Chapter III: Foreword: Thos. E. Watson 3 (2)

“You stand knocking at the closed door of privilege, as the reformer has ever done, and saying to those within, ‘Open wide the doors! Let all who are worthy, enter. Let all who deserve, enjoy. Form no conspiracy against the unborn. Shut out no generations that are to be. God made it all for all. Put no barrier around the good things of life, around the high places of church or state. Make no laws which foster inequality. Establish no Caste. Legalize no robbery under the name of taxes. Give to no person natural or artificial sovereign powers over his fellow men. Open, open wide the doors! Keep the avenues of honor free. Close no entrance to the poorest, the weakest, the humblest. Say to ambition everywhere, the field is clear, the contest fair, come and win your share if you can!’

“Such is Populism. Such is its glorious Gospel. As such, I have loved it with boundless reverence. As its disciples, I have loved _you_, fought for you, toiled for you, _never for one moment doubting that you were right_, and that your creed was the same immortal creed which in all ages has challenged wrong, and defied oppression.”

* * * * *

Trample the Truth as rudely as you may, even in her death struggle her voice is heard to say:

“I WILL COME AGAIN.”

In the darkest hours of the past, when all seemed lost and the weaklings, the timeservers, the fickle minded and the mercenaries were fleeing to cover, I used to say, constantly, confidently, “_Courage_, friends. Be _firm_. DON’T LOSE HEART. It will all come right.

“Populism, as a party, may seem to be dead, but the Spirit is immortal. It cannot die. As sure as God lives,

“IT WILL COME AGAIN.”

And now, after many days, in God’s own time, it HAS come again. From the bottom of my heart and from yours, come _thanks to the Lord of the Universe who spared our lives to see this day_.

And the purpose to which every energy I possess shall be devoted, henceforth, is TO HELP THOSE WHOM THE PEOPLE COMMISSION TO BRING ABOUT REFORM.

As to Reward, I seek none, expect none, save that of the _Inner Voice_ which says,

WELL DONE.

With this glance into the Past, necessary to _you_, as well as to _me_, let us turn our backs to it, and face the Future--and let us WORK, as we never worked before.

Editorials.

Lead us gently, Father Time, as you take us to the portals of the New Year.

We know not _what may be within_; and our souls are burdened with fear as we _stand here at the door_.

Lost, forever lost, is _the Confidence_ with which we _used_ to go bounding into the New Year--as revellers hasten to the feast.

We have met the Unforeseen so often, have mourned where we thought to rejoice, been trampled upon amid the horrors of panic and defeat where we had so stoutly fought for victory and reward, that _our hearts are sadly subdued_, Father Time.

* * * * *

We did not SEEK this awful life-woe, Father Time.

_Thrust_, from some great outer darkness, into the hurly burly called Life, we gaze upward at the stars in helpless ignorance of what it all may mean; and some Irresistable Force pushes us, _pushes us_, swiftly, _inexorably_, onward _to another outer_ darkness that _fills us with speechless awe_.

* * * * *

Have mercy on us, Father Time. We have been beaten with many stripes, and are covered with many wounds.

God! How we have _suffered_!

We knew _nothing_ at the beginning, and we know but little _now_; and, _for every lesson that we have learned, we have been made to pay in heart-aches and scalding tears_.

_Always_ struggling, often _down_, always anxious for the Morrow, often in torture _Today_, we have stumbled forward, Father Time, still looking for the smooth road and the sunny sky and the bright Companionship of Success and Peace.

Shall we NEVER see Carcassonne, Father Time?

* * * * *

We shudder when we think of what you did to us during the Old Year, Father Time.

Ah, but you were hard on us--_bitter hard_. Our little ones _panted for a breath of fresh air_, Father Time; and they died like flies, in noisome, reeking, crowded tenements, because there was not, in all God’s Universe--where there’s light and air for every flower that flecks the field--_a breath of fresh air for the little children of the slums_.

Ah, it was pitiful, Father Time!

Our feeble ones, young and old, _perished miserably of cold and hunger_, in the midst of a land that worships the Good God, and amid such an accumulation of wealth as was never known before since the Morning stars looked down upon a newly-made world.

Poverty, Crime, Vice, Drunkenness, Riot, War, Famine, Pestilence, Earthquake, Conflagration have glutted their awful appetites upon us during the Old Year, Father Time. To WHAT _are you leading us in the New_?

_Will the heart of the world grow harder and harder, Father Time?_

Will the greed of human avarice demand still larger _sacrifice of human lives_?

Will _the Selfishness of Class gorge itself still further_ upon ravenous conquest, and remorseless exploitation?

Shall the cry of the White Slave NEVER reach Heaven, Father Time?

Shall the song of the angels who hung over the infant Christ, NEVER throb, _a living principle_, in man’s government of man?

Is the Reformer _always_ to be the Martyr, Father Time?

Is Wrong NEVER to be dethroned?

* * * * *

Oh, Father Time! We tremble as we feel you leading us toward the door of the New Year. Beyond that portal we cannot see, and _we dread it--as children dread the dark_.

Deal gently with us in the New Year, Father Time.

Give us _strength_ to bear the Cross--for we know that we must bear it.

Give us _courage_ for the battle, for we know that we must fight it.

Give us _patience_ to endure, for we know that we shall need it.

Give us _Charity_ that thinks not evil of the Just, and which will stretch forth the helpful hand _to lift our weaker Brother_ out of the mire, rather than the cruel scorn which passes him by, or _thrusts him further down_.

Give us _Faith in the Right_ which no defeat can disturb, no discouragement undermine.

Give us the _Love of Truth_ which no temptation can seduce and no menace intimidate.

Give us the _Fortitude_ which, through the cloud and the gloom and the sorrow of apparent Failure, can see the distant pinnacles upon which the everlasting sunlight rests.

Give us the _Pride_ which will suffer no contamination, no compromise of self-respect, no wilful desertion of honest conviction.

Give us the _Purpose_ that never turns and the _Hope_ that never dies.

And, Father Time, should the New Year, into which you are taking us, have upon its calendar _that day_ in which the few who love us shall be bowed down in sackcloth and ashes, let THAT day, like all the other days, find us ON DUTY--faithful unto the end.

Mr. Bryan and Mr. Watson.

When I was in Nebraska in 1904 Mr. Bryan showed me every courtesy; therefore, it was most appropriate for me to reciprocate at the first opportunity. When Mr. Bryan reached the State of Georgia, during his recent tour of the South, I wrote him a note which he gave to the press, and which our readers have doubtless seen.

Not long afterwards the following personal acknowledgement was received:

September 22nd, 1906.

Hon. Thos. E. Watson.

My Dear Mr. Watson:

I received your letter at Augusta and thank you very much for your
cordial greeting.

I am sorry that it was impossible for us to stop over with you. It is
gratifying to know from what I have learned that we are going to be
able to act together in the coming contest. There has been a
remarkable change in public sentiment, so that things that were
formerly denounced as radical are now regarded as not only quite
reasonable, but even necessary. If you come our way, we shall be glad
again to see you, only hoping that you may have more time than when
you last visited us. Mrs. Bryan joins me in best wishes.

Very truly yours,

W. J. BRYAN.

* * * * *

Mr. Bryan says: “_It is gratifying to know from what I have learned that we are going to be able to act together in the coming contest._”

Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see the National Democratic party undergo a general casting out of the unclean spirits that have taken possession of it. If it should become truly Democratic, if it should return to the principles of the fathers, if it should renounce Hamilton and all his works, if it should rebaptize itself in the creed of Jefferson, if its National organization should expel every tool of the Trusts, every agent of Wall street, every beneficiary of special Privilege--_then the Democratic party would stand for substantially the same things as The People’s Party_.

That being so, why should we not be able “to act together?”

Party _names_ are nothing. _Principles_ are everything. True reformers think more of _having the work done_ than of _getting the credit_. Many Populists condemned me in 1905 for advising them to support Hoke Smith for Governor of Georgia. _No Populist condemns me now._ EVERYBODY REALIZES THAT THERE ARE MORE POPULISTS IN GEORGIA TODAY THAN THERE EVER WERE BEFORE.

Read once more the strong, manly letter which Hoke Smith wrote for the first issue of the Weekly Jeffersonian, and then remember that thirteen years ago the writer was a member of Cleveland’s Cabinet--_then_ you will realize how immensely _the man has grown_.

Well, his Democratic followers have grown with him, and we Jeffersonians vastly outnumber the moss-backs throughout the State of Georgia.

* * * * *

As Mr. Bryan says, _a great change is coming over the people_. Doctrines which were scouted a few years ago are shouted now. Radicals who were hooted, howled down and rotten-egged a few years ago are getting bouquets now. _The Hearst editorials and speeches read like Populist harangues of 1892._ THE BRYAN PLATFORM OF 1906 EMBRACES WHAT WAS CONSIDERED THE WILDEST PLANK OF THE PEOPLE’S PARTY PLATFORM OF 1891.

“Act together,” William? Why not--_if you take our principles for your creed and reorganize your old party to fit your new faith?_

* * * * *

That all true reformers may find a way to “act together” is a consummation devoutly to be wished. A conference between Bryan, Hearst and myself for that purpose was suggested immediately after the election of 1904, but neither Mr. Bryan nor Mr. Hearst seemed to approve.

What may happen between now and 1908 no one can foretell, but I am _still hoping that some honorable plan may be hit upon which will enable all true-hearted reformers to_ “_act_ TOGETHER” _and overthrow this fearful system which enables the privileged few to plunder the unprivileged many_.

Socialism at War with Love of Home and Country.

In a recent issue of a leading Socialist paper the following gem of thought is to be found:

“‘PATRIOTISM’ _is a nickname for_ ‘PREJUDICE.’”

Do you know why the Socialist flouts _patriotism_ and calls it _prejudice_?

Think a little, and you will see. You love your _country_ because your _home_ is a part of it; and you love your _home_ because it is _your individual haven of refuge from the storms of life_--the individual kingdom in which you are lord and master and in which you enjoy, with your wife, your children, and your friends, whatever happiness life can give.

_The man never lived who would_ NOT _fight for his home_--HOWEVER HUMBLE.

The man never lived who _would_ fight for the tenement house in which he chances to be a lodger. THE HOME IS EVER SACRED--the _hotel_ never is. The reason is plain enough. The home is yours, _individually_; the hotel is everybody’s _generally_. Now, the Socialist strikes at _individualism_. He doesn’t want to own your home by any title that gives you individual control of it. _He wants everybody’s home to belong to you, and your home to belong to everybody._ In other words, the homes of the people are to be owned collectively. If society sees fit to say to you “MOVE ON,” out you go. Society will substitute _its_ title for _your_ title, _its_ will for _your_ will, _its_ control for _your_ control. The home that Socialism will permit you to use this year may be allotted to some one else another year.

_Under these conditions no man would love his home any more than he would love his room in a hotel._ Under these conditions, the citizen would have _no greater inducement to make permanent improvements upon his home, than he would have to make improvements upon the hotel_.

Love of home being destroyed, love of country would also be destroyed. Patriotism, being founded upon love of home, would perish under Socialism, for the simple reason that the foundations would be gone. _Under Socialism, the most beautiful feature of civilized life would disappear._ Home life, as we know it, would be impossible. The song of “Home, Sweet Home,” would thrill no responsive chords in the human heart. The tender pathos of Burns’ “Cotter’s Saturday Night,” would not be felt. Socialism would answer with a universal YES, Sir Walter Scott’s ringing challenge,

“Lives there A MAN WITH SOUL SO DEAD,
Who never to himself hath said,
THIS IS MY OWN, MY NATIVE LAND?”

National Finance Run Mad.

THE WASHINGTON POST is authority for the statement that the President will, in his next Message, _again_ urge upon Congress the necessity for Currency Reform.

The MONEY QUESTION, as you will remember IS SETTLED; it is only THE CURRENCY that needs REFORM.

Bryan says THE MONEY QUESTION IS SETTLED; ditto Roosevelt; ditto Secretary Shaw; _ditto the big bugs of_ BOTH _the dear old political parties_.

Yet, with equal unanimity and fervor, they all say that THE NEED OF CURRENCY REFORM is something fierce.

Peculiar, isn’t it?

* * * * *

When _the people_ want financial legislation that will _restore the system of The Fathers_, it is THE MONEY QUESTION, and it’s SETTLED. The old party leaders, one and all, agree upon THAT.

Politically, therefore, THAT question is RES ADJUDICATA, and must not be spoken of any more.

But when _the corporations_ want financial legislation _which will tend still further to make our National Treasury a huge Reservoir from which the National Banks and their allies can draw strength, support and profit_--why, THEN, it is a matter of CURRENCY REFORM, and if Congress doesn’t give the Money Power everything it demands, the Country will go to the “demnition bow-wows.”

That’s how it is, my son.

THE MOGULS OF HIGH FINANCE declare that what our currency system needs is greater “_elasticity_.” The India rubber quality is wanting, it seems. The present system doesn’t _stretch_ readily enough. The Moguls declare that the “_rigidity_” of the currency system threatens us with calamitous conditions at the prospect of which the imagination becomes exhausted and quits business.

Those two words, “_elasticity_” and “_rigidity_” are being featured in all the Mogul talk, all the Mogul papers--and are being dutifully repeated by all the Mogul Senators and Representatives.

* * * * *

YET, THERE ISN’T A PARTICLE OF SOUND COMMON SENSE in all this cant about _elasticity_ and _rigidity_.

When the currency system of the body-politic is healthy and normal, there can be no question of elasticity and rigidity. Like the circulation of the blood in the human body, the circulation of money will take care of itself.

ONCE GET THE SYSTEM RIGHT, AND NATURE WILL DO THE REST.

If the Physician tells you that YOUR CIRCULATION IS BAD--you KNOW what that means.

Your system is out of order. The blood goes about its business, without any help from YOU, PROVIDED YOUR SYSTEM IS KEPT IN ORDER.

YOU don’t have to pump blood away from center to the extremities; THE BLOOD WILL GO THERE, OF ITSELF, IF YOUR BODILY SYSTEM IS IN THE PROPER, NORMAL, SOUND CONDITION.

It is just so with, the circulation of money in the body politic; if the system is RIGHT, THE MONEY CIRCULATION WILL REGULATE ITSELF BY NATURAL LAWS.

* * * * *

ELASTICITY--RIGIDITY--two words that are cunningly employed to disguise the purpose of the Moguls of National finance. _Those conspirators mean to drive the Government still further away from the Constitutional system of the Fathers._ They mean to push still further _the usurped power of the National Banks to create and control the supply and distribution of the Currency_.

“Currency Reform” means nothing more nor less than that.

* * * * *

GOVERNMENT LOANS TO THE COMMON PEOPLE, at four per cent, or even at two per cent, would seem to be _more statesmanlike_, in all respects, than _this eternal lending of government money to Wall Street without any interest at all_.

WHY SHOULD UNCLE SAM FURNISH GAMBLERS MONEY TO SPECULATE WITH? Can any good reason be given for it? Does it seem to be fair to legitimate business men? Is it just to the taxpayers? Can it be RIGHT?

Yet the Wall Street gamblers got nearly ($30,000,000) thirty million dollars from the U. S. Treasury in one lump. Upon this huge sum of public money, the speculators will pay no interest at all.

Is it right?

* * * * *

ACCORDING TO THE OFFICIAL STATEMENT for Nov. 12th, 1906, THE GOVERNMENT has now increased ITS LOANS TO THE NATIONAL BANKS to the stupendous TOTAL of $147,000,000.

Never before has the gratuitous loan been so large. Who can defend such a policy? Who would not BE ASHAMED to appear before an audience of intelligent voters to advocate the wisdom and the propriety of such GOVERNMENTAL FAVORITISM as this?

You laughed at the Farmers’ Alliance when it favored government loans to the people, on the best of security, at two per cent interest. Yet you say _nothing_ against government _loans to a few pet National Banks_ FREE OF INTEREST, and upon DOUBTFUL SECURITY.

Part of that LOAN OF ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-SEVEN MILLIONS is secured by Chicago Municipal Bonds, called, I believe, the Sanitary Bonds. Would you not prefer to lend YOUR Money upon a good farm, or _upon warehouse certificates for cotton_?

* * * * *

THE FARMERS would be only too glad to pay the Government FOUR PER CENT for that money which THE PET BANKS GET FOR NOTHING. Four per cent interest upon one hundred and forty-seven million dollars is a tidy sum. Figure it out and you will see, that it is about SIX MILLION DOLLARS. That’s a neat sum to be GIVEN AWAY EVERY YEAR, isn’t it?

* * * * *

CONSIDER THIS ALSO: You, the Common People, are the taxpayers who put that money into the U. S. Treasury. THE PET NATIONAL BANKS PAY, PRACTICALLY, NONE OF IT.

Yet THEY have the use of YOUR money FREE. If YOU get the use of a dollar of it, YOU MUST GO TO THEM FOR TERMS.

_Tough_, isn’t it?

NO WONDER THE MONEY SUPPLY IS CONGESTED. So long as the Government TAXES IT OUT OF THE POCKETS OF THE MANY, and delivers it over TO THE FEW, there is _bound_ to be congestion.

Yet, the Pet National Banks are moving heaven and earth, RIGHT NOW, to have CONGRESS LEGISLATE IN FAVOR OF GREATER CONGESTION. The power of the Few over the Many must be increased by additional legislation. Otherwise, the bottom will drop out and Perdition will have us by the nape of the neck. When eminently respectable cabinet officers, congressmen, editors, etc., tell you that THE PRESENT SYSTEM OF RUNNING THE FINANCES IN FAVOR OF WALL STREET SPECULATORS AND PET BANKS is safe and sane, and that all we need is to make it a little more so, BELIEVE EVERY WORD OF IT AND VOTE ACCORDINGLY.

On the contrary, when some discredited crank tells you that _it is an infernal shame_ to use the law-making machinery in that manner, _howl him down_, at once.

DON’T LEND TO THE TAXPAYER HIS OWN MONEY AT FOUR PER CENT. THAT’S PATERNALISM--and it STINKS.

Take the taxpayers’ money and LEND IT TO THE PET BANKS without any interest.

THAT’S STATESMANSHIP--and it SMELLS LIKE ATTAR OF ROSES.

As to Hearst.

The case against Plutocracy gained an advance upon the Docket by the New York gubernatorial contest, but, unless I am much mistaken, two national figures came out of it with mud on their boots.

One of these is W. R. Hearst.

The other is W. J. Bryan.

When Max Ihmsen advised Mr. Hearst to come to terms with Murphy, the striped Tammany Boss, he disgusted thousands of sincere Hearstites, not only in New York but throughout the Union.

The deal was _too_ bad.

It took Hearst out of the class of Reformers and put him into that of self-seeking Politicians.

It created in the minds of his disinterested friends the suspicion that he posed as a Reformer to serve the purpose of a personal ambition.

* * * * *

Boss Murphy is a rich specimen of the Boss--the man who is in politics for Money, who cares nothing for Principle, who has no conception of Duty, who would not understand what you meant if you talked to him about Moral Obligation, who amasses wealth by screening from adverse legislation the rascals that rob the Public under corporate names, who makes it possible for invaluable public franchises to be stolen with impunity, and who renders it easy for the robbers that grabbed the property to use it to oppress and exploit the people from whom it was stolen.

I _know_ that Murphy is the worst representative of _that class of Bosses_ because the Hearst newspapers told me so.

I _know_ that he has used his power, as Tammany Chief, to protect such robbers of the Public as Belmont, Morgan, Rogers and Ryan, because Mr. Hearst has told me so with “damnable iteration” and convincing emphasis these many years.

At the breakfast table, he reminded me of it in his morning paper, _The American_.

At the supper table, he recalled the fact to my memory in his evening paper, _The Journal_.

In fact, he gave me no chance to forget it.

Murphy, a protector of Crime, Murphy, a tool of the Plunderbund; Murphy, the stuffer of ballot-boxes; Murphy, the ally of Murderers and thieves; Murphy, the inciter to assassination; Murphy, who robbed New York in the interest of Ryan and Belmont; Murphy, who ought to be in the Penitentiary garbed in convict stripes--THIS Murphy became so familiar to me in the Hearst newspapers that I would have felt the loss of something habitual, and therefore necessary, had my friend Hearst ceased to grind the coffee-mill.

Yet Max Ihmsen deliberately planned a coalition between denouncer and denounced, between the Angel of Reform and the Devil of Plutocracy, between the Champion of the “Common People” and the hireling of the Plunderbund, between the man who cried “Stop thief” and the rogue who was making off with the stolen goods.

IT WAS TOO BAD.

It shocked the _Sense of Right_ of ten thousands of enthusiastic Hearstites who had believed in him as an _honest_ leader. * * *

See _the Consequences_ of this foul and fatal deal:

First--the loss of that most valuable asset, the real reformers of The Independence League;

Second--the revulsion of feeling among disinterested Democrats and Republicans who were supporting Hearst _on principle_;

Third--the calling back to robust life of the almost defunct Boss, Murphy;

Fourth--the complete rehabilitation of Tammany;

Fifth--the surrender to the Plunderbund of the State Supreme Court _for fourteen years_;

Sixth--the restoration to his place of power and hurtfulness of Thomas Grady, the most debauched legislative corruptionist in America.

I _know_ that Grady is that kind of man, because the Hearst papers have assured me of it so often that no doubt upon the subject disturbs the absolute serenity of my fixed opinion.

* * * * *

As these _net results_ of the New York election loom up clearly above the dust and noise of the conflict, it is natural that Mr. Hearst will be seen to have dimmed his halo very considerably; and _the fact that Murphy_, after securing to himself and his gang all the benefits of the coalition, _turned upon Hearst at the last moment and put the knife into him_, will cause no tears ANYWHERE.

That’s just what Hearst ought to have known would happen--for he had said things about Murphy which _no man_, born of woman, _could possibly forgive_.

* * * * *

But Bryan put a shadow upon _his_ radiance, also.

He swallowed the Hearst programme all the way through--from soup and fish to cheese and coffee. _His stomach balked at nothing._ The ousting of Democratic delegations which had been elected to the Buffalo Convention; the packing of that Convention with delegations which had not been elected; the throw down of The Independence League; the guillotining of the Independent candidates; the repudiation of the honest labor-champion, Thomas Rock, and the endorsement of the Plunderbund corruptionist, Thomas Grady; the fix-up of the Judiciary ticket in which three Judges were allotted to Hearst while Murphy calmly pocketed seven--Bryan’s gorge rose at none of these things. One and all, they slid down his gullet like rain-water down a tin valley.

Just think if it!

In 1904, Bryan was making 60 speeches a day for Parker--Judge Alton B. Parker--whom he described as “the Moses of Democracy.”

In 1906, he was writing, telegraphing, telephoning and so forth for W. R. Hearst, _the exact_ CONTRAST _to Parker_.

Heavens, what a leap!

From Parker to Hearst--from Greenland’s icy mountains to India’s coral strand.

NEVER saw such a jump before in my life.

And Bryan is going to find that it will require considerable dexterity to fit his crown on straight, after _that_ trouser-splitting leap.

HEARST has not changed _in principle_; PARKER has not changed _in principle_; yet within two short years MR. BRYAN _has advocated_ EACH OF THEM _with equal fervor_.

Quit playing Politician, William, or you will do yourself irreparable injury.

_Fly your flag_ AS REFORMER and hold your sword _straight before you_.

Don’t again call such a man as Parker “the Moses of Democracy.”

Don’t endorse Hearst, _when he is_ WRONG!

_Condemn the wrong_, and thus encourage Hearst to mend his ways, to retire Max Ihmsen, and THUS MAKE his powerful newspapers, MORE USEFUL, MORE EFFECTIVE IN THE GRAND CAUSE OF REFORM.

Ornamental Flag Poles--Eastern Insurance Companies.

The Pennsylvania politicians decided that the state needed a new Capitol. The people were told that unless a better state house were erected Pennsylvania would be pointed at with scorn, viewed with alarm, and otherwise treated in a disrespectful and uncomfortable manner.

So, the politicians, contractors, material men, jobbers, lobbyists, dead-beats, plain thieves and so forth, went forward and in due time a new capitol for Pennsylvania was evolved.

Costing how much?

THIRTEEN MILLION DOLLARS, MY SON.

The house, itself, cost only $4,000,000.

But, then, you see, it had to be furnished.

The “furnishings” of the new state house cost the tax payers of Pennsylvania $9,000,000.

As a sample of said furnishings, consider the one item of flag staff.

What would such a magnificent new capitol be without a flag flying above it?

_Of course_, the state house must be surmounted by the flag.

And how can the flag do itself credit, away up there in the heavens, without a pole to fly from?

_Of course_, there must be a flag pole.

So, the pole was put in place, and the flag was braced to the pole.

At what cost, please?

Why, the flag pole cost $850. Not $8.50, but $850.

So, at least, it appears upon the expense-account.

What was the flag pole made of?

Why, _it was just the round body of a large pine tree_.

Nothing else, my son.

The probability is that any sawmill in the country would have furnished such a tree for $25.

The labor of preparing the tree for use as a flag pole might have cost another $25.

Fifty dollars ought to have covered the entire cost.

But then, you see, the gang that was bossing the job needed money; therefore, the State of Pennsylvania was supplied with a fifty-dollar flag pole for the moderate sum of $850.

* * * * *

But the country is adorned with numerous _other flag poles of the same variety_.

One of them is PAUL MORTON, President of THE EQUITABLE ASSURANCE SOCIETY.

No institution in this land of the free has a flag pole that is more expensive.

Paul Morton costs the policy holders of the Equitable $80,000 per year. Not $8,000--which would be a fair price--but $80,000--which is a gouge.

Just how many men, equally capable, could be found to fill his place at $10,000 per year, it would be impossible to say; but there is no doubt whatever that Paul himself would have served the Society just as well upon a salary of $25,000.

But then, you see, he wanted more. So he took it.

Flag poles come high--under certain circumstances.

* * * * *

Life Insurance, properly done, is of vast benefit to the Insured. Life Insurance, improperly done, is of vast benefit,--to the Insurer. Those Eastern Companies got too gay. Their higher officers became corrupt. Under various flimsy pretexts, they began to plunder the Insured. _Local agents, who did the hard work, got small pay._ State agents and National officers drew princely salaries,--and did little to show for it.

Some of those Eastern Companies have been building Insurance Business on the same principle that gave an exhibition of itself in the building of the new State House of Pennsylvania.

Everybody knows that the taxpayers of Pennsylvania have been robbed. Everybody knows, equally well, that the Policy-holders of those Eastern Companies have been plundered.

From the standpoint of such rascals as the McCurdy gang, the Policy-holder resembled an Irish potato, in that _he had eyes yet saw not_.

The blind Policy-holder, _who could never see that he was being robbed_, became a jest among the thieves who spent his money in riotous living.

Life Insurance is all right--_when the Insurer is_.

BEFORE you allow the Insurance Company to examine YOU, _examine the Insurance Company_.

Abraham Lincoln’s Silly Biographers.

The process of making a saint out of Abraham Lincoln goes bravely on. His latest biographer, Mr. Hill, clears him of the charge of “telling stories just to amuse people.” Mr. Hill--a sober and worthy man, no doubt--produces a witness by the name of Ewing, who being duly sworn, deposes and says:

“I never heard Mr. Lincoln tell a story for its own sake or simply to raise a laugh. He used stories to illustrate a point, but the idea that he sat around and matched yarns like a commercial traveller is utterly false.”

Why should the Lincoln biographers strive and strain to establish the fact that HE NEVER “SAT AROUND AND MATCHED YARNS LIKE A COMMERCIAL TRAVELLER?”

Is it any disgrace to sit around, occasionally, and swap yarns, “like a commercial traveller?”

If so, the men who are TRULY RESPECTABLE are the dull fellows who can neither tell a joke, nor enjoy one. Some of the best and brightest men that ever lived have prided themselves upon their gifts in that very line. To be a good story-teller is to possess the golden key that unlocks almost every social door.

Daniel Webster revelled in a good story; so did Clay; so did Tom Corwin; so did Robert Toombs, and Alexander H. Stephens.

As a mental relaxation and recreation, there are, in fact, few things that serve better than “to sit around and match yarns like a commercial traveller.”

* * * * *

THE TRUTH ABOUT LINCOLN is that he was a man, and _a great man, but no saint_.

The last time I was in New York (November, 1905), my friend, Hon. T. H. Tibbles, of Nebraska, was there, also, and we talked of Lincoln, whom Mr. Tibbles had known.

And _one of the very things which Mr. Tibbles had seen and heard Mr. Lincoln do was “to sit around and match yarns like a commercial traveller.”_

* * * * *

MR. TIBBLES TOLD ME how, being at a certain place, his attention was attracted by repeated bursts of loud laughter, coming from a certain room. His youthful curiosity being excited, he followed the sound to the room from which it came. The sight that met his eyes was this: Abraham Lincoln was sitting in a chair, with his big feet upon a table in front of him; around him were grouped a number of men, to whom Mr. Lincoln was telling side-splitting yarns.

Tibbles joined the audience and got his share of the fun.

What of it?

Does that lower Lincoln in any sensible man’s eyes?

No. Let the Miss Nancy brigade go off to one side and talk about the nebular hypothesis, or some other nice, well-bred subject. For my part, I would prefer, _occasionally_, “to sit around and match yarns like a commercial traveller.”

* * * * *

I asked Mr. Tibbles whether the stories that he heard Mr. Lincoln telling were smutty.

At some future time, when I find, after a careful field-glass scrutiny of the horizon, that I have no other row on hand, and am feeling the need of one _very_ badly, _I am going to tell you Tibbles’ answer_.

Shoot, Luke, or Give Up the Gun.

Most men are presumed to have sense enough to know when the sun is up, and when it is down.

To no mortal on this earth is it a matter of vital importance to know the exact moment it rises and sets.

Even if any inquisitive lunatic wanted to know, he couldn’t find out, for the simple reason that the hour of sunrise and sunset varies with every mile of the earth’s surface, and is earlier to the man at the foot of the mountain than to the man on top.

In the military establishments of the world, however, it is considered to be a matter of life and death to know just when the sun rises and just when he sets. So extremely indispensable is this piece of daily information that a gun, a cannon we mean, _must_ be fired to proclaim the tidings.

“Boom!”--the sun is up.

“Boom!”--he’s down.

Whereupon, your true soldier can sleep with a conscience childlike in its freedom from care.

Otherwise not.

If that gun (mind you, a _cannon_) was _not_ fired, solemnly and formally fired, every time the sun rose and every time he set, the military breast would be racked with rude alarms, and the military mind would be tossed to and fro with dread forebodings.

To fire off a musket wouldn’t do; wouldn’t _begin_ to do.

It would be unconstitutional, if not actually anarchistic and revolutionary.

To start the day without firing a cannon--why the military establishment could no more perform its traditionary functions without a cannon salute to the coming and going of the sun than one of the old parties could exist without stuffed ballot boxes.

Therefore, the custom is fixed--rooted, as it were, in the soil of our civilization. It is one of the greatest advantages we have over our untutored ancestors.

However much _they_ may have yearned to shoot the sun up and shoot it down, they couldn’t do it. They had nothing to shoot with. They were so completely engulfed in the currents of stupidity and barbarism that they just had to trust to their eyes to know when the sun was up, or was down.

You might ask how the soldiers do _on cloudy days_. You might ask, with unseasonable levity, if the army doesn’t have to go by the clock _when the sun is not to be seen_. And you might, out of your desire to be smart and show yourself off, ask whether the army couldn’t go by the clock as well on fair days as on foul ones.

But such questions as these will do you no good, and they would cause you to lose friends. They are irrelevant impertinences.

For, you see, when anything has been done a long time, the presumption is that there is sense in doing it that way.

Therefore, all nice and respectable people put salt in the fire when the screech owl twitters, and make a cross mark and spit in it, whenever they turn back in their tracks. We all do this because the custom has age and good sense on its side.

If you think you can prance through the world smashing steady old customs which have been handed down to us from time immemorial, you are in a fair way to get yourself into trouble.

Consequently, if you don’t like the way the armies of the world spend the people’s money shooting for the sun, you had just as well make up your mind to the wisdom of laying low, and paying your share of the expenses.

Every two years, your chosen representatives in Congress approve the item in the Military Appropriation Bill which gives $20,600 to the army to shoot the sun-shoots with.

Now, if you don’t like it what are you going to do about it?

The soldiers are not going to go by clocks or by eyes--they are going to shoot those cannon, at all the military posts, every time the sun rises and every time he sets.

And you will continue to pay the expenses, as formerly.

What else are you here for?

“Boom!”--the sun’s up.

“Boom!”--he’s down.

And it only costs $20,600.

See how great a thing it is to be civilized.

We shouldn’t be surprised if the sun had lots of amusement watching us fools down here.

BOOM!!!

The Dismissal of Those Negro Troops.

What else could the President have done?

He is Commander-in-Chief of the Army: certain members of a certain battalion “shoot up” a certain town destroying property, terrorizing a peaceful community and committing murder.

The Commander-in-Chief endeavors to discover the identity of the guilty parties. He fails. He then _appeals to the honor of the battalion_, asking that the innocent point out the guilty. By no other method can the red-handed rioters and murderers be identified and brought to Justice.

_The battalion is deaf to the appeal._

The innocent refuse to point out the guilty.

_The innocent elect to make a common cause with the guilty._

Therefore, THEY, THEMSELVES, BECOME GUILTY of the highest crimes, as ACCESSORIES AFTER THE FACT.

In law and morals, there is _not an innocent man left in that battalion_, whose every member deliberately conceals the murderers, aids and abets them after full knowledge of the crime.

Considering them all as guilty, the President ordered their dishonorable discharge.

_Why not?_

They had committed crimes involving turpitude, degrading the uniform.

They had sullenly defied the President’s appeal to their honor, and hence his notice to disband them.

The innocent had elected to share the guilt of the guilty, and thus _the whole battalion was guilty_.

* * * * *

Fanatical friends of the blacks say that the President _should not have punished the innocent_.

Nor did he.

He who conceals a murderer giving him aid and comfort, is himself a party to the crime.

What legal principle is older and sounder than that?

The fanatics overlook it.

The President did not.

Nor will those who consider the facts without passion and seek to judge the case without prejudice.

Apparently, the fanatics intend to convulse the Congress and the country over this matter of the Negro Troops.

Let it not be forgotten that _even now the fanatics do not propose that the originally innocent negroes shall be required to point out those originally guilty_.

The fanatics demand that the President back down, and that the order for the dismissal of the negroes be countermanded.

Thus, the originally guilty will be forever screened, and the crimes they committed will forever go unwhipt of Justice.

The President has been right and should be sustained.

To allow these fanatics and these negroes to triumph over the President, WOULD BE TO EXALT THE CRIMINAL AND TO DEGRADE THE JUST JUDGE.

If that had been a battalion of white men, nothing would have been said about it.

But it was a lot of negroes--consequently the fanatics got busy.

The Proposed Ship Subsidy

A FAT MAN who was talking loud enough to disturb his fellow-passengers on the train, said:

“What we need now is the Ship Subsidy, and the Panama Canal and”--the rest was of the same sort. He had read something like this in a newspaper, and had SEEN IT THERE SO OFTEN that he had come to the conclusion it must necessarily be true.

IN THIS WAY SOME MEN GET WHAT THEY CALL THEIR OPINIONS.

Not YOU, of course. You get yours BY THINKING FOR YOURSELF. I KNOW that this is so, because YOU TOLD ME SO YOURSELF.

“We need a Ship Subsidy,” declared the fat man, with emphasis and decision. So “WE” do--but who are the “WE?”

The WE who need a Ship Subsidy are the Privileged, the beneficiaries of Class Legislation, the Trusts which gorge themselves upon unjust advantages.

In order that we may enable the Manufacturing Class _to enjoy a Monopoly at home while they undersell the foreign Manufacturer in the foreign market_, we have put a fictitious, UNNATURAL VALUE TO THE MATERIALS OUT OF WHICH SHIPS ARE BUILT.

Consequently it costs MORE to build a ship in the United States than anywhere else in the world.

Now, our Navigation laws will not allow the national flag to protect an American vessel UNLESS THAT VESSEL IS BUILT IN THE UNITED STATES.

RESULT:

The foreigner has come WITH HIS CHEAPER VESSEL and borne off our carrying trade.

Our infernal Tariff and Navigation laws have driven our flag from the seas, by making it IMPOSSIBLE FOR THE AMERICAN MERCHANT TO BUY HIS SHIP ABROAD, OR TO BUILD ONE AT HOME ON SUCH TERMS AS WILL ENABLE HIM TO COMPETE WITH THE FOREIGN-BUILT SHIP.

Isn’t that plain enough, WHEN YOU STOP TO THINK IT OVER?

BUT THE FAT MAN declared that what WE need is the Ship Subsidy Bill.

What IS the Ship Subsidy Bill?

Why, it is a proposition that the Government shall, in effect, take money out of the National Treasury TO MAKE GOOD TO THE SEA MERCHANT THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE FOREIGN AND HOME PRICE OF THE SHIP.

That’s the GIST of it, my son.

AT YOUR EXPENSE, the government has created the Trust which makes it _impossible for an American to build a ship that can compete for ocean-going freight_.

AT YOUR EXPENSE, that impossibility is to be abolished. THE DIFFERENCE IN PRICE between the cheap foreign-built ship and the dear home-built ship IS TO BE MADE UP OUT OF YOUR MONEY.

AT YOUR EXPENSE, the Trust will therefore be ABLE TO COMPETE for the ocean business.

AT YOUR EXPENSE, the Trusts themselves will scoop the Carriers’ profit upon the transportation of the Trust-made goods which ARE SOLD ABROAD CHEAPER THAN THEY ARE SOLD AT HOME.

You catch it all around, don’t you, son?

* * * * *

YES, THE FAT MAN was right.

We DO need a Ship Subsidy--we Trusts.

We want to maintain our monopoly at home, and we will do it. We want to continue to undersell the foreigner in the market and we will do it. We want, furthermore, to rake into our own coffers the profits now reaped by the foreigner who controls ocean transportation.

We COULD do this _by lowering the Tariff_, but that would derange our entire Class-law fabric. THAT WOULD ENDANGER OUR MONOPOLY OF THE HOME MARKET.

Consequently, the only way for us to get what WE want, is to have the Government grant us a Subsidy which will make good to us THAT DIFFERENCE IN PRICE between home-made and foreign-made vessels WHICH OUR TRUST-CREATING TARIFF HAS CAUSED.

Thus we, the Privileged, will unload upon the Unprivileged BOTH LOADS,--that of the Trust, and that of OUR escape from THE ONE CONSEQUENCE of the trust WHICH HURTS US.

* * * * *

THERE IS ONLY ONE incident to the Protective system which is a drawback to the Trusts.

That is THE IMPOSSIBILITY OF CONTROLLING OCEAN TRANSPORTATION.

Every OTHER incident to the Protective System HELPS THE TRUSTS AND HURTS THE PEOPLE.

The one incident which HURTS THE TRUSTS AND HELPS THE PEOPLE must be dealt with.

We must so manage that ocean transportation shall likewise belong to the Trusts.

How?

BY GIVING TO THE MERCHANT MARINE A SUM OF MONEY OUT OF THE PUBLIC TREASURY, OVER AND ABOVE THE FREIGHT WHICH IS EARNED.

Then, indeed, every incident of the Protective System will present a harmonious color-scheme, for THE TRUSTS WILL HAVE HOGGED THE WHOLE BUSINESS.

And that donation out of your tax money, which is intended to save the Trusts from the injurious burden of their own damnable Tariff System is the Ship Subsidy which the fat man said we need.

So long as the Protective System hurts the Common People it is a national blessing and must be gratefully sustained: _but the moment the same_ system pinches the Protected Interests, they must _rob you_ under the form of Ship Subsidy to get back what they lose by their own tariff.

An Appeal to Patriotism.

Signs are plentiful that tens of thousands of honest Democrats and Republicans are profoundly dissatisfied with the trend of recent events.

We look to the State, and no beacon light gives us confidence.

The time was when our rulers loved the people, trusted the people, worked for the people. Those were the times when there was light on the hearth, plenty on the board, and hope in the hearts of the people.

Those were the times when our rulers _remembered that our forefathers came here to build a temple, a government_, DIFFERING IN ALL VITAL RESPECTS FROM THE HATEFUL SYSTEMS OF THE OLD WORLD.

For this very purpose--that of establishing a system entirely different from that of Europe--our forefathers braved the perils of the deep; fought hunger and faced death; battled with the wilderness and the savages it held; determined to die free, rather than live slaves.

In Europe they were fettered by class laws, class privileges, class tyrannies.

They were crowded out from a fair competition for a share of nature’s bounties by monopolies, chartered wrongs, statutory abuses, legalized spoliations.

Braver than we, their degenerate sons, they counted life worth nothing unless freedom went with it, and THEIR COMING HERE WAS A SUBLIME PROTEST AGAINST THE OLD WORLD SYSTEM OF CLASS-LAW AND SPECIAL PRIVILEGE.

What have we, today, _as the result of all their heroism, and suffering and success_?

We have our rulers aping everything Europe does, and fitting upon us, forever, the abominable system our forefathers fled to escape.

_Where are class laws more insolently dominant than here?_

Where is Special Privilege more tyranically exacting than here?

Where are monopolies more contemptuous of law and public welfare than here?

What people are greater slaves to misgovernment than you whose low-priced products must bear the strain of untaxed bonds, useless offices, and a steady growth of ever increasing salaries?

Who pay _nine-tenths of all the taxes_?

THE MANY WHO TOIL.

Who gets _the lion’s share of all the wealth produced_?

THE FEW WHO DO NOT TOIL.

In what country do the laborers, in shop and mine and mill and field, produce more of the good things of life than ours?

It cannot be named.

In what country has nature opened her royal hands with a more regal bounty?

It cannot be named.

Has there been any failure of harvest?

No.

Has there been pestilence, invasion, or civil strife?

No.

Then why is it that the signal guns of distress sound all along the commercial seas, telling of brave ships going down?

Why is it that the feet of the homeless and the unemployed beat the pavements of our great cities with a never-ending march?

Oh, brothers! why are so many hearths chill and dark, so many hungry mouths unfed, so many despairing souls weighed down with the nameless dread of the unknown future?

We have left the beaten track of our fathers. We have let the old landmarks be forgotten. We have gone after strange gods.

We have foresworn the faith upon which our republic was founded, and are being led back to the system our ancestors came here to shun. Why can’t we all see it? Why can’t we all act together? Why can’t we lay down prejudice, pride and passion, and devote our noblest efforts to the salvation of our country?

How can the Republican party cut loose from its Morgan-isms, its McKinley-isms, its Carnegie-isms, its John Sherman-isms, its Standard Oil-isms, its Steel Trust-isms.

How can the Democratic party cut loose from its Cleveland-isms, its Carlisle-isms, its Wall Street-isms, its Whiskey Trust-isms, its Sugar Trust-isms?

Neither will ever cut loose.

In the coils of the serpents of the sea, Laocoon may struggle, but will nevertheless be powerless to escape.

Why cannot WE cut loose from these corrupt and class ruled organizations, as Jefferson cut loose from Federalism, as Jackson cut loose from National Republicanism?

While we dispute as to names and organizations, the State suffers. While we quibble over technicalities of political practice, liberty asks in vain for help.

Would it were not so!

Would that we could agree where we differ, unite where we divide, and love where we hate.

Would that some divine touch of duty could lift us all to the summits of patriotism where the only rivalry would be that of service--the only purpose that of redeeming the land from those who despoil it.

Call the party what you please--names are nothing--but let us have a Union of all patriots who believe in equal and exact justice to all men, without special privilege to any. Let us have a democracy ruled by the people, instead of this greedy, corrupt, heartless plutocracy ruled by corporate money.

Love Licks.

_The Saturday Evening Post_ says that “Max Ihmsen, Hearst’s chief political adviser, was once a theatrical advance agent.”

Was _once_?

When did he quit?

Judging from the way he managed Hearst’s New York campaign, he’s as much of what he _once was_ as he _ever_ was--if not more.

* * * * *

That brightest and best of newspapers, the _Washington Post_, suggests that some Frenchman snuff out the wretched little cad, libertine, and aristocratic brute, Boni Castellane.

Granting that the snuffing out suggestion is a good one, why should a _Frenchman_ be asked to shoot the contemptible and loathsome creature?

The American lady whose money he squandered, whose jaws he slapped, and whose life he wrecked, has _three able-bodied brothers_--why should the Gould brothers _wait for a Frenchman_ to take hold of the snuffing out job?

* * * * *

Joseph H. Choate, being asked to define the difference between Cleveland and Roosevelt, answered, “Mr. Cleveland is too lazy to hunt and Mr. Roosevelt is too restless to fish.”

But see what a happy middle-course Mr. Bryan takes. When too restless to fish, he hunts; and when too lazy to hunt, he catches fish. In other words, you _never can put your eye on him when he isn’t after it_.

* * * * *

The Moguls of High Finance have about worked out their plans for an elastic currency.

Their own notes are to be used as money, and the only thing back of the notes will be “the general credit of the Banks.”

How pleasant it is to witness the process by which national finance simplifies itself and acquires that suppleness of joint which the Moguls call “elasticity.”

A Money system which rests upon a bottle of ink, a quire of paper, and a printing press is _so_ simple that even a wayfaring fool may comprehend it.

And when it comes to pass that _any_ Mogul of Finance can turn himself, in the twinkle of an eye, into a Paper-money Mill, our currency will be “elastic” to beat the band.

Go it, Moguls!

* * * * *

The brilliant paragrapher of the _Atlanta Journal_ writes:

“The only thing lacking about the dismissal of those negro troops was that they should have been disbanded in Boston.”

Inasmuch as nearly all of “those negro troops” will be given permission to re-enlist, it isn’t clear to my mind that Boston couldn’t have enjoyed the episode quite as much as any other city--Atlanta, for instance.

* * * * *

The same paragrapher who _is_ really one of the brightest of the bunch, remarks:

“Stonewall Jackson once declared that ‘nothing justifies profanity.’ But then he never tried being Speaker of the House.”

While we are at it, let’s put the case stronger than _that_.

What’s being Speaker of the House to living in a town like Thomson, whose name the outside world spells in seven different ways?

What’s being Speaker of the House to having a fat knave and a lean sneak doing business _under your name_ in such a den as Town Topics?

What’s being Speaker of the House to having the fat knave and the lean sneak virtually tell the world, _in a magazine bearing your name_, that you are wealthy and _therefore_ could afford to work _for them_ for nothing?