It was a revolution, not in a government,
but in a party. Bonds were loosed. Immense personal enlargement
came to those who had known the ties of regularity. It was an hour
of freedom, unbridled political passion, unrestrained political
utterance. Docility did not exist. Vast crowds thrilled with new
hopes yelled themselves hoarse over angry words.
Association with Roosevelt on the Progressive ticket lifted Johnson
from a local to a national importance. The whole country was the
audience which leaped at his words. It was a revolution in tittle,
a taste, a sample of what the real thing would be, with its
breaking of restraints, its making of the mob a perfect instrument
to play upon, its unleashing of passion to which to give tongue.
Johnson has felt its wild stimulation and like a man who has used
drugs the habit is upon him.
Moreover, his one chance lies that way. I have said that he is, by
accident, radical. Let us imagine a great outburst of popular
passion for reaction. And suppose that Johnson was, when it
arrived, a political blank, as he was when Heney was shot. Johnson
would have raised his angry voice against radicalism, just as
readily as for it.
The essential thing with him is popular passion, not a political
philosophy. He has no political philosophy. He has no real
convictions. He does not reason or think deeply.
Pages:
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162