CartoonLarger cartoonTHE TOWN TOPICS DEN INTO WHICH COL. MANN HAS MOVED THE BOGUS WATSON’S MAGAZINE.
Larger cartoon
THE TOWN TOPICS DEN INTO WHICH COL. MANN HAS MOVED THE BOGUS WATSON’S MAGAZINE.
But to my amazement he had stated it this way:
“I will pay it, but not now.”
Every one who was present must remember these words.
I said nothing at all in reply, but after all the others had retired,I remained behind and I reminded the Colonel courteously, of his pledgeto pay me when I came to New York. I asked that he pay me at leastHALF THE AMOUNT DUE.
He hung his head, for an instant only, and then, raising a flushed face, told me he would see what he could do, and give me a reply next day.
He complained of the heavy expense of his recent litigation, alluding of course to the celebrated Collier-Hapgood Libel Case and the subsequent prosecution of himself for perjury.
Next day he wrote me a long, sweet, persuasive letter begging me towait on him until July, 1906, at which time he would most assuredly pay. It wasthenthat I did what I should have done at first—consulted a New York lawyer.
Mr. Palliser advised me to make an end of the matterthen, and I should have taken his advice; but I loved my work and my Magazine, and at the last moment I yielded and let Col. Mann have his own way.
From motives that he is unable to understand or appreciate,I would have continued the unpaid slave of the Magazine, indefinitely, had not he and DeFrance made the situation intolerable. I felt my obligations to the subscribers: my pride in the success of the Magazine which bore my name was deeply involved. This was well known both to Col. Mann and DeFrance,and they presumed, upon it—once too often.
***
It may be asked why I did not cut loose fromthe Town Topics gangafterthe exposures in the Collier-Hapgood Case. Simply because Col. Mann had nothing on earth to do with what I regarded as the Magazine, to wit—its policy, its purpose, its message.Thatwas the life of the Magazine.That, in my eyes,was the Magazine.
I did not want to leave the subscribers in the lurch, nor did I want to abandon a field of labor in which I seemed to be doing a good work.
Every man who has a purpose in life and who loves his work, will understand me.
Therefore, when Clark Howell and others jumped on me for being connected with a person who was being denounced throughout the land as a blackmailer, I put the case on the strongest ground by saying, “I am the Magazine.” That was true. DeFrance and Mannwere glad enough to have me check defectionfrom the Magazine by saying itTHEN.
In a very short whilethey willWISH THAT THEY HAD ANOTHER METHOD, EQUALLY GOOD, OF CHECKING DEFECTION. The subscribers tothe magazine that was mine are not going to endorse what Col. Mann has done, nor remain with a magazine whichHEcontrols—never in the world.
***
If Colonel Mann had not lost his senses, in his haste to grab the Magazine, name and all, he would have foreseenthe utter folly of trying to run the thing in my nameafter I had gone out. AnewMagazine, under anewname, he could establish atless expense than he will incur in the vain effort to maintain a Watson’s Magazine without Watson. A child ought to be able to see that. What possible good willmy namebe to him when he himself publishes the statement thatIam out?
The name without the man will be a dead weight to the Magazine, as Col. Mann has, doubtless, begun to find out.
CartoonTHEY HAVE A CORPSE ON THEIR HANDS; THE SPIRIT ESCAPED THEIR CLUTCH.
THEY HAVE A CORPSE ON THEIR HANDS; THE SPIRIT ESCAPED THEIR CLUTCH.
Honesty, inTHIScase at least, should have been hisPOLICY. It would have paid him better in the long run.
Col. Mann rushed into court, got a judgment against the Magazine for $60,000;and sold it, at Sheriff’s sale,to himself.
He actuallyhad the Sheriff to sell my name, and was ass enough to buy it.
But he didn’t buyme, along with the name, and he didn’t buythe spirit of the Magazinewhen he bought the desks, the iron-safe and the trade name.
The most valuable asset, he could not, andcannotreach.
That’s the Good Will, the Reputation, the Demand!
This is thereal asset—THE ONLY ASSET WORTH HAVING.
This asset, in equity and good conscience,belongs to me, by the most sacred of all titles—THE WORKMAN’S RIGHT TO THE PRODUCT OF HIS LABOR.
Since it is mine, I mean to have it—in spite of all that Col. Mann may do.
***
“Explanatory” will seek in vain to convince any considerable number of people that I quit the Magazine on a mere question of salary.
That is the very thing that I always subordinated to other and higher considerations.
In some directions Col. Mann lavished money like a prince; in others, he doled it out like a miser.
Thus he squandered $12,000 in advertisements in daily newspapers, where they were not worth a hill of beans, andREFUSED TO FURNISH MONEY TO PAY ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY POSTAGEon sample copies.
He wasted $5,000 trying to run the advertising department on a fancy schedule, andrefused to pay the Authors who supplied us with the necessaries of life. Sometimes the writers who had been so badly treated had to threaten attachments, before they could get their money; and upon one occasionDeFrance had to sneak out of the office to avoid an irate Author who had come upon the scene with the Riot Act in his hand.
Talk aboutmeas the man who acted as if I wanted to “wreck” my namesake? What could damage the Magazine more surely and seriously than such management asthis? We got a bad name amongwriters, because we took their MSS. and then failed to pay. We got a bad name amongadvertisers, because ads were inserted upon almost any terms. We got a bad name amongsubscribers, because DeFrance allowed business letters to go unanswered, and because Wm. Green, the Publisher, dribbled the mailing of every issue throughTWO FULL WEEKS.
These were the difficulties with which I had to contend. The country is full of people who wanted to patronize us and befriend us and helpus, but who became so disgusted at not getting their magazines, and not getting answers to their letters, that they simply quit us in despair.
Would DeFrance like to see a list of their names?
I can furnish him with a good long one.
***
On one occasion Col. Mann was eager to have me send a cablegram, through our State Department, to our Minister at St. Petersburg, offering a thousand dollars to Maxim Gorky—then in prison—for an article for the Magazine.
That very week I had to take the money out of my pocket to pay the girls who worked in the office.
Upon another occasion, he ordered the sale,AS JUNK, of 60,000 copies of the MagazineWHICH HAD ALREADY BEEN WRAPPED AND ADDRESSED AND MADE READY FOR MAILING AS SAMPLE COPIES. They wereSOLD AS WASTE PAPER BECAUSE HE REFUSED TO FURNISH MONEY TO PAY POSTAGE.
Colonel Mann’s business was the publishing of magazines. Naturally, I assumed thathe was an expert at that business. It never occurred to me that I could be of any service in the business management until his absurd mistakes forced themselves upon my attention.
The Collier trial seemed to establish the fact that his way of making money out of his other magazines was the systematic blackmailing of Society swells and Wall Street thieves.
When he stands his trial for Perjury in the case now pending, the world will doubtless learn other peculiarities which characterize his management of magazines.
***
I wanted the Magazine to be a success, and I knew that it couldnotsucceed as then managed. Hence, my offer to continue, indefinitely, to work without compensation provided I were allowed to make those changes which I knew to be absolutely essential to final success.
To this effect I wrote to the Managing Editor, and to DeFrance. No reply was made by the management.
Then I overcame my repugnance to Col. Mann, and wrotehim—telling him what ailed the Magazine, how it could be put on its feet and offering to make a success, of it—without salary in the meanwhile—if he would let me do it.
To my original conditions, however, I added another, namely,that DeFrance must go. After the way in which he had acted, and after the two insulting letters which he had written me, it was no longer possible for us to work together.
Col. Mann did not answer my letter at all.
He hadDeFranceto telegraph mea requestthat I send the Editorials, anda promisethat they would treat me right.
By having DeFrance send the message, I knew that he meant to keep DeFrance—and that let me out.
DeFrance had already notified me that half of my magazine belonged tohim, and half to Col. Mann, and there was no arrangement that could be made on that basis.
Besides, Col. Mann, after my letter was written and before its receipt, by him, had rushed into the New YorkWorldwith an interview which libelled me basely and cruelly.
***
Let me say, in justice to a most estimable gentleman, that I had no quarrel with Mr. Richard Duffy. He is peculiarly well fitted to make a first-class editor of a literary magazine. His standards are high and his judgment sound. He was not, however, particularly suited to a political magazine—never having devoted any special study to Political Economy and Governmental questions. In my contemplated change in the Editorial Staff, I was not actuated by any dislike of Mr. Duffy. My motive was simply that of the mariner who sacrifices a portion of his cargo to save his ship.
***
“Explanatory” makes as much as possible out of the weekly cheque of $125, sent to me “during the busy part of the subscription season.”
Yes, they sent me cheques to the amount of one thousand dollars, at a time whensubscriptions were pouring in at the rate of two and three thousand per week.
But “Explanatory” does not state the fact thatnine thousand dollars represents the amount of unpaid honest, hard work done by me on the Magazineand that Col. Mann told the newspaper reporters, brazenly, thatHE NEVER INTENDED TO PAY A RED CENT OF IT.
Perhaps, the sum-total paid me during the two yearswould cover my actual expense-account in working for the Magazine. It certainly would not do more than that.
***
“Explanatory” dwells upon my ceasing to visit New York, once a month.
Drawing no salary, paying my own traveling expenses, and being made more or less ill by each of these long trips, I discontinued them. Editorials for a monthly magazine can be written down here in Georgia just about as well as in New York, and postage stamps cost less than railroad tickets.
Everything that I was allowed to do for the Magazine could be done just as well by mail as by personal presence.
As to refusing to make a final trip to seek “an amicable adjustment,” I wrote to DeFrance that the proposition referred to alreadyWAS MYLAST WORD, and that there was no use in my coming to New York to say it again. Col. Mann could accept or reject—I was not going there to listen to any more of his coaxing, bluffing and lies.
Besides, to tell the whole truth, I was not sorry thatthe time had come when I could cut loose from this fat rascal.AfterI had worked on and on;afterhe had broken promise upon promise;afterhe had sued the Magazine for $60,000 and got an execution against it;afterhe had shown that he wanted me to continue indefinitely to do ten times as much work as the contract called for, and tonever have any share in the reward that might be reaped from my labors;afterhe had broken the contract by dismissing my son from a position which was my personal appointment;afterhe had rushed into the newspapers and confirmed my suspicion of his villainous purpose by revealing his utter and shameless disregard for his contracts,THENmy conscience and my judgment concurred in the decision to cut loose from the New York concern andSTART A MAGAZINE OF MY OWN.
***
Not a second thought have I given to the loss of the $9,000. ButTHATwasn’t all. Col. Mann assailed me. The odium of a catastrophe which was the result of his own folly, faithlessness and lack of honor, he tried to cast upon me. In his efforts to escape universal contempt, he lied like a bulletin.
Betrayed by one whom I selected as my personal representative in the office and whom I advanced from Circulation Clerk to Business Manager; accused of a mismanagement which I endeavored in vain to correct; held up to public criticism for mistreatment of employes when I had never uttered an unkind word to a single one of them, high or low, during the whole time of my service, and when I had never made a change in the force that was not sanctioned in advance, by Colonel Mann himself, I now feel that burning sense of the injustice and outrage which any other man of spirit would feel under the same circumstances.
***
With an effrontery which nothing could surpass, the two men who have seized my magazine on the half and half planare mailing out a circular letter begging Reformers to take shares in the stock of the new Company.
This circular carries Deception on its very face. It purports to hail from “2 West 40th Street.”
What is “2 West 40th Street”?
Why,it is the side-door to the notorious Town Topics den into which DeFrance and Col. Mann have dragged the corpse of“Watson’s Magazine.”
TheFRONTof Col. Mann’s trap is onFifth Avenue.
CartoonARCADES AMBO!
ARCADES AMBO!
Now DeFrance and Mannknew very well that there wasn’t a decent man in America who would knowingly send a dollar to buy stock of Col. Mann at the Town Topics address. Hence in their efforts to lure pigeons into the net, they usethe side-door address which no one who is not familiar with the building would ever know to be the same building.
Oh, the shame of it, DeFrance!AndYOUwere the man whom I selectedAS MY PERSONAL REPRESENTATIVE IN THE OFFICE, and whotelegraphed me to Fort Lauderdale last winter urging me to resist Col. Mann’s removal of the Magazine to the Town Topics building!
With pathetic insistence, they are sending out this circular letter from this Town Topics Side-Entrance addressed,
“Dear Friend.”
I wonder how many dear friends Col. Mann imagines himself to possess.
I wonder how many of DeFrance’s dear friends will follow him intothat Mann-hole.
The letter makes the modest request that a few thousand ardent admirers of DeFrance buy stock in the Side-Door concern at $10 per share.
DeFrance tearfully ejaculates, “I don’t ask you to donate the Money. Far from it.”
Howfar from it, he doesn’t say.The confiding individual who bites at that bait, and pours ten dollars into that Mann-hole will see a good deal of ice in August before he will ever see his money again.
Think of the impudent falsehood of the assertion made in this circular letter:
“The magazine, while not yet profitable, has nearly reached that point.” Therefore, send your money to the Side-Door concern right away. Yet, in the next breath, he claims that Col. Mann lost $180,000 in less than two years on the Magazine.
To cap the climax of his wrong-doing, DeFrance actually signs the Begging Letter asSecretary of the People’s Party National Committee.
By what right?
Under whose authority does he actwhen he thus prostitutes that office to the service of Col. W. D. Mann?
What will our National Committee think of it when theybehold their Secretary standing at the Side Door of the Town Topics building and hear him calling for Populists to walk up and enter the Mann-hole, to the tune of“Ten Dollars admission fee, please”?
DeFrance has now stoopedto do the very thing that Col. Mann tried vainly to get me to do.
***
I wonder if those New York rascals really thought that I would quietly sit down and twiddle my thumbs while they were making off with “Watson’s Magazine”? I wonder if it never entered into thoseheads, which were bent together to plot and to scheme, that the consequence of their pretty little gameMIGHTbe a Revolt of Watson andHIS FRIENDS.
Unless I am greatly mistaken,the subscribersto “Watson’s Magazine”are Mr. Watson’s friends, andTHEY ARE GOING TO STAND BY HIM. We shall see.
***
After all, why worry over it? Life is too short to waste many of its precious hours upon such a theme. Looked at in one way, those who thought to crush me have done me a service.
They have put into me, once more, that intensity of energy and purpose which, otherwise, might never have been mine again. What the spur is to the thoroughbred, what the bugle-call is to the cavalier, the recent attempts of my enemies to compass my ruin has been to me.
By the living God!Hereis no thought of surrender, no weakness of doubt or hesitation, but a resolution, fixed as hardened steel, toMARCH ON.
What! Be a quitterNOW? Falter or flickerNOW? Lower the flag and stack arms,NOW?
Rather, would I die.
The ear of the world is at last inclined to us, and the heart of mankind is at length being touched by our message.
The long march of the despised Reformer is nearing its end. His final triumph no sane observer, no watchman upon the tower, can longer doubt.
HaltNOW? Never in the world.
DesertNOW? Heaven forbid!
Why, for fifteen years we have walked amid the shadows of social and political ostracism, never swerving an inch from the rocky road of Duty—do they think we shall walk less firmlynow, when the sunlight is falling upon the path?
Times have changed. Men have changed. The principles for which we fought havenotchanged.They have conquered.
The strong man and shrewd politician at the White House laid his attentive ear to the ground, quite a while ago, and heard distant rumblings that taught him useful lessons.
The strong man and shrewd politician at Fair View, Nebraska, has had his attentive ear to the ground and he, likewise, has learned his lesson.
The next time Mr. Watson of Georgia goes to Nebraska for the purpose of helping Mr. Bryan to carry his home State for Reform, I venture the prediction that Mr. Bryan will not leave Nebraska to avoid contact with Mr. Watson—as he did in 1896.
The battle-flag of a great people, inspired by a resistless purpose to assert the right ofTHE INDIVIDUALto wrest the government of thecountry out of the hands of theMONSTER CORPORATIONwill, beyond all possible doubt, be inscribed with those mottoes which for fifteen years have been our watchwords in the fight and our solace in defeat.
Courage, Comrades—Courage! AndForward March!
***
On this mellow, radiant, opulent day of Indian Summer—when the golden hours step quietly by, leading November into the dim realms which we call the Past—I write these lines; and, having done so, cast behind me that ugly dream, my New York experience.
Betrayed,I will trust again,AND GO ON. Better ten thousand treacheriesthan loss of faithin my fellow man. Repulsed, I will rally, re-form, andCHARGE AGAIN. Better a hundred defeats than one capitulation.
***
In March 1898, the Populists nominated me for Governor of Georgia. In declining to make the race, my decision was controlled by the fact that our organization had been wrecked by the Traitors who controlled our National Committee, that I myself was exhausted—mentally, physically, financially—and that Populism must henceforth do its work asA LEAVEN TO THE LOAF.
The fatal Fusion of 1896 had done our organization deadly damage, and the Spanish War finished us.
The blare of the bugle drowned the voice of the Reformer. With the Cannon-boom shaking the world, men had no ear for Political economy—or economy of any other sort.
Roosevelt rushed into war paint, and leaped into fame.
Bryan stuck a feather in his cap, and vowed that he, too, would become a soldier in spite of those vile guns.
Hearst, also, went as close to the enemy as McKinley would let him.
How could I talk economics with any prospect of success at such a time?
Loathing the war, foreseeing many of the evil consequences that it has brought upon us, I quit the active agitation of Populism, and shut myself up in my library to write books.But if any soldier of the Southern Confederacy carried away from Appomattox a heavier heart than I took with me into my enforced retirement,it would have been a merciful dispensation of Providence had the Eternal Sleep taken that soldier into her cold, white arms.
What I suffered during those awful years is known to none but the wife who shared my lot and the God who gave me strength to endure it.
***
To continue a hopeless fight with a broken-down organization was not the part of wisdom. The thing to do was to wait, educate the people,let events demonstrate that we had been right, and let the Spirit of Populism enter into and inspire the leaders of other parties.
I knew thatOUR PRINCIPLESwould finally triumph—as toTHE PARTY, that was a secondary consideration.
In taking leave of my comrades in 1898, before quitting the field to go back into the court-house to earn money to pay pressing debts, here is what my letter said to them:
“Let no man believe that I despair of your principles, for I do not. You stand for the yearning, upward-tendency, of the middle and lower classes. You stand where the reformer has always stood; for improvement, for beneficial changes, for recognition of human brotherhood in its highest sense, for equality before the law, and for an industrial system which is not based upon the right of the strong to pillage the weak. You stand as sworn foes of monopoly—not monopoly in the narrow sense of the word—but monopoly of power, of place, of privilege, of wealth, of progress.
“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 lovedyou, 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. Befirm.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, itHAScome again. From the bottom of my heart and from yours, comethanks 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, isto help those whom the people commission to bring about Reform.
As to Reward, I seek none, expect none, save that of theInner Voicewhich says,
Well Done.
With this glance into the Past, necessary toyou, as well as tome, let us turn our backs to it, and face the Future—and let usWORK, as we never worked before.
Cartoon“HE CERTAINLY WAS GOOD TO ME.”
“HE CERTAINLY WAS GOOD TO ME.”
CartoonThe New Year
Lead us gently, Father Time, as you take us to the portals of the New Year.
We know notwhat may be within; and our souls are burdened with fear as westand here at the door.
Lost, forever lost, isthe Confidencewith which weusedto 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, thatour hearts are sadly subdued, Father Time.
***
We did notSEEKthis awful life-woe, Father Time.
Thrust, from some great outer darkness, into the hurly burly called Life, we gaze upward at the stars in helplessignorance of what it all may mean; and some Irresistable Force pushes us,pushes us, swiftly,inexorably, onwardto another outerdarkness thatfills 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 havesuffered!
We knewnothingat the beginning, and we know but littlenow; and,for every lesson that we have learned, we have been made to pay in heart-aches and scalding tears.
Alwaysstruggling, oftendown, always anxious for the Morrow, often in tortureToday, 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 weNEVERsee 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 onespanted 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. ToWHATare 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 largersacrifice of human lives?
Willthe Selfishness of Class gorge itself still furtherupon ravenous conquest, and remorseless exploitation?
Shall the cry of the White SlaveNEVERreach Heaven, Father Time?
Shall the song of the angels who hung over the infant Christ,NEVERthrob,a living principle, in man’s government of man?
Is the Reformeralwaysto be the Martyr, Father Time?
Is WrongNEVERto 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, andwe dread it—as children dread the dark.
Deal gently with us in the New Year, Father Time.
Give usstrengthto bear the Cross—for we know that we must bear it.
Give uscouragefor the battle, for we know that we must fight it.
Give uspatienceto endure, for we know that we shall need it.
Give usCharitythat thinks not evil of the Just, and which will stretch forth the helpful handto lift our weaker Brotherout of the mire, rather than the cruel scorn which passes him by, orthrusts him further down.
Give usFaith in the Rightwhich no defeat can disturb, no discouragement undermine.
Give us theLove of Truthwhich no temptation can seduce and no menace intimidate.
Give us theFortitudewhich, 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 thePridewhich will suffer no contamination, no compromise ofself-respect, no wilful desertion of honest conviction.
Give us thePurposethat never turns and theHopethat never dies.
And, Father Time, should the New Year, into which you are taking us, have upon its calendarthat dayin which the few who love us shall be bowed down in sackcloth and ashes, letTHATday, like all the other days, find usON DUTY—faithful unto the end.
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.
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?”
Partynamesare nothing.Principlesare everything. True reformers think more ofhaving the work donethan ofgetting 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—thenyou will realize how immenselythe 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 amstill hoping that some honorable plan may be hit upon which will enable all true-hearted reformers to“actTOGETHER”and overthrow this fearful system which enables the privileged few to plunder the unprivileged many.
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 floutspatriotismand calls itprejudice?
Think a little, and you will see. You love yourcountrybecause yourhomeis a part of it; and you love yourhomebecause it isyour 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 wouldNOTfight for his home—HOWEVER HUMBLE.
The man never lived whowouldfight for the tenement house in which he chances to be a lodger.The home is ever sacred—thehotelnever is. The reason is plain enough. The home is yours,individually; the hotel is everybody’sgenerally. Now, the Socialist strikes atindividualism. 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 substituteitstitle foryourtitle,itswill foryourwill,itscontrol foryourcontrol. 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 haveno 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 loveof 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 universalYES, Sir Walter Scott’s ringing challenge,