In all the noisy early
phases of it, he would have made the loudest noise. And he would
have gone to the block when the real business of the revolution
began with the fanatics at its helm.
In the Russian Revolution, he would have been a Kerensky; and he
would have fled when the true believers in change arrived. He is
the orator of emeutes, who is fascinated by a multitude in a
passion.
Johnson is not a revolutionary. Not in the least, not any more than
Henry Cabot Lodge is. But revolution has a fierce attraction for
him. He once said to me, speaking bitterly during the campaign, of
Mr. Harding's prospective election, "The war has set back the
people for a generation. They have bowed to a hundred repressed
acts. They have become slaves to the government. They are
frightened at the excesses in Russia. They are docile; and they
will not recover from being so for many years. The interests which
control the Republican party will make the most of their docility.
In the end, of course, there will be a revolution, but it will not
come in my time."
That "it will not come in my time" was said in a tone of regret. It
was not so much that the Senator wanted revolution. I do not
believe he did. But he wanted his chance, that outburst of popular
resentment which would bring him to the front, with the excitement,
the sense of power that would come from the response of the nation
when his angry voice translated into words its elemental passion.
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