man. I. THE TOWN AND THE PEOPLE. It was on the evening of Monday, the 28th of July, in the year 1712, that two middle-aged men came out of Will's Coffee-House, and slowly walked through the close lanes that led to the heart of the City. The one had a brisk and alert step, with an air of frank hilarity in his face, which was somewhat lighted up in the evening sun by the magnum of generous claret which he had been sharing with his friend. The other moved a little unsteadily, with a hesitating step, which was not improved by the wine he had taken; but a placid smile played on his features, and, in connexion with the dignified repose of his whole manner, gave assurance of the gentleAs they passed along they encountered a bevy of newsvenders, known then as hawkers or Mercuries, who were bawling at the top of their lungs, “Here you have the last number of the Observator—the last number-no other number will ever be published, on account of the stamp." "Here you have the Flying Post, which will go on in spite of the stamp." "Here you have the Spectator, this day's Spectator, all writ by the greatest wits of the age." The more hilarious of the two friends twitched his companion's arm and whispered, "That's at any rate a comfort, Addison." "True fame, Steele," was the reply. Their onward course was to a small printing-office in Little Britain. They climbed the narrow staircase, and were in a close and dingy room, with two printing-presses and working spaces for four compositors. A grave man was reading at a desk, and he bowed reverently to the gallants in lace and ruffles, who thus honoured him by a visit to his dark den of letters. Why, Mr. Buckley," said Steele, "your narrow passages and close rooms remind me of the printer of Ben Jonson, who kept his press in a hollow tree. We are come to talk with you about this infernal Stamp: a red Stamp, they tell me 'tis to be, not black, like its father. Lillie is obstinate, and says our penny Spectator must be raised to twopence; and if so, where are our customers to come from ?" 66 "I am for stopping," interposed Addison. "Not so, sir; not so, I pray," ejaculated the frightened printer; "there isn't such a paper in Town, sir. Goes into the houses of the first of the quality; not a coffee-house without it. Not like your Post-boys and Posts, which are read by shopkeepers and handicrafts." "I should like to be read by shopkeepers and handicrafts," said Steele. "Oh dear, no, sir; quite impossible, sir. They must have coarse food; ghosts and murders. Delicate wit like Mr. Addison's, fine morality like Mr. Steele's, are for the Town, sir, not the populace." "A nice distinction, truly," cried Addison ; "Audience fit, though few." Few, sir? why, we print three thousand; and we shall print as many when the stamp doubles our price. Our customers will never stand upon a shilling a week. And, besides, those who support the government will rejoice in the opportunity of paying the tax. I shouldn't wonder if the stamp doubled our sale." "Very sanguine, Mr. Buckley." "Sanguine, Sir? Who wouldn't be sanguine, when rare wits like you condescend to write for the Town. There is Doctor Swift, too, I hear, has been writing penny paper after penny paper. A fine hand, gentlemen! Are we to go back to our old ignorant days because of a red stamp? We must go on improving. Look at my printing-office, and see if we are not improved. Why, Sir Roger L'Estrange, when he set up the Intelligencer fifty years ago, gave notice that he would publish his one book a week, 'to be published every Thursday, and finished upon the Tuesday night, leaving Wednesday entire for the printing it off.' And now I, gentlemen-Heaven forbid I should boast,‚—can print your Spectator off every day, and not even want the -copy more than three days before the publication. Think of that, gentlemen, a halfsheet every day. A hundred years hence nobody will believe it." 66 "You are a wonderful man, Mr. Buckley, and we are all very grateful to you,” said the laughing-eyed Essayist. But, talking of a hundred years hence, who can say that our moral and mechanical improvements are to stop here? I can imagine a time when every handicraft in the country shall read; when the footman behind the carriage shall read; when the Irish chairman shall read; and when your Intelligencer shall hear of a great battle on the Wednesday morning, and have a full account of it published on the Thursday." "That, Sir, with all submission, is actually impossible; and surely you are joking when you talk of the vulgar learning to read, and taking delight in reading. Reading will never go lower than our shopkeepers, I think." "I wonder," said Addison, "what the people would read a hundred years hence, if they had the ability? They must have books especially suited to their capacities." 66 They would read your 'Vision of Mirza,' and know something about your 'Sir Roger de Coverley.' 66 Come, come, Diccon, don't be sarcastic. I thought I was pitching my key low enough to suit our fops, and our courtiers, and our coffee-house loungers ;--but to be relished by the rabble! A pinch of snuff, if you please." "If I could see the day," said Steele, "when we had a nation of readers, and books could circulate rapidly through the whole country, I would leave the Town to mend its follies as it best might, and set up for a teacher of the People. We would make your press do ten times its present work then, Mr. Buckley.” "Ah, Sir, great men like you always have their dreams. I once knew a very clever man who fancied the mail would some time or other go to York in three days. Poor man, he was very nearly mad." Addison whispered to his friend that the printer would number him amongst the Bedlam candidates if he propounded any more of his speculations; and then, drawing himself up with greater dignity, rejoiced the honest printer's heart by a memorable declaration :-" Come what may, we shall go on in spite of the Stamp. There, Mr. Buckley, is the copy for No. 445, Thursday, July 31, which announces our resolve. We will not be cashiered by Act of Parliament." ON WRITING FOR THE PEOPLE. WRITING for the people is either a very high thing or a very low thing, according to the conception formed of it. A low thing it is when the author, assuming a patronizing philanthropy, writes, as he says, down to the comprehension of his audience: a still lower thing it is when, adopting a base servility, he flatters the prejudices and fosters the blind passions of his audience. In the first case he treats grown men as if they were children; in the second, he treats human beings as if they were wild beasts, to be tamed and flattered rather than enlightened and elevated. We have a strong conviction that nothing can be too good for the people; that there is a larger body of readers for works of the highest class of literature and philosophy among the people than among the other classes. But this is a new development of social progress; it is a development which has taken place in the present generation. Before proceeding farther, let us agree as to the meaning of words. Nothing like a strict definition for preventing confusion and misapprehension. What is meant by the word People? We answer that, in a literary sense, the people cannot simply mean the populus. Writing a book for the people is writing a popular book; and a popular book is contradistinguished from a professional book, inasmuch as it requires from the reader no special education; it only requires intelligence and ordinary culture. This special education, which the works not professedly popular assume in the reader, is of two kinds, classical and mathematical. We use these as types: mathematics being the basis of almost all scientific investigation, and the classics being the basis of almost all literary culture, the two may very well stand as representatives of the scientific and literary education. Works written for professional people—and we include among them all who profess to follow a particular study-are not intelligible to the people, i. e. to all non-professional readers. The language used, the acquirements assumed, the very method of exposition, are barriers to the people. And here we may see that by the people cannot be meant merely the artisans and the shopkeepers; for the gentleman and the collegian are equally excluded from the circle of the initiated. No amount of literary culture will enable a man to comprehend a work of science written for scientific men. No amount of mathematical attainments will enable a man to comprehend a scientific work on physiology, unless he have previously studied anatomy. A work on physiology, therefore, which should be written for the people, would be addressed to the collegian as to the artisan-to the man of "liberal education as to the man who is self-educated. The artisan and the gentleman are here on an equality. The people are generally spoken of as the uneducated. We propose to simplify the question by calling them the public not specially educated. Education is only laying the basis. It is a preparation. A liberal education, which includes a knowledge of languages, dead and living, and of mathematics, forms the best groundwork for the appreciation of works of literature and science, because these works assume those attainments in the reader. But it is obvious that the knowledge is but a preparation, and that thousands content themselves therewith. These are the people, whatever may be their social position. They, no less than the artisan, need to be specially educated in a science, or in literature, before they can understand works not professedly popular. The only advantage the educated man has is, that if he and the uneducated man begin the study of a science at the same time, he has already accomplished the necessary preparation; he knows the alphabet and can spell, though he has not yet learned to read. |