“The essayist for this evening is an old member of our club whom you all know, Mr. Parker, assistant editor of the Daily Democrat.  The subject of his essay is the American Press, and he will use as his text a couple of paragraphs taken from Mr. Matthew Arnold’s new book.  He asks me to read these texts for him.  The first is as follows: 

“’Goethe says somewhere that “the thrill of awe,” that is to say, reverence, is the best thing humanity has.”

“Mr. Arnold’s other paragraph is as follows: 

“’I should say that if one were searching for the best means to efface and kill in a whole nation the discipline of respect, one could not do better than take the American newspapers.”

Mr. Parker rose and bowed, and was received with warm applause.  He then began to read in a good round resonant voice, with clear enunciation and careful attention to his pauses and emphases.  His points were received with approval as he went on.

The essayist took the position that the most important function of a public journal in any country was the propagating of national feeling and pride in the national name—­the keeping the people “in love with their country and its institutions, and shielded from the allurements of alien and inimical systems.”  He sketched the manner in which the reverent Turkish or Russian journalist fulfilled this function—­the one assisted by the prevalent “discipline of respect” for the bastinado, the other for Siberia.  Continuing, he said: 

The chief function of an English journal is that of all other journals the world over:  it must keep the public eye fixed admiringly upon certain things, and keep it diligently diverted from certain others.  For instance, it must keep the public eye fixed admiringly upon the glories of England, a processional splendor stretching its receding line down the hazy vistas of time, with the mellowed lights of a thousand years glinting from its banners; and it must keep it diligently diverted from the fact that all these glories were for the enrichment and aggrandizement of the petted and privileged few, at cost of the blood and sweat and poverty of the unconsidered masses who achieved them but might not enter in and partake of them.  It must keep the public eye fixed in loving and awful reverence upon the throne as a sacred thing, and diligently divert it from the fact that no throne was ever set up by the unhampered vote of a majority of any nation; and that hence no throne exists that has a right to exist, and no symbol of it, flying from any flagstaff, is righteously entitled to wear any device but the skull and crossbones of that kindred industry which differs from royalty only business-wise—­merely as retail differs from wholesale.  It must keep the citizen’s eye fixed in reverent docility upon that curious invention of machine politics, an Established Church, and upon that bald contradiction of common justice, a hereditary nobility; and diligently divert it from the fact that the one damns him if he doesn’t wear its collar, and robs him under the gentle name of taxation whether he wears it or not, and the other gets all the honors while he does all the work.