" Here was plainly a wholly new
species of the _genus homo_ in the editorial seat. What, expect to make
a newspaper pay and not beg for patronage? Why the very idea was enough
to make newspaperdom go to pieces with laughter. Begging for patronage,
howling for subscribers, cringing, crawling, changing color like the
chameleon, howling for Barabbas or bellowing against Jesus, all these
things must your newspaper do to prosper. On them verily hang the whole
law and all the profits of modern journalism. This is what the devil of
competition was doing in that world when William Lloyd Garrison entered
it. It took him up into an exceedingly high mountain, we may be certain,
and offered him wealth, position, and power, if he would do what all
others were doing. And he would not. He went on editing and publishing
his paper for six months regardful only of what his reason
approved--regardless always of the disapproval of others. Not once did
he palter with his convictions or juggle with his self-respect for the
sake of pelf or applause. His human horizon was contracted, to be sure.
It could hardly be otherwise in one so young. His world was his country,
and patriotism imposed limits upon his affections. "Our country, our
whole country, and nothing but our country," was the ardent motto of the
_Free Press_. The love of family comes, in the order of growth, before
the love of country; and the love of country precedes the love of all
mankind.
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