rescuing his freeman's heritage and the democratic future from the hands of the mob. And the politicians, the unprincipled people, the yes-and-no people, carried the day. Probably, Woodrow Wilson never heard of his foremost critic. If any one of his advisors had his attention drawn to certain articles published in an obscure highbrow review in New York, he probably came swiftly, in the manner of the war-mind, to the conclusion that Bourne's name was really "Rudolph Braun" or perhaps "Randdorft Boerne." The public of action in America does not take heed of what the public of theory is saying, particularly when the public of theory happens to be truly theoretical and consequently truly practical. So 1776 finally receded to 1917. Liberty became universal compulsory service in defence of republican monarchy. Democracy became pressure downward and backward; the ancient herd-attitudes; forceful suppression of minorities; compulsion of thought; betrayal of the liberal elements in Europe; a league of capitalistic imperialisms; starvation of millions of people in the east of Europe; the decay of Occidental civilization; the capture of American institutions by a fascistic mob. And 1917 receded to 1923. Bourne only saw the commencement of the fulfilment of his bitter prophecies. Even in the December of 1917, in the midst of the black death, the fearful reactionary current was only swollen to half the size it has since gained. There was still more of a will to the change of spirit and of organization throughout the country then, than there is at present. There was still more of a fund of good-will and courageous thought in circulation. But since, the forces which have kept the human being in ignorance and in a condition of servitude have waxed fat on the energies of men. Every obscurantism has taken courage. Every inertia has felt itself justified. They can do anything they wish with us. We are become like a herd of cows.
And yet, Bourne snatched a victory from the very maw of defeat. He is more visible to us to-day than he was while he was alive. He seems to have left behind him some immortal part that walks about the earth much as he used himself to walk. At innumerable corners of life we seem to glimpse advancing toward us the quaint little figure in its long black cloak. When he died, we knew that perhaps the strongest mind of the entire younger generation in America had gone. But in the few years that have elapsed since that December day, Bourne’s figure has grown to a far greater stature.
