That was a terrible night for the great City of New York — the night of Tuesday, November 3rd
Mobs of vast size are organizing under the lead of Anarchists and Socialists, and threaten to plunder and despoil the houses of the rich who have wronged and oppressed them for so many years. Keep within doors. Extinguish all lights
The air quivered and was rent with mad vociferations of the victors : “ Bryan is elected! Bryan is elected! Our day has come at last. Down with our oppressors! Death to the rich man! Death to the gold bugs! Death to the capitalists!
The Fifth Avenue Hotel will be the first to feel the fury of the mob.
They preferred to fight in the dark, or by the flames of rich men’s abodes.
Great as has been the world’s wonder at the up- rising of Mr. Bryan’s “struggling masses”
it is a mob made up of her own people — noisy, rude and boisterous, the natural exultation of a suddenly en-franchised class; but bent on no other mischief than glorying over the villainous and self-seeking souls who have ground the faces of the poor and turned the pitiless screw of social and political power into the hearts of the “common people”
rd against the door of the laboring man.”
And yet, at this moment when the night air quivered with the mad vociferations of the “common people,” that the Lord had been good to them; that the wicked money-changers had been driven from the temple, that the stony-hearted usurers were beaten at last, that the “ People’s William ” was at the helm now, that peace and plenty would in a few moons come back to the poor man's cottage.
Without these twenty-four electoral votes, Bryan had been doomed, hopelessly doomed. He, and he alone, held the great Commonwealth of the West hard and fast in the Democratic line; hence he came as conqueror, as King-maker.
“You’re our Saviour, you've cleaned the Temple of Liberty of its foul horde of usurers. We salute you. We call you King-maker. Bryan shall call you Master too. You shall have your reward. You shall stand behind the throne. Your wisdom shall make us whole. You shall purge the land of this un- lawful crowd of money lenders. You shall save the Republic. You are greater than Washington. You're a better friend of ours than Lincoln. You'll do more for us than Grant. We’re your slaves. We salute you. We thank you. We bless you. Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!”
There was an indescribable something in the air, a spirit of political devil-me-care, a feeling that the old order had passed away and that the Republic had entered into the womb of Time and been born again.
They threw aside their working implement’s, loitered about, gathered in groups and the words Washington, White House, Silver, Bryan, Offices, Two for One, the South’s Day, Reign of the Common People, Taxes, Incomes, Year of Jubilee, Free Coinage, Wall Street, Altgeld, Till- man, Peffer, Coxey, were whispered in a mysterious way with head noddings and pursing up of mouths.
“Coxey Armies ” were forming for an advance on Washington. In some instances they were well clad and well provisioned; in others, they were little better than great bands of hungry and restless men, demoralized by idleness and wrought up to a strange degree of mental excitement by the extravagant harangues of their leaders, who were animated with but one thought, namely, to make use of these vast crowds of Silver Pilgrims, as they called themselves, to back up their claims for public office.
As January wore away and brought Bryan's Inauguration nearer and nearer, the groups melted into groups, and crowds of deluded people were well named “ Silver Pilgrims,” for hundreds of them carried in hempen bags, pieces of silverware, in ninety-nine cases of a hundred, plated stuff of little value, which unscrupulous dealers and peddlers had palmed off upon them as sterling, with the promises that once in Washington, the United States Mint would coin their metal into “ Bryan Dollars ” giving “ two for one” in payment for it.
While these motley “ armies ” marched upon the capitol of the Republic…