of the Republican. The editor conquered his environ ment. He did it by making so good a newspaper that the people had to buy it. By industry and skill he won the opportunity for independence.)

There grew up in Mr. Bowles's mind an ideal of "journalism,"-a combination of principles, methods, and instincts, based partly on ethics, partly on expediency. With him, to say a thing was or was not "good journalism" was to put the final seal upon its character. It belonged to good journalism, in his idea, to tell all the news, and as a part of this to give every side a fair hearing. His opponents and critics could always find place for their articles, under reasonable conditions, in his paper. But it also belonged to his ideal of journalism that a paper should as seldom as possible own itself in the wrong. Accordingly, if a man wrote to him in correction of a statement, or in defense against criticism, he generally found his letter printed, but with some editorial comment that gave the last word tellingly against him. It was commonly said that to seek redress from the Republican did more harm than good. This trait was partly due to deliberate unwillingness to weaken the paper's authority by admission of error. But it was probably more due to a personal idiosyncracy. In many ways a most generous man, Mr. Bowles always hated to admit that he had been in the wrong. Sometimes he did it,-not often,-in private life; but in his paper never, when he could help it. "We sometimes discussed this," said Dr. Holland, "and he once said: 'I sympathize with the Boston editor, to whom a man came with the complaint, "Your paper says that I hanged myself, and I want you to take it back." "No," said the editor, "we're not in the habit of doing that, but we will say that the rope broke and you escaped."

But it must be said that this fault lies at the door of

a good many papers besides the Republican. It is a characteristic sin of journalism-one of the vices of irresponsible power. The English press is assumed to be more fair and decorous than the American. But Trollope, that faithful photographer of English manners, characterizes the Times upon this point. "Write to the Jupiter," counsels Bishop Grantley to the aggrieved Mr. Harding, who has been misrepresented by that paper. "Yes," says the more worldly-wise Archdeacon, "yes, and be smothered with ridicule; tossed over and over again with scorn; shaken this way and that, as a rat in the mouth of a practised terrier. A man may have the best of causes, the best of talents, and the best of tempers; he may write as well as Addison or as strongly as Junius; but even with all this, he cannot successfully answer when attacked by the Jupiter. Answer such an article! No, Warden; whatever you do, don't do that."

The vital principle of independent journalism, as Mr. Bowles understood it, was illustrated by an incident which occurred in 1856. While Mr. Bowles was out of town, a prize-fight was attempted in Springfield, and among those who gathered to witness it were some young men of good social standing, among them several relatives of Mrs. Bowles. Dr. Holland treated the incident in a very sharp article, as an instance of the coarse immoralities in which the rapidly growing town was beginning to imitate the worst features of the great cities. The article stated that the matter would come up in the police court, and those who had been concerned in it might expect full publicity to be given to their conduct. Before the trial, Mr. Bowles returned to town. In the evening, sitting on the door-step, his wife said to him, "Can't you let this thing drop? If you publish these young men's names, it will wound and alienate a great many of our friends." He answered, "Mary, I have con

sidered it all, most thoughtfully and conscientiously. The blame must be given where it is deserved. This is the time to put an end to prize-fighting in Springfield." The trial was fully reported in the Republican, including the names of those who as attendants at the prizefight were called as witnesses; and the paper commented in a few vigorous words on their presence at such a scene. Family alienations did follow, painful and not soon healed. But there never was another prize-fight in Springfield. In this and similar cases, the morals of the town were vastly the gainer by the unsparing publicity given to the misdeeds of men who had reputations to suffer. Just as the introduction of street-lights into cities did more to stop nocturnal crime than constables and courts could do, so by its reports of wrong-doing has the modern newspaper added a new safeguard to social morality. To exercise that great function as free from fear or favor as the judge on the bench, was the aim of the Republican. Its editor liked to make his power felt,— he liked to use it for the public good,- but the personal alienations which it brought were none the less painful to him.

MR.

CHAPTER X.

THE COMPROMISE OF 1850.

R. BOWLES'S special activity as a political writer began at just the time when national politics were assuming a distinctively new phase. Hitherto upon the questions connected with slavery, there had been room for constitutional anti-slavery men to act effectively within the Whig party. That party had opposed, though unsuccessfully, the war with Mexico and the spoliation of its territory in the interest of slavery. But when the slavery question in new aspects thrust itself upon the nation, the Whigs fell back from their anti-slavery ground. They yielded, or evaded, or compromised. They planted themselves on the ground of devotion to the Union, directly menaced by a strong faction at the South, and denounced by a small number of extreme Abolitionists at the North. The party was held together by this genuine Union sentiment, by old habit and association, and by devotion to its personal leaders. Between it and the Democratic party the differences in principle and policy became in reality of small importance. Both organizations strove to keep in abeyance the dangerous question of slavery; in each, the Southern wing repressed any active anti-slavery tendency in the Northern wing. At the South, the disunion element made some tentative efforts at organization, but found itself for a time in a

hopeless minority. At the North, the Free-soilers made no gains except through temporary or local coalitions with one of the two great parties. The extreme Abolitionists were very active, through press and platform, but they were few, and their denunciatory temper won for them an extreme unpopularity; their hand was against every man, and every man's hand against them. The sacred principle of liberty to the slave was ignored by the great parties; commercial interest sought to stifle it; the sentiment of love to the Union was arrayed against it; personal ambitions, ecclesiastical conservatisms, party associations,-all were hostile to it. It seemed scarcely to have any friends except a handful of heroic fanatics. Yet in truth, there was throughout the North a wide, deep and growing sentiment of opposition to slavery. It found voice through agitators like Garrison and his associates; through poets like Lowell and Whittier; through the mighty voice of Theodore Parker in the pulpit, and a few ministers in every denomination, who, often at heavy cost, were true to the prophetic function of rebuking national sin; through Free-soil politicians and orators, and through a few Whig and Democratic leaders who were in advance of the party lines, but had not yet broken them. The cause was strong in a multitude of men and women who did not yet see their way clear to action.

The slavery interest had urged the country into war with Mexico, and had gained Texas with the promise of four more slave states to be carved out of it in the future; and Mexico had been further despoiled of a vast area of territory, comprising what was afterward organized as California, New Mexico, and Utah. The question which now came to the front was, should this territory be slave, or free? It had been free under Mexican law, and its physical conditions were unfavorable to slave