WHAT INTERESTS THE PUBLIC ?
TT is reported that the people of Rennes are apparently for the most part as uninterested in the Dreyfus trial as though it were taking place on another planet. Here is an event which we suppose to be convulsing the French nation, an event which has drawn to a quiet French provincial city correspondents from every part of the world, and the in- habitants seem neither to know nor care about the pro- ceedings. The attitude of the people of Rennes may have been exaggerated by correspondents who only looked at externals, but it suggests the inquiry as to what it is that people are really interested in. This is a subject of great importance to newspapers, for the success of a newspaper must, one would say, depend largely on the treatment it gives to the various items of news received. If stress is laid upon something which may be of deep interest to journalists themselves but which is " caviare to the general," or if a matter, originally of undoubted interest, is carried on for day after day when the public interest has long ceased, the journal in question must suffer in consequence.
The question, therefore, of what interests people becomes one or no little importance.
Doubtless human nature is a good deal alike the world over, but we shall confine ourselves to the tastes of our home public, of which we know most. What is it that sells a newspaper in England ? What kind of subject does the mass of our popu- lation care most about? Mr. Herbert Spencer says very truly that a child cannot take in a picture as a whole. Show it a landscape, and the expanse of sky or forest is unnoticed, while the child's eyes are at once fixed on a definite object, especially a living object, a cow standing at a gate, or a boy
crossing a rustic bridge. For the child that object is practically the whole picture. In this respect, for the mass of people, the child is verily father of the man. The average man and woman do not live ins ganzen, however much they may try to cultivate the two other graces of Goethe's famous lines. After all, perhaps, the widest-minded among us are as selective, as are the most ignorant and super- ficial; it depends on what we select. The average person, like the child with the picture, is apt to concentrate his gaze on a living object, either an animal or a man who seems to him famous. Years ago millions of people took the deepest interest for several days in a big elephant, as year before the same people had taken for months together the profoundest interest in a fat man, whose cause ceIN)re was so remarkable that he is and will continue to be known in English history as "the Claimant," just as though no other claimant existed. Great events were happening all over the globe, discoveries were being made, Governments were rising and falling, but all these things were as dust and ashes to the multitudes who tore open their newspapers with eagerness to learn the latest about the fat man or the big elephant. The present writer was discussing some time ago the question as to who was the best known and most famous man on the planet. Of course Bismarck. Gladstone, and the Pope were suggested. " No," said an American journalist, "the most famous man on the planet is Barnum ; " and probably he was right, though to cultivated people such a fact is a singular appraisement of human personalities and achievements. One who can pro- vide amusement on a colossal scale for the multitude is sure to be a very great hero, and of heroes the people want to know all they can. We recollect that an account of the habits of life of Mr. Barnum was read with avidity. The policy of Lord Beaconsfield is forgotten or misunderstood by many thousands who eagerly swallowed the apocryphal story about his love for primroses. Let any man achieve any kind of success which the people can understand, and the slightest anecdote about him is treasured, whether he is a Prime Minister or a policeman. We confess we generally regard with horror the "personal" items, which had their origin in American newspapers ; but they have been acclimatised here, and are without question very interesting to the average reader. To read about the daily life of the Prince of Wales at a German spa, or how Mr. Spnrgeon's study was furnished, or the circumstances connected with Mr. Edison's marriage, or how Sarah Bernhardt was dressed, or what Mr. Toole said to Sir Henry Irving,—there is nothing more interesting than this kind of thing to millions of our fellow-creatures, and the striking success of certain classes of journals is due to the fact that this personal element has been carefully cultivated by them. On its better side this intense interest in persons is a sort of hero-worship, based on a genuine admiration for some qualities, or supposed qualities, believed to be embodied in some person. Even those of us who feel that " personal " journalism is carried to absurd lengths are not indifferent to information about people. We prefer (accuracy apart) the " picturesque " historians to the " dry " men. We like the gossip of Pepys and St. Simon; we like to hear of Milton's light supper of water and olives, or Johnson's toast and unsweetened tea on Good Fridays. The average man only carries that fond- ness for personal details to a higher power.
The masses are also fond of tragedy. We doubt if any political event in our time, unless it be the striking series of events when Sedan was fought, when the Empire fell and the Republic was proclaimed in Paris, has made an appreciable difference in the sale of newspapers. But an especially dramatic murder with romantic elements, or a great ship- wreck, will add thousands to the sale of a paper. The murder of Mr. Briggs by Muller, the trial of Charles Peace, the loss of the Princess Alice,' are among the incidents that occur to us which were followed in all their details by multitudes, who paid scant attention to Parliament, and had not the faintest idea who Darwin was. The singular groups one finds on Sundays in some of the London parks, clustered round some orator or reciter, give clear indication as to popular tastes. One finds, as a rule, the " domestic- pathetic " story to be most popular when recited with unction; it comes home to every one, just as an Adelphi melodrama does. We believe, contrary perhaps to prevalent opinion, that pathos tells more than fun. We happen to know that at a large "refuge" for men, where music and recitations were given on Sunday nights, this was the case ; the death of Little Nell being listened to with a breathless interest never accorded to the adventures of Mr. Pickwick or Mr. Micawber. In the case of a murder, it is not perhaps the ghastly side so much as the mystery, the speculation as to motive, the hunting of the murderer, the possible doubt as to guilt, which provides the interest. In the case of great and unusual calamities, it is, we must suppose, the "touch of nature which makes the whole world kin." Though people know in a general way that every moment dies a man, they do not feel the presence of the solemn mystery of death save when it carries off, in a moment, a great crowd of victims. Then their dormant imagination is aroused, and they want to read all about the tragedy in the newspapers.
Most people, in this country,at least, are fond of reading about religions matters. The immense sale of Mr. Spurgeon's sermons proved what a market existed for religious literature, and the enormous circulation of many religious newspapers tells the same tale. But there are many persons who do not greatly care for sermons and who do not seem to possess any vital religions feeling, who yet are as irresistibly drawn to religious controversy as a moth to the flame. There are tens of thousands of people in England who are intensely interested in the question as to whether St. Peter was ever in Rome, or whether St. Paul was really married, or whether Onesimus was freed or not, or how we can be certain as to the line of Popes,—questions that really have little or no connection with the true content of religion, but which fringe the borders of the field of religions life. The accounts of alleged miracles and wonders also attract all men who, however limited their imagination, are yet aware of the fact that they live in a world of mystery, and are never quite sure that some un- known fact may not break through from the unseen. A really good ghost-story or record of mysterious healing or visitation will always tell. Now, as of old, it is "signs and wonders" that are more sought after than the pure ideas of the mind and soul. We must not be indignant at this, or at any other of the mental manifestations of the crowd. As we have said, we all of us select, and the crowd must be trusted in the main to select its own food, for the mind as well as for the body, always assuming that plenty of good food is provided, and that thus no ex- cuse is given for feeding on garbage. What strikes one as to the tastes of the masses is precisely the thing that strikes one on going to one of their popular music-halls : there is very little that is obscene, but very much that is inane. We should like to see the experiment made of giving more rational explanation of the medley of facts which come up every day in the newspapers. The people do not know any- thing about Finland, or Venezuela, or Samoa, or Crete. Why not treat such subjects, simply but accurately, from a historical and geographical point of view, so that an intelli- gent opinion can be formed? Possibly the interest in sensational murders and in personal items might then decline.
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