ewey as "heroes" and Wendell Phillips and John Brown as "fools"
are notable illustrations. American history is filled with them.

But my personal dislike of the cowboy in imitation who has since become
president, however justifiable, would scarcely warrant a public attack
upon his official character, and this review, being of such a nature, is
inspired, as will appear, by entirely different motives.

There are those, and they constitute a great majority of the American
people, who stand in awe of their president, supposedly their servant,
but in fact their master; they speak of him with a kind of reverential
adulation as a lordly personage, a superior being to be looked up to and
worshiped rather than a fellowman to be respected and loved. There are
others who betray equal ignorance in a more vulgar fashion by coarse
tirades for which there is often as little excuse as there is for the
extreme adulation.

Regarding the president of the United States, as I do, simply as a
citizen and fellowman, the same as any other, I shall speak of him and
his acts free alike from awe and malice, and if I place him in the
public pillory, where he has placed so many others, to be seen and
despised of men, it will be from a sense that his official acts, so
often in flat denial of his profession, merit the execration of honest
men.

In arraigning President Roosevelt and his administration I have no
private spite nor personal grudge to satisfy, but an obligation to
redeem and a principle to vindicate.

I shall go about it as I would any other moral duty, asking no favors
and prepared to accept all consequences.

In the first place, I charge President Roosevelt with being a hypocrite,
the most consummate that ever occupied the executive seat of the nation.
His profession of pure politics is false, his boasted moral courage the
bluff of a bully and his "square deal" a delusion and a sham.

Theodore Roosevelt is mainly for Theodore Roosevelt and incidentally for
such others as are also for the same distinguished gentleman, first,
last and all the time. He is a smooth and slippery politician, swollen
purple with self-conceit; he is shrewd enough to gauge the stupidity of
the masses and unscrupulous enough to turn it into hero worship. This
constitutes the demagogue, and he is that in superlative degree.

Only a few days ago he appeared in a characteristic role. Rushing into
the limelight, as necessary to him as breath, he shrieked that