The Novel and the Common School | Page 2

the
seeming anomaly of a scientific age peculiarly credulous; the ease with
which any charlatan finds followers; the common readiness to fall in
with any theory of progress which appeals to the sympathies, and to
accept the wildest notions of social reorganization. We should be
obliged to note also, among scientific men themselves, a disposition to
come to conclusions on inadequate evidence--a disposition usually due
to one-sided education which lacks metaphysical training and the
philosophic habit. Multitudes of fairly intelligent people are afloat
without any base-line of thought to which they can refer new
suggestions; just as many politicians are floundering about for want of
an apprehension of the Constitution of the United States and of the
historic development of society. An honest acceptance of the law of
gravitation would banish many popular delusions; a comprehension
that something cannot be made out of nothing would dispose of others;
and the application of the ordinary principles of evidence, such as men

require to establish a title to property, would end most of the remaining.
How far is our popular education, which we have now enjoyed for two
full generations, responsible for this state of mind? If it has not
encouraged it, has it done much to correct it?
The other test of popular education is in the kind of reading sought and
enjoyed by the majority of the American people. As the greater part of
this reading is admitted to be fiction, we have before us the relation of
the novel to the common school. As the common school is our
universal method of education, and the novels most in demand are
those least worthy to be read, we may consider this subject in two
aspects: the encouragement, by neglect or by teaching, of the taste that
demands this kind of fiction, and the tendency of the novel to become
what this taste demands.
Before considering the common school, however, we have to notice a
phenomenon in letters--namely, the evolution of the modern newspaper
as a vehicle for general reading-matter. Not content with giving the
news, or even with creating news and increasing its sensational
character, it grasps at the wider field of supplying reading material for
the million, usurping the place of books and to a large extent of
periodicals. The effect of this new departure in journalism is beginning
to attract attention. An increasing number of people read nothing except
the newspapers. Consequently, they get little except scraps and bits; no
subject is considered thoroughly or exhaustively; and they are
furnished with not much more than the small change for superficial
conversation. The habit of excessive newspaper reading, in which a
great variety of topics is inadequately treated, has a curious effect on
the mind. It becomes demoralized, gradually loses the power of
concentration or of continuous thought, and even loses the inclination
to read the long articles which the newspaper prints. The eye catches a
thousand things, but is detained by no one. Variety, which in
limitations is wholesome in literary as well as in physical diet, creates
dyspepsia when it is excessive, and when the literary viands are badly
cooked and badly served the evil is increased. The mind loses the
power of discrimination, the taste is lowered, and the appetite becomes
diseased. The effect of this scrappy, desultory reading is bad enough

when the hashed compound selected is tolerably good. It becomes a
very serious matter when the reading itself is vapid, frivolous, or bad.
The responsibility of selecting the mental food for millions of people is
serious. When, in the last century, in England, the Society for the
Diffusion of Useful Information, which accomplished so much good,
was organized, this responsibility was felt, and competent hands
prepared the popular books and pamphlets that were cheap in price and
widely diffused. Now, it happens that a hundred thousand people,
perhaps a million in some cases, surrender the right of the all-important
selection of the food for their minds to some unknown and
irresponsible person whose business it is to choose the miscellaneous
reading-matter for a particular newspaper. His or her taste may be good,
or it may be immature and vicious; it may be used simply to create a
sensation; and yet the million of readers get nothing except what this
one person chooses they shall read. It is an astonishing abdication of
individual preference. Day after day, Sunday after Sunday, they read
only what this unknown person selects for them. Instead of going to the
library and cultivating their own tastes, and pursuing some subject that
will increase their mental vigor and add to their permanent stock of
thought, they fritter away their time upon a hash of literature chopped
up for them by a person possibly very unfit even to make good hash.
The mere statement