Sometimes an honest man of my class, reading the news of the day, awakes to a sudden of the grim political truth. During the time of the public discussion over the late readjustment I remember such an incident. We were three men, sitting together in the smoking-room of an up-town club. One of us had brought in a copy of a and honest afternoon paper, containing a quiet, , careful but powerful analysis of the results brought about under the tariff reform measure. He had been struck by the article. He called it to the attention of the third member of the group, who sat down to read it.
He read it through, while my friend and I talked about trivial things. After quite a long period of silence he handed the paper back to the giver.
“What do you think of it?” he was asked.
His cigar had gone out. He lit it before he replied. Then he said, gravely:
“America needs a Marius, a Pitt, and a Peel. Before long it must get one or all of them, or it will surely breed a Danton and a Robespierre.”
It may have been epigram, but the two of us who heard it were startled. For the man who said it was a leader of the world of fashion, powerful in the world of business, and from four generations of the purest-blooded aristocracy this country owns.
Think, then, of the meaning of this sentiment from such a man at such a time! Marius, a , led the slaves of Rome to the seats of political power, broke down the age-old barriers of an aristocratic , and wrote into the history of the world one of its earliest chapters on the revolt of a nation held in chains for the benefit of a few. Pitt, Lord Chatham, the “Great Commoner,” from office by the combined power of a king, a class, and a political machine, was forced back into office by the will of the people, unorganized, in the face of all the banded powers against him, and in spite of a condition of political that made his return seem a miracle. Peel gave the people of England free corn against the banded powers of commercial greed.
And to-day, in America, an 156and a member of the plutocratic class, sitting in a great city club of fashion, reading an editorial from a paper that is published and edited to meet the demands of that very class, gives it as his opinion that in this country we must raise a Marius, a Pitt, and a Peel! And the alternative—the days of the Terror, the hands, the brutish mob, the wild-eyed, leaders of the hosts that stormed the Bastile, set up the guillotine—so runs the mind of an aristocrat and a plutocrat, reading the Evening Post in a rich man’s club on upper Fifth Avenue!
I believe that he was right. Without referring specifically to the tariff reform—for this is no political document that I am writing—I believe that the catalogue of by our machine over the past twenty years reveals beyond the shadow of a doubt that the will of the people is subservient to the will of the plutocracy. How can we further blind ourselves to the truth? When such a fact is known as gospel to the people, from Maine to California, published in every section of the press, from the gutter-snipe class to the scholarly review, how may the best educated class in the United States go on upon its careless way ignoring the fact?
The result is obvious in the light of history. The plutocracy, stripped of the artificial screens behind which it grew to power, stands exposed to-day in the full glare of the search-light of public knowledge. Under such circumstances, even in slave-holding nations, there has never lacked a tribune of the people. So158 sprung the Gracchi from the dust to lead the first great battle in Rome. So, even in the dawn of popular liberty, came a Tyler and a Cade, before their hour had struck, it is true, yet, even so, with power to call to their backs armies of men willing to die and conquerable only by accident or . So, in the fullness of time, came other greater men, a Marius, a Pitt, a Peel, who led the people and upward against the of plutocracy.
To-day we of the class that rules, that draws unearned profits from the of other men, know full well that the time is almost here when there must be a true . The fortunes that have been made are made; and that is all of it. The fortunes that are in the making through of political power, through extortionate exploitation of the people and159 the people’s heritage, through industrial oppression and industrial denial of the rights of man—these must be checked. To-morrow, in this land, the door of opportunity must be again unsealed.
We cannot go back and create more free land to take the place of the millions upon millions of acres thrown away by a , stupid, careless, government. We cannot fill again the mines of Michigan or Montana or Pennsylvania. We cannot clothe the hills of Maine and Michigan again with pine, or the broad bottoms of Ohio with . We cannot turn backward the hands of the clock, or re-create the economic factors that have been eliminated to make of their fragments the wealth and the social world to-day enjoyed by the exploiters and their descendants.
It is not so that evolution works. That 160rare civilization of the Aztecs which Cortez crushed can never be restored. Only echoes from the tombs of Lucumons, after the of twenty centuries, the fact that once, in Etruria, there existed a civilization , splendid, brilliant, until the tempest of Sulla’s it from the face of the earth. Only the ashes in the of history remain of Pharaoh’s Egypt, Athens, Babylon, Persia.
So, too, the golden opportunity of yesterday is gone, never to return within our borders. The lesson of America, however, is burned deep into the records of time. In Canada, such a man as Laurier reads it clearly. In the greater of the Latin republics in South America, they strive to-day to prevent the very condition we now161 find in free America. In this matter of the real substance of rulership, the United States is to-day an example to the nations of a democracy which has its birthright.
Yet, for all our lost opportunities, much that can be done and will be done. It is not my purpose here to the process of that is yet possible. Only, at this point in my writings, I would warn the people of my class, those of them who do not yet think about these things or understand them, that the moment has arrived when the people demand a Marius—a tribune who shall lead them onward into freedom, a man who shall stand before the world untrammelled by the golden chains of wealth, undefiled by the pollution of time-serving politics, filled with the inspiration of the people’s will, to battle to the very bitter end for the rights that the people demand.
Only the morally and intellectually deaf cannot hear the sound of the call of the people. It sweeps from the plains of Kansas in the breath of the corn; it from the hills of Montana in the thud of the drill and the rising and falling of picks in the mines; it whirs from the of the South and the North, where child slaves earn the bread of labour; it moans from the of New York, in the voice of the slaves of the sweat shop; it from the forges of Pittsburg, the charnels of Packingtown, the terrible mines of the mountains of coal.
It is a call for a leader to freedom—the freedom we bought with our blood and signed away in ignorance. I care not where you turn, the voices of the people crying for their rights rise stronger, fuller, more threatening, year by year. Day by day they organize. A meeting of farmers at St. Louis files formal protest against the profits of the middleman, and forms a committee to investigate and report, and puts together a League of Reform. A machine-made politician in New York, in Massachusetts, in Pennsylvania, is crushed by the votes of the people he fondly had dreamed he owned. A firmly public officer is branded a and a thief, no matter what committees may him. A public document published to clear the skirts of a ruling party of the charge of being in part responsible for the rising prices is laughed out of court by the people themselves.
A daring and attempt on the part of organized railroad owners to advance rates to the general public, while holding them down for the “big interests,” is met by a storm of organized protest. of commerce, industrial clubs, manufacturers’ , consumers’ leagues, spring up all over the country, expostulating, pleading, threatening, legal thunderbolts. A President yields to the clamour, and an attorney-general launches the thunder of Washington against a move that, ten years ago, would have met only the , , half-hearted, hopeless of the private citizen. The railroads yield, and begin the revision of rates “at the top,” by making agreements with the big organized shippers, the trusts.
The time is ripe, or nearly ripe; the fight begins. The status quo is to be changed. In the political all is confusion. Already, from the lips of the old, trained leaders, who, through long periods, have served the interests of the plutocracy while wearing the livery of the people, come hesitating phrases of fear and confusion. One announces that he will retire after his present term. Another goes down to defeat, fighting to the last for his masters. A third, branded a corruptionist, sees ruin stalking him amid the shadows of the coming day. Another, reading the papers, them , and madly curses them before the eyes and in the ears of all the people.
And, meantime, we need a Marius, a Lincoln, a strong man of the people, in whose hands will be the threads of political destiny. Events are opening to this strong man the gates of power. When he comes (and he is sure to come), he will hear the clear, unmistakable call of166 destiny to its chosen. Can he help but ? History supplies the answer. Go read it, you who rest secure within your flimsy barriers of self-interest, self-confidence, and gold. When another Lincoln comes, we shall know him.
“Of all the cankers of human happiness none with so silent yet so an influence, as indolence. Body and mind both , our being becomes a burthen, and every object about us , even the dearest. Idleness , ennui the hypochondriac, and that a diseased body. No person was ever yet . Exercise and application produce order in our affairs, health of body, and cheerfulness of mind; all these make us precious to our friends. It is while we are young that the habit of industry is formed. If not then, it never is afterwards. The fortune of our lives, therefore, depends on employing well the short period of youth.”
—Thomas Jefferson.