England -- Fiction; Socialism -- Fiction; Socialists -- Fiction
Movements which appeal to the reason and virtue of humanity, and are
consequently doomed to remain long in the speculative stage, prove their
vitality by enduring the tests of schism. A Socialistic propaganda in
times such as our own, an insistence upon the principles of Christianity
in a modern Christian state, the advocacy of peace and good-will in
an age when falsehood is the foundation of the social structure, and
internecine warfare is presupposed in every compact between man and man,
might anticipate that the test would come soon, and be of a stringent
nature. Accordingly it did not surprise Mr. Westlake when he discerned
the beginnings of commotion in the Union of which he represented the
cultured and leading elements. A comrade named Roodhouse had of late
been coming into prominence by addressing himself in fiery eloquence
to open-air meetings, and at length had taken upon himself to more than
hint that the movement was at a standstill owing to the lukewarmness (in
guise of practical moderation) of those to whom its guidance had been
entrusted. The reports of Comrade Roodhouse’s lectures were of a nature
that made it difficult for Mr. Westlake to print them in the ‘Fiery
Cross;’ one such report arrived at length, that of a meeting held on
Clerkenwell Green on the first Sunday of the new year, to which the
editor refused admission. The comrade who made it his business to
pen notes of the new apostle’s glowing words, had represented him as
referring to the recognised leader in such very uncompromising terms,
that to publish the report in the official columns would have been
stultifying. In the lecture in question Roodhouse declared his adherence
to the principles of assassination; he pronounced them the sole working
principles; to deny to Socialists the right of assassination was to rob
them of the very sinews of war. Men who affected to be revolutionists,
but were in reality nothing more than rose-water romancers, would of
course object to anything which looked like business; they liked to
sit in their comfortable studies and pen daintily worded articles, thus
earning for themselves a humanitarian reputation at a very cheap rate.
That would not do; _à bas_ all such penny-a-liner pretence! Blood
and iron! that must be the revolutionists’ watchword. Was it not by
blood and iron that the present damnable system was maintained? To
arms, then secretly, of course. Let tyrants be made to tremble upon their
thrones in more countries than Russia. Let capitalists fear to walk in
the daylight. This only was the path of progress.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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