mitted now that the change which Northcliffe brought about in England was a wise one, but it is not impossible to conceive of an unwise change. The advantage of our system was that, having once committed to Lincoln the conduct of the government, with the power to wage war in its defense, it was not possible to remove him except for actual malfeasance in office,—rage as the Fourth Estate might, and did. The value of the checks that a constitutional government puts on all power, including that of the press, was never more clearly demonstrated or more fully justified.
A study of Lincoln's relations with the newspapers leaves one filled with wonder, as does a study of every aspect of his career, at the gifts with which nature had endowed this great son of American democracy. Whence came his vision? His uncanny overview of the men and problems about him is one of the mysteries of the story of civilized man. There is nothing like it in history; indeed, there is nothing in history like his calm use of all that was usable in the new power that had developed since the war of the Revolution. What was not usable, what was malignant and raging in the Fourth Estate, was calmly allowed to beat itself against the rocks.
The pity was that mere political manipulation kept Lincoln from close and sympathetic touch with the great journalist of his time—Horace Greeley. They should have been understanding friends; probably, but for Weed, they would have been. They had much in common, and the humble origin of both proves that great men are not born and left in the midst of the wilderness; rather are they born in the wilderness and transported by seeming miracles to the exact point where they are needed.
Lincoln's troubles with the editors began immediately
