Meanwhile that political storm was raging and Jason got at the heart of
it through his morning paper and John Burnham. He knew that at home
Republicans ran against Republicans for all offices, and now he learned
that his own mountains were the Gibraltar of that party, and that the
line of its fortifications ran from the Big Sandy, three hundred miles
by public roads, to the line of Tennessee. When free silver had
shattered the Democratic ranks three years before, the mountaineers had
leaped forth and unfurled the Republican flag over the State for the
first time since the Civil War. Ballots were falsified--that was the
Democratic cry, and that was the Democratic excuse for that election
law which had been forced through the Senate, whipped through the lower
house with the party lash, and passed over the veto of the Republican
governor by the new Democratic leader--the bold, cool, crafty, silent
autocrat. From bombastic orators Jason learned that a fair ballot was
the bulwark of freedom, that some God-given bill of rights had been
smashed, and the very altar of liberty desecrated. And when John
Burnham explained how the autocrat's triumvirate could at will appoint
and remove officers of election, canvass returns, and certify and
determine results, he could understand how the "atrocious measure," as
the great editor of the State called it, "was a ready chariot to the
governor's chair." And in the summer convention the spirit behind the
measure had started for that goal in just that way, like a
scythe-bearing chariot of ancient days, but cutting down friend as well
as foe. Straightway, Democrats long in line for honors, and gray in the
councils of the party, bolted; the rural press bolted; and Jason heard
one bolter thus cry his fealty and his faithlessness: "As charged, I do
stand ready to vote for a yellow dog, if he be the regular nominee, but
lower than that you shall not drag me."
The autocrat's retort was courteous.
"You have a brother in the penitentiary."
"No," was the answer, "but your brothers have a brother who ought to
be."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account