The Nation’s Crime
Some years ago, in Jackson County,
Mo., there was a public hanging. Looking over the crowd of spectators,
numbering many hundreds if not thousands, an old physician remarked
to a friend,
“This is the saddest sight I ever
saw.”
“Why so?” was the reply. “Is not the
condemned man guilty? and [sic] does he not deserve hanging?”
“It is not the guilt or innocence
of the man who is to suffer the extreme penalty, that I was thinking
of. Do you note that a large part of this vast concourse of people
is composed of women? To the eye of a physician this fact means
that more murders, and then more hangings, will result from this
day’s job.”
“How do you make that out?” replied
the friend.
“Easy enough. Of the women present
a score or two, at a low estimate, are expectant mothers. This means
that some of these mothers will give birth to children marked with
a homicidal tendency. In other words, some of these children will
be born murde ers [sic]. Then, in due time, more work for the hangman.”
* * *
The killing of McKinley sent a thrill
of horror over the land, followed quickly by a cry for
upon the assassin. That cry, that demand, has had its effect upon
thousands, perhaps millions of expectant mothers. Whether these
mothers sympathized with the slain McKinley or with his slayer,
the natural effect, the inevitable effect, of such sympathy of the
mother upon the sensitive plate of the mind of the unborn child,
must be . Such is the teaching
of all time.
It will perhaps be argued that inasmuch
as these expectant mothers did not witness the murder of the president
nor the electrocution of Czolgosz, little or no impression has been
or will be made upon their offspring. She or he who argues thus
forgets the power of imagination, especially when that imagination
is excited and fixed by daily reports in the papers, and by frequent
appeals from pulpit and public platform.
The public announcements telling the
day and hour when the man Czolgosz was to be put upon the fateful
chair and the burning current sent sizzling through his veins and
nerves, was itself a ,
a national crime, the magnitude of which surpasses all power of
human calculation.
* * *
The writer of these lines is personally
acquainted with at least one parent who got little or no good sleep
on the night preceding the electrocution of Czolgosz. Though a ,
and though condemning the assassin’s deed, this parent saw in endless
phantasmal procession, not only the distorted features of the condemned
man but also those of his
who, in some mysterious way, seemed to him connected with the execution
and suffering with or for the victim of “civilized” vengeance. [348][349]
If this father—a man not usually considered
hysterical, or even imaginative, could suffer for many hours in
this way, what must have been the effect of the published announcement
of the electrocution upon the sensitive minds of millions of women,
and especially the millions of expectant mothers?
In this view of the matter the crime
of the one man Czolgosz—putting the worst possible construction
thereon, dwindles into insignificance when compared to the crime
committed upon the race of mankind by the millions composing what
we call the American Nation—which means of course the rulers and
the voting population thereof.
“.”
In popular and unscientific estimation
the great tragedy is finished. The great spectacular American tragedy
of the first year of the new century—the tragedy that began with
the public shooting of McKinley on the sixth of September, and ended
with the private killing of Czolgosz by the prison officials at
Auburn, N. Y., on the twenty-ninth of October following, is now
regarded as a thing of the past—a night-mare dream of the past,
as it were, nevermore to return.
But is it so? Alas, No!
In the light of science, physical
and mental, the tragedy whose chief acts or incidents, thus far,
are the shooting of the nation’s political head, at Buffalo, and
the burning to death of his slayer by electricity some seven weeks
later—these are but the beginnings of a tragedy, a national drama,
the end of which no mortal eye can see, and no mortal mind rightly
estimate.
If the Archists—the governing classes—of
this country had been ; if they had
been as nearly sane as McKinley himself seemed to be when he said,
“Let no one hurt him” (or words to that effect), then there might
have been some ground of hope that the bloody tragedy of which he
was the victim would not be repeated. But “whom the gods destroy
they first make mad,” seems to be as applicable to the affairs of
men to day [sic] as when this maxim was first uttered some thousands
of years ago.
If the act of Czolgosz at Buffalo
was that of an insane man then the act of his slayers at Auburn,
backed and authorized as it was by the great majority of the American
people, was as much more insane as the numbers, the intelligence
and the power of the murderers of Czolgosz exceeded the number,
the intelligence and the power of McKinley’s slayer.
If, as Lucifer has contended, the
shooting of McKinley was a “stupid, idiotic crime,” then the burning
to death of Czolgosz in what may be called the refinement of barbarism—the
“electric chair”—was a crime millions of times more stupid and idiotic.
* * *
What then? As rational human beings,
what may we expect?
What shall the harvest be from such
sowing?
Is insanity to be cured by more insanity?
Are stupid crimes, idiotic crimes,
to be prevented by the commission of crimes incomparably more stupid,
more idiotic?
Already the sowing—the Archistic sowing
of dragon’s teeth—is beginning to bear fruit. Czolgosz was not an
Anarchist, in any proper or etymologic sense of the word, but the
Archists have so persistently advertised him as such—lionized him
as such—that the common people, the ignorant common people, are
beginning to think better of Anarchy and Anarchists, are beginning
to accept Czolgosz as the type of the savior that is to come—the
savior of the working masses, the oppressed masses, from the tyranny
of the trusts, and of the government that creates and upholds the
trusts.
Already a plan is on foot and widely
advertised, to erect a two hundred thousand dollar monument to the
memory of Czolgosz.
Already his memory is being honored
by admiring parents who call their babes by his name.
* * *
The fact that Czolgosz was denied
the right to a last word to a crowd large enough to make it probable
that his dying words would be correctly reported to the world, will
be regarded as evidence that the officers of the law have been persistently
lying to the public, and that they did not dare to let the persecuted
prisoner, the oppressed and suppressed prisoner speak for himself.
These and many other facts that could
be named, did space permit, make it reasonably certain that the
McKinley-Czolgosz tragedy is not yet ended—perhaps scarcely yet
begun.
Bloomington, Illinois.
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