Chapter C: W. Post, president of the Citizens’ Industrial Association, and David (6)

Thus was Debs trained to be our standard bearer. Thus did he become the Voice of the Revolution whose call to Labor was destined to shake the hemisphere. He bore the people’s banner as one marked for the mission by Inexorable Destiny. He bore it proudly, nobly, wherever the fight was fiercest, and when he shouted the battle cry of Socialism it echoed through the land from sea to sea, from snow-capped mountain and deepest valley. And Labor heard the battle cry and answered in speech both clear and strong. And when he took the banner and went forth a second time, louder and stronger grew the answering cry, so that the Masters of Bread trembled in their seats of power and privilege.

And now, once more, speeded by the love of fifty thousand comrades in the organized movement, and by half a million in the larger army, Debs goes forth bearing the banner and proclaiming the message of Socialism. Once more he goes forth to voice the cry of the Disinherited, the curse of the Doomed and Damned. Once more the Incarnate Spirit of the Revolution goes forth to point men to the Vision of a world rich with the glory of comradeship, throbbing with the joy of freedom, radiant with love—the New Earth, resonant with the mingled songs of free and happy human beings; resplendent with the beauty of unfettered life.

And a million workingmen will answer with their cheers and pledge their faith with their votes!

A Companion to Truth

_By Robert Hunter_

I remember as a little lad of eight or nine years, walking with my father in one of the streets of Terre Haute. A tall, slender, handsome young man stopped to talk with my father. At first I was fascinated by the way they grasped hands and looked into each other’s eyes. I was then impressed by their animated conversation. But they talked on and on until it seemed to me hours in length; and finally I began to tug at my father’s coat-tails, urging him to come on. After a while they parted, and my father said to me very seriously, “You should not interrupt me, Robert, when I am talking. That young man is one of the greatest souls of this earth, and you should have listened to what he said.”

From time to time afterwards I heard of ’Gene, and many were the stories told of him. Everyone spoke of his friendship for the poor. He could never keep money in his pocket. His wife says he always gives away his clothes to those who come to his door; and he gives his best suits, never his old ones.

Once I was told he had a gold watch of considerable value which had been given to him, and a fireman who had been out of work for some time stopped him to say that he had a job offered on the railroad, but he would have to have a watch before he could go to work. Immediately ’Gene took out his gold watch and give it to the man, telling him to return it when he was able to buy one for himself.

These and countless other stories are told by his fellow-citizens. Many of them do not understand ’Gene. His views and his work they cannot comprehend, but every man, woman and child in that town loves him with a devotion quite extraordinary.

They say that a prophet is without honor in his own country, but in Terre Haute you will find that however much they misunderstand the work that ’Gene is doing there is not one who does not honor and love him.

Ask anyone. Go to the poor, the vagrant, the hobo. Go to the churches, to the rich, to the banker, to the traction magnate. You will find that every single one will say that ’Gene has something which other men do not possess. Some will say he is rash, unwise, and too radical. Others will say that he is too good for this world, and that his visions and dreams are the fanciful outpourings of a generous but impractical soul. But ask them about his character, his honesty, his sincerity, and unconsciously many of them will remove their hats.

Some of these statements will seem an exaggeration. But one cannot avoid that in speaking of ’Gene. When one who knows him makes any statement, no matter how moderate, it will seem to others who do not know him an exaggeration.

’Gene has followed Truth wherever she has led. He does not ask what is politic, what is wise, what is expedient; he only asks what is truth. He loves Truth beyond all things. She is his absolute mistress, and he has gone with her from riches to poverty, from popularity to unpopularity. He has gone with her out of great positions into small positions. He has stood up for her against all men. For her he has seemed at times to sacrifice all earthly gain, and to accept without one pang of regret misunderstanding, misrepresentation, and almost universal condemnation. For her he has been momentarily one of the most popular men in the country, and for her he has been momentarily one of the most unpopular men in the country. He has been her companion when everyone believed in her, and he has been her companion when to believe in her meant to go into prison stripes, behind iron bars.

Sometimes I have differed with ’Gene. I have said to him that what he was doing was unwise, impolitic, dangerous. At such times, under such criticism, he is always kindly but undeterred; and it is his conscience that answers you back and asks, “But is it right? Is it true?”

Shortly after I left college I went to live in one of the most poverty-stricken districts of Chicago. One Sunday it was announced that Eugene would come there to speak. Thousands came to hear him, and overflowing the hall a multitude waited outside to hear him speak from a truck. After waiting for two hours perhaps, ’Gene came out and began to speak. Most of the audience were foreigners who could hardly understand a word of English, and as I heard his beautiful words and saw their wistful, earnest faces I felt that something more powerful, penetrating and articulate than mere words was passing between the audience and the speaker. For a moment it seemed to me that a soul was speaking from the eyes and frame of ’Gene, and that, regardless of differences of language and all the traditional barriers that separated him from the multitude about him, they understood and believed all he said. I remember how my heart beat, and how tears began to flow from my boyish eyes. I was ashamed for fear someone would see me. And it was not because of anything that ’Gene was saying. It was solely because of something back of the man, something greater than the man, something bigger, more powerful, and more moving than any words or expression. And after the thing was over I went to him, helped him on with his coat, and fondled him as I would my own father or brother. And as we went away together there kept coming into my heart the words of Ruth:

“Entreat me not to leave thee or to return from following after thee. For whither thou goest I will go, and whither thou lodgest I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.”

Greater Love Hath No Man

To me the name of Eugene V. Debs means this—loyalty absolute, unswerving, incorruptible to the Cause of Labor, the Cause of Humanity itself. Where that Cause is at stake, Debs sinks his personality with utter self-abnegation; he fears nothing, he dares all in defense of that splendid ideal. No threat deters him; nor is there gold enough in all the swollen purses of Plutocracy to turn this man one hair’s-breadth aside from his fidelity to Labor. Greater love than his hath no man. All honor to ’Gene Debs, say I.—GEORGE ALLAN ENGLAND, Bryant’s Pond, Maine.

Agitator and Poet

Eugene V. Debs is an agitator with the heart of a poet. The combination is rare, and Socialism in America is to be congratulated on having a leader of his caliber. I think of Debs as preëminently the voice of the working class. The proletarian spirit has found in him its loyalest and bravest exponent. But he is much more than that. He is a dreamer as well as a fighter. He leads men because he _loves_ them. If Walt Whitman could return, he would surely recognize in Debs a man who believes with all the intensity of his nature in “the dear love of comrades.”

LEONARD D. ABBOTT.

A Love Shared by Lincoln and Debs

Forty-six years ago the hand of the martyred LINCOLN rested gently upon the head of a child, who looked into the rugged, kindly face made beautiful by the divinity of the SAVIOR OF THE SLAVE, and gave instant and unquestioning love to the MAN “with charity for all.” Time came when the boy, with crepe on his arm and the ache of childhood in his throat, watched the sad and solemn pageant for the Nation’s dearest dead.

Fifteen years ago EUGENE VICTOR DEBS stretched out two generous hands and “the warmest heart that ever beat,” to clasp as his own the hands and heart of a man that loved, trusted and honored him at first sight.

And in the close intimacy of our brother-comrade-hood I have found no fault in GENE; for he is as faithful and tender as my dear old Mother, who loves him, blessed him and bade him kiss her, as brave as a lion, as gentle as a woman, as honest and straightforward as a little child, as white, clean and sweet of soul as his elder brothers, LINCOLN and CHRIST—and these three are Nature’s noblest noblemen.

W. E. P. FRENCH, U. S. Army.

Cornwall-on-Hudson, New York, Saturday, June 27, 1908.

A Righteous Cause Must Win

If I were keenly ambitious for the future acclaim of my countrymen I would rather lead the Socialist party to defeat in the campaign of 1908 than to win as the candidate either of the Republican or Democratic parties. Taft and Bryan look forward only to the power and the doubtful honor of dispensing patronage. Both stand on platforms which are barren of promise or hope. With all the world pressing on to the solution of great social and economic questions we are confronted with the lamentable spectacle of the dominant political parties of the United States beating a cowardly retreat, and we see their candidates rival one another in the timidity of their assaults on obvious and admitted wrongs.

There is no higher honor than that bequeathed with the leadership of a great moral principle. Socialism is the greatest moral principle yet discovered by humanity. It can be put into effect only by education and political action, and the Socialists of the United States have in three campaigns entrusted the leadership to Eugene V. Debs. In coming years, when some future leader will sweep the field, and when no voice will be raised against the fundamental equity and practicability of Socialism, the historian will dwell on the pioneer work of the men and women who placed Eugene V. Debs at their head, and the verdict of the historian will be far different from that of the thoughtless critics of today.

A righteous cause always wins in the end, and there is imperishable glory for those who stand at the front in the years when men’s eyes are blinded to the truth. No man is great enough as a Socialist to make himself greater than his party. Bryan looms great because the Democratic party is a dull level of ignorant mediocrity; Taft is looked up to because of the belief that the great monied interests have accepted his leadership and will bring about his election; Eugene V. Debs is simply the unselfish representative of an idea which will prevail despite all which can be arrayed against it.

FREDERICK UPHAM ADAMS.

Hastings-on-Hudson, N. Y.

Love’s Inter-Racial Pan-Human Language

In January, 1897, Debs joined the international Socialist movement.

Six weeks later the present writer, amid the jeers and gibes and some hisses of many old comrades, publicly hailed our Gene’s adhesion to the ranks as symbolizing the Awakening of Labor.

After awhile the S. D. A. was founded, and I met Debs in this city as a member of the new party.

On that occasion he addressed an audience including hundreds of my countrymen. They hardly understood one word out of every five he spoke, but they nevertheless clearly grasped the meaning of his message as a whole, which they applauded to the echo.

Well, it was Love’s inter-racial, pan-human language which had reached the hearts almost unaided by the use of words.

And ever since then they, like myself, have loved him as their big brother, their comrade, the foremost champion of their great Cause.