than that; they must represent their hearers as omniscient. "When," said an orator in the last presidential campaign, discussing the most complex of political issues, "I see a person who says it is too difficult for the people, I find some one who says it is too deep for him. No question is too deep for the people."[1] Had any sycophant of Nero's time pretended to more knowledge than the tyrant himself, he would have lost his life. In these days of humane societies, however, the penalty is less severe but not less summary. Howls of derision and certain defeat await the suitor for popular favor that neglects to burn the incense so pleasing to the many, and dares to say that they not only do wrong but often do most grievous wrong; that universal suffrage, however lauded as a cure for political and social ills, never insures the choice of the most fit to rule;[2] that there is a deal of ignorance and crime that masquerades under the name of democracy. As well might the scoffer at the divine right of kings or the infallibility of Popes two centuries ago have expected to be received with honor and cordiality at the Vatican or the palace of Versailles.
When the power of democracy is increased—that is, when government assumes more functions, thus emulating the "universal" parent of Sir Robert Filmer's political philosophy—the more despotic, intolerant, and barbarous it becomes.[3] More offices and privileges are thrown into the political arena to be fought for. Party organization grows stronger, and party feeling more bitter and savage. The pursuit of politics becomes a form of civil war, giving rise to its ethics and its evils. Division of the people into hostile camps follows. Military discipline, transferred to civil life,
- ↑ William J. Bryan. Speech in Pittsburg, Pa., August 10, 1896.
- ↑ It was cited against an eminent American scholar and diplomatist, who was once mentioned for the governorship of New York, that he had written a paper in favor of a restriction of suffrage as a measure to improve the government of American cities.
- ↑ No one will forget the fierce but senseless resentment shown toward Minister Bayard by the press and Congress for his remarks on democracy in Boston, England, August 2, 1895, and in Edinburgh, Scotland, November 7, 1896. What he said was the exact truth. "The President," he said at Boston, "stood in the midst of a strong, self-confident, and oftentimes violent people, men who sought to have their own way. It took a real man to govern the people of the United States." The riots at Homestead, Chicago, Cleveland, Buffalo, and Pittsburg justify every word. "In my own country," he said at Edinburgh, "I have witnessed an insatiable growth of a form of socialism styled protection, which has done more to corrupt public life, to banish men of independent mind from public councils, and to lower the tone of national representation than any other cause. . . . It . . . has sapped the popular conscience by giving corrupting largesses to special classes, and it throws legislation into the political market, where jobbers and chafferers take the place of statesmen." Observe what has been going on in Washington since the introduction of the Dingley bill. But the only mistake Mr. Bayard made was in not distinguishing clearly between democracy as a form of political government and democracy as a condition of freedom under moral control. It is the former and not the latter that is responsible for the evils that he describes so accurately.
