The Secret of the League: The Story of a Social WarBramah, Ernest
Science
The Secret of the League: The Story of a Social War
Bramah, Ernest
Dystopias -- Fiction; Great Britain -- Politics and government -- Fiction; Social classes -- Fiction
That is putting their position so mildly as to be almost unjust. They
were, indeed, among political parties the only one immaculate and beyond
reproach. All others had trimmed and whittled, promised and recalled,
sworn and forsworn, till political assurances were emptier than
libertines' vows. The Socialists had nailed their manifesto to the mast,
and no man could charge them with duplicity. On every platform from
Caithness to Cornwall they had stood openly and declared: We are the
enemies to Capital; we are at war with Society as it is at present
constituted; we are for the forcible distribution of wealth, however
come by, the abolition of class distinctions, and the levelling of
humanity, with the unskilled labourer as the ideal standard.
"Good fellows all," had, in effect, declared their Liberal "allies,"
"and they do not really mean that--not phraseologically accurately, that
is. We go in for a little, say, serpent-charming ourselves at election
times, and when these excellent men are in Parliament the refining
influence of the surroundings will tone them down wonderfully, and they
will turn out thoroughly moderate and conciliatory members."
"Don't you make any error about that, comrades," the Socialistic-Labour
candidates had replied; and with a candour unparalleled in the history
of electioneering they had not merely hinted this or said it among
themselves, but had freely and honourably proclaimed it to the four
winds. "If you like to help us just now that's your affair, and we are
quite willing to profit by it. But if you knew what you were doing, you
would go home and all have the nightmare."
"So naive!" smiled the great Liberal party. "Suppose they have to talk
like that at present to please the unemployed."
Then came the deluge. Sir John Hampden could have every section of the
middle and upper class political parties to lead if he so deigned, but
wherever else he might lead them there was no possible hope of it being
to St. Stephen's. It was, as his daughter had said, then too late.
Labour members of one complexion or another had captured three-quarters
of the constituencies, and there was not the slightest chance of ousting
them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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