"Congress and the Senate were empty pretences, farces. Public questions
were
gravely debated and passed upon according to the old forms, while in
reality
all that was done was to give the stamp of constitutional procedure to the
mandates of the Oligarchy. ..."
Cleary this is a great discovery. I've subscribed and as soon as I read
the
novel I intend to contribute. Just based on the excerpts here, the novel
appears to describe a situation very similar to today, although the events
allegedly took place in 1913. Of course, London could not have
anticipated
World War One, as "the Oligarcy's" preferred plan of attack.
Peace be upon you,
Senhor San
From: de1949@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
to be amazed at how backward our political thinking is compared to
Jack London's in 1907?
A vehicle for needed anti-oligarchy discussion and planning -- Jack
London's
The Iron Heel discussed -- a novel of the war of Plutocratic tyranny
against both middle-class populism and the proletarian left.
You know Jack London as the author of White Fang and The Star Rover, and
South Sea Tales -- but his most im****tant book, his great political book,
The Iron Heel, is largely unknown. I have just created a new yahoogroup
for open discussion of the politics and economics and sociology of this
book
among populists, paleo-cons, greens,
anti-anarcho-capitalist-pro-economic-freedom libertarians, and all
intelligent independents of good will. Although the list is open to
everyone
and is unmoderated.
Yes, you don't know what I am talking about, so I have included some
excerpts from the book below to immediately convince you that the
discussion
at The_Iron_Heel@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
will be very im****tant to the PALEOGREEN
coalition and to all others thinking of ways to break free of piratic and
murderous oligarchy bent on enslaving the world.
I have posted each chapter of the book at the site.
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/The_Iron_Heel/
Jack London's story, The Iron Heel, describes the final conflict between a
r
uthless and despotic American plutocracy against the populists (i.e., the
"Grangers," the middle class) and the socialists (whom London calls "the
Proletariat.") The book contains an economic theory of finance capitalism
and its inevitable destruction of the middle classes and of the futile
last-stand revolt of the middle-classes, which, in London's realistic
vision, is unable to overcome the money advantage and owner****p advantages
of the "Iron Heel" oligarchy.
The book is an excellent starting points for discussion, not of the famous
question "What is to be done?", but rather the more pertinent question:
"What can be done that won't be doomed to failure?" -- and even the
question, "What must we look out for?"
This list is for discussion that grows out of the questions raised by Jack
London's great book.
Dick Eastman
Yakima, Wa****ngton
Every man is responsible to every other man.
Three Excerpts from the novel The Iron Heel by Jack London (whose High
School, Oakland High in Oakland, Calif. it was also my joy to attend,
class
of '67)
1. XVII The Scarlet Livery -- Prostitute Congress and Senate exactly as
we see them today.
2. IX The Mathemtics of a Dream -- Why Finance Captialism, the
Oligarchy, must destroy the middle class and enslave the prolitariat.
3. XVI The End -- The great civil war / revolution between Oligarcy
and
Populism and how it is fought, manipulated and lost -- an amazingly
precient
and wise warning to us about what not to do.
======
From Chapter XVII, "The Scarlet Livery"
"Congress and the Senate were empty pretences, farces. Public questions
were
gravely debated and passed upon according to the old forms, while in
reality
all that was done was to give the stamp of constitutional procedure to the
mandates of the Oligarchy. ...
Ernest was in the thick of the fight when the end came. It was in the
debate
on the bill to assist the unemployed. The hard times of the preceding year
had thrust great masses of the proletariat beneath the starvation line,
and
the continued and wide-reaching disorder had but sunk them deeper.
Millions
of people were starving, while the oligarchs and their sup****ters were
surfeiting on the surplus. 1 We called these wretched people the people of
the abyss, 2 and it was to alleviate their awful suffering that the
socialists had introduced the unemployed bill. But this was not to the
fancy
of the Iron Heel. In its own way it was preparing to set these millions to
work, but the way was not our way, wherefore it had issued its orders that
our bill should be voted down. Ernest and his fellows knew that their
effort
was futile, but they were tired of the suspense. They wanted something to
happen. They were accompli****ng nothing, and the best they hoped for was
the
putting of an end to the legislative farce in which they were unwilling
players. They knew not what end would come, but they never anticipated a
more disastrous end than the one that did come.
I sat in the gallery that day. We all knew that something terrible was
imminent. It was in the air, and its presence was made visible by the
armed
soldiers drawn up in lines in the corridors, and by the officers grouped
in
the entrances to the House itself. The Oligarchy was about to strike.
Ernest
was speaking. He was describing the sufferings of the unemployed, as if
with
the wild idea of in some way touching their hearts and consciences; but
the
Republican and Democratic members sneered and jeered at him, and there was
uproar and confusion. Ernest abruptly changed front.
"I know nothing that I may say can influence you," he said. "You have no
souls to be influenced. You are spineless, flaccid things. You pompously
call yourselves Republicans and Democrats. There is no Republican Party.
There is no Democratic Party. There are no Republicans nor Democrats in
this
House. You are lick-spittlers and panderers, the creatures of the
Plutocracy. You talk verbosely in antiquated terminology of your love of
liberty, and all the while you wear the scarlet livery of the Iron Heel."
Here the shouting and the cries of "Order! order!" drowned his voice, and
he
stood disdainfully till the din had somewhat subsided. He waved his hand
to
include all of them, turned to his own comrades, and said:
"Listen to the bellowing of the well-fed beasts."
Pandemonium broke out again. The Speaker rapped for order and glanced
expectantly at the officers in the doorways. There were cries of
"Sedition!"
and a great, rotund New York member began shouting "Anarchist!" at Ernest.
And Ernest was not pleasant to look at. Every fighting fibre of him was
quivering, and his face was the face of a fighting animal, withal he was
cool and collected.
"Remember," he said, in a voice that made itself heard above the din,
"that
as you show mercy now to the proletariat, some day will that same
proletariat show mercy to you."
The cries of "Sedition!" and "Anarchist!" redoubled.
"I know that you will not vote for this bill," Ernest went on. "You have
received the command from your masters to vote against it. And yet you
call
me anarchist. You, who have destroyed the government of the people, and
who
shamelessly flaunt your scarlet shame in public places, call me anarchist.
I
do not believe in hell-fire and brimstone; but in moments like this I
regret
my unbelief. Nay, in moments like this I almost do believe. Surely there
must be a hell, for in no less place could it be possible for you to
receive
punishment adequate to your crimes. So long as you exist, there is a vital
need for hell-fire in the Cosmos."
There was movement in the doorways. Ernest, the Speaker, all the members
turned to see.
"Why do you not call your soldiers in, Mr. Speaker, and bid them do their
work?" Ernest demanded. "They should carry out your plan with expedition."
"There are other plans afoot," was the retort. "That is why the soldiers
are
present."
"Our plans, I suppose," Ernest sneered. "Assassination or something
kindred."
But at the word "assassination" the uproar broke out again. Ernest could
not
make himself heard, but he remained on his feet waiting for a lull. And
then
it happened. From my place in the gallery I saw nothing except the flash
of
the explosion. The roar of it filled my ears and I saw Ernest reeling and
falling in a swirl of smoke, and the soldiers ru****ng up all the aisles.
His
comrades were on their feet, wild with anger, capable of any violence. But
Ernest steadied himself for a moment, and waved his arms for silence.
"It is a plot!" his voice rang out in warning to his comrades. "Do
nothing,
or you will be destroyed."
Then he slowly sank down, and the soldiers reached him. The next moment
soldiers were clearing the galleries and I saw no more.
Though he was my husband, I was not permitted to get to him. When I
announced who I was, I was promptly placed under arrest. And at the same
time were arrested all socialist Congressmen in Wa****ngton, including the
unfortunate Simpson, who lay ill with typhoid fever in his hotel.
The trial was prompt and brief. The men were foredoomed. The wonder was
that
Ernest was not executed. This was a blunder on the part of the Oligarchy,
and a costly one. But the Oligarchy was too confident in those days. It
was
drunk with success, and little did it dream that that small handful of
heroes had within them the power to rock it to its foundations.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
All of Chapter IX, "The Mathematics of a Dream"
In the midst of the consternation his revelation had produced, Ernest
began
again to speak.
"You have said, a dozen of you to-night, that socialism is impossible. You
have asserted the impossible, now let me demonstrate the inevitable. Not
only is it inevitable that you small capitalists shall pass away, but it
is
inevitable that the large capitalists, and the trusts also, shall pass
away.
Remember, the tide of evolution never flows backward. It flows on and on,
and it flows from competition to combination, and from little combination
to
large combination, and from large combination to colossal combination, and
it flows on to socialism, which is the most colossal combination of all.
"You tell me that I dream. Very good. I'll give you the mathematics of my
dream; and here, in advance, I challenge you to show that my mathematics
are
wrong. I shall develop the inevitability of the breakdown of the
capitalist
system, and I shall demonstrate mathematically why it must break down.
Here
goes, and bear with me if at first I seem irrelevant.
"Let us, first of all, investigate a particular industrial process, and
whenever I state something with which you disagree, please interrupt me.
Here is a shoe factory. This factory takes leather and makes it into
shoes.
Here is one hundred dollars' worth of leather. It goes through the factory
and comes out in the form of shoes, worth, let us say, two hundred
dollars.
What has happened? One hundred dollars has been added to the value of the
leather. How was it added? Let us see.
"Capital and labor added this value of one hundred dollars. Capital
furnished the factory, the machines, and paid all the expenses. Labor
furnished labor. By the joint effort of capital and labor one hundred
dollars of value was added. Are you all agreed so far?"
Heads nodded around the table in affirmation.
"Labor and capital having produced this one hundred dollars, now proceed
to
divide it. The statistics of this division are fractional; so let us, for
the sake of convenience, make them roughly approximate. Capital takes
fifty
dollars as its share, and labor gets in wages fifty dollars as its share.
We
will not enter into the squabbling over the division. 1 No matter how much
squabbling takes place, in one percentage or another the division is
arranged. And take notice here, that what is true of this particular
industrial process is true of all industrial processes. Am I right?"
Again the whole table agreed with Ernest.
"Now, suppose labor, having received its fifty dollars, wanted to buy back
shoes. It could only buy back fifty dollars' worth. That's clear, isn't
it?
"And now we ****ft from this particular process to the sum total of all
industrial processes in the United States, which includes the leather
itself, raw material, trans****tation, selling, everything. We will say,
for
the sake of round figures, that the total production of wealth in the
United
States is one year is four billion dollars. Then labor has received in
wages, during the same period, two billion dollars. Four billion dollars
has
been produced. How much of this can labor buy back? Two billions. There is
no discussion of this, I am sure. For that matter, my percentages are
mild.
Because of a thousand capitalistic devices, labor cannot buy back even
half
of the total product.
"But to return. We will say labor buys back two billions. Then it stands
to
reason that labor can consume only two billions. There are still two
billions to be accounted for, which labor cannot buy back and consume."
"Labor does not consume its two billions, even," Mr. Kowalt spoke up. "If
it
did, it would not have any deposits in the savings banks."
"Labor's deposits in the savings banks are only a sort of reserve fund
that
is consumed as fast as it accumulates. These deposits are saved for old
age,
for sickness and accident, and for funeral expenses. The savings bank
deposit is simply a piece of the loaf put back on the shelf to be eaten
next
day. No, labor consumes all of the total product that its wages will buy
back.
"Two billions are left to capital. After it has paid its expenses, does it
consume the remainder? Does capital consume all of its two billions?"
Ernest stopped and put the question point blank to a number of the men.
They
shook their heads.
"I don't know," one of them frankly said.
"Of course you do," Ernest went on. "Stop and think a moment. If capital
consumed its share, the sum total of capital could not increase. It would
remain constant. If you will look at the economic history of the United
States, you will see that the sum total of capital has continually
increased. Therefore capital does not consume its share. Do you remember
when England owned so much of our railroad bonds? As the years went by, we
bought back those bonds. What does that mean? That part of capital's
unconsumed share bought back the bonds. What is the meaning of the fact
that
to-day the capitalists of the United States own hundreds and hundreds of
millions of dollars of Mexican bonds, Russian bonds, Italian bonds,
Grecian
bonds? The meaning is that those hundreds and hundreds of millions were
part
of capital's share which capital did not consume. Furthermore, from the
very
beginning of the capitalist system, capital has never consumed all of its
share.
"And now we come to the point. Four billion dollars of wealth is produced
in
one year in the United States. Labor buys back and consumes two billions.
Capital does not consume the remaining two billions. There is a large
balance left over unconsumed. What is done with this balance? What can be
done with it? Labor cannot consume any of it, for labor has already spent
all its wages. Capital will not consume this balance, because, already,
according to its nature, it has consumed all it can. And still remains the
balance. What can be done with it? What is done with it?"
"It is sold abroad," Mr. Kowalt volunteered.
"The very thing," Ernest agreed. "Because of this balance arises our need
for a foreign market. This is sold abroad. It has to be sold abroad. There
is no other way of getting rid of it. And that unconsumed surplus, sold
abroad, becomes what we call our favorable balance of trade. Are we all
agreed so far?"
"Surely it is a waste of time to elaborate these A B C's of commerce," Mr.
Calvin said tartly. "We all understand them."
"And it is by these A B C's I have so carefully elaborated that I shall
confound you," Ernest retorted. "There's the beauty of it. And I'm going
to
confound you with them right now. Here goes.
"The United States is a capitalist country that has developed its
resources.
According to its capitalist system of industry, it has an unconsumed
surplus
that must be got rid of, and that must be got rid of abroad. 2 What is
true
of the United States is true of every other capitalist country with
developed resources. Every one of such countries has an unconsumed
surplus.
Don't forget that they have already traded with one another, and that
these
surpluses yet remain. Labor in all these countries has spent it wages, and
cannot buy any of the surpluses. Capital in all these countries has
already
consumed all it is able according to its nature. And still remain the
surpluses. They cannot dispose of these surpluses to one another. How are
they going to get rid of them?"
"Sell them to countries with undeveloped resources," Mr. Kowalt suggested.
"The very thing. You see, my argument is so clear and simple that in your
own minds you carry it on for me. And now for the next step. Suppose the
United States disposes of its surplus to a country with undeveloped
resources like, say, Brazil. Remember this surplus is over and above
trade,
which articles of trade have been consumed. What, then, does the United
States get in return from Brazil?"
"Gold," said Mr. Kowalt.
"But there is only so much gold, and not much of it, in the world," Ernest
objected.
"Gold in the form of securities and bonds and so forth," Mr. Kowalt
amended.
"Now you've struck it," Ernest said. "From Brazil the United States, in
return for her surplus, gets bonds and securities. And what does that
mean?
It means that the United States is coming to own railroads in Brazil,
factories, mines, and lands in Brazil. And what is the meaning of that in
turn?"
Mr. Kowalt pondered and shook his head.
"I'll tell you," Ernest continued. "It means that the resources of Brazil
are being developed. And now, the next point. When Brazil, under the
capitalist system, has developed her resources, she will herself have an
unconsumed surplus. Can she get rid of this surplus to the United States?
No, because the United States has herself a surplus. Can the United States
do what she previously did--get rid of her surplus to Brazil? No, for
Brazil
now has a surplus, too.
"What happens? The United States and Brazil must both seek out other
countries with undeveloped resources, in order to unload the surpluses on
them. But by the very process of unloading the surpluses, the resources of
those countries are in turn developed. Soon they have surpluses, and are
seeking other countries on which to unload. Now, gentlemen, follow me. The
planet is only so large. There are only so many countries in the world.
What
will happen when every country in the world, down to the smallest and
last,
with a surplus in its hands, stands confronting every other country with
surpluses in their hands?"
He paused and regarded his listeners. The bepuzzlement in their faces was
delicious. Also, there was awe in their faces. Out of abstractions Ernest
had conjured a vision and made them see it. They were seeing it then, as
they sat there, and they were frightened by it.
"We started with A B C, Mr. Calvin," Ernest said slyly. "I have now given
you the rest of the alphabet. It is very simple. That is the beauty of it.
You surely have the answer forthcoming. What, then, when every country in
the world has an unconsumed surplus? Where will your capitalist system be
then?"
But Mr. Calvin shook a troubled head. He was obviously questing back
through
Ernest's reasoning in search of an error.
"Let me briefly go over the ground with you again," Ernest said. "We began
with a particular industrial process, the shoe factory. We found that the
division of the joint product that took place there was similar to the
division that took place in the sum total of all industrial processes. We
found that labor could buy back with its wages only so much of the
product,
and that capital did not consume all of the remainder of the product. We
found that when labor had consumed to the full extent of its wages, and
when
capital had consumed all it wanted, there was still left an unconsumed
surplus. We agreed that this surplus could only be disposed of abroad. We
agreed, also, that the effect of unloading this surplus on another country
would be to develop the resources of that country, and that in a short
time
that country would have an unconsumed surplus. We extended this process to
all the countries on the planet, till every country was producing every
year, and every day, an unconsumed surplus, which it could dispose of to
no
other country. And now I ask you again, what are we going to do with those
surpluses?"
Still no one answered.
"Mr. Calvin?" Ernest queried.
"It beats me," Mr. Calvin confessed.
"I never dreamed of such a thing," Mr. Asmunsen said. "And yet it does
seem
clear as print."
It was the first time I had ever heard Karl Marx's 3 doctrine of surplus
value elaborated, and Ernest had done it so simply that I, too, sat
puzzled
and dumbfounded.
"I'll tell you a way to get rid of the surplus," Ernest said. "Throw it
into
the sea. Throw every year hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of shoes
and wheat and clothing and all the commodities of commerce into the sea.
Won't that fix it?"
"It will certainly fix it," Mr. Calvin answered. "But it is absurd for you
to talk that way."
Ernest was upon him like a flash.
"Is it a bit more absurd than what you advocate, you machine-breaker,
returning to the antediluvian ways of your forefathers? What do you
propose
in order to get rid of the surplus? You would escape the problem of the
surplus by not producing any surplus. And how do you propose to avoid
producing a surplus? By returning to a primitive method of production, so
confused and disorderly and irrational, so wasteful and costly, that it
will
be impossible to produce a surplus."
Mr. Calvin swallowed. The point had been driven home. He swallowed again
and
cleared his throat.
"You are right," he said. "I stand convicted. It is absurd. But we've got
to
do something. It is a case of life and death for us of the middle class.
We
refuse to perish. We elect to be absurd and to return to the truly crude
and
wasteful methods of our forefathers. We will put back industry to its
pre-trust stage. We will break the machines. And what are you going to do
about it?"
"But you can't break the machines," Ernest replied. "You cannot make the
tide of evolution flow backward. Opposed to you are two great forces, each
of which is more powerful than you of the middle class. The large
capitalists, the trusts, in short, will not let you turn back. They don't
want the machines destroyed. And greater than the trusts, and more
powerful,
is labor. It will not let you destroy the machines. The owner****p of the
world, along with the machines, lies between the trusts and labor. That is
the battle alignment. Neither side wants the destruction of the machines.
But each side wants to possess the machines. In this battle the middle
class
has no place. The middle class is a pygmy between two giants. Don't you
see,
you poor peri****ng middle class, you are caught between the upper and
nether
millstones, and even now has the grinding begun.
"I have demonstrated to you mathematically the inevitable breakdown of the
capitalist system. When every country stands with an unconsumed and
unsalable surplus on its hands, the capitalist system will break down
under
the terrific structure of profits that it itself has reared. And in that
day
there won't be any destruction of the machines. The struggle then will be
for the owner****p of the machines. If labor wins, your way will be easy.
The
United States, and the whole world for that matter, will enter upon a new
and tremendous era. Instead of being crushed by the machines, life will be
made fairer, and happier, and nobler by them. You of the destroyed middle
class, along with labor--there will be nothing but labor then; so you, and
all the rest of labor, will participate in the equitable distribution of
the
products of the wonderful machines. And we, all of us, will make new and
more wonderful machines. And there won't be any unconsumed surplus,
because
there won't be any profits."
"But suppose the trusts win in this battle over the owner****p of the
machines and the world?" Mr. Kowalt asked.
"Then," Ernest answered, "you, and labor, and all of us, will be crushed
under the iron heel of a despotism as relentless and terrible as any
despotism that has blackened the pages of the history of man. That will be
a
good name for that despotism, the Iron Heel." 4
There was a long pause, and every man at the table meditated in ways
unwonted and profound.
"But this socialism of yours is a dream," Mr. Calvin said; and repeated,
"a
dream."
"I'll show you something that isn't a dream, then," Ernest answered. "And
that something I shall call the Oligarchy. You call it the Plutocracy. We
both mean the same thing, the large capitalists or the trusts. Let us see
where the power lies today. And in order to do so, let us ap****tion
society
into its class divisions.
"There are three big classes in society. First comes the Plutocracy, which
is composed of wealthy bankers, railway magnates, cor****ation directors,
and
trust magnates. Second, is the middle class, your class, gentlemen, which
is
composed of farmers, merchants, small manufacturers, and professional men.
And third and last comes my class, the proletariat, which is composed of
the
wage-workers. 5
"You cannot but grant that the owner****p of wealth constitutes essential
power in the United States to-day. How is this wealth owned by these three
classes? Here are the figures. The Plutocracy owns sixty-seven billions of
wealth. Of the total number of persons engaged in occupations in the
United
States, only nine-tenths of one per cent are from the Plutocracy, yet the
Plutocracy owns seventy per cent of the total wealth. The middle class
owns
twenty-four billions. Twenty-nine per cent of those in occupations are
from
the middle class, and they own twenty-five per cent of the total wealth.
Remains the proletariat. It owns four billions. Of all persons in
occupations, seventy per cent come from the proletariat; and the
proletariat
owns four per cent of the total wealth. Where does the power lie,
gentlemen?"
"From your own figures, we of the middle class are more powerful than
labor," Mr. Asmunsen remarked.
"Calling us weak does not make you stronger in the face of the strength of
the Plutocracy," Ernest retorted. "And furthermore, I'm not done with you.
There is a greater strength than wealth, and it is greater because it
cannot
be taken away. Our strength, the strength of the proletariat, is in our
muscles, in our hands to cast ballots, in our fingers to pull triggers.
This
strength we cannot be stripped of. It is the primitive strength, it is the
strength that is to life germane, it is the strength that is stronger than
wealth, and that wealth cannot take away.
"But your strength is detachable. It can be taken away from you. Even now
the Plutocracy is taking it away from you. In the end it will take it all
away from you. And then you will cease to be the middle class. You will
descend to us. You will become proletarians. And the beauty of it is that
you will then add to our strength. We will hail you brothers, and we will
fight shoulder to shoulder in the cause of humanity.
"You see, labor has nothing concrete of which to be despoiled. Its share
of
the wealth of the country consists of clothes and household furniture,
with
here and there, in very rare cases, an unencumbered home. But you have the
concrete wealth, twenty-four billions of it, and the Plutocracy will take
it
away from you. Of course, there is the large likelihood that the
proletariat
will take it away first. Don't you see your position, gentlemen? The
middle
class is a wobbly little lamb between a lion and a tiger. If one doesn't
get
you, the other will. And if the Plutocracy gets you first, why it's only a
matter of time when the Proletariat gets the Plutocracy.
"Even your present wealth is not a true measure of your power. The
strength
of your wealth at this moment is only an empty shell. That is why you are
crying out your feeble little battle-cry, "Return to the ways of our
fathers." You are aware of your impotency. You know that your strength is
an
empty shell. And I'll show you the emptiness of it.
"What power have the farmers? Over fifty per cent are thralls by virtue of
the fact that they are merely tenants or are mortgaged. And all of them
are
thralls by virtue of the fact that the trusts already own or control
(which
is the same thing only better)--own and control all the means of marketing
the crops, such as cold storage, railroads, elevators, and steam****p
lines.
And, furthermore, the trusts control the markets. In all this the farmers
are without power. As regards their political and governmental power, I'll
take that up later, along with the political and governmental power of the
whole middle class.
"Day by day the trusts squeeze out the farmers as they squeezed out Mr.
Calvin and the rest of the dairymen. And day by day are the merchants
squeezed out in the same way. Do you remember how, in six months, the
Tobacco Trust squeezed out over four hundred cigar stores in New York City
alone? Where are the old-time owners of the coal fields? You know today,
without my telling you, that the Railroad Trust owns or controls the
entire
anthracite and bituminous coal fields. Doesn't the Standard Oil Trust 6
own
a score of the ocean lines? And does it not also control copper, to say
nothing of running a smelter trust as a little side enterprise? There are
ten thousand cities in the United States to-night lighted by the companies
owned or controlled by Standard Oil, and in as many cities all the
electric
trans****tation,--urban, suburban, and interurban,--is in the hands of
Standard Oil. The small capitalists who were in these thousands of
enterprises are gone. You know that. It's the same way that you are going.
"The small manufacturer is like the farmer; and small manufacturers and
farmers to-day are reduced, to all intents and purposes, to feudal tenure.
For that matter, the professional men and the artists are at this present
moment villeins in everything but name, while the politicians are
henchmen.
Why do you, Mr. Calvin, work all your nights and days to organize the
farmers, along with the rest of the middle class, into a new political
party? Because the politicians of the old parties will have nothing to do
with your atavistic ideas; and with your atavistic ideas, they will have
nothing to do because they are what I said they are, henchmen, retainers
of
the Plutocracy.
"I spoke of the professional men and the artists as villeins. What else
are
they? One and all, the professors, the preachers, and the editors, hold
their jobs by serving the Plutocracy, and their service consists of
propagating only such ideas as are either harmless to or commendatory of
the
Plutocracy. Whenever they propagate ideas that menace the Plutocracy, they
lose their jobs, in which case, if they have not provided for the rainy
day,
they descend into the proletariat and either perish or become
working-class
agitators. And don't forget that it is the press, the pulpit, and the
university that mould public opinion, set the thought-pace of the nation.
As
for the artists, they merely pander to the little less than ignoble tastes
of the Plutocracy.
"But after all, wealth in itself is not the real power; it is the means to
power, and power is governmental. Who controls the government to-day? The
proletariat with its twenty millions engaged in occupations? Even you
laugh
at the idea. Does the middle class, with its eight million occupied
members?
No more than the proletariat. Who, then, controls the government? The
Plutocracy, with its paltry quarter of a million of occupied members. But
this quarter of a million does not control the government, though it
renders
yeoman service. It is the brain of the Plutocracy that controls the
government, and this brain consists of seven 7 small and powerful groups
of
men. And do not forget that these groups are working to-day practically in
unison.
"Let me point out the power of but one of them, the railroad group. It
employs forty thousand lawyers to defeat the people in the courts. It
issues
countless thousands of free passes to judges, bankers, editors, ministers,
university men, members of state legislatures, and of Congress. It
maintains
luxurious lobbies 8 at every state capital, and at the national capital;
and
in all the cities and towns of the land it employs an immense army of
pettifoggers and small politicians whose business is to attend primaries,
pack conventions, get on juries, bribe judges, and in every way to work
for
its interests. 9
"Gentlemen, I have merely sketched the power of one of the seven groups
that
constitute the brain of the Plutocracy. 10 Your twenty-four billions of
wealth does not give you twenty-five cents' worth of governmental power.
It
is an empty shell, and soon even the empty shell will be taken away from
you. The Plutocracy has all power in its hands to-day. It to-day makes the
laws, for it owns the Senate, Congress, the courts, and the state
legislatures. And not only that. Behind law must be force to execute the
law. To-day the Plutocracy makes the law, and to enforce the law it has at
its beck and call the, police, the army, the navy, and, lastly, the
militia,
which is you, and me, and all of us."
Little discussion took place after this, and the dinner soon broke up. All
were quiet and subdued, and leave-taking was done with low voices. It
seemed
almost that they were scared by the vision of the times they had seen.
"The situation is, indeed, serious," Mr. Calvin said to Ernest. "I have
little quarrel with the way you have depicted it. Only I disagree with you
about the doom of the middle class. We shall survive, and we shall
overthrow
the trusts."
"And return to the ways of your fathers," Ernest finished for him.
"Even so," Mr. Calvin answered gravely. "I know it's a sort of
machine-breaking, and that it is absurd. But then life seems absurd
to-day,
what of the machinations of the Plutocracy. And at any rate, our sort of
machine-breaking is at least practical and possible, which your dream is
not. Your socialistic dream is . . . well, a dream. We cannot follow you."
"I only wish you fellows knew a little something about evolution and
sociology," Ernest said wistfully, as they shook hands. "We would be saved
so much trouble if you did."
Footnotes Chapter 10
1 Everhard here clearly develops the cause of all the labor troubles of
that
time. In the division of the joint-product, capital wanted all it could
get,
and labor wanted all it could get. This quarrel over the division was
irreconcilable. So long as the system of capitalistic production existed,
labor and capital continued to quarrel over the division of the
joint-product. It is a ludicrous spectacle to us, but we must not forget
that we have seven centuries' advantage over those that lived in that
time.
2 Theodore Roosevelt, President of the United States a few years prior to
this time, made the following public declaration: "A more liberal and
extensive reciprocity in the purchase and sale of commodities is
necessary,
so that the overproduction of the United States can be satisfactorily
disposed of to foreign countries." Of course, this overproduction he
mentions was the profits of the capitalist system over and beyond the
consuming power of the capitalists. It was at this time that Senator Mark
Hanna said: "The production of wealth in the United States is one-third
larger annually than its consumption." Also a fellow-Senator, Chauncey
Depew, said: "The American people produce annually two billions more
wealth
than they consume."
3 Karl Marx-- The great intellectual founder of anti-reform class-warfare
Socialism. A German Jew of the nineteenth century. A contem****ary of John
Stuart Mill. It seems incredible to us that whole generations should have
elapsed after the enunciation of Marx's economic discoveries, in which
time
he was sneered at by the world's accepted thinkers and scholars. Because
of
his discoveries he was banished from his native country, and he died an
exile in England.
4 The earliest known use of that name to designate the Oligarchy.
5 This division of society made by Everhard is in accordance with that
made
by Lucien Sanial, one of the statistical authorities of that time. His
calculation of the member****p of these divisions by occupation, from the
United States Census of 1900, is as follows: Plutocratic class, 250,251;
Middle class, 8,429,845; and Proletariat class, 20,393,137.
6 Standard Oil and Rockefeller--see upcoming footnote: "Rockefeller began
as
a member . . ."
7 Even as late as 1907, it was considered that eleven groups dominated the
country, but this number was reduced by the amalgamation of the five
railroad groups into a supreme combination of all the railroads. These
five
groups so amalgamated, along with their financial and political allies,
were
(1) James J. Hill with his control of the Northwest; (2) the Pennsylvania
railway group, Schiff financial manager, with big banking firms of
Philadelphia and New York; (3) Harriman, with Frick for counsel and Odell
as
political lieutenant, controlling the central continental, Southwestern
and
Southern Pacific Coast lines of trans****tation; (4) the Gould family
railway
interests; and (5) Moore, Reid, and Leeds, known as the "Rock Island
crowd."
These strong oligarchs arose out of the conflict of competition and
travelled the inevitable road toward combination.
8 Lobby--a peculiar institution for bribing, bulldozing, and corrupting
the
legislators who were supposed to represent the people's interests.
9 A decade before this speech of Everhard's, the New York Board of Trade
issued a re****t from which the following is quoted: "The railroads control
absolutely the legislatures of a majority of the states of the Union; they
make and unmake United States Senators, congressmen, and governors, and
are
practically dictators of the governmental policy of the United States."
10 Rockefeller began as a member of the proletariat, and through thrift
and
cunning succeeded in developing the first perfect trust, namely that known
as Standard Oil. We cannot forbear giving the following remarkable page
from
the history of the times, to show how the need for reinvestment of the
Standard Oil surplus crushed out small capitalists and hastened the
breakdown of the capitalist system. David Graham Phillips was a radical
writer of the period, and the quotation, by him, is taken from a copy of
the
Saturday Evening Post, dated October 4, 1902 A.D. This is the only copy of
this publication that has come down to us, and yet, from its appearance
and
content, we cannot but conclude that it was one of the popular periodicals
with a large circulation. The quotation here follows:
"About ten years ago Rockefeller's income was given as thirty millions by
an
excellent authority. He had reached the limit of profitable investment of
profits in the oil industry. Here, then, were these enormous sums in cash
pouring in--more than $2,000,000 a month for John Davison Rockefeller
alone.
The problem of reinvestment became more serious. It became a nightmare.
The
oil income was swelling, swelling, and the number of sound investments
limited, even more limited than it is now. It was through no special
eagerness for more gains that the Rockefellers began to branch out from
oil
into other things. They were forced, swept on by this inrolling tide of
wealth which their monopoly magnet irresistibly attracted. They developed
a
staff of investment seekers and investigators. It is said that the chief
of
this staff has a salary of $125,000 a year.
"The first conspicuous excursion and incursion of the Rockefellers was
into
the railway field. By 1895 they controlled one-fifth of the railway
mileage
of the country. What do they own or, through dominant owner****p, control
to-day? They are powerful in all the great railways of New York, north,
east, and west, except one, where their share is only a few millions. They
are in most of the great railways radiating from Chicago. They dominate in
several of the systems that extend to the Pacific. It is their votes that
make Mr. Morgan so potent, though, it may be added, they need his brains
more than he needs their votes--at present, and the combination of the two
constitutes in large measure the 'community of interest.'
"But railways could not alone absorb rapidly enough those mighty floods of
gold. Presently John D. Rockefeller's $2,500,000 a month had increased to
four, to five, to six millions a month, to $75,000,000 a year.
Illuminating
oil was becoming all profit. The reinvestments of income were adding their
mite of many annual millions.
"The Rockefellers went into gas and electricity when those industries had
developed to the safe investment stage. And now a large part of the
American
people must begin to enrich the Rockefellers as soon as the sun goes down,
no matter what form of illuminant they use. They went into farm mortgages.
It is said that when prosperity a few years ago enabled the farmers to rid
themselves of their mortgages, John D. Rockefeller was moved almost to
tears; eight millions which he had thought taken care of for years to come
at a good interest were suddenly dumped upon his doorstep and there set up
a-squawking for a new home. This unexpected addition to his worriments in
finding places for the progeny of his petroleum and their progeny and
their
progeny's progeny was too much for the equanimity of a man without a
digestion. . . .
"The Rockefellers went into mines--iron and coal and copper and lead; into
other industrial companies; into street railways, into national, state,
and
municipal bonds; into steam****ps and steamboats and telegraphy; into real
estate, into skyscrapers and residences and hotels and business blocks;
into
life insurance, into banking. There was soon literally no field of
industry
where their millions were not at work. . . .
"The Rockefeller bank--the National City Bank--is by itself far and away
the
biggest bank in the United States. It is exceeded in the world only by the
Bank of England and the Bank of France. The deposits average more than one
hundred millions a day; and it dominates the call loan market on Wall
Street
and the stock market. But it is not alone; it is the head of the
Rockefeller
chain of banks, which includes fourteen banks and trust companies in New
York City, and banks of great strength and influence in every large money
center in the country.
"John D. Rockefeller owns Standard Oil stock worth between four and five
hundred millions at the market quotations. He has a hundred millions in
the
steel trust, almost as much in a single western railway system, half as
much
in a second, and so on and on and on until the mind wearies of the
cataloguing. His income last year was about $100,000,000--it is doubtful
if
the incomes of all the Rothschilds together make a greater sum. And it is
going up by leaps and bounds."
<<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
From Chapter XVI The End
"When I was a boy," father said, "I was very curious. I wanted to know why
things were and how they came to pass. That was why I became a physicist.
The life in me to-day is just as curious as it was in my boyhood, and it's
the being curious that makes life worth living."
Sometimes he ventured north of Market Street into the shopping and theatre
district, where he sold papers, ran errands, and opened cabs. There, one
day, closing a cab, he encountered Mr. Wickson. In high glee father
described the incident to us that evening.
"Wickson looked at me sharply when I closed the door on him, and muttered,
"Well, I'll be damned." Just like that he said it, "Well, I'll be damned."
His face turned red and he was so confused that he forgot to tip me. But
he
must have recovered himself quickly, for the cab hadn't gone fifty feet
before it turned around and came back. He leaned out of the door.
"'Look here, Professor,' he said, 'this is too much. What can I do for
you?'
"'I closed the cab door for you,' I answered. 'According to common custom
you might give me a dime.'
"'Bother that!' he snorted. 'I mean something substantial.'
"He was certainly serious--a twinge of ossified conscience or something;
and
so I considered with grave deliberation for a moment.
"His face was quite expectant when I began my answer, but you should have
seen it when I finished.
"'You might give me back my home,' I said, 'and my stock in the Sierra
Mills.'"
Father paused.
"What did he say?" I questioned eagerly.
"What could he say? He said nothing. But I said. 'I hope you are happy.'
He
looked at me curiously. 'Tell me, are you happy?'" I asked.
"He ordered the cabman to drive on, and went away swearing horribly. And
he
didn't give me the dime, much less the home and stock; so you see, my
dear,
your father's street-arab career is beset with disappointments."
And so it was that father kept on at our Pell Street quarters, while
Ernest
and I went to Wa****ngton. Except for the final consummation, the old order
had passed away, and the final consummation was nearer than I dreamed.
Contrary to our expectation, no obstacles were raised to prevent the
socialist Congressmen from taking their seats. Everything went smoothly,
and
I laughed at Ernest when he looked upon the very smoothness as something
ominous.
We found our socialist comrades confident, optimistic of their strength
and
of the things they would accomplish. A few Grangers who had been elected
to
Congress increased our strength, and an elaborate programme of what was to
be done was prepared by the united forces. In all of which Ernest joined
loyally and energetically, though he could not forbear, now and again,
from
saying, apropos of nothing in particular, "When it comes to powder,
chemical
mixtures are better than mechanical mixtures, you take my word."
The trouble arose first with the Grangers in the various states they had
captured at the last election. There were a dozen of these states, but the
Grangers who had been elected were not permitted to take office. The
incumbents refused to get out. It was very simple. They merely charged
illegality in the elections and wrapped up the whole situation in the
interminable red tape of the law. The Grangers were powerless. The courts
were in the hands of their enemies.
This was the moment of danger. If the cheated Grangers became violent, all
was lost. How we socialists worked to hold them back! There were days and
nights when Ernest never closed his eyes in sleep. The big leaders of the
Grangers saw the peril and were with us to a man. But it was all of no
avail. The Oligarchy wanted violence, and it set its agents-provocateurs
to
work. Without discussion, it was the agents-provocateurs who caused the
Peasant Revolt.
In a dozen states the revolt flared up. The expropriated farmers took
forcible possession of the state governments. Of course this was
unconstitutional, and of course the United States put its soldiers into
the
field. Everywhere the agents-provocateurs urged the people on. These
emissaries of the Iron Heel disguised themselves as artisans, farmers, and
farm laborers. In Sacramento, the capital of California, the Grangers had
succeeded in maintaining order. Thousands of secret agents were rushed to
the devoted city. In mobs composed wholly of themselves, they fired and
looted buildings and factories. They worked the people up until they
joined
them in the pillage. Liquor in large quantities was distributed among the
slum classes further to inflame their minds. And then, when all was ready,
appeared upon the scene the soldiers of the United States, who were, in
reality, the soldiers of the Iron Heel. Eleven thousand men, women, and
children were shot down on the streets of Sacramento or murdered in their
houses. The national government took possession of the state government,
and
all was over for California.
And as with California, so elsewhere. Every Granger state was ravaged with
violence and washed in blood. First, disorder was precipitated by the
secret
agents and the Black Hundreds, then the troops were called out. Rioting
and
mob-rule reigned throughout the rural districts. Day and night the smoke
of
burning farms, warehouses, villages, and cities filled the sky. Dynamite
appeared. Railroad bridges and tunnels were blown up and trains were
wrecked. The poor farmers were shot and hanged in great numbers. Reprisals
were bitter, and many plutocrats and army officers were murdered. Blood
and
vengeance were in men's hearts. The regular troops fought the farmers as
savagely as had they been Indians. And the regular troops had cause.
Twenty-eight hundred of them had been annihilated in a tremendous series
of
dynamite explosions in Oregon, and in a similar manner, a number of train
loads, at different times and places, had been destroyed. So it was that
the
regular troops fought for their lives as well as did the farmers.
As for the militia, the militia law of 1903 was put into effect, and the
workers of one state were compelled, under pain of death, to shoot down
their comrade-workers in other states. Of course, the militia law did not
work smoothly at first. Many militia officers were murdered, and many
militiamen were executed by drumhead court martial. Ernest's prophecy was
strikingly fulfilled in the cases of Mr. Kowalt and Mr. Asmunsen. Both
were
eligible for the militia, and both were drafted to serve in the punitive
expedition that was despatched from California against the farmers of
Missouri. Mr. Kowalt and Mr. Asmunsen refused to serve. They were given
short shrift. Drumhead court martial was their ****tion, and military
execution their end. They were shot with their backs to the firing squad.
Many young men fled into the mountains to escape serving in the militia.
There they became outlaws, and it was not until more peaceful times that
they received their punishment. It was drastic. The government issued a
proclamation for all law-abiding citizens to come in from the mountains
for
a period of three months. When the proclaimed date arrived, half a million
soldiers were sent into the mountainous districts everywhere. There was no
investigation, no trial. Wherever a man was encountered, he was shot down
on
the spot. The troops operated on the basis that no man not an outlaw
remained in the mountains. Some bands, in strong positions, fought
gallantly, but in the end every deserter from the militia met death.
A more immediate lesson, however, was impressed on the minds of the people
by the punishment meted out to the Kansas militia. The great Kansas Mutiny
occurred at the very beginning of military operations against the
Grangers.
Six thousand of the militia mutinied. They had been for several weeks very
turbulent and sullen, and for that reason had been kept in camp. Their
open
mutiny, however, was without doubt precipitated by the
agents-provocateurs.
On the night of the 22d of April they arose and murdered their officers,
only a small remnant of the latter escaping. This was beyond the scheme of
the Iron Heel, for the agents-provocateurs had done their work too well.
But
everything was grist to the Iron Heel. It had prepared for the outbreak,
and
the killing of so many officers gave it justification for what followed.
As
by magic, forty thousand soldiers of the regular army surrounded the
malcontents. It was a trap. The wretched militiamen found that their
machine-guns had been tampered with, and that the cartridges from the
captured magazines did not fit their rifles. They hoisted the white flag
of
surrender, but it was ignored. There were no survivors. The entire six
thousand were annihilated. Common shell and shrapnel were thrown in upon
them from a distance, and, when, in their desperation, they charged the
encircling lines, they were mowed down by the machine-guns. I talked with
an
eye-witness, and he said that the nearest any militiaman approached the
machine-guns was a hundred and fifty yards. The earth was carpeted with
the
slain, and a final charge of cavalry, with trampling of horses' hoofs,
revolvers, and sabres, crushed the wounded into the ground.
Simultaneously with the destruction of the Grangers came the revolt of the
coal miners. It was the expiring effort of organized labor. Three-quarters
of a million of miners went out on strike. But they were too widely
scattered over the country to advantage from their own strength. They were
segregated in their own districts and beaten into submission. This was the
first great slave-drive. Pocock 1 won his spurs as a slave-driver and
earned
the undying hatred of the proletariat. Countless attempts were made upon
his
life, but he seemed to bear a charmed existence. It was he who was
responsible for the introduction of the Russian pass****t system among the
miners, and the denial of their right of removal from one part of the
country to another.
In the meantime, the socialists held firm. While the Grangers expired in
flame and blood, and organized labor was disrupted, the socialists held
their peace and perfected their secret organization. In vain the Grangers
pleaded with us. We rightly contended that any revolt on our part was
virtually suicide for the whole Revolution. The Iron Heel, at first
dubious
about dealing with the entire proletariat at one time, had found the work
easier than it had expected, and would have asked nothing better than an
uprising on our part. But we avoided the issue, in spite of the fact that
agents-provocateurs swarmed in our midst. In those early days, the agents
of
the Iron Heel were clumsy in their methods. They had much to learn and in
the meantime our Fighting Groups weeded them out. It was bitter, bloody
work, but we were fighting for life and for the Revolution, and we had to
fight the enemy with its own weapons. Yet we were fair. No agent of the
Iron
Heel was executed without a trial. We may have made mistakes, but if so,
very rarely. The bravest, and the most combative and self-sacrificing of
our
comrades went into the Fighting Groups. Once, after ten years had passed,
Ernest made a calculation from figures furnished by the chiefs of the
Fighting Groups, and his conclusion was that the average life of a man or
woman after becoming a member was five years. The comrades of the Fighting
Groups were heroes all, and the peculiar thing about it was that they were
opposed to the taking of life. They violated their own natures, yet they
loved liberty and knew of no sacrifice too great to make for the Cause. 2
The task we set ourselves was threefold. First, the weeding out from our
circles of the secret agents of the Oligarchy. Second, the organizing of
the
Fighting Groups, and outside of them, of the general secret organization
of
the Revolution. And third, the introduction of our own secret agents into
every branch of the Oligarchy--into the labor castes and especially among
the telegraphers and secretaries and clerks, into the army, the
agents-provocateurs, and the slave-drivers. It was slow work, and
perilous,
and often were our efforts rewarded with costly failures.
The Iron Heel had triumphed in open warfare, but we held our own in the
new
warfare, strange and awful and subterranean, that we instituted. All was
unseen, much was unguessed; the blind fought the blind; and yet through it
all was order, purpose, control. We permeated the entire organization of
the
Iron Heel with our agents, while our own organization was permeated with
the
agents of the Iron Heel. It was warfare dark and devious, replete with
intrigue and conspiracy, plot and counterplot. And behind all, ever
menacing, was death, violent and terrible. Men and women disappeared, our
nearest and dearest comrades. We saw them to-day. To-morrow they were
gone;
we never saw them again, and we knew that they had died.
There was no trust, no confidence anywhere. The man who plotted beside us,
for all we knew, might be an agent of the Iron Heel. We mined the
organization of the Iron Heel with our secret agents, and the Iron Heel
countermined with its secret agents inside its own organization. And it
was
the same with our organization. And despite the absence of confidence and
trust we were compelled to base our every effort on confidence and trust.
Often were we betrayed. Men were weak. The Iron Heel could offer money,
leisure, the joys and pleasures that waited in the repose of the wonder
cities. We could offer nothing but the satisfaction of being faithful to a
noble ideal. As for the rest, the wages of those who were loyal were
unceasing peril, torture, and death.
Men were weak, I say, and because of their weakness we were compelled to
make the only other reward that was within our power. It was the reward of
death. Out of necessity we had to punish our traitors. For every man who
betrayed us, from one to a dozen faithful avengers were loosed upon his
heels. We might fail to carry out our decrees against our enemies, such as
the Pococks, for instance; but the one thing we could not afford to fail
in
was the punishment of our own traitors. Comrades turned traitor by
permission, in order to win to the wonder cities and there execute our
sentences on the real traitors. In fact, so terrible did we make
ourselves,
that it became a greater peril to betray us than to remain loyal to us.
The Revolution took on largely the character of religion. We wor****pped at
the shrine of the Revolution, which was the shrine of liberty. It was the
divine fla****ng through us. Men and women devoted their lives to the
Cause,
and new-born babes were sealed to it as of old they had been sealed to the
service of God. We were lovers of Humanity.
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Next: Chapter XVII: The Scarlet Livery
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Footnotes
1 Albert Pocock, another of the notorious strike-breakers of earlier
years,
who, to the day of his death, successfully held all the coal-miners of the
country to their task. He was succeeded by his son, Lewis Pocock, and for
five generations this remarkable line of slave-drivers handled the coal
mines. The elder Pocock, known as Pocock I., has been described as
follows:
"A long, lean head, semicircled by a fringe of brown and gray hair, with
big
cheek-bones and a heavy chin, . . . a pale face, lustreless gray eyes, a
metallic voice, and a languid manner." He was born of humble parents, and
began his career as a bartender. He next became a private detective for a
street railway cor****ation, and by successive steps developed into a
professional strikebreaker. Pocock V., the last of the line, was blown up
in
a pump-house by a bomb during a petty revolt of the miners in the Indian
Territory. This occurred in 2073 A.D.
2 These Fighting groups were modelled somewhat after the Fighting
Organization of the Russian Revolution, and, despite the unceasing efforts
of the Iron Heel, these groups persisted throughout the three centuries of
its existence. Composed of men and women actuated by lofty purpose and
unafraid to die, the Fighting Groups exercised tremendous influence and
tempered the savage brutality of the rulers. Not alone was their work
confined to unseen warfare with the secret agents of the Oligarchy. The
oligarchs themselves were compelled to listen to the decrees of the
Groups,
and often, when they disobeyed, were punished by death--and likewise with
the subordinates of the oligarchs, with the officers of the army and the
leaders of the labor castes.
Stern justice was meted out by these organized avengers, but most
remarkable
was their passionless and judicial procedure. There were no snap
judgments.
When a man was captured he was given fair trial and op****tunity for
defence.
Of necessity, many men were tried and condemned by proxy, as in the case
of
General Lampton. This occurred in 2138 A.D. Possibly the most bloodthirsty
and malignant of all the mercenaries that ever served the Iron Heel, he
was
informed by the Fighting Groups that they had tried him, found him guilty,
and condemned him to death--and this, after three warnings for him to
cease
from his ferocious treatment of the proletariat. After his condemnation he
surrounded himself with a myriad protective devices. Years passed, and in
vain the Fighting Groups strove to execute their decree. Comrade after
comrade, men and women, failed in their attempts, and were cruelly
executed
by the Oligarchy. It was the case of General Lampton that revived
crucifixion as a legal method of execution. But in the end the condemned
man
found his executioner in the form of a slender girl of seventeen, Madeline
Provence, who, to accomplish her purpose, served two years in his palace
as
a seamstress to the household. She died in solitary confinement after
horrible and prolonged torture; but to-day she stands in imperishable
bronze
in the Pantheon of Brotherhood in the wonder city of Serles.
We, who by personal experience know nothing of bloodshed, must not judge
harshly the heroes of the Fighting Groups. They gave up their lives for
humanity, no sacrifice was too great for them to accomplish, while
inexorable necessity compelled them to bloody expression in an age of
blood.
The Fighting Groups constituted the one thorn in the side of the Iron Heel
that the Iron Heel could never remove. Everhard was the father of this
curious army, and its accomplishments and successful persistence for three
hundred years bear witness to the wisdom with which he organized and the
solid foundation he laid for the succeeding generations to build upon. In
some respects, despite his great economic and sociological contributions,
and his work as a general leader in the Revolution, his organization of
the
Fighting Groups must be regarded as his greatest achievement.
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