to the unknown and also because the shelter of corporate responsibility adds somewhat to the freedom of writing and very much to the fertility of invention. In America again the case is somewhat different. Both methods are there followed but they are employed subject to the supreme requisition made by the reading public for mere news, which it can analyze and judge for itself.

Just as we chose the American daily paper for the model of a newsgathering and news-presenting organization, so here we must admit that, as an organ for expressing instructed opinion not only on politics but on general topics, the distinctively English type of paper is a far more potent and more highly-developed instrument. In this respect the American press suffers severely from the general democratic contempt prevailing on that continent for expert opinion of all kinds. Since one man there is commonly reputed to be as good as another, so there is no room even in that huge population for any one whose opinion carries weight in any other sense than that a large number of people think that he adequately expresses their views or comes near to saying publicly, what privately each man feels and thinks more effectively for himself. Although there are to be found across the Atlantic many men of literary distinction and of a culture, which would be exceptional anywhere, they hold sway, journalistically speaking, only in elegantly printed magazines of small circulation and in social circles they are notable for an apologetic manner and deprecatory attitude to their countrymen, which sometimes seem odd to a stranger prepared to reverence their talents. Of course here as elsewhere there are exceptions, which we will come to later on.

So far as the American press is concerned the only sphere, where editorial influence is either secretly or forcibly exerted, is in national or municipal politics. Here the line is so sharply drawn between opponents that little or no attempt at impartiality is pretended and news and comment are both frankly presented by party newspapers with highly-coloured bias and vehement advocacy. Persuasion is not a weapon adopted by the American press, because during a political campaign no reader has time or inclination to read the other side. Sheer battering force or biting ridicule are the favourite weapons. Their ingenuity is directed almost entirely on personal matters rather than in the exposition of general ideas. More importance is attached to discovering some weakness of private character in an opponent or to attaching to his opinions and views some nickname with an unpopular connotation than in confuting his arguments or in examining the soundness and sincerity of his patriotism. The power effectively within the control of an American party organ can be exercised much more decisively inside the party before candidates are chosen than afterwards when the champions are selected and the battle is formally set. This choice of candidates is however itself painfully restricted by the almost monotonous sameness of character among the budding Transatlantic statesmen of the time. Pedestrian eloquence, high animal spirits, physical vigour and an unimpeachable rectitude in private life are indispensable requirements for success in public life in America and politicians happy enough to possess all these characteristics rather resemble each other on these lines to the exclusion of any marked or unusual individuality of character or intellect.

In France and Italy, where the signed article, speaking generally, prevails, the excellence and weight of the written word in the press has been profoundly modified and greatly extended. This authority, however, attaches itself by a natural law to the names themselves, as they become well known, and is apt to carry the fortunate individuals, who thus establish themselves in popular favour, up to greater heights than mere anonymous journalism can scale. Journalism thus becomes only the ladder of ambition, as far as the successful writer is concerned, and so far from being an end in itself, as it should be, is generally, no more than the first step on the road to politics, even more so perhaps in this respect than the profession of the law. As compared with the English system the power of the newspaper itself is very considerably curtailed. The advantage of the temporary possession of a meteor is a doubtful one. He may mingle insubordination with brilliancy and even where meekness and all the journalistic virtues are combined in one pen, the ultimate loss of it will be the more severely felt. The solid qualities on which the continuous influence of a great newspaper rests are difficult under these circumstances to build up and it may therefore be taken as an axiom that the cultivation of brilliancy in journalism is to some extent converse to the acquisition of permanent power and wealth by the press.

The favourable side of the continental system is the maintenance of a very high literary standard and the acceptance in metropolitan circles of only the finest qualities of artistic criticism on most subjects. Nowhere in the world is such power wielded by journalists in the realms of music, literature, art or the drama as in France or Italy. It is taken seriously by the cultured public which reads it, because it is good. It has to be good, because it is taken seriously. The standard set in these matters is quite unapproachable by the wealthy and enterprising English press and nothing less than a century’s education of the English people would be required for us to see how much in this respect our public taste is inappreciative and our general journalistic performances inadequate.

The German journalistic system is on the face of it not so far distinct from the general continental practice, except that they make less use of the signed article and newspaper properties are correspondingly more valuable. While the artistic and critical sides of German newspaperdom are distinctly inferior to the standards common in France and Italy there is one path in which their journals can claim pre-eminence in that they treat seriously and reverently all matters of science and learning, quite apart from any commercial demand in this direction from their readers. But after making this deserved tribute to German newspapers a foreign critic can best add to it by paying them the compliment of treating their newspapers as in a state of transition from Bismarckian serfdom to American commercialism. They combine some of the worst qualities of both. Of independent character in the English sense they have none, as they are too much under the heel of authority. Enterprise in the American sense is only adopted in unessentials. In the collection of news they are not more enterprising than the French and their standard of accuracy in reproducing it is not very high. Their papers are printed in Gothic type and written in a still more Gothic style. Neither in politics nor in commerce, nor in finance is their integrity above suspicion. Their influence with the public is very considerable, especially in politics, but the source of their power arises from the general respect felt by every loyal German for the ultimate and all-high authority which does not scruple or disdain to use a thousand methods of pressure in order to sway to its will the minds of men. Even where this authority is not itself ostensibly at work, as it often is, its powerful and indirect influence over the press is fertile in suggesting to the popular imagination those courses of conduct which will be agreeable to the powers that be.[5]

Taking the press not only as the great news-distributor of the world, but also as almost the most powerful existing mechanism for the moulding of opinion, I do not hesitate to declare that for the last half of the Victorian century the British press held a position demonstrably superior to the press of any other country. Although in many respects, and some of them important ones, of which I have already mentioned a few, we ought freely to acknowledge our inferiority, in the two most vitally important attributes of journalism I believe we have long been unrivalled. The first is good professional judgment in selecting and absolute faithfulness in presenting the news of our own country and the most important news of the world. The second is the spirit of independence and contempt for corruption, either through the channels of power or by the pulling of financial strings, which makes it inconceivable for even the smallest newspaper here to boast of its honesty, an experience, which is a common enough occurrence, when one travels in any other country. Whenever corruption or blackmail occasionally finds an unsafe footing in one of the side-walks of journalism it is looked upon as a crime, both morally and professionally, which every one must stamp out, wherever found. Any manager or journalist of experience will tell you that the suggestion of bribery either at headquarters or with one of the ordinary daily staff of a newspaper is an experiment of the utmost danger to any one attempting it. It would most probably be followed by the instant occurrence of the disaster, which there was an endeavour to avert; in fact the only chance of escape for the offender would be the extreme insignificance of his affairs.

But while in many respects much of this stubborn virtue is still a characteristic of the British press, especially in the professional sense, yet it is questionable whether, looking at the independence of our press in the broadest sense, we are not in the course of a transition to a less desirable state of affairs. It is a matter on which I should be very reluctant to pronounce a responsible opinion. All I can see clearly is that a very important change is in progress, the final result of which it is still too early to forecast. The critical date of the change was almost exactly at the end of the last century with the outbreak of the Boer war and the tariff controversy, which followed. Those two events, while they left the country press in very much the same position as before, profoundly modified the position of the richer and more influential daily papers in London. The bitter controversies, which commenced with those issues, have practically thrown the great majority of the well-to-do classes in the kingdom on to one side in politics. Nearly all the richer newspapers, including one or two influential provincial dailies, naturally followed this lead and we have the remarkable spectacle of practically the whole of the important daily press in the metropolis being influenced by the aspirations, prejudices and casual opinions of only one of the great political parties. Now without suggesting the slightest imputation on the professional honour of these great journals nor impeaching their straightforward honesty, it is clear to me that the relative value of truth in all controversial matter has been dangerously disturbed. The mirror of the London press reflects only the drab colours of any presentation of one aspect of society, reserving all the hues of sunset for any little feature of the other. The resulting picture is produced unconsciously and in good faith, but it is none the less subject to dangerous distortion of the truth. This prevailing misfortune is growing worse daily and already we have lost the chastening memory of days, when impartiality was more strictly maintained in our press as a whole by the adequate representation of both sides. Society with a big S, has gone entirely on to one side and has imposed on its press that most hopeless form of provincialism, which already prevails in high circles in Berlin, of merely refusing to recognize as possible the existence of culture, good faith and even of common honesty in those who do not adopt the opinions prevailing in its own ranks. From this blindness I see no ordinary means of deliverance.

These somewhat gloomy reflections are applicable only to the penny press. In the more popular forms of journalism honours between the two political parties are nearly equally divided. But stress is to be laid in this matter chiefly on the penny press, because it is only in these journals or more expensive ones that any considerable space can be given to political debates and intellectual and artistic interests. They are a necessity to any man of culture and it is a disaster for him if opinions on important matters in the leading organs become stereotyped in what some may regard as a prejudiced point of view. Again the importance of the penny press in this connection arises in another form, because in what I am disposed to consider the Augustan age of the press, the last fifty years of Queen Victoria’s reign, it was this section which really raised British journalism to a height of dignity and power, which has never been equalled and most probably never will be again.

During this golden period, in the course of which the penalyzing taxes on advertisements and paper were removed, the rise of those powerful and rich organizations took place such as we pre-eminently connect with our idea of an “organ of the press.” This idea itself is probably more completely embodied than anywhere else in the London Times, which although not itself a penny paper, set the standard to which the penny morning journals of the United Kingdom more or less approximated. The foundation of the power and influence of our great metropolitan and provincial dailies was continuity of proprietorship and of general policy over a long period and the possession of great wealth. They were too valuable, both as properties and as political weapons, to pass easily from hand to hand and the families in whose possession they remained constituted a little aristocracy of high ideals and great stability of character. This represents one side of the medal. The other must be looked for in the staffs of journalists, who worked for them and the system of co-operation and the sacrifice of interests on both sides.

Looked at philosophically the keystone in the dignified arch of the old-fashioned press of the United Kingdom was mutual sacrifice between the proprietors and journalists. Wealthy corporations though they generally were, the great English dailies have always been liable to storms and disasters and progress could only be purchased by great risks of capital. The proprietors of those days stood by their papers,[6] as they would not have done by an ordinary business, staking their private fortunes and exposing their family comfort to the risks of an unstable source of income. Some foundered while others rose to great wealth. The proprietors also stood by their men, whether editors or journalists, and treated them as members of a family, protecting them, encouraging them and keeping many a lame dog in employment because he had once done good work.

The sacrifices they required and generally received in return were devotion to duty, anonymity and frequent concessions in matters of opinion to the policy of the paper. As the two latter points are vexed questions of high domestic interest to newspaper men a digression to discuss them will be pardonable particularly since they have a very material bearing on the power and influence of any organ of the press. With regard to devotion to duty a very special quality in this respect is demanded of newspaper men. Private interests, life and limb and even reputation have to be risked by them more frequently than in the ordinary walks of life.

Anonymity is the institution on which the peculiar success of British journalism is founded. It is a point on which the individual surrenders with the greatest reluctance. There is something dazzling in the public reward of successful persuasion and the avowed capture of other men’s minds. In fact very brilliant writers will never consent to it, feeling, that their power is inherent in themselves for which there can be no adequate compensation. So long as either pure literary quality is aimed at or personal influence desired, such an attitude is entirely justified. But such men are not permanently destined for journalism. They must fight out their fate on a wider field and bear the frost of criticism and the starvation of neglect by their own strength without the support or constraint of a newspaper behind them. For journalism proper anonymity has many good points about it, which escape the eye of the young and inexperienced. For one thing it builds up the wealth and importance of the organization, which draws the revenues and distributes the salaries. Thus it comes about that a young man, who would not earn a pound a week in any walk of pure literature, where he expects to be paid also by recognition, can earn a comfortable living by suppressing his natural desire for fame and doing the necessary work of the press. But there is a further advantage for the journalist in anonymity; it is a very effective shelter under which he can do his daily round of ordinary work without the natural slackening and the painful fits and starts which pursue inevitably the responsible writer, who has to put his own name to everything he produces. It may be possible for the Latin mind to dwell perpetually in the higher levels of brilliancy but the heavier Anglo-Saxon finds a sheltered routine more profitable to his genius.

The advantage to the newspaper of anonymity is more obvious. The grand manner can be more easily sustained where irrelevant individual characteristics are suppressed and continuity can be better preserved in spite of necessary changes of the staff. Again any writer can almost double his output under the shelter of the paper’s responsibility and what is lost in brilliancy is gained in steadiness. Perhaps the greatest advantage is gained by the paper through the establishment of journalism on a professional basis. The writer of signed articles is really a pamphleteer, who uses the newspaper as a vehicle just as in other days he would use a publisher. The journalist proper, who takes material as it comes along, has to acquire a certain toughness of taste and suppression of inclination, which in the ordinary course of things is probably the greater part of the sacrifice he makes to his calling. It is only a rare writer here and there, with something of the touch of the missioner or fanatic, who can successfully fulfil his career as a journalist without acquiring these callosities and partial mutilations.

The harder sacrifice sometimes required from a journalist in the occasional subjection of his private opinions was fortunately not often demanded under the old system. How far any concessions in opinion to the exigencies of his profession is possible for any journalist is a matter for a man’s own conscience. But custom has always ruled these matters in this country in the spirit of judicious and practical compromise. A wise editor will never be exacting in this respect because in one eventuality he will get bad work, in the other he will either break or lose his instrument. It is usually found that an intelligent sympathy with the general policy of the paper is enough for most conscientious people. There is no humiliation in conceding matters of detail and even here there are compensations, for a subordinate may now and then steal a march on his superiors by committing his journal in the sense of his own opinions on some happy occasion. It is essential that these happy occasions should not occur too often or there may be a sudden parting of the ways opening up to the adventurous writer.

Under the newer newspaper rÉgime, where commercial considerations rule far more than they did under the old family system, this question of a conflict between conscience and economic pressure frequently comes up in a most cruel fashion. When a newspaper passed into the hands of a new proprietor, whose only object in acquiring it was to have the opportunity of changing its politics, all the special writers, whose province covered politics, might be condemned by their sense of honour to go out into the street. This has happened before now, as every newspaper man knows. Lord Morley at a dinner given to Sir Edward Cook dwelt on this precarious feature of the journalist’s life and stated that he himself during a long connection with this calling as writer and editor had never yet seriously advised a young man to adopt it as a career.

There is no doubt that the successful commercialization of journalism during the opening years of the twentieth century has greatly increased the chances of this painful misfortune occurring to a writer in the zenith of his career. There is little distinction now made between newspaper properties and any other, except that their political influence adds some considerable extra value to their market-price. In almost the majority of cases they are owned by limited companies. Their possession does not carry with it the feeling of a public trust; to own one means just so much money and so much power. It is safe to say that, while these pages are being written, not less than four of the London dailies are to be had for an offer, one of which at least is an exceedingly good property in the full course of prosperity. The effect on the life of the journalist and on the type of man, who is now coming into the profession, shows a change for the worse as compared with twenty years ago. The hazardous career now offered attracts a different class of men, more exacting in the way of remuneration, more brilliant and less patient, with none of the specialized devotion to his own institution, which was the peculiar characteristic of the Victorian political writer. At present the newer papers, such as the halfpenny dailies, are living mostly on the supplies of talent left over from the Victorian era with a few newcomers of a more sensational type. But some of these will soon pass away and some will become editors and we shall become altogether dependent on journalists of another kind, one quarter special pleader for any cause and three-quarters descriptive reporter. Education will become a disadvantage and motherwit with a turn for word-spinning will take its place.

To return to the main question of the actual power over opinion exercised by the press I am inclined to think it was at its maximum in this country during the Victorian age. Not only one but three or four prominent journals would guide opinion during a decade, of which the Times stood easily first. Statesmen would take hints from newspapers or privately from journalists. The leading articles every day would be scanned by politicians looking for approval with an eagerness, which is already becoming a thing of the past. Of instances frequent enough and already well-known to the public, it will be sufficient to select only one, the celebrated advice given to Lord Beaconsfield by the late Frederick Greenwood, and acted on by the former with prompt adroitness, to buy the Suez Canal shares for the British Government, advice which ultimately led to our control of Egypt.

The influence of a newspaper on the opinions of its readers is largely a matter of reliance and discretion on the part of those who guide its policy. Of course there is the avowed political partisanship, officially acknowledged and attracting the support of most of its readers for this cause alone. In this respect, however, no paper can claim to influence its readers, because they have formed their own opinions for themselves on the main issues already. The real power of a paper depends chiefly on the skill with which it is kept in the background and the severe economy of its use. Any blatant partisanship on unnecessary occasions begets in the reader the habit of discounting its repetition and of steeling his will in resistance. This is sometimes so strong an automatic habit that many men make a point of reading something of an opposition journal, so as to stiffen their prejudices and give an indignant edge to their own version of patriotism. It is getting truer every day that the lecturing leading article is little appreciated and influence is more effectually exerted by the presentation of news.

This is conspicuously true of the more popular halfpenny journals. These are not all of the same class, as those which once occupied the position of penny morning papers retain many of their old following and are thus encouraged to continue something of the style and of the make-up, which was suited to their narrower circulation. Of the new and frankly commercial press one may say with some confidence, that they have no influence in the old-fashioned sense at all. In all matters of opinion what they say is a matter of indifference. Their function is to supply to those, who already agree with them, a brief and effective setting for obvious facts and sometimes just so much misrepresentation as to make unpalatable facts a little more tolerable. In London it is conspicuous how insignificant their political efforts may be. In the last three elections the most populous parts of London have on the whole voted in the sense contrary to the two or three sensational journals which have the largest circulations in those localities.

With all the merits of these popular journals, and these are very marked in comparison with the halfpenny press of other countries, it is impossible to deny that the recent commercialization of journalism is an irredeemable loss to this country. We have probably in the last twenty years parted silently with an asset of unique value. It was perhaps inevitable and no one need blame themselves or any one else. In fact, the group of successful men, who have rather brilliantly, in one sense, effected this revolution, are not responsible for the circumstances, which made their own victory necessary. One may perhaps grumble at the rather obvious insignificance of the new “replacers.” No personality seems to emerge from among them and one is tempted to conclude that the task they have effectively accomplished was one more suited to Attila than to Napoleon.

The real dominant factors of the modern press and the press of the future are the machine, the telephone and the special train. Production by the million is an exacting master. Instead of three hours for a considered version of facts or opinion, the modern writer is often given fifteen minutes, in which to turn out a smart distortion. The more a man can resemble a Linotype machine the more useful will he be to the paper of to-morrow. He must of course be complicated in organization, his mechanism must be ingenious enough to conceal his mental subordination. But just as the pressing of any key on the composing board brings down always the same letter so will it be required from the brilliant, up-to-date journalist of the millennium, that he must react automatically with the most faithful resemblance to the accuracy of a machine to each stimulus afforded by varying events, popular emotions and the ideas of the market-place.