our need
of it both in safe and economical action and in the pleasures of
comprehension." Because rationality itself is a wilful exercise one hears
Hymns to Reason and sees it personified as an extremely dignified
goddess. For all the light and shadow of sentiment and passion play even
about the syllogism.

The attempts of theorists to explain man's successes as rational acts and
his failures as lapses of reason have always ended in a dismal and misty
unreality. No genuine politician ever treats his constituents as
reasoning animals. This is as true of the high politics of Isaiah as it
is of the ward boss. Only the pathetic amateur deludes himself into
thinking that, if he presents the major and minor premise, the voter will
automatically draw the conclusion on election day. The successful
politician--good or bad--deals with the dynamics--with the will, the
hopes, the needs and the visions of men.

It isn't sentimentality which says that where there is no vision the
people perisheth. Every time Tammany Hall sets off fireworks and oratory
on the Fourth of July; every time the picture of Lincoln is displayed at
a political convention; every red bandanna of the Progressives and red
flag of the socialists; every song from "The Battle Hymn of the Republic"
to the "International"; every metrical conclusion to a great
speech--whether we stand at Armageddon, refuse to press upon the brow of
labor another crown of thorns, or call upon the workers of the world to
unite--every one of these slogans is an incitement of the will--an effort
to energize politics. They are attempts to harness blind impulses to
particular purposes. They are tributes to the sound practical sense of a
vision in politics. No cause can succeed without them: so long as you
rely on the efficacy of "scientific" demonstration and logical proof you
can hold your conventions in anybody's back parlor and have room to
spare.

I remember an observation that Lincoln Steffens made in a speech about
Mayor Tom Johnson. "Tom failed," said Mr. Steffens, "because he was too
practical." Coming from a man who had seen as much of actual politics as
Mr. Steffens, it puzzled me a great deal. I taxed him with it later and
he explained somewhat as follows: "Tom Johnson had a vision of Cleveland
which he called The City on the Hill. He pictured the town emancipated
from its ugliness and its cruelty--a beautiful city for free men and
women. He used to talk of that vision to the