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diff --git a/26719-h/26719-h.htm b/26719-h/26719-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d72e70 --- /dev/null +++ b/26719-h/26719-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9527 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of An Anarchist Woman, by Hutchins Hapgood. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .frontend { text-align: center; font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + .epigraph { margin-top: 4em; margin-left: 35%; margin-right: 35%;} + .author { text-align: right; margin-right: 35%; margin-bottom: 4em;} + .end { text-align: center; margin-top: 5em;} + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; clear: both;} /* all headings centered */ + + hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; + margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + + img {border: 0;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: 75%; + text-align: right;} + + .blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .right {text-align: right;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + .transnote {margin: 2em 5% 1em 5%; font-size: 90%; padding: 0.5em 1em 0.5em 1em; + border: solid 1px silver; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of An Anarchist Woman, by Hutchins Hapgood + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: An Anarchist Woman + +Author: Hutchins Hapgood + +Release Date: September 28, 2008 [EBook #26719] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ANARCHIST WOMAN *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Brian Janes and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class='transnote'> +<h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3> + +<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected in this text. For a +complete list, please see <a href="#Transcribers_Notes">the bottom of this document</a>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 241px;"> +<img src="images/img01.jpg" width="241" height="400" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + + + +<h1><i>An</i><br /> +Anarchist Woman</h1> + +<h3><i>By</i></h3> +<h2>HUTCHINS HAPGOOD</h2> + +<h3><i>Author of "The Autobiography of a Thief,"<br /> +"The Spirit of Labor"</i></h3> + + +<p class='center'><i>NEW YORK</i><br /> +DUFFIELD & COMPANY<br /> +1909<br /></p> + + +<p class='frontend'> +<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1909, by<br /> +Duffield and Company</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p class='epigraph'><i>"The best government is that which<br /> +makes itself superfluous."</i></p> + +<p class='author'><span class="smcap">Goethe</span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="toc"> +<tr><td align='right'><span class='smcap'>chapter</span></td><td align='right'></td><td align='right'><span class='smcap'>page</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">School and Factory</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Domestic Service</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Domestic Service (Continued)</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Adventures in Sex</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Marie's Salvation</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Terry</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Meeting</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Rogues' Gallery</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Salon</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>X.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">More of the Salon</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The End of the Salon</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Marie's Attempt</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Marie's Failure</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Marie's Revolt</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_280">280</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Terry's Finish</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_299">299</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>PREFACE</h2> + + +<p>It is possible that in fifty years people now +called "anarchists" will have in America +as respectable a place as they now occupy in +France. When we are more accustomed to +social thought, we shall not regard those who +radically differ from us, as mad dogs or +malevolent idiots. We may, indeed, still look +on them as mistaken, but what now seems to +us their insanity or peculiar atrociousness +will vanish with our growing understanding +and experience. When we become less crude +in civilisation, they will seem less crude to +us. When, with growing culture, we see +things more nearly as they are, the things we +see, including the anarchists, will seem more +sympathetic.</p> + +<p>This book is not an attempt to justify any +person or set of persons. It is not a political +or economic pamphlet. It represents an +effort to throw light on what may be called +the temperament of revolt; by portraying the +mental life of an individual, and incidentally +of more than one individual, I have hoped to +make more clear the natural history of the +anarchist; to show under what conditions, in +connection with what personal qualities, the +anarchistic habit of mind arises, and to point +out, suggestively, rather than explicitly, the +nature, the value, and the tragic limitation of +the social rebel.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h1>An Anarchist Woman</h1> + +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3><i>School and Factory</i></h3> + + +<p>When I first met the heroine of this tale, +Marie, she was twenty-three years old, +yet had lived enough for a woman of more +than twice her age; indeed, few women of any +age ever acquire the amount of mental +experience possessed by this factory hand and +servant girl. She had more completely +translated her life into terms of thought than +any other woman of my acquaintance. She +had been deeply helped to do this by a man of +strange character, with whom she lived. +She had also been deeply helped by vice and +misery. The intensity of her nature showed +in her anæmic body and her large eyes, dark +and glowing, but more than all in the way she +had of making everything her own, no matter +from what source it came. Everything she +said, or wrote, or did, all fitted into her personality, +had one note, her note. But perhaps<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +the most intense quality of all was—and is—this +never-failing though gracefully manifested +energy, resulting in unity of character +and temperament in expression. To keep +everything in tone is a quality of art; it is also +a sign of great, though not always obvious, +energy.</p> + +<p>Marie was born in a Chicago slum in 1884. +Her mother, half French and half German, +was endowed with cruelty truly international. +Her father was a drunken machinist of +German extraction, generally out of a job. +Both the parents beat the little girl, the mother +because she was cruel, the father because he +was a beast.</p> + +<p>Her earliest memories are connected with +the smoky streets of the West Side. The smell +of the Stock Yards suggests her youth to her, +as the smell of walnuts brings back to the more +fortunate country man the rich beauty of a +natural childhood. The beatings she received +from her parents and the joy of her escape to +the street—these are the strongest impressions +derived from her tender years. To her the +street was paradise; her home, hell. She +knew that when she returned to the house she +would find a mother half crazy with poverty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +and unhappiness and a father half crazy +with drink; and that, if for no other reason +than for diversion and relief, they would +beat her.</p> + +<p>The authorities finally succeeded in forcing +the little girl's parents to send her to school, +where she remained only two years. She was +not quite ten years old at the time, and the +memories she has of her school life are only +a trifle less unpleasant than those of her home. +The last day in school especially lives in her +recollection; and she thus described it in a +letter to me:</p> + +<p>"It was a warm morning toward the end +of May, and room seven in the Pullman +School was pervaded with an intense excitement. +For soon examination day would come +and the pupils were being prepared for the +occasion. The children fidgeted uneasily in +their seats and even the teacher became nervous +and impatient, glancing often at the big +clock which ticked so monotonously and +slowly. Soon it would be twelve o'clock and +teacher and pupils would have a respite for a +few hours. If only those stupid children +would solve those problems in arithmetic, the +most difficult study, they would not have to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +stay after school. But it happened just as the +teacher had feared: A dozen children, of +whom two were boys, did not give correct +answers. After the school was dismissed +the stupids were ordered to go to the blackboard, +and stay there until they saw the +light.</p> + +<p>"Meanwhile the teacher sat at her desk with +a despairing look on her face and the general +air of a martyr, as she noticed the futile +efforts of those stupid children. But she was +evidently determined not to help them out of +their difficulty. After a while, one of the +boys solved the problem and was dismissed. +The other children looked at his work and +quickly copied it before the teacher could +erase it from the blackboard. Not I, however, +for I was at the other end of the room and +my eyes were weak. I enviously watched the +other children leaving the room, until I was +alone with the teacher. I tried the terrible, +senseless problem again and again and +became so confused and nervous that I was +on the verge of tears. All the little knowledge +I had of mathematics left me completely. +Finally the teacher lost her patience +and showed me how to get the answer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'You stupid girl!' she said, 'you will +never pass the examination.'</p> + +<p>"But I did not care. I ran from the school-house, +and on my way home kept saying to +myself: 'I don't have to pass, for I'm going +to work next week, and I'm so glad. Then +I'll never, never have to study arithmetic any +more. Oh, how I wish next week were here +already.' I was not quite twelve years old and +I would have been working even then if my +prospective employers had not instructed my +parents to secure a certificate showing that I +was fourteen years old.</p> + +<p>"The next Monday morning, bright and +early, with this new certificate, which was +sworn to by my mother and duly attested by +a notary, I presented myself at the office of +Messrs. Hardwin & Co., in South Water +Street. They were wholesale dealers in miscellaneous +household supplies, from bird-seed +and flavouring extracts to bluing and lye, the +latter the principal article. Mr. Hardwin, a +benevolent looking old gentleman with a +white beard and a skull-cap, glanced at the +certificate, and patting stupid me kindly on +the head, hired me for two dollars a week, +and sent me upstairs where I was put to work<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +washing old cans collected from the ash +barrels and alleys of the city. After being +cleansed, they were filled with lye, and new +covers sealed on them. Then they were covered +with neat white labels, and packed in +cases and delivered to all parts of the United +States.</p> + +<p>"This sort of work was not what I had +expected to do. But I was told by my mother +that all people who worked for their living +had to start in that way, and gradually work +themselves upwards. So I waited patiently +for the time when I might, perhaps, secure the +position of labelling. Then, too, I thought +that great place would bring an increase of +salary, for I had already learned that the +lighter the work, the heavier the pay.</p> + +<p>"About this time the firm received large +orders for lye, and all hands were put to +work filling the cans with this corrosive +material, for which purpose rubber gloves +were used. As I was the latest addition to the +factory, and the greenest girl in the place, it +was easy for the older and more experienced +girls to secure the best gloves for the work. +The old, worn out ones, which were full +of holes, fell to me, who was too young and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +timid to rebel against these conditions. After +a week of this work my hands were all eaten +by the lye and it was torturing agony to +move them in any way. At night my mother +used to put salve and bandages on them, but +this treatment was of little avail because the +next day my hands would be covered with +that horrible stuff which ate deeper +and deeper, until the pain became unbearable.</p> + +<p>"So, one morning, I went to Mr. Hardwin +and begged him, with tears in my eyes, to let +me work at something else until my hands +were healed. He looked at my swollen fingers +and said: 'My poor girl, you certainly shall +work at something else. I will give you a +nice easy job making bird-seed boxes.'</p> + +<p>"I was immediately put at my new work, +which seemed really delightful to me, but I +was rather lonely, as I was the only girl on +that floor. I made thousands and thousands +of those boxes, which were stacked in heaps +upon the shelves above my head. Directly +behind me was a great belt, connected with +the cutting machine up-stairs, which all day +long cut out the round pieces of tin needed +to cover the cans of lye after they were filled.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +This belt as it whirled round and round made +a great noise. But I soon grew quite used to +it. I became like a machine myself. All alone +I sat there, day after day, while the great belt +whirred out the same monotonous song. I +kept time to its monotony by a few movements +of the hands endlessly repeated, turning out +boxes and boxes and boxes, all alike. I saw, +heard, and felt almost nothing. My hands +moved unconsciously and instinctively. At +this time, I think, the first feeling of profound +ennui came to me, that feeling which to shake +off I would at a later time do anything, anything, +no matter how violent and extreme it +was. Only at noon time when the whistle +shrieked did I seem alive, and then I was +dazed and trembling.</p> + +<p>"The great belt then stopped whirring for +half an hour and I sat and ate my frugal meal, +listening eagerly to the talk going on about +me. Sometimes the girls made me the butt of +their jests, for they were envious of me, because +of my easy job, and hinted that I was +not getting this snap for nothing. All of this +I did not in the least understand, for I was not +much more than twelve years old.</p> + +<p>"One morning I was surprised and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +delighted to see Mr. Hardwin come in and +ask me how my hands were, and if I still +suffered much pain. I was so grateful that +tears came to my eyes as I answered. That +night I told my mother what an extremely +kind and good man Mr. Hardwin was. He +repeated these visits several mornings in +succession, always asking me how I was +getting along, and patting me on the head or +shoulder as he went away. I had been working +perhaps two months at this job, when one +morning it happened that I was the first one +of the employees to arrive at the factory. While +I was in the dressing-room removing my +wraps, a knock came on the door, and Mr. +Hardwin entered. Quickly seizing me in his +arms, he covered my face with kisses, and did +not quit until he heard someone approaching. +He left hastily, saying 'Don't tell!' the only +words he uttered during the scene. I was so +amazed that I did not even scream. Nor did +I understand, but I did feel troubled and +ashamed. All that morning I was uneasy and +nervous, and the following day I waited outside +until some of the girls came, so that I +should not have to go into the factory alone. +The day following I received an envelope<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +with my pay, and was told that my services +were no longer required.</p> + +<p>"I got a beating at home as a result of my +discharge, but as I soon found another job, +my parents became comparatively kind to me +again. This new work was in a candy factory, +where I was both startled and amazed at the +way the beautiful, sweet candies were made. +I remained there about six months, when I +was discharged because I had been late +several times in one week. The next job was +in a brewery, where I labelled beer bottles. +This was the cleanest and most wholesome +place I ever worked in. We had a whole +hour for dinner, and the boys and girls were +all so jolly. Nearly every day after lunch +we played on mouth organs and danced on the +smooth floor until the whistle blew for work +again. Oh, there, it was good to work! Three +times a day each employee received a bottle +of nice cold beer, which, after several hours +of hard work, tasted lovely. The people +there seemed to think it was not evil to be +happy, and I naturally agreed with them +against the good people outside. But one ill-fated +day my parents heard that a brewery +was an immoral place for a young girl to work<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +in, and that if I remained there I might lose +my character and reputation. So I was taken +away and put to work in another place and +then in another, but I am sure that I never +again found a place that I liked half as well +as the dear old bottled beer shop."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3><i>Domestic Service</i></h3> + + +<p>When Marie was about fifteen years old, +her mother took her away from the +factories and put her into domestic service. +Factory work was telling on the girl's health, +and the night freedom it involved did not +please her mother. The young woman for +some time had felt the charms of associating +with many boys and girls unchaperoned and +untrammelled. She liked the streets at night +better than her home.</p> + +<p>"When I got into the street," said Marie, +"I felt like a dog let loose." Of course, she +hated to go into domestic service, where the +evenings would no longer be all her own, +but her mother was still strong enough to +have her way.</p> + +<p>"At that time," Marie wrote me, "I was +a poor, awkward girl, somewhat stupid, perhaps, +but who would not be at my age and in +the same environment? I had received most of +my education in the factories and stores<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +down-town, which was perhaps beneficial to +everybody but me. Even my mother, who in +some ways was stupid and hard, noticed that +this sort of education was likely to have what +is called a demoralizing effect on me. So +she induced a kind-hearted, philanthropic +woman, Mrs. Belshow, to take me as servant +girl. Mrs. Belshow was high in affairs of +the Hull House Settlement Workers, and +generously paid my mother one dollar and a +half a week for my services.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Belshow had a beautiful house. At +first these fine surroundings, to which I was +entirely unused, made me more awkward +than ever. But soon I got accustomed to the +place and became very serviceable to my +employer. I was lady's maid as well as +general housekeeper, and my fine lady duly +appreciated my work, for she never asked me +to do service after half-past nine at night or +before half-past five in the morning. Besides, +she allowed me Sunday afternoon free, but +only to go to church or Sunday School. For +the honourable lady told me very kindly that +she did not wish to interfere with my religion +in any way whatever. This advice I accepted +meekly, as I was greatly in awe of her, though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +I should have much preferred to spend my +half holiday in my home locality and to dance +there with other stupid boys and girls in +Lammer's Hall, where the entrancing strains +of the concertina were to be heard every Sunday +afternoon. The young folks out that way +were not strong on religion; or, if they were, +they would receive all the soul's medicine +necessary by attending church in the morning, +no doubt thereby feeling more vigorous and +fit for enjoying the dance afterwards.</p> + +<p>"But I, poor stupid, had learned from my +mistress that dance-halls were vile and +abominable. Of course, I believed all that +Mrs. Belshow told me. I had not the slightest +idea that she did not know everything. Why, +she belonged to Hull House, that big place in +Halsted Street, which had flowers and lace +curtains in all the windows, and big looking-glasses +and carpets and silver things on the +inside; and many beautiful ladies who wore +grand silk dresses and big hats with feathers +came to see my mistress nearly every day, and +they all talked a great deal about the evils of +dance-halls and saloons and theatres. I had +always stupidly thought that those places +were very nice, especially the dance-halls,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +because I always enjoyed myself there better +than anywhere else. I had never been in a +theatre, but I had often been in the saloons to +rush the can for my father, and I had noticed +that people seemed to enjoy themselves there. +There were long green tables in the saloons on +which men played pool, and there were books +scattered about in which were jokes and funny +pictures. And the men played cards and told +stories and danced and sang and did about +anything they wanted to. This seemed to me +good, and I felt sure at the time that if I +were a man I should like to be there, too.</p> + +<p>"But now I learned that these were terrible +places, dens of vice and crime. What vice +was, I did not know, but crime meant murdering +somebody or doing something else +dreadful. I thought about what I heard the +fine ladies say until my poor little head +became quite muddled. Left to myself, I +could not see anything so terrible about these +places, but if these finely dressed ladies said +they were terrible, why they must be so. They +knew better than I did. But I wondered +dreamily if all terrible places were as nice as +dance-halls.</p> + +<p>"After the novelty of the situation wore<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +away, life became rather wearisome to me, +and I sometimes wished I were again working +in the old factory. I thought of the evenings, +when my day's work in the factory was done +and I was walking in the streets with my +chums, telling them, perhaps, of the small +girls who worked with me in the factory, and +of the guys who waited for them on Saturday +nights and took them to the show. And one +of the girl's guys always used to give her a +whole box of the swellest candy you ever +tasted.</p> + +<p>"Dreaming thus one day of all the happy +times I had known, I loitered over my work, +as I fear I often did, and was sharply reprimanded +by my mistress, the honourable lady, +who wanted to speak to me as soon as possible +on a matter of grave importance. I finished +making the bed in a hurry and went into the +presence of Mrs. Belshow, who said to me:</p> + +<p>"'My dear child, how old are you?'</p> + +<p>"'Past fifteen, ma'am.'</p> + +<p>"'Fifteen! H'm, you're quite a big girl for +your age. I'm astonished that you have no +more self-respect, or your mother for you! +How is it that she allows you to go about with +such short dresses? Why, it is shameful; I am<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +surprised, for your mother seemed to me a +sensible sort of a woman. I declare, I never +would allow my daughter to expose herself +in such a shameless manner, and I certainly +will not allow anyone in my employ to do so. +Only the other day my attention was called +by some of my friends to your most careless +condition. They said they could not help +noticing it, it was so dreadful. It is this kind +of thing which causes a great part of the vice +and immorality with which we are surrounded. +Unless a mother has common +decency enough to clothe her child properly, +it seems hopeless for us to accomplish anything. +Now, my dear child, I want you to go +home this very night and tell your mother +you must positively have some long dresses, +or no self-respecting person would care to +associate with you. And you must try to have +at least one respectable garment by Sunday, +for I am ashamed to have you seen going out +of my house in your present condition. Run +along now and don't be home later than ten +this evening.'</p> + +<p>"During this long harangue I stood gazing +on the floor, blushing painfully. I wanted to +tell my mistress why I had no longer dresses,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +but could only stammer 'yes, ma'am' and 'no, +ma'am,' and was very glad to escape from the +room as soon as my lady had finished.</p> + +<p>"When my mother heard about the affair, +she was very indignant, and demanded why +Mrs. Belshow did not buy the dresses for +me. 'For my part,' she said, 'I have no +money to waste on such trash. I'm sure, what +you are wearing now is all right. It's not so +short, either, nearly down to your shoe tops. +But I suppose I must get you something, or +she will fire you. I'll give you a dress that'll +be long enough all right—one that goes right +down to the floor, and if Mrs. Belshow doesn't +like it, she'll have to lump it. I can't afford +to get you new dresses every year and you not +through growing yet. Gee, that Mrs. Belshow +must think we're millionaires!'</p> + +<p>"When I made my appearance the next +Sunday morning in a neat long skirt, the +honourable lady praised me very highly, saying +that now I looked like a respectable +young woman. 'Why, you actually look +pretty, my child,' she said. 'You must get a +nice ribbon for your neck, and then you will +be fine.' This remark made me very happy, +for I had been secretly longing for a dress of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +this kind. Now, at last, I was a real grown-up +lady. Perhaps I might soon have a fellow, +who would take me to the show, just like the +girls in the factory. I thrilled with joy. Later +I looked into the mirror a long while, admiring +myself and dreaming of the afternoon, +when I would be free. I decided that I +would go to the dance, and pictured to +myself how surprised and envious the other +girls would be, when they saw me looking so +fine. I would certainly not miss one single +dance the whole afternoon, for I was sure the +boys would be fascinated and that the swellest +among them would see me home in the +evening.</p> + +<p>"These joys made the morning an unforgettable +one; but soon it was time to get ready to +go. I went to my room and curled my hair, +and then was more pleased with myself than +ever. I really looked pretty! Oh, the joy of +it! I do not need to explain, even to a man. +Briefly, I looked sweller than ever. The only +thing needed to complete my toilet were some +bright ribbons to fix in my hair and around my +throat. I recollected having seen some very +pretty ribbons in my mistress's scrap-bag +which would do admirably. So I brought the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +scrap bag from the store room and dumped the +contents on my bed, and soon found just what +I wanted—two beautiful bits of silk. I hastily +stitched them together, and was all ready to +go. I could return the silk to the bag the next +morning and my mistress would never know +they had been gone. I thought regretfully +what a shame it was to throw such beautiful +things into a scrap-bag.</p> + +<p>"Poor, vain little me! I came home later +than usual, that never-to-be-forgotten night!—very +tired, but very happy. And I had been escorted +all the way by the grandest young man +I had ever known. I lay awake for a long +time, reviewing everything that had happened. +I had never dreamed it was possible to be so +happy. It was because I was now a grown-up +lady! I should never forget that all my happiness +was due to my mistress, for it was through +her that I had my long dress. I decided to +be more serviceable than ever, not dream and +dawdle over my work, and never to be angry +when my mistress scolded me. I would disobey +her only in one thing—about going to +Sunday School. At least, I would not go every +week, perhaps every other Sunday, so she +would not notice. In the midst of these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +good and delightful thoughts I fell asleep, and +slept so soundly that the alarm bell in the +clock did not awaken me at the usual hour.</p> + +<p>"It did awaken Mrs. Belshow, however, +who was just about to drop off to sleep again, +when it occurred to her that she had not heard +me moving about as usual, so she went to my +room and aroused me in the midst of a beautiful +dream about the handsomest boy you ever +saw just as he was paying me the greatest +attention!</p> + +<p>"Jumping out of bed, I was horrified to +find it was six o'clock, fully half an hour late. +I rushed about my work, dreading the moment, +yet wishing it were over, when my mistress +should summon me for the scolding I +was sure would come, for if there was one +thing Mrs. Belshow hated more than anything +else, it was being late. All too soon came the +dreaded moment. Breakfast was scarcely +over, when I was requested to go to my room. +That was rather surprising, for, as a rule, I +received my scolding in the lady's room, while +I was assisting her to pull on her stockings or +comb her hair.</p> + +<p>"I had scarcely crossed the threshold of my +room when my knees knocked together and I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +nearly fell over, for there, standing in the +centre of the room, with a piece of silk in her +hand and an ominous frown on her face, stood +my mistress. She pointed an accusing finger +at me and asked coldly, 'Where did you get +this?' Receiving no answer, she continued, +'Don't tell any lies, now, to add to your other +crime.' I stood there, as if glued to the floor +and could only gaze at her dumbly and appealingly. +I tried to speak in vain; but even +if I had been able to, she would not have given +me a chance. She brought all her eloquence +to bear upon the stupid girl before her; she +wanted to make me see what a very evil act I +had committed.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, how sorry I am!' she cried, 'that +this thing has happened. But you are very +fortunate that it has occurred in my house, +rather than in somebody else's, for I know +what measures to take to cure you of the propensity +to crime which you have so clearly +shown. I shall, of course, have to send you +away immediately; for I could never again +trust you in my home, for although it is only +a trifle that you have stolen,—yes, deliberately +stolen,—yet anyone who takes only a pin that +belongs to another, will take more when the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +opportunity offers. So, in order to cure you +of this tendency, I myself will conduct you to +your mother and impress upon her the necessity +of guarding and watching you carefully, +as a possible young criminal. I never should +have expected this of you, for you have quite +an honest look. Now, dress yourself quickly +and bundle up whatever belongs to you. I +will remain in the room while you are packing. +Are you sure you have taken nothing +else which does not belong to you?'</p> + +<p>"This question loosened my tongue, which +hitherto had clung tightly to the roof of my +mouth. Dropping on my knees before my +mistress, I fervently swore that I had taken +nothing, that I had not meant to take anything. +I had meant to wear the pieces of silk +only once and then put them back where I +had found them. With tears rolling down my +face, I begged her not to tell my mother.</p> + +<p>"'I will work for you all my life without +pay,' I cried, 'if you will only not tell my +mother. Indeed, I did not mean to steal, so +please don't tell my mother!'</p> + +<p>"This I urged so vehemently and with +such floods of tears that finally my kind-hearted +mistress said: 'My dear child, if you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +will promise me faithfully never to do anything +like this again, I will not tell your +mother. But let this be a lesson to you; never +to take anything again, not even a pin, that +does not belong to you. You can never again +say, with perfect truthfulness, that you have +not stolen. I am glad to see that you have +such respect for your mother that you do not +want her to know of this, and for your sake I +will not tell her. I have a meeting at Hull +House to attend in half an hour, and before I +leave I wish you would scrub up the kitchen +and your room and then you can go.'</p> + +<p>"So saying, the honourable lady left the +room quite satisfied with herself for having +(perhaps) rescued another human being from +the paths of vice and crime. I went about my +work with a heavy heart. Forgotten were all +the joys of yesterday! Now, just as I was becoming +used to my place, I must leave it. And +I must tell my mother some reason for it. But +I could not tell the truth. Ah! yes, I would +say that my mistress was about to close up the +house and go South for the winter. That +would be a fine excuse. I had heard and read +that many rich people go South for a time in +the cold weather, so surely my mother would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +not doubt it. I went away, feeling easier in +my mind, and never saw my honourable mistress +again.</p> + +<p>"Many days have passed since then, and I +have been serving several different ladies. I +learned a lesson from each one of them; but I +shall never forget what I learned from the +kind-hearted, philanthropic Mrs. Belshow, a +prominent settlement worker in a large city. +It's a lesson that Mrs. Belshow will never +learn, or could never understand. All of +which shows, perhaps, that I was simple at the +time rather than stupid; for I find that I am +still receiving my education—not from books, +but from the way people treat me, and from +what I see as I pass through life."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3><i>Domestic Service (Continued)</i></h3> + + +<p>"Nearly a year had passed," continued +Marie, "since I had began to work at +service, and my experiences had not been of +the sort that makes one love one's fellow-creatures. +For the most part I had worked +for people who were trying to make a good +showing in society and had not the means to +do so. How often during those weary days +of drudgery I looked back at the dear old +days when I used to work in the factories! +Then I could go to the dance! Now, it was +very difficult, even if my mother had not been +so strongly against it. I could not understand +why my mother so sternly forbade me to go. +When I asked her why she objected, the only +answer I received was: 'It is improper for a +girl of your age.' 'Why is it improper?' I +asked myself, and could find no answer. So I +disobeyed my mother and danced whenever I +had the chance. Whenever I did succeed in +going, my heart almost broke from sheer happiness. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>Oh, how supremely, wonderfully +joyous I felt! How I forgot everything then—my +mother, my drudgery, everything that +made life disagreeable! Whenever the music +started, I felt as if I were floating in the air, +I could not feel my feet touching the floor. +All the lights merged into one dazzling glow +and my heart kept time to the rhythm of the +music. When the music stopped, the glorious +illumination seemed to go out and leave only +a little straggling light from a few badly +smelling kerosene lamps. The beautiful, fantastic +music had been in reality only a harsh +horn accompanied by a concertina or some +other stupid instrument jangling vile music. +The young boys and girls were all a common, +stupid lot, and the odour of the stock yards +permeated the room. But when the mystical +music begins again, and the dance starts, +presto! change, and I am again floating in +rhythmic space and the faces and dim lights +have changed into one glorious central flame.</p> + +<p>"I shall never forget one awful night, when +my mother, who had heard that I was at the +dance, came into the hall, and there before all +the boys and girls dragged me out and away +to our home. I was so ashamed that I did not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +show myself in that dance-hall again for +months. I cannot help thinking my mother +was wrong, for I needed some outlet to my +energy. Like many a poor working girl, I had +developed into womanhood early and consequently +was full of life. The dance satisfied +this life instinct, which, when that outlet was +made difficult, sought some other way.</p> + +<p>"At that time I had a position as nurse-maid, +my duties being to take care of two +beautiful, but spoiled children, who had +never received proper care, because their +mother a wealthy woman, was too indolent, +to make any effort in that direction, spending +most of her time lying in bed with some novel +in her hand. The house was filled with sensational, +sentimental books. They were to be +found in every room, stacked away in all the +corners.</p> + +<p>"At first I attempted to do what I thought +was my duty, that is, to keep the children neat +and clean and try to train them to be more +gentle and obedient, but I soon saw that what +their mother wanted was for me to keep them +out of her way. My ambition about them +faded away, and I sought only to fulfil my +mistress's wishes. I used to take the two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +children up into the store-room, in which were +all sorts of miscellaneous things, including +stacks and stacks of paper-covered novels, lock +the door, and allow the children absolute liberty, +while I sat down comfortably and examined +the books.</p> + +<p>"Here a new life opened before me. I read +these novels constantly every day and half the +night, and could hardly wait for the children +to have their breakfast, so eager was I to get +at my wonderful stories again. Even when it +was necessary to take the children out for an +airing, a novel was always hidden in my +clothes, which I would eagerly devour as +soon as I was out of sight of the house. During +the four weeks spent at this place I read +more than forty novels. Even on Sunday, +when I was free, I sprawled out on the bed +and read these sensational books. I thought +no more of my beloved dances, for I was living +in a new world. Here I was in a beautiful +house, where I did almost nothing but loll +in the easiest chairs and feed my soul on +stories about beautiful, innocent maidens, who +were wooed, and after almost insurmountable +difficulties, won by gallant, devoted heroes.</p> + +<p>"But soon I became so absorbed that even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +the few duties I had, became very irksome to +me, for they interfered somewhat with my +reading. Every morning I had to bathe and +dress the little ones, who, not seeing the necessity +for these operations, struggled and +screamed and bit and kicked. I had accepted +this daily scene as a matter of course, but +every now and then it rather irritated me. One +morning the hubbub was unusually long and +loud, so much so that the noise disturbed the +mother, who was breakfasting and reading in +bed. She came to the room in a stew and +asked me what was the matter. When I told +her, she angrily said: 'When I engage a nurse +girl for my children, I do not expect to hear +them squealing every morning. Remember +that, and do not let me hear them again.'</p> + +<p>"The little boy, who was precocious for his +age, heard what his mother had said, and seeing +that he had not been scolded for his ill +behaviour, began to scream and struggle more +than ever, and his little sister imitated him, in +a dutiful, feminine way. I then lost my patience, +seized the little boy, dragged him to +his mother and said: 'Here's your boy. Tend +to him yourself; I cannot.'</p> + +<p>"I was, of course, told to bundle up my belongings +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>at once and go. I did not forget to +pack away among my things some of the +novels, feeling that since they had all been +read by Madame, they were only in the way. +When I said 'good-bye' to the children, +Madame came to me and said very kindly, +'Marie, I'm really sorry this has occurred, for +you are one of the best nurse girls I have ever +had, and the children seemed to get along so +nicely with you, too!' I was so surprised at this +speech that I could make no answer and so I +lost my chance of remaining, for it is quite +certain she wanted me to stay. But it was +fated to be otherwise, and once more I returned +to the home of my parents.</p> + +<p>"My mother was not overjoyed to see me. +It was a mystery to her why I did not keep +my jobs longer. I promised to get another +place as soon as possible and begged her to +allow me to stay at home the rest of the week. +To this she consented rather grudgingly, and +I flew to my beloved books and read till supper +time. I was beginning at it again in the +evening when my mother rudely snatched the +book from me saying, that it was not good for +young girls to read such stuff. I begged earnestly +to be allowed to finish just that one story<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +and she finally said that perhaps I might read +it the next day. In the morning I could hardly +curb my impatience; it seemed as though my +mother were inventing all sorts of useless +things for me to do, just to keep me from the +book. But at last I was free and, hastening +to my room, was soon absorbed in another +world. I was suddenly recalled to this earth +by a sharp blow on my head, and the book was +again snatched from me and thrown into the +fire and burned. It seemed that mother had +been calling me and that I had been too much +absorbed to hear; that she had finally lost her +temper and decided to punish me.</p> + +<p>"'Don't ever again read such trash as this,' +she cried in a rage. 'Have you any more of +them?'</p> + +<p>"'No,' I said, fearing to tell the truth, lest +the rest of the books meet the same fate.</p> + +<p>"She then sent me on an errand. As I left +the house I felt uneasy, thinking that my lie +might be discovered. The moment I returned, +I saw by the expression on my mother's face +that my fears had been realised. The storm +broke at once.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, what an unfortunate woman I am!' +she cried, 'to be treated thus by my own flesh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +and blood, by the child that I brought into the +world with so much pain and suffering. O, +God, what have I done to deserve this? O +God, what have I done to be cursed with such +a child?—so young, yet so full of lies. What +will become of her? Have I not always done +my duty by her and tried to raise her the best +I knew how? Why did she not die when a +baby? I like a fool, toiled and moiled for her +night and day and this is my reward.'</p> + +<p>"I had heard these expressions often, for +my mother was a hysterical woman in whom +the slightest thing would cause the most violent +emotions which demanded relief in such +lamentations. And yet, frequent as they were, +they never failed to arouse in me feelings of +shame and rage—shame that I had caused my +mother suffering, and rage that she reproached +herself for having brought me into the world. +That expression of hers never failed to make +me wish that I had never been born—born +into this miserable world where I had to toil +as a child, and could not go to dances or even +read without receiving a torrent of abuse and +an avalanche of blows. What harm had I +done by my reading? True, I had not heard +my mother calling, but how often had I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +spoken to her without being heard, when +she was engrossed in some newspaper or +book!</p> + +<p>"So I remained quiet, when my mother +railed at me for my lie, too ashamed and bitter +to make defense or reply. This silence, as +usual, made my mother still more angry and +she shouted: 'You ungrateful wretch, I'll +tell your father, and he'll fix you so you won't +feel like lying to your mother for some time +to come.'</p> + +<p>"That threat nearly paralysed me with +dread, for my father was to me a strange man +whom I had always feared; my mother, when +she wanted to subdue me, only needed to say: +'I'll tell your father.' I remembered the last +time my father had whipped me. I was a big +girl at the time, more than fourteen years old, +and working down town. I had to rise very +early in the morning, and it often happened +that I would fall asleep again after my +mother had called me. On that particular +morning mother had more difficulty than +usual in arousing me, scolding me severely, +and I replied rather impudently, I suppose. +She waited till I had got out of bed and was +standing in my bare arms and shoulders over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +the wash bowl, and then she told father, who +came with a long leather strap, which I knew +well, as it was kept only for one purpose, +and beat me so severely that I carried the +marks for a long time. The strap was about +two inches broad, and with this in one hand, +whilst he held me firmly with the other, he +belaboured me in such a way that the end of +the strap curled cunningly around my neck +and under my arms and about my little breast, +making big welts which swelled at once to +about a fourth of an inch in diameter and were +for a few days a most beautiful vivid scarlet +in colour. Then they toned down and new and +milder tints came, and finally there was only a +dull sort of green and blue effect. Finally +even these disappeared from my body, but not +from me.</p> + +<p>"Now, when I thought of the possible consequences +of the lie I had told, I could feel +those marks on my shoulders and arms. And, +at my mother's threat, the thought that I might +be beaten again made me flush with shame. A +feeling of rebellion, of vivid revolt, came over +me. Why not resist, why not defend myself? +I remembered what a factory girl had once +told me—how she had defended herself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +against her brother by striking him with a +chair.</p> + +<p>"That is what I will do, I said to myself, +trembling with excitement, if my father tries +to beat me again. I am too old to be whipped +any more. I don't care if he kills me, I will +do it. Perhaps when I die, and they see my +grave, they'll be sorry.</p> + +<p>"When father came home in the evening, +he seemed to sense trouble at once, for suddenly +coming down on the table with his fist, +he demanded: 'What in hell is the matter? +Here you both are going around with faces as +if you were at a funeral. I'm working hard +all day, and when I come home at night, by +God, I don't want to see such faces around me. +What in hell is it, now tell me!'</p> + +<p>"Mother told him, and he said: 'Very +well, just wait till I've had supper, for I'm +damned hungry, then we'll have a little understanding +with my lady, who's so mighty +high-toned since she worked for those swells. +I'll soon show her, though, she is no better +than we are.'</p> + +<p>"When the important task of supper was +over he called me to him. I was trembling in +every limb, for I knew that my father was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +man of few words and that he would without +delay proceed to action. I managed to get a +chair between him and me. He went to work +deliberately, as if he were a prize-fighter. +First, he spat on his hands, and was about to +give me a knock-out-blow, when I, with the +courage of desperation, raised the chair above +my head, crying out, 'Father, if you strike me, +I'll hit you with this chair.' He was so astonished +at my audacity that his arms fell to his +sides and he gazed at me as if he had lost his +senses. I took advantage of this pause to make +for the door, but before I could escape, he +seized me by the arm and hurled me back +into the room, and then with blood-shot eyes +and bull-like voice he cursed and cursed. My +mother, fearing the effect of his terrible rage, +tried to intercede, but he pushed her aside, +shouting, 'Oh, she's the daughter of her +mother all right, and she'll turn out to be a +damned —— just like you!'</p> + +<p>"He then came up to me, where I was standing +really expecting my death, and to my surprise +only pressed his fist gently against my +head saying: 'See how easily I could crush +you. The next time I hear anything about you, +I will.' Cursing me and mother, he left the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +house and he took him to a nearby saloon +where he drank himself insensible. Toward +morning he was brought home. Poor man, he +just couldn't bear to see long faces about him, +especially after a hard day's work!</p> + +<p>"In a few days I secured another place, +this time in a middle-class family. I remained +there nearly a year and was considered by my +mistress a model of willingness, patience, endurance, +gentleness, and all the other slavish +virtues. I never spoke except when spoken +to and then I answered so respectfully! The +children might kick and abuse me in any way +they chose without any show of resentment +from me. This my mistress noticed and duly +commended. 'Those dear children,' she said. +'You know they do not realise what they are +about, and so one ought not to be harsh to the +dear pets.'</p> + +<p>"I gave up reading books and even newspapers; +partly I suppose because I had for the +time satiated myself, especially with sentimental +and trashy novels, and had not yet +learned to know real literature, and partly because, +in my state of humility, I listened to +my mistress when she said reading took too +much time, that it was better to sew, dust, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +the like, when I was not busy with the children. +Everything I do, I must do passionately, +it seems, even to being a slave. I gave up +dances, too, and on my days out dutifully visited +my parents. I had no friends or companions +and was in all respects what one calls a +perfect servant—so perfect that the friends of +my mistress quite envied her the possession of +so useful a slave.</p> + +<p>"I got pleasure out of doing the thing so +thoroughly; but yet it would not have been +so interesting to me if it had not been painful, +too. I was enough of a sport to want as much +depth of experience, while it lasted, in that +direction as in any other—in spite of, perhaps +partly because of, the pain. And what pain it +was, at times! Who knows of the bitter hatred +surging in my heart, of the long nights spent +in tears, of the terrible mental tortures I endured! +Sometimes it was as if an iron hand +were squeezing my heart so that I almost died; +sometimes as if a great lump of stone lay on +my chest. And my mistress seemed each day +somehow to make the iron hand squeeze +tighter and tighter and the stone weigh heavier +and heavier. If she had only known what a +deadly hatred I bore her—a hatred that would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +not have been so severe if I had not been so +good a servant—had given myself rope, had +satisfied my emotions! If she had understood +that my calm, modest bearing was only a +mask which hid a passionate soul keenly alive +to the suffering inflicted on me, she would have +hesitated, I think, before she entrusted her +precious darlings to my care.</p> + +<p>"This period of virtuous serving was the +severest strain to which my nature, physical +and moral, was ever put. I finally became +very ill, and had to be removed to my +mother's house, as completely broken in body +as I had apparently been in spirit.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"I sat near the window gazing vacantly at +the scene below. All the morning I had sat +there with that empty feeling in my soul. +From time to time my mother spoke to me, +but I answered without turning my head. +Since my illness I seemed to have lost all +interest in life, and this, although everybody +was kind to me. My mother gave me novels +to read and money to go to the dances. The +books I scarcely glanced at, and what I did +read seemed so silly to me! And the dances +had lost their charm. I went once or twice,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +but the music did not awaken any emotion in +me, and I sat dully in a corner watching, without +any desire to join in. And this, when I +was hardly past sixteen years of age!</p> + +<p>"The day before, I had been down town +looking for a job in the stores, for my mother +had told me that I might work in the shops or +factories again, if I wished. Although even +this assurance failed to interest me, I had +obediently tried to find a position, but oh! +how weary I was and how I longed for some +quiet corner where I might sit for ever and +ever and ever without moving. This morning +I was wearier than ever, my feet seemed +weighted, and I could hardly drag them +across the room. My mother asked me +anxiously, if I were ill. 'No, no,' I said. 'Then +my child,' she replied, 'you must positively +find work. You father is getting old and it +would be a shame to have him support a big +girl like you—big enough to make her own +living. Don't you want to go back to your +last place? She would be very glad to have +you, I am sure.'</p> + +<p>"This last remark aroused me, and I +replied that I would never go back, even if +I had to starve. 'Don't worry, mother,' I said,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +'I'll go now, and if I don't find a place, I +won't come back.' 'Oh, what a torture it is +to have children,' moaned my mother. 'Don't +you know your father would kill me if you +did not return?'</p> + +<p>"Her words fell on heedless ears, for I was +already half way down the stairs. I bought +a paper and in it read this advertisement, +'Wanted: a neat girl to do second work in +suburb near Chicago. Apply to No. — Wabash +Avenue.' Within an hour I presented +myself at Mr. Eaton's office, was engaged by +him, received a railroad ticket and instructions +how to go to Kenilworth the following evening. +On my way home I made up my mind +to tell nobody where I was going. I packed +my few belongings and told my mother that +I had secured a place with a certain Mrs. +So-and-so who lived in Such-and-such a +street. I lied to the best of my ability and +satisfied my mother thoroughly.</p> + +<p>"The next morning I went away, and was +soon speeding to Kenilworth, where I was +met at the station by my future mistress and +her mother, two extremely aristocratic +women, who received me kindly and walked +with me to my new home, instructing me on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +the way in regard to my duties in the household. +These consisted mainly in being +scrupulously neat, answering the door-bell +and waiting on the table. I began at once to +work very willingly and obligingly, and also +helped the other girl working in the household, +and everybody was kind to me in return. +I did not, however, take this kindness to heart +as I would have done a year or two earlier, +for I had learned to my cost that kindness of +this kind was generally only on the surface.</p> + +<p>"But my new mistress soon proved to be a +true gentlewoman, who treated her servants +like human beings. To work for a mistress +who did not try to interfere with my private +life or regulate my religion or my morals +was an unusual and pleasing experience for +me. This lady was as tolerant and broad-minded +toward her servants as she was +toward herself, rather more so, I think, for +cares and age had removed from her desires +and temptations for which she still had +sympathy when showing themselves in +younger people. I soon saw, to my astonishment, +that things which my mother and my +other employers had told me were evil, and +which I had learned almost to think were so,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +did not seem evil to this sweet lady. I remember +how kindly and sadly she said to me once, +when I had spent half the night out with a +young man: 'Little Marie, it is a sad thing in +life that what seems to us the sweetest and +the best, and what indeed is the sweetest and +the best, often leads to our harm and the harm +of others. It would be foolish of me to pretend +to know which of your actions is good +and which is bad; but remember that life is +very difficult and hard to lead right, and that +you must be careful and always thoughtful +of what is good and what is evil. I myself +have never learned to know for sure what is +good or evil, but as I grow older I am certain +that we act always for the one or for the +other.'</p> + +<p>"Under these conditions, in the home of +such a sweet and tolerant woman, all the +throbbing joy of life and youth awoke again +within me. Cut off from the old scenes and +companions, I entered upon a new existence. +I made many friends with the young people in +the neighbourhood, and for the first time felt +free and without the opposition of anybody. +I had not written my mother or in any way +let her know where I was, and no disturbing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +word came from my past. I sang all day at +my work, and in the evening I joined my new +companions and together we roamed and +frolicked to our hearts' content. I had many +young men friends and could satisfy my +desire to be in their society, talk to, dance with +them, without arousing evil thoughts in others +or, consequently, in ourselves.</p> + +<p>"Under these happy influences I grew +healthier and more wholesome in every way. +People began to say I was pretty, and indeed +I did grow to be very good-looking. My +figure had reached its fullest development +and the rosy bloom of youth and of health was +in my cheeks. I was strong and vigorous, +self-reliant and independent, and very happy. +I became quite a favourite and the recognised +leader in the mischievous frolics of the +young people. Hardly an evening passed that +did not bring a scene of gaiety. It seemed +to me that I had never lived before and +that I was making up for all the pleasures I +had not known. There was, indeed, something +heartless and cruel in my happiness, for I +never once wrote to my mother, selfishly fearing +to have my present joy disturbed.</p> + +<p>"My fears had good reason, too, it seems,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +for I had lived in those pleasant surroundings +only a few months when one evening, +while I was enjoying myself at a moon-light +picnic, I was approached by a sober, stern-looking +man who drew me away from my +friends and asked me my name. When I +had told him, he showed me a newspaper +clipping of an article with the head-lines, +'Mysterious Disappearance of a Young Girl.' +For some moments I stood as if turned to +stone, gazing stupidly at the paper. Then +troubled thoughts took possession of me. +'What shall I do? What will become of +me?' I remembered my mother so often saying +that if I ran away I would be put in the +House of Correction. At this thought I shuddered +and exclaimed aloud, 'No, no.' The +man had been watching me closely and he +asked: 'Is it true,' pointing to the article. I +stared at him, for a moment too absorbed in +my inner terror to be very conscious of him. +When he repeated the question, I looked at +him with a more intelligent expression in my +eyes, and he, seeing my condition, spoke to +me kindly and persuasively.</p> + +<p>"'Tell me the truth,' he said, 'And I will +help and advise you.' So I told him the whole<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +story, and he reassured me, saying, 'Don't +be afraid, little girl, I have no doubt your +mother will forgive you if you explain to +her in the way you have to me. It is hard +for children to understand their parents. I +know, for I have children of my own, and +sometimes they think me unkind when I am +trying to do my best for them.' He was kind, +but he was firm, too, and said that if I did +not write my mother, he should do so himself. +So I at last consented, and as a result +went back to the city: for my mother, my +unfortunate, cruel mother, wanted me for +some strange reason, to be near her."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3><i>Adventures In Sex</i></h3> + + +<p>When Marie returned to her home, she +found that her father had died. It +made little difference, practical or otherwise, +to her or to her mother, except to make +her stay in the house less dangerous, though +quite as irksome, as formerly. Her mother +had, of course, reproached her bitterly for her +conduct in running away, and had kept up +her complaint so constantly that Marie could +hardly endure her home even for the night +and early morning. So for that reason, as +well as for the need of making her living, +Marie went again into service, going quickly +from one job to another in the city.</p> + +<p>And now there came for her a period of +wildness, in the ordinary sense of the word. +It was not the simple joys of her Kenilworth +experience. She had returned to her mother's +home in a kind of despair. It seemed to her +as if the innocent pleasures of life were not +for her. She had been torn away from her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +happiness and had been compelled to go back +to conditions she hated. Her passions were +strong and her seventeen-year-old senses were +highly developed by premature work and an +irritating and ungenial home. So, in a kind +of gloomy intensity, she let herself go in the +ordinary way of unguarded young girlhood. +She gave herself to a young fellow she met +in the street one evening, without joy but +with deep seriousness. She did not even +explain to him that it was her first experience. +She wanted nothing from him but the +passionate illusion of sex. And she parted +from him without tenderness and without +explanations, to take up with other men and +boys in the same spirit of serious recklessness. +She had for the time lost hope, and +therefore, of course, care for herself, and +her intense and passionate nature strove to +live itself out to the limit: an instinct for life +and at the same time for destruction.</p> + +<p>From this period of her life comes a story +which she wrote for me, and which I quote +as being typical of her attitude and as throwing +light on her personality.</p> + +<p>"The Southwest corner of State and Madison +Streets is the regular rendezvous of all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +sorts of men. They can be seen standing +there every afternoon and evening, gazing at +the surging crowd which passes by. One +sees day after day the same faces, and one +wonders why they are there, for what they are +looking. Some of these men have brutal, +sensual faces; others are cynical-looking and +sneer. These, it seems, nothing can move +or surprise. They have a look which says: +'Oh, I know you, I have met your kind +before. You do not move me, nothing can. +I have tried everything, there is nothing new +for me.' And yet they cannot tear themselves +away from this corner, coming day after day +and night after night, hoping against hope +for some new adventure.</p> + +<p>"Others stand there like owls, stupidly +staring at the rushing tide of faces. They +see nothing, and yet are seemingly hypnotised +by the panorama of life. Here, too, pass the +girls with the blond hair and the painted +faces; they ogle the men, and as they cross +the street raise their silken skirts a trifle, +showing a bit of gay stocking. Here, too, is +the secret meeting-place of lovers, who clasp +hands furtively, glancing around with stealth. +All this is seen by the sensual men, who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +glance enviously at the lovers, and by the +cynical men whose cold smiles seem to say: +'Bah! how tiresome! wait, and your silly +meetings will not be so charming!'</p> + +<p>"On my evenings off I had sometimes +stopped to gaze at this, to me, strangely moving +sight. I saw in it then what I could not +have seen a few months before; but not as +much as I can see now. Then it excited me +with the sense of a possible adventure. +Strange, but I never went there when I was +happy, only when I was uncommonly +depressed.</p> + +<p>"On a chilly Sunday evening in October +I was waiting on this corner to take a car to +the furnished room of a factory girl, named +Alice, whom I knew was out of town. As I was +out of a job and did not want to go home, I +had availed myself of her place for a few +days. As I was waiting on this corner, I saw +a face in the crowd that attracted me. It was, +as I afterward learned, the face of a club +man, who had, on this Sunday evening, +drifted with the crowd and landed at this +spot. He, too, had stopped and gazed around +him, idly. Several times he started as if to +move on, but he apparently thought this place<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +as good as any other, and so remained. He +seemed not to know what to do, to be tired of +himself. His face was quite the ordinary +American type, clean-cut features, rather +thin and cold, with honest grey eyes, but, in +his case, a mouth rather sensuous and a general +air of curiosity and life which interested +me.</p> + +<p>"I was sufficiently interested to allow several +cars to pass by, while I watched him. I +noticed by the way he looked at the women +who passed that he was familiar with their +kind. Several gay girls tried to attract his +attention, but he turned away, bored. Finally +I began to walk away, and then for the first +time his face lighted up with interest. I was +apparently something new. I wore a straw +hat, and a thin coat buttoned tightly about +my chest. My thin little face was almost +ghastly with pallor, and it made a strange +contrast with my full red lips, which were +almost scarlet, and my big glowing black eyes. +He probably saw that I was poor, dressed as +I was at that season. Why is it that for many +rich men a working girl half fed and badly +dressed is so much more attractive than a fine +woman of the town or a nice lady?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>"As I passed him, he said, 'Good evening,' +in a low and timid tone, as if he thought I +surely would not answer. I think it surprised +him when I looked him full in the +face and replied, 'Good evening!' He still +hesitated, until he saw in my face what I +knew to be almost an appealing look. I knew +that in the depths of my eyes a smile was +lurking, and I wanted to bring it forth! A +moment later, I smiled indeed, when he +stepped forward, lifted his hat, and asked +with assurance: 'May I walk with you? +Are you going anywhere?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, I am going somewhere,' I said, +smiling. 'To a meeting place in Adams Street +to hear a lecture.'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, I say, girlie,' he cried, 'You're +jollying. That must be a very dull thing for +you, a lecture.'</p> + +<p>"'Sometimes it's funny,' I said. But I +did not say much about it, as I had never yet +been to a lecture. I made up for that later +in my life! I of course had no intention of +going to this.</p> + +<p>"'Come,' he urged, 'let's go in somewhere +and have something to eat and drink.'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, I will have something, not to eat,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +though, but let us go where there are lots +of people and lights and all that sort of +thing,' I finished, vaguely.</p> + +<p>"Charley tucked my arm in his and we +walked along State Street until we came to a +brilliantly lighted café. The place was +crowded with well-dressed men and beautiful +women, eating and drinking, chatting and +laughing. Waiters were hastening to and fro. +An orchestra was playing gay music, as we +wound our way through the crowd to a +table. I was painfully conscious that my +shabby coat and straw hat attracted attention. +Some of the women stared at me with a look +of conscious superiority in their eyes, others +with a look of still more galling pity. +Charley, too, I thought, seemed nervous. Perhaps +he did not relish being seen by some +possible acquaintance with so dilapidated-looking +a person!</p> + +<p>"But soon I lost consciousness of these +things and gave myself up to the scene and +the music. My sense of pleasure seemed to +communicate itself to my companion, who +ordered some drinks; I don't know what they +were, but they tasted good—some kind of +cordial. I took longer and longer sips: it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +a new and very pleasant flavour. He ordered +more of the same kind and watched me +with interest as I drank and looked about +me.</p> + +<p>"'Oh,' I said, 'what beautiful women, and +how happy they are! look at that one with +the blond hair. Isn't she beautiful, a real +dream?'</p> + +<p>"Charley replied in a tone of contempt: +'Yes, she's beautiful, but I would not envy +her, if I were you—neither her happiness nor +her good looks. She needs those looks in her +business. Nearly all the women here belong +to her class.'</p> + +<p>"Charles looked at me intently as he said +this. Perhaps he thought I would be angry +because he had brought me to such a place. +But I watched the girls with even greater +interest and said: 'Ah, but they must be +happy!'</p> + +<p>"Charles shrugged his shoulders and said, +with contempt and some pity in his eyes, 'A +queer sort of happiness!'</p> + +<p>"I looked at him rather angrily. He did +not seem just to me.</p> + +<p>"'You don't like them,' I said, 'you think +they are vile and low. But you men seem<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +to need them, just the same. Oh! I think they +are brave girls!'</p> + +<p>"Charles looked at me in apparent +astonishment. But then a thought seemed to +strike him. He was thinking that I might +be one of that class, for he asked me questions +which showed me plainly enough what he +was worrying about. He encouraged me to +drink again, and said with a self-confident +laugh, 'you're a cute one but you cannot fool +me with any such tricks.'</p> + +<p>"I paid no attention to his remarks, and +did not answer any of his personal questions. +He could find out nothing about me. I +would only smile and say, 'I don't want to +know anything about you, why can't you +treat me the same way?'</p> + +<p>"I could see that the less he knew, the more +interested he became. He plied me with +drinks, perhaps thinking that the sweet liquor +would loosen my tongue. Soon I began to +feel a little queer and the room began to go +round, taking with it the faces of the men and +women. After this dizziness passed, I felt +very happy indeed, and smiled at everybody +in the room; and wanted to go and tell them +all how much I liked them. But I did not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +dare trust my legs, they felt so heavy. I +thought I would like to stay there always, +listening to the music and watching the +people.</p> + +<p>"I suppose my happiness heightened my +colour, for Charles said, 'what a beautiful +mouth you have, what red lips. One would +almost believe they were painted. How your +upper lip lifts when you smile, Marie! Don't +you want to go out now?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, yes,' I replied, hastily, 'I must go +home now.'</p> + +<p>"I sprang from my chair, I made for the +door, but he, quickly seizing his hat, followed +me and took my arm. I went very slowly for +my feet seemed weighted. They were inclined +to go one way, while I went another. So +when Charles led me I was quite thankful. +As we went out into the street he asked me +where I was living, what I did, and if I were +married, all in one breath. This made me +laugh merrily, as I assured him I was not +married. I told him I lived away out on the +West Side and that he could see me home, if +he wanted; but not to, if it was out of his way, +for I was used to going alone. He eagerly +accepted, and we took a car.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I fell dreaming on the way, of all nice +things. The days in Kenilworth came back to +me and I smiled to myself and wistfully +hoped my present happiness would last. My +companion eagerly devoured me with his eyes, +and asked me many pressing questions. I +answered only very vaguely, for my mind was +full of other things. So finally Charles, too, +was silent, and merely watched me.</p> + +<p>"Suddenly I woke to the fact that I was at +Alice's room, so I hastily arose and signalled +to the car to stop. Turning to Charles I +extended my hand in a good-bye and said: +'This is where I live.' But he quickly got off +with me saying he would see me to the house. +'I don't like to leave you alone this time of +night,' he said. As we stopped in front of the +dilapidated-looking frame building where +I was staying for a few days, he seemed much +embarrassed and not to know what to say. +Pointing upwards, I said, 'that's where I live.' +'Do you live alone?' he asked. 'Yes, now, not +always. Good night—Charles,' I answered, +mischievously, but with a real and disturbing +feeling taking possession of me.</p> + +<p>"But he seized me by the hand: 'Don't +leave me yet, girlie,' he pleaded. 'Think how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +lonesome I'll be when you are gone!' He +drew me to him in the darkness, and I did +not object, why should I? My lips seemed to +prepare themselves and after one long kiss +that sad intensity seized me; and I sighed or +sobbed, I don't know which, as we went up +the stairs together.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"An hour later, as he was about to descend +the stairs, I said: 'Charles, when will you +come again?'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, I can't tell,' he replied 'but it will +be soon.'</p> + +<p>"'Well,' I said, 'remember I shall be here +only a few days. Alice will be back within +the week. Come Wednesday evening.'</p> + +<p>"But he left with the remark that it might +not be possible! I did not care for him +deeply, of course, it was only an adventure, +but this stung me deeply. The light way he +took what he wanted and then seemed to want +to have no tie remaining! I felt as he did, +too, really, but I did not want him to feel +so! I imagined in what a self-satisfied mood +he must be, how he walked off, with his +lighted cigar! He probably wondered what +sort of a girl this was who had given herself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +so easily? Partly, too, no doubt, he laid it to +his charm and masculine virtue: though he +knew women were weak creatures, he also +knew that men were strong! Ah! I could +almost hear him muse aloud, in my imagination. +His reveries, perhaps, would run +about like this:</p> + +<p>"'I was rather lucky to happen along this +evening! She was certainly worth while, +though pretty weak, I must say. She had fine +eyes and, by jove, what a mouth! She said, +"Wednesday." I think I will go, though it +is never good policy to let girls be too sure +of you. Besides, how do I know she isn't +playing me some game?'</p> + +<p>"I didn't know as much then as I do now +about man's nature, but now I make no +doubt that as the time passed between then and +Wednesday Charles's desire grew: it began +with indifference, but ended, I am sure, with +intensity: for men are like that! Their fancy +works in the absence, not in the presence, of +the girl. I am sure the girl with the red lips +and the deep dark eyes haunted him more +and more as time went on!</p> + +<p>"At the time, I didn't know just why, but +I did know that I wanted nothing more of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +Charley. He had never been anything but a +man to me—he was a moment in my life, that +was all. But I decided to meet him, for only +in that way could I really finish the affair. +Otherwise, if I merely broke the engagement, +he could imagine whatever he wanted to +account for it. No, he must be under no +illusion. He must know that I did not want +him!</p> + +<p>"I waited for him in front of the house, +and on the appointed hour he arrived, looking +very happy and eager. He greeted me +with much warmth, to which I responded +coldly. He suggested going inside, but I +said: 'No, I am going away. I have been +waiting here to tell you so, in case you came +to-night.'</p> + +<p>"'But,' he exclaimed in an aggrieved tone, +'Did not you ask me to come, and now you +say you are going away. Is that fair to +me?'</p> + +<p>"I shrugged my shoulders and said, 'I +don't know, but I'm going. Good-bye,' and +I turned from him and started to walk away. +His tone changed to anger, as he said: 'Now, +see here, Marie, I won't stand for any nonsense +of this kind. You can't treat me like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +this, you know. What right have you to act +in this lying way?'</p> + +<p>"I had been walking away and he following, +and as he stopped talking, he took my +arm, which I jerked away and impatiently +said: 'Well, to be frank, I don't want you +to-night. Whether I have a right to act so, I +don't know or care. Why I asked you to +come I don't know, unless it was because I +felt different from what I do now.'</p> + +<p>"Charles adopted a more conciliating tone +and asked me when he might come. His interest +in me seemed to grow with my resistance.</p> + +<p>"'I guess you'd better not come at all,' I +said, coolly.</p> + +<p>"'But I want to,' he said. 'Do name the +night, any night you say.'</p> + +<p>"Then I turned to him with angry eyes, and +cried out, 'Oh, how stupid you are! Don't +you understand that I don't want you at all?'</p> + +<p>"I again started to walk away, but he seized +my arm and shouted angrily: 'You cannot +leave me like this without explaining some +things to me. In the first place, why did you +pull me on last Saturday night, and who are +you to turn me down like this?' I answered,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +with flashing eyes, 'I owe you no explanation, +but I will answer your questions. As to who +the girl is who can dare to turn you down, you +know very well she is not what you think, or +you wouldn't so much object to being turned +down, as you call it. As to pulling you on, +you were the first to speak or, at any rate, it +was mutual, so you need not demand any explanation. +What you really want to know is +why I don't want you now. If I were a man +like you, I suppose I should never even think +of explaining to anyone why I happened to +change in feeling toward some persons, but as +I'm a woman, it's different. I must explain!'</p> + +<p>"This speech I have no doubt made him +angry, but his pride came to the rescue and he +said with a show of indifference: 'I was angry, +it is true, but only for a moment. It was +irritating to me to have a girl like you show +the nerve to throw me down; for I'm not accustomed +to associate with your sort.'</p> + +<p>"At this insolence my face flushed hotly +and I opened my mouth to make some indignant +reply, but I thought better of it and only +walked away, laughing softly to myself. As +I went away, I heard him mutter, 'What a +cat.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But, I imagine, he didn't forget me so +easily. I have no doubt that the girl with the +red lips and deep dark eyes haunted him for +a long time. Who was this girl who had given +herself to him once and only once? It is this +kind of a mystery that makes a man dream +and dream and curse himself.</p> + +<p>"Probably for some time, as he joined the +crowd at State and Madison Streets, he hoped +to see me as I passed, but all things come to an +end and his passion for me did, no doubt, too. +But, in the routine course of his club life, moments +came, perhaps, when he thought of little +Marie, her red lips, deep eyes, and pale, pale +face. I doubt if he ever told this story to any +of his boon companions."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3><i>Marie's Salvation</i></h3> + + +<p>On account of the irregularity of her life, +Marie lost job after job. Her relations +with her mother, never good, grew worse and +worse. Her profound need of experience, in +which the demand of the senses and the curiosity +of the mind were equally represented, +impelled her to act after act of recklessness +and abandon. But, as in almost all, perhaps +all, human beings, there was in her soul a +need of justification—of social justification, +no matter how few persons constituted the approving +group.</p> + +<p>The feeling that everybody was against her, +that she was on the road to being what the +world calls an outcast, gave to her life an element +of sullenness and of despair. Perhaps +this added depth to her dissipation, but it took +away from it all quality of joy as well as of +peace. If her sensuality and her despair had +been all there was in her, or if these had constituted +her main characteristics, this story<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +would never have been written. Perhaps another +tale might have been told, but it would +have been the story of a submerged class, not +prostitutes, white slaves; and then it would +have been the story of a submerged class, not +of an individual temperament.</p> + +<p>What was it that kept Marie in all really +essential ways out of this class of social victims? +It was because, in the first place, of the +fact that her nature demanded something better +than what the life of the prostitute afforded. +And it was natural that the greater +quality of personality that she possessed should +attract the kind of love and social support +needed essentially to justify to herself her instincts. +When she was very young Marie +secured the genuine love of two strong and +remarkable personalities; and at a later time, +there gathered about these three, other people +who enlarged the group, which gave to each +member of it the social support needed to +remove essential despair and desperate self-disapproval.</p> + +<p>One of these two persons so necessary to +Marie's larger life was a woman whom she +had met several years previous to this point +in the story.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<p>This woman was a cook, Katie by name. +She was born in Germany, and her young girlhood +was spent in the old country. She had +only a rudimentary education, and even now +speaks broken English. But she was endowed +with a healthy, independent nature, a spontaneous +wit, and a strong demand to take care +of something and to love.</p> + +<p>As natural as a young dog, she never +thought of resisting a normal impulse. Her +life as a girl in Germany was as free and untrammelled +as a happy breeze. She lived in +a little garrison town in the South, and the +German soldiers did no essential harm to her +and the other young girls of the place. These +things were deemed laws of nature in her community. +What would have been dreadful +harm to a young American girl was only an +occasional moment of anxiety to her. It never +occurred to her that it was possible to resist +a man. "I had to," she said, very simply, +and did not seem to regret it any more than +that she was compelled to eat. She is also +very fond of her food.</p> + +<p>She came to America and worked as cook +in private families. She was capable and +strong and was never out of a job. She never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +took any "sass" from her mistress; in this respect +she was quite up to date among American +"help."</p> + +<p>At the time she first met Marie she had +been working for a family several years, and +had reduced her employer to a state of wholesome +awe. She remained, like a queen, in +the kitchen, whence she banished all objectionable +intruders. Her mistress had a married +daughter, also living in the house, who +at first was wont to give orders to Katie, and +to interfere with her generally. One day +Katie drove her out of the kitchen with a volley +of broken English. The daughter complained +to the mother, who took Katie's side. +"You don't belong in the kitchen," she said +to her indignant daughter.</p> + +<p>This episode filled Katie with contempt for +her mistress.</p> + +<p>"She ought to have taken her daughter's +side against me," she said, "you bet I would +have, if I had been in her place."</p> + +<p>The daughter had two young children. It +was to take care of them that Marie came into +the household. Marie's mistress liked to stay +in bed and read novels, and this experience is +the one described by Marie in an earlier chapter, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>how she locked herself and the children +in the store-room and read her mistress's +books.</p> + +<p>Katie fell in love with Marie almost at once. +She was fifteen years older than the young girl +and as she had never had any children, all the +instinctive love of an unusually instinctive +nature seemed to be given to Marie. She saw +that Marie was not practical or energetic, and +this probably intensified the interest felt by +the more active and capable woman. She +took the young girl under her wing, and has +been, and is, as entirely devoted to her as +mothers sometimes are to their children.</p> + +<p>The German cook was about thirty years +old at that time and had never loved a man, +though she had had plenty of temporary and +merely instinctive relations with the other sex. +So it was her entire capacity for love, maternal +and other, that she gave to Marie.</p> + +<p>Almost at once Katie began to treat Marie +as her ward. She took her side against her +mistress, when the latter scolded the girl on +account of her indolence or slowness. "Marie +is so young," she would say, "almost a child; +and we ought to go easy on her." She also +looked after Marie's morals and tried to prevent +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>her being out late at night. This kind of +care had its amusing side, as Katie herself was +none too strict about herself in this regard.</p> + +<p>For instance, Katie fancied the butcher's +boy who used to come to the kitchen every day +with meat. He was only sixteen, and quite inexperienced +in the ways of the world.</p> + +<p>"I did him no harm," said Katie. "But I +taught him everything there was to know. My +life was so monotonous and I worked so hard +then that I had to have him. I absolutely had +to, but I think I did him no harm and he was +certainly my salvation. But I didn't let Marie +know anything about it. She was too young. +When she found out, years afterwards, she was +quite cross with me about it."</p> + +<p>This kind of relation existed between Katie +and Marie for several years. About the time +the girl went to Kenilworth and had her +idyllic experience, Katie married. Nick was +a good sort of a man, easy and happy, and a +sober and constant labourer. Katie had saved +some money, in her careful German way, had +even a bank-account of several hundred dollars. +It was not an exciting marriage; neither +of them was very young or very much in love, +at least Katie was not, but it was a good marriage +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>of convenience, so to speak, and it might +have lasted if it had not been, as we shall +see, for Marie, and Katie's affection for +her.</p> + +<p>When Marie started in on her career of +wildness, Katie and Nick, her husband, had a +little home together. Into this home Marie +was always welcomed by Katie, but Nick was +not so cordial. They knew about the girl's +looseness, and in their tolerant Southern German +way, they did not so much mind that, and +Katie was distinctly sympathetic: Marie was +old enough now, she thought. But Nick did +not like the hold the girl had on Katie's affection.</p> + +<p>"You'll leave me for her, sometime," he +would say to his wife, ominously. Katie would +laugh and call him an old fool. She couldn't +foresee the circumstances that would one day +realise her husband's fears.</p> + +<p>It was about this time that Marie met the +man who has influenced her more deeply than +anyone else or anything else in her life, who +gave her a social philosophy, though to be +sure what would seem to most people a thoroughly +perverse and subversive social philosophy; +but by means of which she had a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +social background, and a saving justification—was +saved from being a mere outcast.</p> + +<p>Terry, at the time he and Marie met, was +about thirty-five years old and an accomplished +and confirmed social rebel. He had +worked for many years at his trade, and was +an expert tanner. But, deeply sensitive to the +injustice of organised society, he had quit +work and had become what he called an anarchist. +His character was at that time quite +formed, while the young girl's was not. It +was he who was to be the most important factor +in the conscious part of her education. +But to explain his influence on Marie, it is +necessary to explain him,—his character, and +a part of his previous history.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3><i>Terry</i></h3> + + +<p>Terry is a perfect type of the idealist. +We shall see how, in the midst of what +the world calls immorality and sordidness, +this quality in him was ever present; even +when it led to harshness to persons or facts. +Not fitting into the world, his attitude toward +it, his actions in it, and his judgment of it, are +keen and impassioned, but, not fitting the +actual facts, sometimes unjust and cruel. Tender +and sensitive as a child, his indignation +is so uncompromising that it often involves +injustice and wrong. But the beauty in him is +often startlingly pure, and reveals itself in unexpected +conditions and environment. I cannot +do better in an attempt to present him and +his history than to quote voluminously from +his letters to me, adding only what is necessary +for the sake of clearness. He wrote for me +the following poetic outline of his life:<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<p>"The fate of the immigrant, sprung from +peasant stock, is to grow up in the slums and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +tenements of the great city. Such a fate was +mine. To exchange the rack-rented but limitless +fields of Irish landlordism for the rickety +and equally rack-rented tenements, with the +checkerboard streets, where all must keep +moving, is only adding sordidness to spare +sadness. Surely, the birthday's injury is felt +in a deep sense by the poor. But the patient +fatalism of the peasant (so fatal to himself) +is equal to every calamity.</p> + +<p>"I came from an exceptionally well-to-do +family of tenement-farmers, but a few generations +of prolific birth rate, with the help of +successive famines and successful landlordism, +reduced us to the point of eviction. Enough +was saved from the wreck to pay for our passage +in a sailing vessel to America. After being +successfully landed, or stranded, on New +York, my father, with the true instinct of the +peasant, became a squatter on the prairies of +Goose Island. Here we put up, in the year +1864, a frame shanty of one room, in which +the nine of us tried to live. My father, the +only bread-winner, made from seven to eight +dollars a week. Absolute communism in the +deepest and most harmonious faithfulness prevailed. +Truly, as Burns says:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'We had nae wish, save to be glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> Nor want but when we thirsted;<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> We hated naught but to be sad.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"I rejoice to say that I never got over this +first blessed lesson in communism; even +though it was on a small scale, the family +contained the unity of a Greek tragedy. The +heart that throbs with little things may finally +throb for the world. And I learned nothing +in these days except the lessons of the heart. +The only necessary thing of which we had +almost enough was bread. The struggle for +existence, began on one continent, has continued +on the other, with the surviving members +of the family standing shoulder to +shoulder for lack of room.</p> + +<p>"Armed with a throbbing faith in everything +but myself, I boldly and voluntarily entered +the arena of commercial activity at the +pliable age of eight. My first job away from +home was in a mattress factory. Ah, that first +job! I was a triumphant Archimedes who had +found his fulcrum. I helped move the world, +for twelve hours a day and for two dollars a +week.</p> + +<p>"Then and later, I, like all people who +possess nothing, found that my best visions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +have come to me while at work on something +in which I had wistful faith; and when I +lost faith I blindly followed the economists +and philosophers who can never know the +mystic power of work over the worker. And +it may be that herein lies the secret of the +philosopher's ignorance and the worker's +slavery. A man stands to his job because of +the visions that come to him only when at +work.</p> + +<p>"Though I helped move the world, I was +not an Atlas, and at last, I grew tired, for I +found the world moved me out of all proportion +to my capacity. Even at an early age, I +found that I had not the heart for the +fray. Stamped on my narrow forehead, +on my whole being, perhaps, so clearly +that every unsympathetic boss could understand +at once, was the mark of the visionary. +My pitiable willingness to work was +truly tragic.</p> + +<p>"We were an eccentric family, especially +in our peculiar aloofness from others. We +clung desperately to one another long after +the necessity was past. Neither eviction nor +commerce could disband us. Only marriage +or death could separate us. Though we were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +Catholics on the surface, we were pagans at +bottom. I had fed my fill on the fairy tales +of Ireland. Fortunately, these fairy tales +were told to me, not read, and told in such a +way that they led me to seek no individual +foothold in a world at war with my heart: +they helped to take away what the world calls +personal ambition. They strengthened my +natural quality as a dreamer, my tendency to +care only for the welfare of the soul. If I +could bring about no change in this world, it +should effect no alteration in me. This, as I +grew older, became a conscious passion with +me: not to allow myself to be affected by the +world, or its ideals. Such was, at an early +age, my romantic resolution. Now, as the +colour in my hair begins to match the grey in +my eyes, and I look back over the changes of +almost half a century, I detect in the wreck +of my life almost a harmony, and something +rises above the ruins.</p> + +<p>"On that frail foundation from fairy land +my trembling imagination rested, even amid +the sordid developments of my experience. +How often did I take my youthful oath that +the day should never come when I would out-grow +my feeling for all the world! I have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +been put to the test, and, I hope, not found +wanting.</p> + +<p>"The end of my first ten years of life found +me regretfully divesting myself, one by one, +of my beloved folk-lore tales, and reverently +folding them away, in preparation for the +fray. I worked, during my second ten years, +as a journeyman tanner and currier; knocked +by fate and the boss from shop to shop and from +town to town. I naturally sought solidarity +with my fellows. Class feeling awoke in me, +and voluntarily and enthusiastically I joined +the union of my craft. Though I strained at +its narrow confines, I was at one with my class. +During the '70's and '80's the eight hour +movement laid me off on several strikes, long +and short. This enforced leisure was not idleness +for me, for in these periods the world of +science, art and philosophy shot their stray +gleams into my startled mind, and I found +time to ponder on what leisure might do for +the mob. What did it not do for me, and +what has it not done for me since? And I in +the very ecstasy of my being was one of this +mob.</p> + +<p>"Whole hours, whole nights, I stole from +my needed rest to read and ponder on our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +human fate. Sundays! Things after a day's +labour incomprehensible to my stunned brain +were easily grasped on a glorious morning of +religious leisure. The apathy of my fellows—how +well I understood it when, with nerves +unstrung and muscles relaxed, after a tense +twelve hours of toil, I fell asleep over my beloved +books! And how well, too, I understood +their amusement—the appeal of the poor +man's club!—when in gay carousal we tried +to forget what we were. Even in the saloon +and dance-hall we told tales of the shop! +Oh, the irony of it! Was there no escape from +the madness of the mart, no surcease from the +frenzy of the factory or the shibboleth of the +shop!</p> + +<p>"Yes! How well I recall the gay transformation +in my shop-mates when the whistle +blew on Saturday night. The dullest and most +morose showed intelligence then. The prospect +of rest, be it ever so remote—even in the +hereafter—roused them from their lethargy. +How alert and cheerful we were on holidays, +even the prolonged holiday of a strike brought +its pinched joys. Quite a number of my ancient +comrades of industry looked forward to +the Poor House with a hopefulness born of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +thwarted toil. The luckiest ones out of the +thousands whom I knew were those few who, +overcome at last, could find some sheltering +fireside and keep out of the way until nature +laid them off for good; the living envied the +dead.</p> + +<p>"I took part in the famous bread riots of +'77, when I had to fly from the shop, before +an infuriated mob armed with sticks, stones, +pikes, and pitchforks. In the same year I saw +from a distance the great battle of the viaduct, +when the mob, armed as in the bread riots, +faced the federal troops and were shot down +and dispersed. It was about this time, too, +that I stood by as the 'Lehr und Wehr Verein' +in their blue blouses of toil and shouldered +rifles strode ominously onward. These men +were the first fruits in America of Bakunin's +ideals and work in Europe. They, too, were +put down, by an act of legislature.</p> + +<p>"These proletarian protagonists whipped +me into a fury. My father, too, had his rifle, +and when drunk he invoked it, as it hung on +the wall, thus: 'Come down, my sweet rifle, +how brightly you shine! What tyrant dare +stifle that sweet voice of thine.' But my father +was only a Fenian revolutionist; and as it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +was only a step for me from Ireland to Internationalism, +I was soon beyond his +creed.</p> + +<p>"We had come to America during war +times, with the spirit of revolt already germinating +within us; and although we were +against slavery, our sympathies were with the +South. We were natural as well as political +democrats, and even when the mob was in the +wrong, I always became one of it. How +finely elemental, how responsive to the best +and the worst, is the mob when the crisis +comes!</p> + +<p>"Although my thoughts were forming +through my readings and the larger events +about me, the everyday life in the shop was +perhaps the deepest cause of my growing revolt. +The atmosphere of the frenzied factory +is well calculated to produce a spirit of sullen +and smouldering rebellion in the minds of its +less hardened inmates. From the domineering +boss down to the smallest understrapper, +the spirit of the jailer and turnkey is dominant. +Much worse than solitary confinement +is it to be sentenced to ten hours of silence and +drudgery. The temptation to speak to the +man at your side is well nigh irresistible. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +to speak means to be marked, to have hurled +at you a humiliating reprimand, or, as a last +resort, to be discharged.</p> + +<p>"No lunching between meals is allowed, although +it is a well-known fact that few workers +have the appetite at dawn to eat sufficient +food to last them till their cold lunch at noon. +From this comes the terrible habit, among the +older toilers, of the eye-opener, a gulp of rot-gut +whiskey, taken to arouse the sleeping +stomach and force sufficient food on it to last +till noon. As a convalescent victim of this +proletarian practice I am well aware of its +ravages on body and mind. It is the will-of-the-wisp +of false whiskey followed by false +hope, leading into the fogs and bogs of the +bourgeois and the quicksands of the capitalist.</p> + +<p>"To be a moment late, means to be docked +and to have it rubbed in by an insult. To take +a day off, well—death is taken as an excuse. +There is no such thing in a shop as social +equality between boss and men. In my last +position as foreman I had charge of three hundred +men. Many of them were faithful comrades +in many a brave strike, where starvation +pressed hard, whence they had emerged with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +hollow cheeks and undaunted hearts. I soon +came to know them all, personally, intimately, +and liked them all, though I felt most strangely +drawn to those who worked for one dollar a +day. They all did their work faithfully, and +there was no complaint from the front office. +One day, however, the owner charged me with +treating the hands as if they were my equals. +I tried to make him see the human justification +of it, but he would have none of it. He +was a typical boss and also a millionaire +banker.</p> + +<p>"It was about this time that I discovered +the deepest tonic my nerves have ever known. +The explosion of the Haymarket bomb found +a responsive chord, the vibrations of which +will never cease in me, I hope. The unconscious +in me was at last released, and I held +my mad balance on the crater's edge and +gazed into it. Hereafter, I was to live on +dangerous ground, at least in thought. No +more doubt, no more shuffling now. I must +try the chords of my heart, the sympathy of +my soul, in open rebellion. The iniquities of +civilisation had ruined a fine barbarian in me, +and almost made of me a maudlin miscreant, +willing to hang upon the skirts of a false<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +society. The Haymarket bomb made me +strip again and for a nobler fray.</p> + +<p>"Of what avail was it, I reflected, to raise +one's voice in the wilderness of theories? How +do any good by a social enthusiasm merely +expressed in theory? Such thin cerebral structures +are shattered to pieces in the ordeal of +life. Ah, but this anonymous Avatar, this man +with the bomb! His instinct was right, but +how far short it fell, and must always fall. +He had settled the strife within him and become +definite to himself: that was all he had +done. I too must settle the strife within me. +I was plunged into prolonged dreams from +which I was aroused by hunger, hunger of +many kinds, and driven into my former haunt, +the shop.</p> + +<p>"But now, when I stripped for work in the +factory and donned my vestments of toil, I +stood forth without falsehood. I knew, if not +what I was, at least what I wanted, rather +what I did not want. I did not want this, this +society!</p> + +<p>"Each morning as I took my place in the +shop I had the feeling of my boyhood—as if +I were celebrating a High Mass before the +sacrifice of another day. There was much of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +the Pontifical in me, for I was a rapt radical. +Each morning on my way to Commercial Calvary +I saw another sacrifice; I overtook small +shrivelled forms, children they were, by the +dim dawn. How their immature coughings +racked my heart and gave me that strange +tightening of the chest! I could not keep my +eyes from the ground whence came the sound +of small telltale splashes, after each cough. +Many times I stopped to hold a child who was +vomiting.</p> + +<p>"Here was a woe too deep for tears; and I +must look with dry eyes or I should fail to +see. Have you ever noticed the searching dry +gaze of the poor? It is like the seeing, wistful +look of a child—which few can bear without +flinching. I had no need to read Dante's +imaginary 'Inferno.' I was living in a real +one which made all imagination seem trivial. +'The short and simple annals of the poor' +seems like poetry, but only superficially, for it +is not truth, but a fiction. It is false, for the +annals of the aristocracy are not so long, +neither are they so complex.</p> + +<p>"I am not trying to plead for anything. I +am trying merely to express. Prepared for +everything, I have forgiven everything, even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +myself. Everything that could happen has +happened to me, perhaps the worst that happened +did not come from without, but from +within. My family came off safely enough +from the fray of the factory. Only two of us +were maimed for life and five claimed for +death—out of a family of eleven. That left +half a dozen for the statistician to figure on."</p> + +<p>Terry, a transcendental poet, who worked +in the shop for many years, had quit it some +time before he met Marie. The above letter +shows, in a general way, the mood which +finally brought about his social self-exile, so +to speak. The letter which follows gives a +specific instance of the kind of experience +which disgusted the idealist with the imperfect +world. He had been living against +society, had foregathered with outcasts and +had thrown down the gauntlet generally to +organised society, for some years, but he still +from time to time worked at some job or other. +An incident happening some years after the +meeting with Marie, which is still to be described, +is sufficiently typical of what finally +threw him entirely out from society to be +truthfully illustrative at this point.</p> + +<p>"I was keeping open house for all comers,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +regardless of law or order, morality or money. +I wished to hurl myself and my theories to +the test, and gauntlet my defiance to a withered +world. It was a happy time, looked back on +now as a dream, in which, however, there was +an undertone of nightmare. We had three +little rooms up many mild flights of unbalustered +stairs. Our main furniture consisted of +mattresses which, like morning clouds, were +rolled away when the sun arose.</p> + +<p>"For the shocking salary of six dollars a +week I was collector for the Prudential Insurance +company. One rent day I lacked +the necessary four dollars and a half. I telegraphed +my other ego, my dear brother Jim, +in Pittsburg. The same day brought from +him a telegraph money-order for twenty-five +dollars, and soon afterward a letter asking me +to go to Pittsburg and help him out. I had +always been deemed an expert in the leather +line, especially in locating anything wrong in +the various processes. My brother was a +member of a new millionaire leather firm, +which was losing thousands of dollars every +week because they were unable to locate the +weakness in the process. Jim wanted me to +find the flaw.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It was with the utmost repugnance that I +quit my happy slum life, but I loved Jim, and +it was the call of the ancient clan in my blood. +When I arrived in Pittsburg, without a trunk, +and with other marks of the proletarian on +me, Mr. Kirkman, the millionaire tanner, +showered me with every luxury—every luxury +except that of thought and true emotion. +Never before did I realise so intensely my indifference +to what money can buy. My private +office in the shop was stocked with wines +and imported cigarettes: but I was not so well +off as in my happy slum.</p> + +<p>"I toiled like a sleepless sisyphus, and one +day, in a flash of intuition, I located and +showed the flaw in an obscure process; I was +completely successful.</p> + +<p>"I had put no price on my services. For +Jim's sake, I had worked like a Trojan, physically +and mentally, for a month. With unlimited +money at my disposal, I had drawn +only twenty dollars altogether, and this I sent +to Marie, to keep the wolf away from the +Rogues' Gallery, our flat.</p> + +<p>"When the factory was running smoothly, +I told Mr. Kirkman that I would break in a +man for my place. He made me a tempting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +offer to take full charge of the shop. I told +him I would not be a participant in exploiting +his 'hands,' who were getting only $7 to $8 a +week. Furthermore, I said I would not stand +for the discharge of any man for incompetency. +I had never in the shop met any man +I could not teach and learn something from in +return; I had never discharged a man, and +never would. The millionaire boss nevertheless +continued to urge me to take the position, +and my brother Jim offered me two thousand +dollars' worth of stock at par and a large +yearly salary. Well, I suppose, there's no use +of anybody's trying to move me when Jim +has failed.</p> + +<p>"I quit Pittsburg with nothing but the +price of a ticket to Chicago, though my +brother told me the firm would send me a +check for $500 or $1,000 for my services as an +expert. When, with a beating heart, I returned +to my dear Rogues' Gallery, all was +change and dispersion. No more happy times +in our little balcony of fellowship, which had +overlooked in its irresponsibility the jarring +sects and insects of this world: the most delightful +place in this world to me is a home +without a boss, and this home was for the time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +gone. The possibility of being unfair to +Marie makes me draw a veil over the cause of +the breaking-up of the Rogues' Gallery.</p> + +<p>"Poor Jim found that the firm would not +pay me a cent for my really brilliant month's +work, for the reason that I had refused to be +a conventional boss and had no written or +verbal contract or agreement. Jim therefore +resigned, forfeiting fifty dollars of weekly +salary and twenty-five thousand dollars in +stock, ten thousand of which he had offered me +to stay. Mr. Kirkman thought all the world +of Jim and could not run the shop without +him. Nor could he recover from the blow, +for he loved my brother, as everybody did. +Mr. Kirkman died a few weeks afterward, +and after a year or two the firm went into the +hands of a receiver. All this happened because +of a few paltry dollars, which I did not +ask for, for which I did not care a damn—and +this is business! I heartily rejoice, if not in +Mr. Kirkman's death, at least in the dispersion +of his family and their being forced into +our ranks, where there is some hope for them.</p> + +<p>"My brother Jim was one of the maimed +ones in my family. Twenty years ago, defective +machinery and a surgeon's malpractice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +made one arm useless. The Pittsburg affair +broke up his beautiful home. He and his +whole-souled wife and charming children, +into whose eyes it was an entrancing rapture +for me to look, were a family without a boss; +they needed none, for they loved one another +perfectly. Jim is dead now, and the best I +can do is to send you his last letter; it has the +brevity of grief:</p> + +<p>"'I have no explanation to offer for my +silence, more than a feeling which possessed +me shortly after my arrival here—a desire to +be considered a dead one, and am doing all +but the one thing that will make my wish a +reality. I am long tired of the game, and only +continue to play because of the hardships my +taking off would cause those who at present +are not able to care for themselves. A way +out of it would be to take them along, but I +think if the matter were put before them, they +would decline my proffered service; and take +a chance as half-orphans. You calling up our +boyhood days in "Little Hell" makes me +question still further if I have any right to +deny those dear to me the delights that only +the young can feel and enjoy. I made a great +mistake in coming to this Ohio town. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +chase for dollars which I am performing here +seven days every week is very disgusting to +me, and every day only adds to the pangs. I +am out all day selling goods, pleading for +trade and collecting for former weeks' business; +and in the evening I must do the necessary +office work. Every day is the same, except +Sunday, when I make up the book-keeping +for the whole week and prepare statements +and the like, to begin the usual round +on Monday morning. It is a hell of a life and +I wish it were done. I have some consolation +in being able to call up at will those that I +love. I have many a waking dream, while +tramping the hills, about the comrades that +have added to the joys of my former existence. +Let me hear from you occasionally, because a +letter from you seems to revive some of the +old feeling that formerly made life passable.'</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"I suppose I shall recover in time from +Jim's death. I wish I could have been with +him when he died. During his last half-unconscious +moments the nurse proposed to send +for a priest. Jim's soul must have made a last +effort, for raising himself erect, he flung these +words: 'I hire no spiritual nurse,' and then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +asked his daughter of fourteen to bring him a +volume of Emerson and read to him. When +she returned with the book, he was gone.</p> + +<p>"Of course, the doctor and all the wise ones +have diagnosed Jim's case. But I think he +sized up his case in that letter I sent you. He +died of that great loneliness of soul which +made of his wasted body a battered barricade +against the stupidity which finally engulphed +him. The soul of social and individual honour +and commercial integrity, he had the misfortune +to find few like himself. He yearned for +the ideal; and I am sure he went down with +that hope for humanity. Let us trust that +there is an ever increasing number of human +beings who have Jim's malady—'seekers after +something in this world, that is there in no +satisfying measure, or not at all.' If this letter +seems boisterously blue, remember it is +only the sullen marching of the black sap preceding +the unfurling of the emerald banners +of spring, when all things break into a 'shrill +green.'"</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Terry's letter, like Marie's, I give verbatim.—H. H.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3><i>The Meeting</i></h3> + + +<p>The mood of rebellious idealism sometimes +expresses itself in actual anti-social +conduct and life. So it was with Terry. He +is the most consistent anarchist I have known, +in the sense that he more nearly rejects, practically, +all social institutions and forms of conduct +and morality. He is very sweet, and very +gentle, loves children and is tender to every +felt relation. There is a wistful look always +in his eyes. He is tall, thin, and gaunt, his +hair is turning grey; but there is nothing of +the let-down of middle age in his nature, always +tense, intense; scrupulously, deeply +rebellious.</p> + +<p>Even before his meeting with Marie, his +open acts of sympathy with what is rejected +by society had put him more and more in the +position of an outcast. Some of the members +of his family had become fairly successful in +the ways of the world. Terry might easily +have taken his place in comfortable bourgeois<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +society. But his temperament and his idealism +led him to the disturbed life of the radical +rejector. And he was rejected, in turn, by +all, even by his family.</p> + +<p>Between him and his mother there was perhaps +an uncommon bond, but even she in the +end cast him out. He wrote of her:</p> + +<p>"She taught me that I did not belong in +this world; she did not know how deeply she +was right. When she crossed my arms over +my childish breast at night and bade me be +prepared, she gave me the motive of my life. +She told me I would weep salt tears in this +world, and they have run into my mouth. She +loved me, as I never have been loved before +or since, even up to the hour of my social crucifixion: +then she basely deserted me. But I +rallied, and the motive she implanted in me +remains. Though a child without any childhood, +I had my reason for existence, just the +same. Everything is meaningless and transitory, +except to be prepared. And I finally became +prepared for anything and everything. +My life was and is a preparation—for what? +For social crucifixion, I suppose, for I belong +to those baffled beings who are compelled to +unfold within because there is no place for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +them without. I am a remaining product of +the slums, consciously desiring to be there. I +know its few heights and many depths. There +have I seen unsurpassed devotion and unbelievable +atrocities, which I would not dare, +even if I could, make known. The truth, how +can we stand it, or stand for it? I think a +sudden revelation has wofully unbalanced +many a fine mind. Hamlet, revealing himself +to Ophelia, drives distraught one of +the sweetest of souls. Fortunately we never +know the whole truth, which may account for +man being gregarious. One cannot help noticing +that they who have a hopeless passion +for truth are left largely alone—when nothing +worse can be inflicted upon them."</p> + +<p>Terry's experience in the slums was no other +than many another's, but the effect it made +upon his great sensibility was far from ordinary. +In another letter, speaking of what he +calls his "crucifixion," he wrote:</p> + +<p>"Only great sorrow keeps us close, and that +is why, the first night after one of my deepest +quarrels with my mother, I picked out a five-cent +lodging-house, overlooking my home, to +pass the night of my damnation in sight of the +lost paradise. I never had any reason, or I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +would have lost it. Let me hope that I am +guided by something deeper than that. All +my life I have felt the undertone of society; +it has swept me to the depths, which I touched +lovingly and fearfully with my lips.</p> + +<p>"Whenever and wherever I have touched +the depths, and it has been frequent and prolonged, +and have seen the proletarian face to +face, naked spiritually and physically, the +appeal in his eyes is irresistible and irrefutable. +I must do something for him or else +I am lost to myself. If I should ever let an +occasion go by I am sure I never could +recover from the feeling that something +irreparable had happened to me. I should +not mind failure, but to fail here and in my +own eyes is to be forever lost and eternally +damned. This looks like the religion of my +youth under another guise, but I must find +imperishable harmony somewhere. The +apathy of the mass oppresses me into a hopeless +helplessness which may account for my +stagnation, my ineffectiveness, my impotence, +my stupidity, my crudeness, and my despair. +I have always felt lop-sided, physically, +especially in youth. My awkwardness became, +too, a state of mind at the mercy of any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +spark of suggestion. My subjectively big +head I tried to compress into a little hat, my +objectively large hands concealed themselves +in subjective pockets, my poor generous feet +went the way of the author of <i>Pilgrim's +Progress</i>. The result is a lop-sided mind, +developed monstrously in certain sensitive +directions, otherwise not at all. A born stumbler +in this world, I naturally lurched up +against society—but, as often happens I have +lost the thread of my thought: my thoughts, at +the critical moment, frequently desert me, as +my family did; they seem to carry on an alluring +flirtation, and when I think them near +they suddenly wave me from the distance. +But, like a lover, I will follow on—follow on +to platonic intercourse with my real mistress, +the proletarian. And soul there is there. I +have met as fathomless spirits among the +workers as one will meet with anywhere. +Art never has fathomed them, and may never +be able to do so. Often have I stood dumbfounded +before some simple day-labourer +with whom I worked. Art does not affect +me, as this kind of grand simplicity in life +does. I keep muttering to myself: there +must be a meaning to our lives somewhere, or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +else we must sunder this social fabrication +and create a meaning; and so my incantations +go on endlessly.</p> + +<p>"The proletarian is that modern sphinx +whose thundering interrogative society will +be called upon to answer. You and I know +too well that society hitherto has answered +only with belching cannon and vain vapourings +of law, religion, and duty. But the toiling +sphinx, who has time only to ask terrible +questions, will some day formulate an +articulate reply to its own question, and then +once more we shall see that our foundations +are of sand—sand that will be washed away, +by blood, if need be. Some there are who +will weep tears over the sand: the pleasures +and the joy may die, for to me they are cold +and false. My joy cannot find place within +the four walls which shut out the misery and +brutality of the world.</p> + +<p>"How be a mouthpiece for the poor? +How can art master the master-problem? +They who have nothing much to say, often +say it well and in a popular form; they are +unhampered by weighty matters. It takes an +eagle to soar with a heavy weight in its +grasp. The human being, rocking to and fro<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +with his little grief, must give way in depth +of meaning to him who is rocked with the +grief of generations past, present, and to +come. It is then that love might rise, love so +close to agony that agony cannot last: the +love that will search ceaselessly, in the slums, +in the dives, throughout all life, for the +inevitable, and will accept no alternative and +no compromise."</p> + +<p>This was the man who met Marie at a +critical time of her life. He was about +thirty-five years old, had experienced much, +had become formed, had rejected society, but +not the ideal. Rather, as he dropped the one, +he embraced more fervently the other. He +had consorted with thieves, prostitutes, with +all low human types; and for their failures +and their weaknesses, their ideas and their +instincts, he felt deep sympathy and even an +æsthetic appreciation.</p> + +<p>Marie, as we have seen, was only seventeen, +unformed and wild, full of youthful +passion and social despair, on the verge of +what we call prostitution; reckless, hopeless, +with a deep touch of sullenness and +hatred. She was working at the time in +the house of one of Terry's brothers. Katie,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +too, was employed there; although she lived +with Nick, her husband, she still occupied +herself at times with her old occupation; and, +as ever, she watched Marie with a careful +eye, rather vainly so just then, for this girl +was as wild as a girl well could be.</p> + +<p>One day Terry paid one of his infrequent +visits to his brother's home, and saw the +plump and pretty Marie hanging clothes in +the yard. He was at once attracted to her, +and entered into conversation. He was +deeply pleased; so was the girl; and they +made an appointment. He soon saw what +her character was, and this was to him an +added attraction.</p> + +<p>"I had been looking for a girl like +Marie," he said, "for several years. I had +made one or two trials, and they always got +me into trouble with my family. But the +other girls did not make good. They were +too weak and conventional and could not stand +the pace of life with me. I had early formed +a contempt for the matrimonial relation. +Five years I had nursed my rebellion and +waited for a chance to use it. As soon as I +met Marie I felt I had met one of my own +kind. It was partly the fierce charm of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +social experiment, the love for the proletarian +and the outcast; for I felt Marie was +essentially that. This element of my interest +in her Marie never understood—this unconscious +propaganda, as it were. She thought +it was all sex and wanted it so."</p> + +<p>Katie saw that Terry was making up to her +beloved Marie, and tried to prevent their +meetings; but in vain; the attraction was too +strong. Katie blackguarded Terry on every +occasion, until she finally saw it was hopeless, +and then invited him into her house to +meet the girl. There he began to go frequently +and the intimacy grew. Nick warned +Terry against the girl on account of her loose +character. "I have often found her," he +said, "misconducting herself with some fellow +or other. Why, she does so with everybody. +Only this evening I found her on the +front door-step with young Bladen. She is +not the kind for you to be serious about. +Everybody knows how common she is."</p> + +<p>Nick did not understand that an argument +of that kind tended only to confirm Terry in +his interest in Marie. Terry answered him +laconically: "That's all right, Nick. When +you don't want her, just send her to me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nick, as we have seen, was jealous of +Marie, because of Katie's love for her; so +he fomented trouble between the two women. +Katie, too, was at this time more exasperated +with the girl's conduct than she had ever +been before; and they had frequent quarrels. +As the result of one of them, Marie +went off with Terry to his family flat, where +he was living alone at the time—to "have a +fish dinner," telling the relenting Katie that she +would return in the evening. But she stayed +there with Terry all that night, for the first +time. In the morning Katie turned up bright +and early, burst into the flat, and reproached +Terry so bitterly that they almost came to +blows. But when Marie took Terry's side, +Katie, terribly disappointed and hurt, yet +made up her mind that it was inevitable; and +Terry and Marie began to live together.</p> + +<p>How did Marie feel about all this? What +was her condition at the time, and her attitude +toward this strange man, so different +from every other she had met? In a long letter +to me she has given an account of it all.</p> + +<p>"I wrote you about my adventure with the +club man. Well that was only a single instance +of what finally became frequent with me. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +had grown so fearfully tired of the life I was +leading in domestic service that the only +problem for me was how to get away from it +all. For a time, I had thought I could get +away only by marriage. I was ready to marry +anybody who offered me food and shelter, +and I had even thought of prostitution as a +means of escape from domestic drudgery. I +had not the slightest idea of what prostitution +in its accepted sense meant. I knew in a +vague way that women sold their bodies to +men for money, that they lived luxurious +lives, went to theatres and balls, wore beautiful +gowns and seemed to be gay and happy. I +was willing to marry any man who offered me +a home, without the least suspicion that in +that way, too, I should prostitute myself. But +no one at that time offered me this means +of escape, so I was quite ready to take +the only other way, as I thought, left to +me.</p> + +<p>"About this time I met an old girl-friend +whom I had not seen for several years; she +was a domestic servant, too, but was in +advance of me in her recklessness. When I +met her again she was in the mood to lose all the +little virtue left to her. She was quite willing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +to sell herself: she had done enough for love, +she said, marriage was now an impossibility, +and she might as well realise on her commercial +value. To these ideas I agreed, and +we arranged to meet in two weeks from that +day and try an experiment. Meanwhile she +was to go back to her home, get her belongings, +and tell her parents she had secured a +place as a servant-girl in Chicago.</p> + +<p>"I left my position, and finding things +too disagreeable at home where I continually +quarrelled with my mother, I went to visit +Kate, until my friend should return.</p> + +<p>"How my ideas and ideals had changed! +When I first began to dislike the work I was +forced to do, I dreamed that some charming +fairy would come and release me: I had been +taught such a view of life from the novels of +Bertha M. Clay and E. D. E. N. Southworth. +Some rich man, young and charming, possibly +the owner of the factory I was working in, +would fall passionately in love with me, +marry me and carry me away to his palace! +Gradually, my ideas came down. I should +have been glad to marry a foreman, then +some good mechanic, and finally, some workman, +however humble, whom I would love<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +dearly. And now I was deliberately preparing +for a life of prostitution!</p> + +<p>"It was then, while living with my dear +friend Kate, whom I sometimes helped in the +work she did out, that I met my first, my last, +my truest lover and friend, Terry. We met +just at the right moment. I was filled with +rebellion at the powers that were crushing me, +breaking me, without realising why, or how, +or what I might make of myself, when he +came along and taught me in his own quiet +and gentle convincing way how cruel and +unjust is this scheme of things, and pointed +out to me the cruelty and tyranny of my +parents and of all society. He showed me +that marriage such as I had contemplated was +a bad form of prostitution, and he told me +why. Of course, I did not grasp all the things +he told me at once, but I listened and felt +comforted; I began to feel that perhaps I +might amount to something, might have some +life of my own, and that my rebellion was +perhaps justifiable. I began to understand +why work was so objectionable to me and +why I rebelled against the authority of my +parents. My conceptions of freedom were +crude, but I began to feel that my revolt was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +just, and was based upon the terrible injustice +whereby the many must toil so that the few +may live in splendour. I will not weary you +with all the details of the things I learned +at that time from Terry. To you it might +seem very raw and crude, and you no doubt +have read some of the pamphlets written by +socialists and anarchists dealing with the +labour question in all of its aspects. But to +me these ideas were quite new and they +seemed grand and noble.</p> + +<p>"And Terry revealed to me, too, almost at +once, the great inspiring fact that there is +such a thing as beauty of thought—that there +is poetry and art and literature. This, too, +of course, came little by little, but do you +wonder I loved a man who showed me a new +world and who taught me I was not bad? He +put good books into my hands, and to my +grateful joy I found I liked these books better +than the trash I had hitherto read.</p> + +<p>"I felt so much better, after seeing so +much of Terry, that I decided to go to work +again. Terry was against this. 'Try it,' he +said, 'But I assure you you don't need to +work. I have tried doing without work for +many years, it is much easier than it seems.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +Nevertheless I got a job in a bicycle factory, +but I only stayed a few days. It seemed like +a stale existence to me! And besides, I was in +love and wanted to be with Terry all the +time. 'By God,' I said to him that night, +'you are right! I'll never work again.'</p> + +<p>"My friend Gertrude, the girl with whom +I had intended to go in the last reckless +experiment, came to Terry's flat to see me, and +get me to go with her. I had thought, after +I gave up work, that Terry might offer me +marriage, but he told me quite frankly that +it was against his principles to marry anybody. +I was a little hurt and astonished at +this, but as I was very much in love and was +already beginning to imbibe his ideas, it did +not matter so very much to me.</p> + +<p>"So, when Gertrude came, I led her to +Terry and asked him what he thought about +her plan. He said to us: 'The kind of +prostitution you contemplate is no worse +than the kind often called marriage. Selling +your body for a lifetime is perhaps +worse than selling it for an hour or for a day. +But the immediate result of this kind of +prostitution which you plan is very terrible +practically. It generally leads to frightful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +diseases which will waste your bodies and +perhaps injure your minds. The girls you +envy are not always as happy, gay, and careless +as they seem. It is part of their business +to seem so, but they are not, or only so for a +very short time. Perhaps you will be better +off so than in domestic drudgery. It is a +choice of evils, but if you are very brave and +courageous you may perhaps get along without +either. But if forced to one or the other, +I recommend prostitution. It may be worse +for you but, as a protest, it is better for society, +in the long run.'</p> + +<p>"He pictured to us as truly as he could +the life of the street-walker; he did not seem +to think that morally it was worse than any +other life under our social organisation, but +he did not make it seem attractive; nor did he +make the life of the domestic servant or +factory-girl seem attractive. He seemed to +feel that one might look on prostitution as, +under the circumstances, a grim duty—but it +was certainly grim.</p> + +<p>"We were rather incredulous at the picture +Terry had drawn of the life we had resolved +to lead. Gertrude turned up her pretty +little nose and said it would not be like that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +with her. We talked about it all that day and +night; and Gertrude decided to have a try at +it, while I was undecided. I was somewhat +piqued at Terry's attitude. I had expected +him to oppose my plan, to do all in his power +to prevent it. But I did not understand him. +He knew that if I were determined, nothing +would prevent me, and all he could do was +to give us a faithful picture of what such a +life would be.</p> + +<p>"Things were happening of which we were +ignorant for a time, but which helped to +settle our immediate problem. I had often +been seen going into Terry's flat, and this was +food for gossip. It was said that Terry had +started a bad house, and had done so in the +flat belonging to his family, who were in the +country at the time. These stories reached +my mother's ears, and also were told to +Terry's mother and sisters, and the mischief +began. I was forbidden ever to cross my +mother's threshold again, and he was +requested to leave the home of his virtuous +sisters which he had polluted and contaminated +by his debaucheries with that immoral +person, myself."</p> + +<p>Marie omitted, in the above letter, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +details of the split with the two families. It +seems that Terry had, on hearing about the +"rumours," gone to his family, then near +Chicago, and presented to them his philosophy +of life; also his determination not to give up +Marie, and not to marry her. It was then +that the last rung was put in the ladder of his +family crucifixion, as he would call it. It +was then that his mother "basely deserted +him;" and Terry left for good, rejecting the +money offered him.</p> + +<p>"I passed them up," he said, scornfully, +"and after spending the night in the lodging-house, +I beat my way back to Chicago. I +had been gone several days, and when I got +back to the flat, where I went only to get +Marie and clear out for God knows where, I +found her gone, and no apparent way of finding +her address. I went to see her mother, +and had an awful scene with her. The violent +woman was in hysterics and, after a long +dispute, implored me to find her daughter. +'I'll find her,' I replied, 'for myself,' and +left.</p> + +<p>"Marie afterwards told me that she and +Gertrude had gone to see her mother, when +I was in the country with my family, and that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +her mother had driven them away. Perhaps, +the mother realised the change in the girl. +Perhaps, too, she realised what must happen, +if she drove her away. Yet she did drive her +daughter away. From her own point of +view, it was diabolical to do so. Her anger, +her exasperation and her outraged desire to +rule drove her to doing what she must have +felt was the worst thing she could do. And +she did it in the name of virtue! Perhaps +it was for the best: I believe it was, but she +did not and I cannot see where her spiritual +salvation comes in."</p> + +<p>Terry finally found Marie—found her in +the midst of a short experiment, in company +with Gertrude, "in one of the social +extremes,"—to be plain, leading the life of a +prostitute.</p> + +<p>I ask the reader to pause here and reflect. +Pause, before you conclude that this book is +an indecent and immoral book. Reflect before +you conclude that this woman is an immoral +woman. I am engaged in telling a plain tale +in such a way that certain social conditions +and certain social considerations and individual +truths may be illustrated thereby. +Consequently, I shall not pause, though I ask<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +the reader to do so, in order to point a moral +in any extended way. In return for the +readers' courtesy and tolerance, I will here +reassuringly assert that there will be found in +these pages no detailed description of Marie's +life during her few months of prostitution; +and nothing whatever, from cover to cover, of +anything that in my judgment is either +immoral or indecent.</p> + +<p>Well, Terry found her, and Terry did not +try to "reform" her. But he stood by her, +and was more interested, more in love with her +than ever. In addition to his personal interest, +he felt an even stronger social interest in +her. To live with a girl like that was +unconscious propaganda. This passion, as he +calls it, was now more deeply stirred than +when he first met her. This deeply aroused +his imagination and his keen desire to see +what the naked constitution of the soul is, +after it is stripped of all social prestige.</p> + +<p>If Marie had been simply a low, commercial +grafter, Terry, the idealist, would not +have been interested. But Terry knew that +Marie cared nothing whatever for money. +He regarded her as a social victim and in +addition a vigorous and life-loving personality, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>an excellent companion for a life-long +protest against things as they are. He saw +she had the capacity for deep and excited +interest in truth, an emotional love for ideated +experience. These two human beings were +wonderfully fitted to each other: no wonder +they loved!</p> + +<p>Terry, telling me about the girl's experience +during the two weeks or so before he +found her, dwelt especially upon how well +she was treated.</p> + +<p>"She has a way of getting the interest, +almost the deference, of many people. She and +Gertrude were often reduced to the proverbial +thirty cents, but they had little difficulty +in getting along. For instance, one day, +almost broke, they went to a restaurant and +ordered two cups of coffee. The negro waiter +knew what they were, and offered them a +nice steak, at his expense. Nor did he try to +'ring in,' to make their acquaintance. He +treated them with great respect. They went +there several times afterward, and always +found the negro waiter beaming with the desire +to help them for quite disinterested reasons, +and he never tried to meet them outside. +Marie always appreciated a thing like that.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +She took a delight in thinking about the fine +qualities in human nature."</p> + +<p>Marie is a frank woman, but it is natural +that she could never bring herself to talk +about this period of her life with entire openness. +She has, however, written me a letter +in which she tells the essential truth, +although clothing it with a certain pathetic +attempt to conceal the one episode in her life +about which, to me, she was perhaps +unreasonably reticent. She did not say that +she and Gertrude were separated from Terry +for a time, but she wanted to convey the +impression that she and Terry, from the start, +struggled along together, which was essentially, +though not literally, true. Continuing +her account, from the time the two families +cast her and Terry out, she wrote:</p> + +<p>"So there we were, thrown out into the +harsh world, shelterless and almost moneyless. +But we all three put our little capital +together, amounting to about eleven dollars, +went down town, and hired a furnished room. +We managed to live a week on this capital, +and then Terry pawned his watch, which +gave us five dollars. Gertrude soon disappeared +with an old rouê and went out of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +our lives. Terry and I kept along as best we +could. Kate helped us as much as we would +allow her to, and sometimes paid for our +room, and I would sometimes eat at her house.</p> + +<p>"During this period I was in a curious state +of mind and body. Living in the midst of so-called +vice, I was at first both attracted +and repelled. Yet my strongest feeling was a +hatred of the life I had formerly led, and +I was determined not to go back to it, happen +what might. I should probably have gone +much farther than I did, had it not been for +my love for Terry, which made me feel that +I did not want to throw myself entirely away. +So I did not know whether to go into the +game entirely or keep out of it. Terry did +not try to influence me, but seemed to watch +me, to make me feel that he would stand by +me in any event.</p> + +<p>"For a time we were both of us dazed and +stunned by our sudden change in life. The +change was much greater for Terry than for +me. I don't know what his thoughts and +feelings at that time were. They must have +been terrible. For years he had lived, for the +most part with his family, a quiet, studious +life, the life of contemplation; and now he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +was suddenly plunged into the roar and din, +with an ignorant and disreputable girl on his +hands whom he would not desert. We were +certainly on the verge of destruction. The +inevitable would have happened, for no other +choice was left me, and I should have drifted +with the current and Terry would do and +could do nothing.</p> + +<p>"Just at the crucial moment, Terry met an +old friend who offered him a political job, +organising republican workingmen's clubs, +and Terry accepted it. No one can understand +how bitter this was to Terry. To work for +a political organisation was to him great +degradation. He did it for my sake, for the +thirty-five dollars a week, so that I could +be free to live as I wanted. I did not realise +at the time how much his sensitive nature +suffered, and I took poor advantage of the +freedom his money and character gave me. +What an intolerable burden I must have been +to him, and yet he never even intimated a +desire to leave me!</p> + +<p>"I had an opportunity now to satisfy +my desire for pleasure. Terry put no +obstacles in my way. Yet the cup already +tasted bitter. I tried to deny to myself that this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +life of pleasure was an illusion, and so I +plunged into the most reckless debaucheries: +I really would be ashamed to tell you of the +things I did. I had affairs with all sorts of +men, many of whom I did not know whether +I liked or hated—seeking always excitement, +oblivion. I frequented cafés where the women +and men of the town were to be found, and +made many acquaintances. Two or three of +them proposed marriage to me. They no +doubt wanted to 'save' me, and thought I +was a prostitute. I did not care to disabuse +them on the subject: in fact I don't know +whether I was what they called me or +not.</p> + +<p>"This life lasted only two or three months, +but it seems like so many years to me. At +the end of that time Terry's work was over, +and we left down town and roomed with a +respectable radical family. My health had +broken down. I weighed only a hundred +pounds, although three months earlier I had +weighed one hundred and forty. My beautiful, +healthy body had wasted away. Ah! how +proud I used to be of this body of mine! how +I used to glory in the vigorous, shapely limbs, +the well-moulded breasts and throat. But all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +this passed away before my youth had passed +away."</p> + +<p>Marie here pathetically omits to state the +immediate cause of her ill health—a long and +terrible experience in the hospital, the result +of her excesses, during which time Terry was +the only one to care for her, from which place +she came broken in health, thin and pale, with +large, dark, sad eyes, looking as she did when +I first met her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3><i>The Rogues' Gallery</i></h3> + + +<p>"My terrible experiences during these +months," continued Marie, "had at +least the advantage of bringing me nearer to +him who was and is the inspirer of whatever +is worthy or good in me. It helped me to +appreciate him, and surely everything I suffered, +everything I may still suffer, is not too +much to pay for that. He has made for me +an ideal, and, without that, life is but a sorry, +sorry thing. During those wild months I, of +course, thought little of those things, those +wonderful new things which I had heard of +from him, but now, when we were living +quietly with our anarchist friends, and the surroundings +were in harmony with the mood for +thought, my interest awakened. I read a +great deal and listened attentively to the talk +of the people around me, and slowly my ideas +became more and more clear.</p> + +<p>"It took a long time for me to learn, to +really understand what the others were interested +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>in. I did not dare to ask Terry too many +questions, especially there, where everybody +admired him and looked up to him so. A +new shyness came over me when I began to +see him in the light of a philosopher and a +poet. He seemed so far above me and I felt +myself so small and unworthy. But it was not +long before I really began to feel a strong interest +in all that was said, in all these social +theories, in these ideas about the proletaire, +about art and literature; and I began to read +books in a far different spirit from what I +used—I began to see in them truth about life, +and to love this truth, whatever it was. And +I loved the freedom of the talk, and, above all, +I loved the feeling that from the highest point +of view I was not an outcast, and that the +people who seemed to me the best did not so +regard me. It helped to give me the self-respect +which every human being needs, I +think.</p> + +<p>"I thought for a long time that I was very +lucky indeed to get admitted into this atmosphere. +And, indeed, I know I <i>was</i> lucky, but +there came a time when, for a while, I was +very unhappy, not in the society of the radicals—I +always loved that—but among these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +particular people, because they could not, +after all, rid themselves of some conservative +prejudices. After a while I began to see that +even those enlightened people really had contempt +for what I had been, or for my ignorance, +perhaps for both.</p> + +<p>"This family, with whom we were staying, +was supposed to have broad and liberal ideas, +and its members prided themselves on the fact +that they really put their theories into practice. +Their home was run on a sort of communistic +basis, and the men and women who +lived there were not tied to each other by any +legal bonds, for they believed in freedom of +love. They never made much noise about +their ideas, or rather their practice, and were +what you might call refined or cultured anarchists.</p> + +<p>"Terry and I had nothing in a worldly +way, and we lived there on 'charity,' so to +speak, though that word was, of course, never +used. We did, however, what work there was +to be done in the household, trying in this +way to give some compensation in return for +a bed to sleep on and the simple food necessary +to keep our bodies alive.</p> + +<p>"Now, after a while, I began to feel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +crushed, oppressed in this home, among these +cold, cold, refined people, although they were +anarchists. They could not help showing me +their contempt: they made me feel inferior. +They never said one word that indicated such +a feeling, but I could feel it by their attitude, +by the attitude even of the little child in the +house. They looked upon me much in the +same way as my former mistress used, when I +was the servant in the house, except that they +were bound by their theories to give me a +nominal respect and to try charitably to improve +my mind and make of me a philosophical +anarchist.</p> + +<p>"It was painful to me to see these people, +who were so humane, who could not bear to +see the lowly oppressed, who could not bear +to have injustice done, to see these people pass +me by in insulting silence, look at me with +cold, unsympathetic eyes! How it hurt me, not +to receive the word of encouragement from +the kind look of people I looked up to! So I +crawled into my shell and did not go about +much with the others. I think I was forgotten +by nearly everybody for days at a time. Terry +shared the room with me, and brought me +food, as I grew more and more unable to eat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +with the cold superior ones. He brought me +tobacco, too, and here it was, sitting all day +alone, that I began the cigarette habit: if it +had not been for that, I think I should have +gone mad.</p> + +<p>"I never ceased to love Terry, but I had a +bitter feeling against him, too. He was always +kind and good to me, but he spent most of his +time with his intellectual friends, and I began +to feel that even he was being 'charitable' to +me. So after much misery and despair, I accepted +a proposal of marriage from a friend +of my wild days and fled with him to St. +Louis. He took me to the home of his sisters +and parents, where I lived in peace and quiet +for three weeks, recovered some of my health +and strength, and was able to review my past +and think of my future; and reflect on my +coming marriage.</p> + +<p>"The people I was with now were kind and +sympathetic. They did not know about my +past life—only my prospective husband knew—he, +of course, knew all. The others thought +I was a poor shop-girl, tired and overworked. +They were refined people, fairly well-to-do, +rather bourgeois, but with good hearts, and +so innocent that they believed everything their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +son told them, and received me as a daughter +and sister.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps my nature is perverse, I don't +know; but as soon as I got a little rest and +peace, I began to think of what I had left and +especially of Terry. It was not only my love +for him that called, but what my life with him +had been and would be if I returned—a life +that was not a commonplace life, a life of intelligence +and freedom. Already I was bored +by the quiet goodness of the people I was +with, and I wanted 'something doing'!</p> + +<p>"I saw Terry again as I had seen him first, +with the glamour of ardent love, the love that +overleaps all barriers and, if only for an instant, +stands face to face with love, unhesitating, +tumultuous, and triumphant. The memory +of even one perfect moment can never +leave us, even if life be ever so dark and +harsh and bitter, there will always be that +single ray of light to illumine the darkness, +and keep our steps from utter and complete +stumbling.</p> + +<p>"I thought of Terry day and night, and +grew so melancholy that my new found +friends were alarmed and suggested hastening +the marriage, in order to let me go South<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +with my husband. This alarmed me terribly +and I begged that no such step should be +taken. With much inward trembling, I proposed +that the marriage should be postponed +and that I return to Chicago. They would +not listen to this, and I could see in their honest +faces the deepest amazement and a kind +of suspicion. So I took refuge in tears, +pleading ill-health and offering no more suggestions.</p> + +<p>"That same day I wrote Terry a long letter, +in which I told him that I still loved him, +could not forget him, but had taken this step +in desperation because I could no longer endure +living among these people in Chicago, +his friends, but not mine; that here in St. +Louis I had found a certain measure of peace +and quiet which had lately been disturbed by +the realisation that soon I must decide to take +a step which would perhaps separate us two +irrevocably, that I longed more than words +could tell to see him, to look into his face. I +could never go back, I wrote, to that life I +had been living, because what I had learned +from him of what life is and what makes it +worth living, had made that thing impossible +for me. So, I wrote, I could not go back,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +and how, without him, could I go forward? +So here I was, weak, perplexed, and I begged +him to write me, to advise me what to do.</p> + +<p>"Very soon his reply came—the truest, +kindest reply that I could have received. He +too had suffered since I left him, and comprehended +only too well why I had done as I +did. Our suffering would help us to gain a +more comprehensive knowledge of life and +of each other. And if I still loved him, I +should follow the inclination of my heart and +return to him. We two might start out again, +wiser and surer for what had passed. He assured +me of his love, but warned me not to +expect too much from him, that our material +comforts would be few, for he was as poor as +I, and however much he might wish to provide +better, he knew that, for one reason or +another, he could not. But if I would be content +to share his crust and his love, much happiness +and joy might be in store for us. He +finished his letter with a quotation from +Browning's 'Lost Leader':</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Just for a handful of silver he left us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> Just for a ribbon to tie in his coat.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"My hesitation disappeared at once, although +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>it hurt me greatly to carry out my +resolution to return to Chicago. It cost me +many a pang to shock and hurt the dear good +people, to seem so ungrateful for all their +love and kindness. But it had to be. I could +not do otherwise. I returned to Chicago two +days after receiving the letter, and my lover +and I met and clasped hands and gazed into +one another's eyes. We were reunited, +or rather united truly, for the first +time, with better understanding on both +sides.</p> + +<p>"Since that day, now six years ago, we have +travelled the rough road together, assisting +one another as best we could, often stumbling +and misunderstanding and hurting one another, +for we continually tried to get deeper +and deeper into real knowledge, real life, and +it is hard to reconcile all things. Generally +to gain much, one must compromise, but +Terry and I did not wish to compromise. +His and mine has been a difficult and dangerous +relation, but an interesting one. Very soon +after my return to Chicago, I felt much more +at ease, no longer a stumbling-block in his +way; and I gained confidence, strength, and +knowledge. I met many people of the true<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +communistic spirit, and by social intercourse +with them developed in every way. I continued +to read good books and attended lectures +on the social problems of the day. So +after a time I became what is called an anarchist, +just as Terry was.</p> + +<p>"The reasons my books and companions +brought forward for the justification of anarchism +were like meat and drink to me. I was +filled with enthusiasm for the ideas of a freedom +which I now think is perhaps impossible +in our society. But I thought that the 'downtrodden,' +the 'working classes,' held the fate +of the world in their hands, if they could but +realise it. As time passed, my enthusiasm +waned, for I began to see many difficulties in +the way of this beautiful idealism. At times, +I even doubted if the 'mob' were worthy of +liberty at all. Such thoughts, however, +passed away whenever I saw the crowds of +workers streaming from the factories and +stores, and looked upon their loutish, brutal +faces, wherein there was never a gleam of +pride, of the joy of creation, of intelligent +effort. Then I would think, surely, surely, +humankind is not meant to be thus. Why, +even the little birds, the tiny little ants, what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +intelligence they display in their work; little +kittens and dogs playing in the streets, what +unrestrained joy is theirs! Work ought to +be a pleasure and a blessing: and it would be +so if we could only choose our labour, if we +could create, do those things for which we are +fitted, voluntarily, because of the need within +us, for the outward expression of our life, our +hope and joy. So, work would cease to be +the curse it is to-day.</p> + +<p>"And surely if we were free men and +women, we would find our place in the scheme +of things, surely each one of us would seek +the place suited to his individual nature, and +so perhaps at last everything would be a part +of the harmonious whole.</p> + +<p>"When I think of things as they are and as +they might be, I grow dizzy and sick at heart, +that mankind can be so blind, so hopelessly +ignorant, so unspeakably cruel, so weak and +cowardly. I am only a novice, I know, and +there is so much for me to know, to learn, to +strive for—much that I, and hundreds and +thousands of others, will never reach, for we +are burdened with heavy chains which we +cannot break. Yet, there must be somewhere +on this big earth, some little place fitted for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +me, some small corner where I must be of +some value to myself.</p> + +<p>"To you, no doubt, my sufferings and struggles +will seem petty and my ideas crude and +commonplace; but, if so, the pity is all the +greater. After the agony I went through, +freedom seemed to me the noblest thing in the +world, and I thought it the solution of everything. +Since then my ideas, perhaps, have +become somewhat less 'crude,' but I have +never for a moment lost faith in the thought +that freedom is the most essential, the most +necessary condition for us, if we are to endure +life."</p> + +<p>It is certainly what Marie calls "crude" +to talk of liberty without careful definition. +Absolute freedom is inconceivable. But I +am not interested in presenting an argument: +I am interested in the description of a state +of mind, of a section of society, of a certain +emotional view of things. The value, however, +of these general ideas is undoubted, in +the spiritual improvement and moral comfort +of thousands of people. I think that Marie +and Terry and the other characters that will +appear in this book are decidedly better off +for the ideas they hold: that about these ideas,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +or rather ideals, perhaps, they have grouped +a society in which they are not outcasts, in +which their lives seem from some points of +view justified. And even in my opinion, +though I live in different circumstances, and +see greater difficulties in the way of the realisation +of any social ideal than they do, yet I +feel that their way of looking at things is useful +to the larger society of men, ultimately. +And, I, like other people, have deep respect +for a consistent and courageous life, based +upon a principle or principles which I may +not hold myself.</p> + +<p>The next scene in the life of Marie and +Terry took place in what they called "The +Rogues' Gallery." This was during the time +that Terry held a position in the Prudential +Insurance Company, whose employ he left, +as we have seen, in order to go to Pittsburg, +to find the flaw in the tannery process, at his +brother Jim's request. He hired three little +rooms, and up to the time he went to Pittsburg, +he welcomed to his home everybody +who was "against" things. Later on, he became +more particular in his associates—that is +to say, he demanded of them something more +than mere disreputability, to use the conventional +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>word. But at that time he loved everything +that the world hated or cast out. That +was his principle of action, his norm of judgment. +Seeking the truth with undivided passion, +he rid himself at a later time, at least +partially, of this prejudice, and became quite +able to "pass up," as he calls it, that is reject, +a human being even though he might be a +thief, a practical anarchist, a prostitute, or a +souteneur. But at the time of the existence of +the Rogues' Gallery he loved everything rejected +by society, without making too nice a +use of his natural taste.</p> + +<p>There, in those three little slum rooms, +gathered a strange society—a society held together +on the basis of its utter rejection of the +larger society of men. To be an acceptable +member of this society, the individual must +in some way be a social rebel—either practically +or theoretically, or both. When Terry +saw in some being rejected by society a spark +of thought or of feeling, he was excited and +happy. It was obvious to him, as to all persons +who think and have practical contact +with many different kinds of people, that there +are in life no heroes and no villains; it was obvious +that in the lowest thief or prostitute<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +there was that possibility of light and spiritual +grace which all true souls desire. +Terry's function was to make them conscious +of this; to organise, so to speak, the outcasts +upon a philosophic and æsthetic basis and so +save them to themselves, at least.</p> + +<p>This was his great experiment with Marie, +about which a large part of this book is to be +concerned. But this interest, this effort, +extended itself to many other individuals, and +whenever Terry could feel himself in contact +with what he felt was essentially human, and, +at the same time, to his sense beautiful, he was +filled, as I have said, with that deep excitement +of pleasure, which was both intellectual +and moral. I remember, one day, he said to +me: "How often, during the lifetime of the +Rogues' Gallery, did I saunter down State +Street with the pleasing knowledge that I +would find some 'low' person, girl or man, +whom I knew I could get at, who would strip +himself or herself bare to me in a spiritual +sense, and would be revealed disinterestedly, +would have no axe to grind and no contemptible +small ends to gain, and no tradesman's +commercial morality and no grafting +conventionality, no moral cant based on self-interest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>—some +being so near the 'limit' that +he was intellectually and morally fearless and +did not need to pose, from whom some truth +could be derived, whose sincerity and power +of straight-seeing was not warped and concealed +by any bourgeois ambitions, by any +respectability."</p> + +<p>From time to time Terry would take one +of these beings home with him—to his +Rogues' Gallery and to Marie and to the +other intimates, mainly more or less self-conscious +anarchists, all or nearly all derelicts +of the labouring class. There they could +stay as long as they æsthetically fitted, +could share the communal cigarette, beds, +beer, and food. And Terry and Marie and +their friends would talk and read aloud—Terry +the teacher, giving transcendental light +into the nature of the good, the beautiful, +and the true. Many an outcast here came +first to a pleasing sense that from some points +of view he was not altogether bad, nay, +that he had unexpectedly good points. Many +of them to some philosophic intensity; conversation +became a joy, strangely unknown +hitherto. The educational character of this +meeting place was marked, but, as I have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +said, Terry's indiscriminating passion for the +outcasts of the proletaire limited the +intellectual development of his little society. +At a later time, a much more developed +society grew around Terry and Marie, as we +shall see, when we get to the Anarchist +salon, or the intellectual drawing room of +the Anarchist Proletaire.</p> + +<p>Terry's main effort was, at this time, and +for years afterwards, naturally directed +toward Marie's spiritual education. Hitherto +Marie has revealed herself to the reader +as a rather commonplace, very physical, +rather lazy, and quite egoistic person, one of +many, with no distinguished characteristics. +But she was unusually endowed in some ways. +Eminently plastic, up to a certain point she +rapidly assumed forms suggested by Terry's +spiritual touch. She derived from him her +interest in all high things, in philosophy, art +and literature, but there always remained an +interesting distinction in the way she reacted +to her education. Terry remained always the +rather transcendental philosopher, with a +predominant ethical sense. Marie, as she +developed, showed a deeper and subtler feeling +for expression and a surer sensing of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +human character, a juster psychology. Her +nature is essentially less beautiful, by far, than +that of Terry, but more real, in a way, more +robust, and so constituted that in a long spiritual +conflict she would wear out the finer +qualities of her lover. But this is anticipating, +except in so far as it is true that from the +start Marie's psychological vividness showed +itself, often, of course, with base and physical +concomitants. In this connection I will quote +a letter which well illustrates this side of her +character, and which also shows a contrast to +some of her loftier but more conventional and +less true qualities. She had been attending an +anarchists' ball and she wrote:</p> + +<p>"I danced a great deal and felt very happy, +without the aid of any stimulant either. I did +not have any feeling of irritation or even +indifference toward anybody, not even +toward Rose. I am fascinated by Rose, and I +sometimes think I hate her. I always like to +be near her when there is no one else around. +She reveals herself to me then; in fact quite +throws off the mask which all women wear. +In order to encourage her to do this, I apparently +throw down my own mask. Oh, how I +gloat over her then, when she shows me a side<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +of her life and betrays secret thoughts and +feelings to me half unconsciously! Sometimes +I succeed in having her do this when there is +a third person present, and the look of hatred +which passes across her face when she perceives +she has made a mistake, is a most interesting +thing to see. But she immediately +comes to my side and we kiss each other and +call each other 'angel girls' and 'darlings.' +Thus we play with each other, and it is a +stand-off which is cleverest. She is quite +puzzled sometimes by my frankness about +some things, for instance, about her looks. I +notice she compliments me on my looks +whenever I am decidedly off colour, when I +wear a green ribbon, or a dowdy dress, or big +shoes. But I am honest with her in these +things, and I like to see her look well. The +game is more interesting then.</p> + +<p>"Well, at this ball, I wanted to dance with +a certain man, but I did not wish to ask him +myself. So I requested Rose to do so, and she +consented, and I was soon whirling around in +his arms. I had felt curious about him for +a long time: I did not know just what the +state of my feeling toward him was. I did +not know whether I liked or disliked him, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +I had often experienced a sort of thrilling +sensation when he happened to pass by or +touch me, or even when he mentioned my +name, which had occurred only once since I +knew him. 'Good evening, Marie,' was all +he said. But the name and the way he said +it seemed new, and it kept recurring +to me at unexpected times and always +troubled me. When I fancy I hear that name +in his voice I feel sad and lonely, and my +heart aches. I see him often, mostly at our +Sunday evening lectures. We are very distant, +and I am often rude to him, not answering +when he speaks to me.</p> + +<p>"So when I danced with him the other +night, I was agreeably surprised to find that +I did not experience any unusual sensation at +all. And I was relieved, too, for I had a sort +of instinctive feeling that he was not worthy +of any strong interest. After the dance was +over, we went down-stairs together and he +kissed me. You know, the radicals all kiss +one another freely and it does not mean anything +special, as a rule: often it is done without +any feeling at all, just a common habit. +But this time I was astonished to find that the +moment he touched me I had the same thrilling +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>sensation, only more intense, as when I +heard him speak my name. I resisted however, +and just then I heard Rose's voice ring +out exultantly, 'Oh, if you knew how crazy +Marie is about you, how she raved when she +first met you and so on.' You can imagine +how I felt then. I managed to get away and +drank and smoked and danced all the evening +and never looked at him again. When we all +went away Rose and I kissed each other and +called each other 'darling girl.'</p> + +<p>"In some moods I would like to be a big, +beautiful, heartless woman like one or two I +know. In such moods, how I would make +men suffer! I was talking about this to little +Sadie the other day, and she assured me +solemnly that she would do that when she +was thirty, but not merely to make men suffer, +but to develop them."</p> + +<p>As Terry continued to read aloud and talk +in his Rogues' Gallery, Marie grew to reflect +more and more the results of the reading of +good things, and of the thinking and talking +about these things. It shows how some temperaments +are able to connect literature and +philosophy with life, and thereby see their +real meaning, quite independently of any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +merely conventional culture or education. +One of the greatest prejudices of our time +(and of all times) is the belief that intellectual +culture, which is merely the perception +in detail of how life and thought is expressed +in form, is peculiarly dependent upon +academic or conventional education. And +yet, of course, somewhere or other, the +nature capable of understanding form must +come in contact with it, before the meaning +of the whole thing is incorporated into its +daily habit. Terry was Marie's point of +contact with form, in its deep relation to life. +Marie felt this and loved him and was grateful, +to the depths of her nature, so different +from his, so animal, so unideal, in comparison! +She wrote:</p> + +<p>"Terry gave me a new way to express +myself, and that, after all, is the only thing +worth living for. And he gave me this new +way without trying to make me give up any +other way of self expression, my sensuality, for +example. This sensuality I have sometimes +regretted, but not directly through Terry's +influence, except that he has shown me the +beauty of something else. He is a winged +thing in comparison with me, but he is so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +wonderfully tolerant that he can see beauty +in even the baser part of my nature. Why +should I regret what I am, anyway? I +believe that the only purity that means anything +is that which results from working one's +nature out harmoniously, not suppressing +it. Terry must be a wonderful man, to have +been able to encourage me in many new +directions, and to take away the maiming +sting of regret for what I inevitably was and +could not help being.</p> + +<p>"I do not think an ordinary person could +have made me see the beauty of anarchism. +I know that the anarchistic ideas are rather +shocking, even at their best, and of course +they naturally appeal most to the man with +the hoe, inciting him to rebel, while the man +behind the idea is usually endowed with so +much sensitiveness that he shrinks from the +rebellion part of the programme himself; he +is not a man of action, only a man of ideas. +It is shameful, some think, to disturb the blissful +ignorance of the man with the hoe, for +when the gleam of intelligence shines in his +eye and he is aroused to the knowledge of his +degrading position, he is likely to rebel in +the most healthy but brutal manner, so much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +so that the æsthetic reformer shrinks back +from the consequences of the propagation of +his own ideas. Of course, the brutality of the +proletariat is not nearly so subtle as that of +the aristocracy, and it takes some cleverness to +discover that the latter is brutality at all. It +requires time and patience to drive into the +thick heads of the workers that they are +downtrodden, and that their oppressors are +worthless parasites. When they finally do +awaken to this idea and rebel, how terribly +shocked the world is because these brutes +have not the cleverness or delicacy to be more +subtle in their brutalities.</p> + +<p>"In your last letter you wrote of the crudeness +of most propagandists of anarchism, +naming Anatole France as one of the rare +anarchists who express themselves otherwise +than crudely. He rarely or never, you +say, ever mentions the word 'anarchism,' +although much of his writing is calculated +to destroy belief in the value of organised +society as it now exists. Don't you think you +are perhaps prejudiced too much against +certain words because of their associations? +I know that many words are objectionable to +refined, cultured people because they have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +been so long associated with the coarse and +brutal mob, the working class, as the +socialists would say. But you must remember +that anarchism is intended to appeal to this +'mob' especially; that its doctrines might not +be needed by refined people who ought to have +enough sensibility not to enjoy 'freedom' +unless it is shared by the coarse and brutal +workers. Believe me, there is nothing so +degrading as poverty. It makes the slave +more slavish and the brute more brutal. It +acts like a goad, spurring people on to do +things which make them seem to themselves +and others lower and lower, until they are +truly no longer human beings but animals.</p> + +<p>"Therefore it is that the propaganda of +anarchism is generally crude. It is true that +much good literature is permeated with the +ideals of anarchism, for instance, Shelley, +Whitman, Thoreau, and Emerson. Such +reading is excellent as a means of humanising +and making anarchists of refined people, but +how could you appeal to the rebellious +workers with such books as these? For +instance, my father, do you think he could +read Ibsen or any of the others? Indeed not; +but let him go to a meeting where he can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +hear Emma Goldman speak, or let him read +Jean Grave, or Bakunin, or some other writer +of 'crude' pamphlets, and he might become +interested, he might be able to understand. +But since it seems that truly refined people +cannot enjoy the pleasures of freedom without +being, at any rate at times, worried +because of the condition of the 'mass,' what +is to be done? This objectionable crudity +must remain until there is a demand for something +more subtle on the part of the workers +for whom is intended all propaganda. The +rich and cultured presumably have brains +which they can use to solve the problems for +themselves or to digest the things written by +Anatole France and others. But how do you +suppose that I, for instance, could a few +years ago have relished Anatole France? +Wouldn't you think it idiotic for anyone +to have given me such books, at that time, +with any expectation of my appreciating +their refined and evanescent anarchism?"</p> + +<p>It must have been a strange sight that of +Terry sitting on his dilapidated bed in the +Rogues' Gallery, with his eternal cigarette +in his mouth, talking to Marie and perhaps to +some prostitute or pickpocket! We begin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +already to see the result on Marie's education: +that will appear complex and manifold, but +it is likely that on many a half-formed +creature who afterward passed out of Terry's +life, his words yet made an impression which +perhaps in some later darkness revived an +idea which explained and justified his miserable +existence.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3><i>The Salon</i></h3> + + +<p>The Rogues' Gallery went the way of +all good things: it ceased to exist when +the creative spirit was gone. Terry went to +Pittsburg, as we have seen, to find the flaw +in the tanning process, and while he was +away Marie attempted to conduct the +academy of anarchism. But she was too +much interested in what is called "life" to +make a sustained mental or moral effort without +the inspiring presence of a man whose +central passionate ideas never changed. The +personal jealousies which Terry's philosophic +attitude and idealism tended to dissipate +became, during his absence, too strong for +the bond uniting the "rogues," and when +Terry returned he found that his little colony +had dispersed and that Marie, unable any +longer to pay the rent, was living with her +old friend Katie.</p> + +<p>This was, to our idealist, a deep disappointment. +On the heels of his final break in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +Pittsburg with society came this sign of +woman's weakness. Terry might easily have +expected it, but one of the limitations of an +idealist is an insufficient knowledge of +realities. To men of his temperament there +is always a distinct shock envolved in coming +face to face with an actuality. Truth is +the element of the idealist, but an abstract +truth into which concrete realities seldom fit. +Terry did not, or tried not to, mind, at this +time, this continued sexual freedom, or +rather vagaries, of Marie's life; for that +fitted into his scheme of personal freedom: +he zealously strove to respect the private +inclinations of every human being. But the +least sign, in any of his acquaintances, of a +compromise with the integrity of the soul, +of any essential weakness, met with no tolerance +from him. "He passed him up," on the +spot, with a scornful wafture of his hand. +That Marie had yielded to the stress of circumstances, +had been unable to hold out in +the Rogues' Gallery, galled the relatively +uncompromising, exigent idealist. If she +had resorted to temporary prostitution to +hold the society together he would have +admired her. But, instead, she weakly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +sought, like any merely conservative woman, +the shelter of Katie's roof. The first seed +of the essential discord which finally resulted, +at a much later time, in their relations was +planted thus in this deep irritation of +Terry's soul; it did not, however, affect seriously +his love for Marie as a person or his +interest in her as a social experiment. But it +tended to make him feel more lonely and to +render him more hopeless of any realisation +of the ideal, as he saw it.</p> + +<p>When Terry returned, without a job, and +with no intention of trying for one, and found +Marie living with Katie, he had a long talk +with the two women. Katie was still with her +husband, Nick, but she was willing to quit +him in order to live with and take care of, +her darling Marie. She proposed to Marie +and Terry to hire some rooms and all live +together. She would work as cook in a restaurant +and thus support the three of them.</p> + +<p>To this eager desire of Katie's Terry +refused to consent; but he also refused to +work. What was to be done? He was too +proud willingly to live on Katie, and he was +principled against labour. Katie wanted the +luxury of her proposed arrangement. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +quarrelled with Terry, but he interested her. +Already she began to look on these two as +her superior cultivated ones, aristocrats, with +whom it was a joy to live and for whom it +was a pleasure to work. To work for them, +especially for Marie, she would drop her old +Nick, good dull man, in a moment.</p> + +<p>An event which happened just at the right +moment to decide things, finally brought +about the union of the three. One night +Terry was drinking in a saloon, talking +philosophy, and quoting literature. Some +rapid lines from Swinburne had just left his +lips when an elderly man, who had been listening +to Terry's talk approached him and +said: "You are the man I'm looking for, +won't you have a drink?"</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he flashed a fifty dollar bill +over the bar and repeatedly treated the +crowd, all in Terry's honour.</p> + +<p>"Before we separated that night," said +Terry, telling me the story, "I learned that +the old guy had fifty thousand dollars and +that he would soon go down and out, for he +had all sorts of bad diseases. He knew it +himself, but he was an old sport and he +wanted his fling before he died. He liked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +me and wanted me to be bar-tender in a saloon +he owned. He lived above the saloon +and wanted a housekeeper to take care of the +rooms. So I told Kate here was her chance. +The next day Marie, Katie, and I moved +into the rooms, where the old man lived, +too, and I began my work as a bar-tender.</p> + +<p>"I did not regard this job as work: it was +really graft, for I had decided that my old +friend, not long for this world, did not need +all of his money and that I might as well turn +part of it toward Katie, to help maintain a +common house for us all. So, every night, +after the day's work, I turned the roll that I +received behind the bar over to Katie, who +tucked it away in the bank. I don't know +whether the old guy knew about it or not, if +he did, he did not care. He died after two +or three months, but Katie had increased her +bank account by three or four hundred +dollars."</p> + +<p>Terry is strenuous about this story. He is +evidently anxious lest it be thought that he +later became a mere parasite on Katie. He +prides himself on having taught her to steal +from an unkind world, but he does not like +the idea that she has slaved for him without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +any help in return. Katie did not prove to +be a good pupil. She was not naturally +"wise," in the slang sense, but gained what +she gained by hard labour. Even while she +was housekeeper for the old guy she felt she +earned all the money she tucked away.</p> + +<p>"I worked hard for the old man," she said, +"and I only got about one hundred and +thirty dollars for all my work. I thought I +made that much."</p> + +<p>There is a slight difference in the amount +received, in Terry's account and in Katie's, +but it is clear that it was not very much. It +is interesting and characteristic that Terry +wants it to appear to have been "graft," +while Katie looks upon the money as honest +wages, received in an unconventional way.</p> + +<p>Nick was definitely deserted, and the new +"salon" formed, with Terry and Marie as +the bright particular stars and Katie as the +happy means of living, if not in luxury at +least in independence. They lived on her +eight or nine dollars a week with the comfortable +feeling that there were several hundred +dollars tucked away in the bank, the result +of Katie's savings and Terry's ideas.</p> + +<p>The salon was of a more select and higher<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +order intellectually than had been the +Rogues' Gallery. The people who frequented +the three little slummy rooms on the West +Side where Terry, Marie, and Katie lived +were mainly anarchists in theory, and occasionally +one or another of them was so in +practice. They mainly consisted of rebellious +labourers who had educated themselves in the +philosophy of anarchism.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> They had ideas +about politics and government and the +relation between the sexes. They were indeed +all "free lovers," and quite naturally so; the +rebellious temperament instinctively takes as +its object of attack the strongest convention in +society. Anarchism in Europe is mainly +political; in America it is mainly sexual; for +the reason that there is less freedom of +expression about sex in America than in +Europe: so there is a stronger protest here +against the conventions in this field—as the +yoke is more severely felt. While I was in +Italy and France I met a number of anarchists +who on the sex side were not ostentatiously +rebellious. They were like the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +free sort of conservative people everywhere. +But in political ideas they were more logical, +sophisticated, and deeply revolutionary than +is the case with the American anarchists, who, +on the other hand both in their lives and +their opinions, are extreme rebels against sex +conventions. It is only another instance of +how unreason in one extreme tends to bring +about unreason in the other. Our prudishness, +hypocrisy and stupid conventionality in +all sex matters is responsible for the unbalanced +license of many a protesting spirit.</p> + +<p>So there was many an "orgie" in the +salon—sexual and alcoholic: and many wild +words were spoken and many wild things +done. But these same extreme people were +gentle and sensitive, too, and emotionally +interested in ideas. They went to lectures +on all sorts of social subjects, they read +good books of literature and crude books +on politics, they grouped together and enjoyed +to a certain extent their communistic ideas. +They published their anarchistic newspapers +and they welcomed into their ranks people +who otherwise could have attained to no consolatory +philosophy—who would have had no +society and no hope. And they did not do it for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +the sake of charity—hollow word!—but from +a feeling of fellowship and love. You, reader, +who may think ill of thieves and prostitutes—too +ill of them, perhaps: if you can come to +see that social differences are of slight value +in comparison with the great primal things +and the universal qualities of human nature, +you will perhaps be better if not more "virtuous" +than before, and may be kinder, less +self-righteous, and do far more good, no matter +how "charitable" you are now inclined +to be. You have never been able to arouse the +real interest of the proletariat, for the simple +reason that you have never been really interested +in them. But you do arouse their hatred +and their contempt. They ought not, of +course, to hate and despise anything, especially +anything that means as well as you do. +But they, though they are anarchists, are human, +all too human, sometimes, like the rest +of us. Here are some of the ideas of the +salon about you, about us, let me say, as voiced +by Terry and Marie. To begin with, Terry: +about our "culture" he writes:</p> + +<p>"There is not much doubt about the sapping +influence of culture. It seems that narrowness +of range means intensity of emotion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +This is seen in the savage, the child, and uncultivated +men as well as other animals. I +might even go farther and say we see it in +such titans as Balzac and Wagner, who seek +to compress all the arts into their own particular +art. The mind that finds many outlets +generally overflows in dissipation of energy +instead of digging a deep single channel of +its own. And yet to focus our feelings to one +point may be a dangerous accomplishment. +For instance, the fulminating fire of Swinburne's +radium rhymes, while harmless to +himself, may become dangerous through me +or some other 'conductor.' Unfortunately, +the inability to foretell the ultimate effect of +any given idea produces that form of inhibition +called conservatism, and to this vice people +of so-called culture are especially prone. +It takes recklessness to be a social experimentalist +or really to get in touch with humanity. +Our careful humanitarians, our charitable +ones, never do, for they stick to their conservatism. +How we do fashion our own fetters, +from chains to corsets, and from gods to governments. +Oh, how I wish I were a fine lean +satirist!—with a great black-snake whip of +sarcasm to scourge the smug and genial ones, +the self-righteous, charitable, and respectable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +ones! How I would lay the lash on corpulent +content and fat faith with folds in its belly; +chin and hands<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a>; those who try to beat their +breast-bone through layers of fat! Oh, this +rotund reverence of morality! 'Meagre +minds,' mutters George Moore, and my gorge +rises in stuttering rage to get action on them. +Verily such morality as your ordinary conservative +person professes has an organic +basis: it has its seat in those vestiges of muscles +that would still wag our abortive tails, +and often do wag our abortive tongues.</p> + +<p>"To arouse such fat ones to any onward +flight it may take the tremendous impact of +a revolution. It may take many upheavals +of the seismic soul of man before the hobgoblins +of authority are finally laid in the +valley.</p> + +<p>"How many free spirits have been caught and +hampered in the quagmire of conservatism. +Yet they have the homing instinct of all +winged things: they return to the soul and seek +to throw off the fat and heavy flesh of social +stupidity. Many great free spirits there have +been who possess this orientation of the race<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +and have brought us tidings of the promised +land. How many thundering spirits have +commanded us to march by the tongued and +livid lightning of their prophetic souls, but +how few of us have done so! Why, to me, this +world is a halting hell of hitching-posts and +of truculent troughs for belching swineherds. +The universe has no goal that we know of +unless Eternity be the aim; let us then have +the modesty of the Cosmos, and no other +modesty, and be content to know our course, +and be sure to run it.</p> + +<p>"I have tried for freedom, indeed, everywhere, +but I find the 'good ones' always in +my way. How well I know the cost of my +attempt! My heavy heart and my parched +and choking throat, they know! I may indeed +beat my breast alone in the darkness in a silent +prayer for freedom and hear no response from +the haunting hollows of the night. Such hungry +freedom I had and have; and I could +share it only with the outcasts of the world: +the fat and rotund charitable ones would +none of it. This freedom is possessed only by +him who is afflicted over much with himself +because he has been crazed by others and +made mad by his escape from them. I suppose +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>I am mad, for to believe myself perfectly +sane in a greatly mad world is surely +a subtle species of lunacy. And yet I am compelled +to act towards others as if they were +more sane than I. To feel as if one were +eternally in a court-room trial, with lean +lunatics for lawyers and fat philistines for +judges, this is life.</p> + +<p>"I am only one of the human victims who +studies his own malady because he likes universal +history. The world has thrown me +back upon myself and made me at times what +is called mad. After being down-hearted for +some time, I grow superstitious and imagine +that some strange and fatal spell is hanging +over us all. Even my own acts and thoughts +take on the futility of nightmare, and Nirvana +is very welcome, if I could be sure of it, +but I had rather stay what I am than start +life all over again in some other shape, with +a possible creeping recollection of my former +existence. I have at times startled intimations +that I lived in vain in some former unhappy +time; so I shall try to postpone the eternal +recurrence as best I may."</p> + +<p>Thus Terry tries not only to reject the laws +of "fat" society, but at times he strives against<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +what he imagines to be the deep laws of the +universe: he tries to stem the tide of fate, and +this in the name of Truth! It shows how far +remote from reality is the truth of the idealist; +and yet such an attitude is often forced +upon a sensitive spirit by rough contact with +imperfect society. Although Terry is the +most perfect specimen of the anarchists I have +known, yet they all have more or less the +quality of idealism so marked in him.</p> + +<p>Marie's letters teem with the spirit of revolt, +which of course was the atmosphere of +the salon. With her it is always less ideal, +more personal, more egotistic than with Terry. +In one of her letters she told "how she was +led to try to get a job again, in order to buy +some pretty things." A few days' search, however, +disgusted her and brought her back completely +to the mood of the salon, and led her +deeply to appreciate <i>Hedda Gabler</i>, and to +condemn American morality and the "good" +people. Of Hedda she wrote:</p> + +<p>"Her character always did appeal to me, +but last night I was in the mood especially to +understand and sympathise with Hedda, to be +Hedda, in fact. For a few hours I was as +brave and wonderful in thought and feeling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +as she. It was the reaction from my stupid +days in hunting a job. Her disgust with +everything, her search for something new and +different, the fascination she felt for saying +and doing dangerous and reckless things—this +I could understand so thoroughly! I was +in a very reckless and discontented mood, but +I was able to get away from myself and become +Hedda for awhile; and this made me +think of what a wonderful thing it is, what a +power Ibsen has, to produce such emotions +by merely stringing a few words together. +Why, the very name Hedda, Hedda Gabler! +When Eilert says it, what does it not convey! +Terry and I had a long talk about it, and +about literature in general, so the result was +that I became calm, quiet, and reflective—as +I love to be, but which I can be only very +seldom. I have an almost continuous craving +for something new and strange, like Hedda. +But somehow reading and thinking about her +calmed me. I can find new emotions in books, +and this satisfies me for a time, but they are +never vital enough to last me long. It is only +sterile emotions we derive from literature, and +so I turn again restlessly to life.</p> + +<p>"But when I turn to life I find for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +most part people who are unwilling to give +themselves up to life, who will not follow out +their moods, or have none. When I am no +longer capable of abandoning myself, why +continue? Most people seem to me to be +dried up. They look as if they never felt +anything, so expressionless, so automatic are +they, as if they had been wound up to walk +and talk, and eat and sleep in precisely the +same way for a certain number of years. This +seems to be the American type. I suppose +you have read of the Caruso affair—how he +kissed a woman in Central Park, or wanted +to, and the howl it made? The way they all +jumped on him, in the name of morality! +And you remember what happened to Gorky, +when he was here? Why, these American +stiffs, what do they mean by morality? Since +they are much too cold-blooded for immortality, +what do they know about it? This +country is composed of pie-eating, ice-water +drinking, sour-faced business people. If one +with emotions comes to this country, he is of +course immoral. If there were no foreigners +here, this country would resemble the North +Pole.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad I am not an American in blood,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +for then I would not be as interesting to myself +as I am now. Sometimes I stand before +my mirror and look at myself for a long, long +time; it always surprises me that I look so +commonplace. Surely, something of what I +have in me ought to show in my face. But I +know it's there, anyway. I know I'm altogether +different from anyone else, I know it +with a kind of fierce joy; not better, of course, +but different.</p> + +<p>"For instance, this regularity and system +they talk about! You wrote me to be more +regular and the like of that, if I wanted to +sleep better. You, too, are a typical American! +Just imagine me drinking milk to make +me sleep or grow fat! The thought of such a +thing makes me shudder. Your remark about +amorous sport being a soporific if performed +regularly and without excitement made me +double up with laughter. But I am quite +sure that the performance of such a 'duty' +would not induce sleep. I am only moved to +such things by new lovers, and then I desire +not sleep but wakefulness. And then, too, +usually such desires come to me at noon, not +at night, and who ever heard of sleeping at +noon!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> + +<p>"As for the other physical exercises that +you recommend, I do walk along muddy, prosaic +streets and work in our household until +I grow weary and ask the gods what sins I +have committed. My beloved cigarettes, +which are as dear to me as sleep itself, my +solace when sleep flies, my comfort, you would +take these away from me! What would I do +without them? I am without them sometimes, +when Terry takes some of my tobacco, and +then I am angry at him! The only plan I +have is to have enough tobacco. Otherwise, +I have nothing arranged, no plan. You think +there is something fine in having logical arrangements +for all things. I have never felt +that way. I am only a poor creature of an +hour, of a moment, and have never had plans. +I would love to be where you are now, in +Paris, that home of the planless, the free and +joyous and emotional people."</p> + +<p>What most people think is good, is worth +while, is in good taste, the salon rejected; +partly, of course, in the spirit of mere rejection, +of revolt, but based nevertheless on a +higher ideal of human love than obtains in +our society. These anarchists are not historians +or practical people and they are not as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +much interested in what society must be as in +what society ought to be; and because they +see that society is not what it ought to be, because +they as unfortunate members of the +labouring class feel that the origin of our +society is the root of injustice, they rebel +totally against that society, rejecting the good +with the evil. They passionately believe that +the real and radical evil in our social world +is partly kept there by our very justice, by +our very morality, our very religion—kept +there not so much by what is called evil in +our society as by what is called good. They see +that much large kindness is prevented by the +morality which is expressed in the idea of private +property, that much large virtue is denied +by the institution of marriage, that psychological +truth and Christian kindness at once +are not considered by the social court, which +looks only to the law—to the complex, historical +law, so often meaningless and unjust to +human feeling, so often based upon special +"interests" and ancient prejudices.</p> + +<p>Their situation, as proletarian interpreters +of the working class, enables them to see whatever +is true in this view with peculiar vividness. +For, of course, it is to their interest to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +see this truth; for truth is only an impassioned +statement of our fundamental needs.</p> + +<p>The salon was composed of the poor and +the criminal, and what kept it together was +the human desire to form a society, the norms +of judgment of which should give value to +the individual members—the deep need of +justification.</p> + +<p>There were fakirs in the salon, unkind +people, unjust people, vicious people; there +were mere "climbers," persons who saw their +only chance for recognition and livelihood in +the espousal of anarchistic ideas. But there +were also kind people, relatively just people, +and moderate ones, honest and strenuous with +themselves. There were none perfect, as +there are none perfect in any society. We +shall see how Terry became disgusted finally +with the anarchists themselves, preferring +even insanity and probable death to them.</p> + +<p>And Marie's letters are full of satire of her +companions, of the perception of their weaknesses +and inconsistencies. She never embraces +or rejects them so completely as Terry +does, for she sees them more clearly; therefore +she sees them more humorously, understands +them better. Her letters teem with "psychological +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>gossip," so to speak, in which some +of her companions seem portrayed with relative +truth. One she wrote me, while I was +seeing something in London, of an anarchist +named Nicoll, who was a friend of William +Morris and still edits Morris's old paper, is +full of both appreciation and satire of a number +of "radicals":</p> + +<p>"An old friend of Nicoll's used to talk to +me by the hour about him. He, the friend, +an ordinary, rather stupid fellow, once helped +poor Nicoll, got a room for him and gave him +money, after he was released from prison. He +felt proud to think that a man like Nicoll +would accept hospitality 'from a poor bloke +like me,' as he put it. His friendship with +Nicoll has been the great event of his life. +Whenever anything occurs in the radical +movement which recalls ever so slightly the +affair of which Nicoll was the scapegoat, his +old friend will say, in his funny Jewish Cockney, +'That's always the wey, like Nicoll's +kise, for example.' Then he launches forth +into eloquent streams of denunciation, for he +does not regard Nicoll as at all insane, but on +the contrary, 'the finest man ever downed' +by aristocrats like Turner and Kropotkin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> + +<p>"This affair has made our friend pessimistic +about anarchism, at times, and inclined to +join the socialist party. His life is made miserable +by the ceaseless debate of his mind and +soul over which of these two philosophies is +the best one for the race. He, suspiciously, is +always looking for another case like Nicoll's, +and is doubtful about all movements, not only +anarchism and socialism, but all which preach +liberty, justice, and the like, such as Theosophy, +Single Tax, Sun Worshippers, Spirit +Fruiters, Holy Rollers, Upton Sinclair's +Helicot Colony, and Parker Sercombe's +Spencer-Whitman Centre. All these he has +tested and found more or less wanting. Life +grows daily more melancholy for him, as he +continues, on account of 'Nicoll's Kise,' to +probe beneath the surface of all the cults and +movements which profess boundless love for +humanity, truth, justice and freedom.</p> + +<p>"P. R., whom you have also met in London, +has got himself into trouble by making +inflammatory speeches in Germany. When +they talked of arresting him, he immediately +claimed American citizenship. But if he ever +turned up in America again they would clap +him in jail so quick it would make his head<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +swim. He, together with McQueen, was arrested +here some years ago for helping start +the New Jersey riots, but he skipped his +bonds, to the great disgust of the bondsmen, +who were comrades in the movement. The +movement in the whole United States, Canada, +Europe, and Asia was divided into factions +over this affair, and very nearly went to +pieces. But it was ridiculous to arrest him in +the first place, for he could not incite a feather +to riot. He is one of those flamboyant wind-bags, +with a terrific command of high-sounding +phrases, eloquent gestures, and fine eyes—the +kind sixteen-year-old girls admire—to +think I once loved him, or thought I did! He +is a big little physical coward and prides himself +on being the realisation of Nietzsche's +Uebermensch.</p> + +<p>"The movement in Chicago is about to resume +its usual winter activity by the opening +of the Social Science League this Sunday +evening. There are many cultured people in +this city who think the Social Science League +is too crude and vulgar to grace with their +presence, therefore it has been resolved to +establish another society of a more exclusive +order, in which may be discussed important<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +questions in a more subdued, rational, and +artistic way. It is especially desired that only +the 'artistic' anarchist be admitted to this +new society. The crude element of anarchism +is to be excluded as much as possible, but +what cannot be excluded is to be subdued. If +this is impossible, it shall be expelled. All +illustrious lights will speak there. Terry has +been invited, but has refused on democratic +grounds, and sticks to that 'bum' society, the +S. S. League.</p> + +<p>"One of the girls who has gone over to the +'swells' is Mary. She is a factory girl and +an important little person, who prides herself +on the amount of culture she possesses, and the +famous people she has met and talked with. +I introduced her once to a literary man, but +she did not know he was so, at the time, and +only nodded coldly. But when she found he +was the famous Mr. F—— she was angry at +me for not putting her 'next' and was much +distressed, for here was another famous man +whom she had nearly talked with.</p> + +<p>"Another girl whom I know has done a +wonderful thing with a certain man. He is +a great, strong German, who guzzles beer and +bullies the other fellow in his arguments<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +about anarchism. When I first knew him, +several years ago, he was married to a nice +non-resistant sort of a girl, whom he treated +awfully bad—without intending to. For he +is really generous and good-hearted, but is +firmly imbued with the idea, which he thought +was the beginning of anarchism, that one must +be firm and have one's own way and do all +that one wants to do, without allowing any +scruple of conscience or morals or delicacy to +interfere; that to be a man and an anarchist +one must never allow a petticoat to come between +you and your desire. So he did what +he wanted, regardless of anybody. He was a +sort of brutal Overman; one could not help +admiring the kind of barbaric splendour there +was about him. And his poor wife idolised +him and would stand everything from +him.</p> + +<p>"Now he is here with another girl. Talk +about a change! He has turned from a lion to +a mouse. She is a little bit of a thing, only +nineteen, rather silly and not very attractive. +She is pretty in an outward way, but her features +are unlit by any glimmer of feeling +or thought, or even good nature—a slothful, +empty sort of prettiness. She makes him walk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +a chalk-line, and it is contemptible and ridiculous +and pitiful to see that big man cringe +before this poor, pretty, empty little thing. +Once in a while he tears himself away, and a +glimmer of his old self returns; for an hour +or two he plays his old rôle again, but if she +finds out about it, it is very unpleasant for +him. It is strange how weak women can subdue +at times these big, husky creatures. But +the more they succeed, the more dissatisfied +they grow, until at last they feel contempt for +the man they have subdued. The girl in this +case feels that way about this big, powerful +man. If he would assert himself, she would +love him, as she did when she saw how he bullied +his wife and all others. But at bottom we +women are pleased, for it is a triumph for our +sex, though we feel a little jealous because not +one of us could have been the lion-tamer, instead +of this weak little creature. Terry is wild +about it, and tries to lead the enslaved Hercules +into evil ways and keep him out at night, +but all these things have lost their charm for +the big man, who now would rather stay at +home with the little girl. She, however, finds +things very tedious, particularly in the day +time, when her big man is at the factory, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +she has nothing to do. So she passes her time +at Esther's house.</p> + +<p>"I would go crazy were I in Esther's place. +Poor Esther, she doesn't know what to do, +either, for she cannot be always ill. She takes +pleasure in being an invalid, but she can't +use this plea for sympathy all the time, people +get tired of it. But Esther is fortunate in having +somebody to whom she can tell all her +aches and pains and their history. She has +found a unique occupation, in scrubbing. She +starts Monday mornings and finishes Saturday +afternoons, and then on Monday starts again. +I was with her a week, and that's the way she +spent the days. Perhaps she is like Mary +Maclain and finds a peculiar inspiration in this +fascinating task. If you were a woman I +would write more about Esther's scrubbing, +which is very wonderful, but you probably +would not understand. Jay, her lover, +comes home from work every evening, and, +after eating the chaste evening meal of rice +and beans, lights his corncob pipe, settles himself +comfortably in his chair and listens carefully +to the description of the aches and pains +which have afflicted Esther that day. These +pains continue in spite of all the beautiful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +scrubbing. He suggests different remedies +until his pipe is finished, then he calmly retires +to his library and reviews a book and +reads several pamphlets, writes an article for +'<i>The Demonstrator</i>' or '<i>The Appeal to Reason</i>' +or some other radical paper and attends +to his voluminous correspondence with the +leading radicals of the day. Then he retires +for the night, also Esther, after the farewell +scrub of the dishes, table, and the rest, and the +kids, too, go to roost. When I was there, I +also went to bed, though it was only about +half past eight.</p> + +<p>"About half past five in the morning a +most infernal alarm clock emits a most hellish +noise. Jay and Esther tumble from their +couch, light the lamp, and resume their occupations. +After a very chaste breakfast Esther +continues her scrubbing and Jay finishes +his correspondence and puts in the rest of the +time until seven o'clock, when his work in +the factory begins, in studying the new language, +Esperanto. Oh, I spent a most charming +and delightful week there; I could hardly +tear myself away."</p> + +<p>One of Marie's amorous episodes led her +to Detroit, with a "fake" anarchist, of whom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +there are many. After a week or two of dissipation +and disillusionment, Marie returned, +very ill, to the "Salon," where Terry received +her with his usual stoicism, and acted as +trained nurse. Repentant and disgusted, +Marie wrote me from her convalescent bed:</p> + +<p>"I am still far from well, but am much +better. My illness was caused by too much +dissipation, which I plunged into for relaxation. +For some weeks previously I had got +a particularly large dose of my environment. +Terry and I live in surroundings which would +kill an ordinary person. Our little home is +not as bad in the summer time. We can have +the windows and doors open, but now in this +cold winter we must all live in one room, a +very small room, where there is a stove. The +dampness penetrates right through the walls +and the wind comes through the holes in the +window panes. Sundays are the hardest days +for me. Then Kate, queen of the kitchen, is +here, and she delights in cooking all sorts +of things on that day, so for the remaining six +days our home smells of her culinary operations—most +abominable, this odour of stale +cookery! And what a mess our rooms are +in on Monday morning! You wouldn't comprehend, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>even if I told you. I have to clean up +all this, and I wish I could fly away every +Sunday. At times I get so tired of this way of +living. I hope some day I may find a large +barn with a hay loft: I would immediately +abolish Kate and her cookery and would be +comfortable for once in my life.</p> + +<p>"So I ran away, for a time, partly for relief, +partly because I was rather taken with a +Detroit anarchist who was visiting us. Though +he was a comrade, he was really a Philistine, +which I did not see till afterwards. I saw only +that he was young and lusty and wanted a +lark, as I did, so I went with him on an awful +tear, and returned terribly done up, as you +know.</p> + +<p>"I have been lying here in this little room +for three weeks. I thought surely I should +die, and I was neither glad nor sorry. It was +curious, this sensation of approaching death. +All these days Terry sat opposite me at a table +reading or writing. I could see him distinctly +at times, at other times everything was misty +or completely dark, only his voice reached +me from such a long, long distance. He sat +there like an implacable fate, with calm, cold +eyes, gazing above and beyond me. Between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +two slow heart beats I felt it was almost a duty +to call him and bid him farewell, but some +strange sense of shyness held me back. I tried +so hard to think of what I might do, and the +most grotesque and comical things suggested +themselves. At one lucid moment I had the +brilliant idea of becoming a jockey!</p> + +<p>"Other ways of passing my life revolved +ceaselessly in my brain, and now at last perhaps +I have found it. Now that I am better I am +reading Swinburne aloud, in bed. The sound +of my voice carried along with the music of +his matchless rhythms is to me a delight and +a wonder. I have discovered that the Garden +of Proserpine should be read only when one +is in a reclining position. Then one's voice +conveys more perfectly the weariness of all +things mortal and the sweet delight of rest. +I find I must practice breathing more deeply, +if I wish to render the voluptuous, sinuous +lines. Don't you think this is a great ambition, +to read Swinburne well? I am so glad to find +something to do, something I love to do. Perhaps +I may escape from all by this.</p> + +<p>"It is now five days since I started to write +to you, but I still lie on my back and dream +and have not found my place, and never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +shall. Swinburne's never-ceasing, monotonous +rhymes have palled upon me. Even this is +sordid, and then, if so, what is the rest?—the +daily life filled with brutish and shallow men +and women? When I can no longer endure +poetry and daily life—it is then that I rush +into brutal dissipation, from which I awake +sick in mind and body, without hope or desire +for anything but sleep: and then, once more, +the Garden of Proserpine reveals itself to me, +or some other thing of beauty. It is an eternal +round.</p> + +<p>"I often think that the only way for me to +be in harmony with the scheme of things +would be to go down into the gutter. Some +years ago during my brief period of—prostitution, +I suppose—I felt a strange importance. +It was death to me, but something real, +too. I was fulfilling a need of society, a horrible +need, but a need. And then, too, all my +men friends often go to these houses. All the +nice, intellectual men are to be met there—men +from all ranks of life—men a girl like +me could never meet in any other way. During +that brief time, at moments between a +sleep and a drink, I used to have this fancy, +which sometimes makes me shudder now, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +I think of it, and yet somehow seems such a +fine satisfying protest—a feeling that some +day I would be seen waddling about the streets +of Chicago, known to all the denizens of the +under world as Drunken Mary! I saw myself +fat and repulsive, begging nickels from +the passers-by and perhaps strangled at the +end by some passing hobo for the few nickels +in my stocking. And am I essentially worse +than you, or my lady, or anyone whom Society +protects and honours? To me poet and pimp, +politician, reformer, thief, aristocrat, prostitute +are one. Caste and class distinctions +are too subtle for my poor brain and too outrageous +for my heart, which still tries to beat +with and for humanity."</p> + +<p>Terry refers only in a line or two, characteristically, +to this adventure and illness of +Marie.</p> + +<p>"She is seriously ill, the result of a mad adventure. +As I exist for others when they are +in pain, I am her trained nurse. She is now +recovering from the drugs, the debauching, +and the raving madness of sleepless nights. +I will give you an account sometime of a +strange piece of magic charlatanism, practiced +under the guise of beautiful art!...<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I think her growing recovery is largely +due to the inability to secure a doctor to +christen her disease. I feel rather worn with +domestic drudgery, cooking, laundering, +wrestling with disease without and demons +within. Still, as a trained nurse who can +go sleepless for three weeks, I do not look upon +myself as a failure."</p> + +<p>Marie's health improved slowly, due in +part to the unsanitary conditions of her home. +She wrote:</p> + +<p>"The roof of this miserable shack leaks +all the time. The other day the owner came +around in his automobile. I was speechless. +It made me mad to think of that hound, riding +in his car which we had paid for. Oh, the miserable +people who live in these two houses: +old, decrepit women who earn their living +by washing clothes for others. It would make +your blood boil to see them. And then to +see that fat dog in his auto, accepting money +from them and not ever giving them a whole +roof in return. When I saw him I wanted +to say so much. I could only choke. Oh, +when you hear of the brutality of the mob, +don't believe it. The mob may indeed, under +the impulse of the moment, burn and destroy;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +but think of the cold brutality of a judge +sitting on his bench and calmly condemning +some poor wretch to be killed, and this with +no emotion. How can this be? The revolutionists +in France were the kindest beings, in +comparison. They had personal injuries to +avenge, and all they did was to strike off an +enemy's head and that was the end. There was +even a chance of being saved, if the doomed +one could find the right expression, some little +sentence that would affect the brutal (?) people. +But this could not happen before a +judge!</p> + +<p>"The trouble with the poor is, they have +not enough imagination. They are not refined +in their cruelties. They could never invent +the Bull Pen, but would only quickly destroy. +It is raining to-day, and I have been moving +about trying to find a dry spot where I can +continue writing without having a large splash +come down on my nose. But I guess I'll have +to give it up. Oh, that cursed landlord! I'd +like to do something to him, not so much for +myself as for those poor old things, they are +all rheumatic and stiff, but continue to live +here because, poor souls, they think the rent +is low. Ye gods, the place is not fit for dogs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +to live in, and yet he charges all the way from +five dollars up for these filthy, worm-eaten, +rotten holes. And yet the old decrepit inhabitants +of this rich man's house unbend their +stiff knees in profound salaams whenever he +appears."</p> + +<p>But in these leaky rooms of Kate's there +was often much jollity and gaiety, when the +"Salon" had its sessions, and proletarians of +the pale cast of thought sat and smoked their +cigarettes, drank their beer, kissed their girls, +and talked of philosophy and literature and +social evil and possible regeneration. Then +they were always happy, whatever the subject +of their talk. Marie wrote me to my villa in +Italy:</p> + +<p>"You write of your beautiful gardens and +seem quite happy. We too are well and happy +in our little old joint; you are the only one +missing to make our circle complete. But +perhaps sometime you can be with us, with +a can on the table and good talk going round, +and then I'm sure you will not miss your Italian +garden. Emma Goldman and Berkman +have been visiting Chicago, and we had some +jolly good times while they were here. She is +a good fellow, when she is alone with a few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +choice friends. Then she lets herself out. The +other day we gave a social for these two celebrated +ones. Positively, no police, reporters, +or strangers were admitted. Next day there +was a hue and cry in all the papers, dark conspiracy, +and so on! But all we did was to +have a great time: everybody was drunk before +morning, and everybody felt kindly toward +the whole world, and would not have cursed +even the greatest 'exploiter.' We finished the +evening or rather the morning by an orgy of +kissing. It was quite interesting and innocent. +Smith has at last begun to return my affection. +I think he likes me a little now. At least, he +calls here frequently, and he told me once he +would like to tear me limb from limb! This +remark made me shudder, not unpleasantly. +It must be good to be torn in that way by such +a nice man.</p> + +<p>"The rose-leaves you sent from Italy retained +some of their sweet smell. The rose +is my favourite flower, and I like to imagine +that perhaps some day my dust will be soil for +roses. Last summer I found a poor little +stillborn thing which had been hastily thrown +aside, near a place where Terry and I were +camping. Some poor little 'fleur de mal'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +which I covered from sight, in the sand, and +marked the place with some stones and +flowers. The next year I found some wild +white daisies growing there. This made a +deep impression on me and strengthened my +hope that I, too, might become soil for roses, +flowers of love.</p> + +<p>"Henry is a rose, too, in his way. He is +getting more picturesque every day. At the +Emma Goldman social he was ornamented +with a new straw hat, which had a very high +crown and narrow brim with little black ribbons +for the side. Also, an enormous tie, the +ends of which fluttered gaily and coquettishly +in the wind. His curling black locks nearly +reached his shoulders, and he has vowed never +again to cut his hair, as a protest against the +conventions of society. I left the social with +him, and as we walked down the street in the +morning he was a target for all eyes. He was +talking philosophy and love to me, but this +changed to fury. He flung his arms about, +and shouted to the crowd: 'Oh, you monkeys, +sheep, dogs,' and several other kinds of quadrupeds +and birds. Henry is a peculiar man, +but he is as sincere as anybody living and is a +friend of that wonderful man, Kropotkin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +When Kropotkin was in Chicago some years +ago a reception was given him at Hull House. +Poor Henry eagerly hastened there to see his +friend—dressed in unbecoming and informal +attire. He had not seen Kropotkin for years, +and so anxious was he to meet him again that +he forgot his raggedness. But the dear, sympathetic +settlement workers were decidedly +polite in showing Henry the door. But, at +the psychological moment, Kropotkin appeared, +threw his arms around Henry, kissed +him, and carried on like an emigrant who +runs across an exile."</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> See "The Spirit of Labour," Chapter 4, called "An Anarchist +Salon," for a description of some of the principal members +of this society.—H. H.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> This is worthy of some of the mythological-Christian paintings +of Mantegna, where the vices are being scourged by the +indignant virtues.—H. H.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3><i>More of the Salon</i></h3> + + +<p>"I have been imagining you in Paris," wrote +Marie, "having a delightful, bohemian +time. My ideas of Paris are all derived from +reading Balzac, who has certainly created the +most delightful, gay and mysterious, sad, +mystic, sordid, everything one could wish in a +city of dreams and realities.</p> + +<p>"When Terry brought me 'Evelyn Innes,' +by George Moore, the other day, I dug into it +with zeal and delight, and was surprised and +pleased with his subtle psychology, during the +first part of the story; but psychology can be +carried to the point where it becomes incomprehensible, +stupefying and monotonous. I +finally grew indescribably weary of the problems +of Evelyn's soul, but I kept on to the +end, and then sank back on my pillow exhausted. +I think I shall stop reading for a +while, lest I have literary indigestion. I'll +try to be satisfied for the time with Swinburne +and Shelley. Our anarchistic poet lectured +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>on Shelley, the Poet of Revolution, the +other night, and I was disappointed. He did +not do justice to Shelley either as a revolutionary +poet or as a poet of beauty. I think +Shelley should be spoken of with a delicate +passion, which our anarchist poet lacks. He +tried hard to speak with fervour, but there +is no fire in him, and what is a poet without +fire? Perhaps it was as well, for what's +the use in casting pearls before swine? For +the critics in the audience arose and condemned +Shelley because he was a socialist, or +because he was not one. Some of these critics +seized upon the word libidinous. Oh! there +was their clue! The lecturer arose like an +outraged moralist to repudiate the scandalous +charge of libidinousness. I was so disgusted +I vowed I would never go to another meeting.</p> + +<p>"I have indeed been going to so many +'humanity lectures,' and clubs, such as the +Shelley Club, where the divine anarchist B—— +misinterprets the great bard every week to his +flock of female admirers, and had been reading +so much Swinburne and other sublime +things that recently I have had a reaction, +and there is nothing now at the Salon except +Nietzsche. He is a relief, although I feel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +that if I were to keep on with him I should +go mad. When I feel my brain begin to turn, +I start scrubbing or some other stupid thing.</p> + +<p>"Though Nietzsche says some very bitter +things about women, who have no place whatever +in his scheme of things, except perhaps +for the relaxation of the warriors, yet there +is something dignified in his very denunciation. +His attitude toward our sex is so different +from that of Schopenhauer, and many +other philosophers. They usually take the +'rag and a bone and a hank of hair' attitude, +and are disgusting. But Nietzsche warns men +that women are dangerous, and danger, in +Nietzsche's philosophy, is a sublime thing. +Also, we must become the mothers of his Overmen.</p> + +<p>"Terry, too, is much interested just now in +Nietzsche; quite naturally, for Terry is one of +those 'men of resolute indolence' who will +not work without delight in his labour. He +talks a great deal just now of a plan to seek +some cave and there try to become an 'Overman.' +I pointed out to him that that was difficult, +for to become an Overman he must of +course 'keep holy his highest thought,' without +being disturbed by the struggle for existence,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +and that, like Zarathustra, he must have an +eagle and a serpent to minister to his wants. +And I suggested that I might be his eagle, +for Zarathustra says that woman is still either +a cat or a bird or at best a cow. I prefer to +believe that I am a bird, and as such could +minister to my sweet Overman. But Terry +wouldn't have it so, and replied that of course +I was a bird, in a way, but he would rather +have me as a pussy, or as a combination of +cat, bird, and cow. I thought that too cruel, +so now I am determined to be none of them, +but to become an Overwoman, and so be a +fitting relaxation for my warrior, my Overman. +'Tis but a step from the sublime to the +ridiculous, and I think, in this letter, I have +made that step."</p> + +<p>Marie's moods are many, and in her next +letter she wrote in quite a different vein:</p> + +<p>"I almost wept when reading your letter +about the baby. Perhaps it was because of the +line, 'A little daughter was born to me.' +It recalled to me this Christmas time many +years ago when I was a little child and I heard +the story of the little Jesus. 'And unto us a +child was born.' How those words ring in +my ears! So vividly come back to me the pity<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +I felt when I heard the story of the poor little +infant born to be crucified. It always made +me cry—out of pity, the pity of it all! And +I wonder if we are not all, all of us, born to +be crucified.</p> + +<p>"But I suppose I must congratulate you on +assuming the responsibility of fatherhood for +the third time. You might long ago have studied +pre-natal influences and the rights of the +unborn. I hope you have not neglected these +sacred duties. It surprised me that you wished +for a girl, for not long ago you expressed the +opinion that women were soulless creatures +without memory! Suppose your daughter +should not be an exception, how would you +feel then?... You have been very active. +As for me, I fear my only activity will +be that of a dreamer. I differ from the dreaming +class only in one respect and that is, in +making confidences, which dreamers never +do. They shrivel up into themselves. They +usually create their own sorrows, which have +no remedy except the joys they also invent. +They are natural only when alone, and talk +well only to themselves."</p> + +<p>In the same letter she plunges into the gossip +of the Salon:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't blame Scott for his carelessness. +The poor fellow has been suffering terribly +because of his wife, who has left him and gone +off with a new love to a new home. Scott +has been quite heroic about it, but he suffers. +You know how in our radical society men and +women try to deny that they are jealous, try +to give freedom to each other. But whatever +our ideas may be, we cannot control our fundamental +instincts, and poor Scott is now a +wounded thing, I can assure you. But he +speaks beautifully of his wife—even packed +up her things for her and escorted her to the +new place.</p> + +<p>"Scott came here the other night with your +friend the journalist, Fiske, who has become +quite a part of our little society. I am sorry +to say that he is quite sad, too, but for a different +reason. The poor fellow seems to be +suffering from lack of literary inspirations. +He has a habit of asking people what shall he +write about. He asks Terry, and even me, +and in pity I am trying to write up the old +women in our tenement for him....</p> + +<p>"I see a good deal of Thompson and his +wife Minna. Now that Thompson, who was +a famous radical, is more prosperous, he is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +growing careful and conservative. The glory +of her husband is reflected in Minna. I don't +call at their home so much as I did, because +I made what they call a break there the other +day. I thoughtlessly introduced myself as +<i>Miss L——</i> to someone of his relatives or relatives' +friends, after she had already introduced +me as <i>Mrs. C——</i>. And Thompson informed +me next day that it was inconvenient to explain +such things to conservative people, and +that I ought to be more careful in dealing with +the unenlightened ones. I suppose I ought to +think more of the reputation of my friends."</p> + +<p>Marie likes the Jews of the Salon, many of +them, very much, but there are some she +doesn't, as the following shows:</p> + +<p>"Things are rather dead in the 'movement,' +just now. But there is something doing among +the Jewish radicals, who, you know, are very +important in any radical movement here in +Chicago. No wonder things are lively when +the Jews have such a leader as Mr. Kohen, +whom one might believe to be the long wanted +Messiah, destined to lead his race into the +promised land, which is evidently Chicago. +There was a hot time about three weeks ago +in the Masonic Temple meeting when this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +modern prophet demonstrated to us who were +not Jews that they (he and his friends) were +the chosen people who would not only liberate +themselves but also us from the yoke of capitalist +oppression; and contrary to all previous +rules, they would do this without any consideration +of moneys; all that Mr. Kohen expected +in return was due appreciation. I suppose +I ought to be grateful to Mr. Kohen, but +somehow I am not. I ought, too, to be grateful +to our Jewish Madonna, Esther, but there +again I am not. Poor girl! she is really the +Madonna of the Chicago movement. All the +sorrows and troubles of the Salon rest upon +her poor shoulders, and she silently suffers, +sacrifices and redeems. Then there is little +Sara, another chosen one. It is she who is +chosen to make men miserable for the good +of their souls. She has been very pensive +since the great poet B—— left, for now she +has no one to worry about. I suggested to +her that she might worry about Terry, if she +liked, and she said she would try, with a +weary little sigh. It was she who one day +explained to me at great length that all love +except sensual love was of a transient character. +If, she said, man swears he loves you,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +but does not show any physical interest in +you, you can bet that his passion is of that intangible +sort that has the radiant tints but +also the evanescence of dew!...</p> + +<p>"I am going to a ball next Sunday night. +It's on the Jewish holiday in memory of the +time when poor Moses led the Jews from +Egypt and they had to eat unleavened bread. +All the orthodox Jews will spend the day +praying in the synagogue, without tasting +food or drink. They make up for it the next +day, though, you bet. The ball is given every +year by the radical Jews, usually right in the +Ghetto, and nearly always the followers of +holy Moses jump on those who no longer follow, +and there's a hot time. Last year the +radical Jews, mostly anarchists, had to have +police protection! The police are good for +something, after all! What should we do +without them? We would exterminate each +other without delay!"</p> + +<p>Perhaps Marie's temporary "grouch" +against the Jews was partly due to the irruption +into her Society of three new and attractive +Israelites of her own sex—an event happening +about that time. In one of these newcomers, +Terry, it appears, was somewhat interested, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>and Marie has often admitted that +her philosophy of freedom is powerless to +overcome her "fundamental emotions." Writing +of Miss B—— she said: "She is a regular +little Becky Sharp, very demure and quiet, +and proper and distinguished. All the +women hate her, and the men flock about her, +for she is pretty and a free lover, of course. +She comes once or twice a week to our salon, +and then Terry is always present, and they get +along famously. She talks of 'the realm of +physics,' or 'of biology,' and I admit it bores +me, her voice is so monotonous. She takes +evident pleasure in Terry's society. Perhaps +I am a little jealous, but it does not make me +feel any different toward him, and that is the +main thing, the only thing I really care +about....</p> + +<p>"I must admit that I grow tired at times of +the 'movement.' Kate says she has cut it out +altogether, and Terry goes to the meetings +very seldom. I dutifully attend the lectures, +where they talk about the same old things in +the same old way, and also the socials and +visit the comrades once in a while. But they +do get on my nerves sometimes. I prefer to +stay at home, in the inner circle of the salon,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +reading and sucking at my cigarette when I +have one. I scrub the floor once in a while, +just because of sheer weariness from not doing +anything.</p> + +<p>"Terry has been writing an article on 'the +general strike,' but did not finish it. He is +like me in lacking energy enough to carry out +any plan or purpose unless great pressure is +brought to bear upon him either from within +or without. I am sure that if he continued +to feel strongly about the general strike he +would go on to finish it. But he has a great +distrust, really, of the 'labour' movement and +of labour leaders. He believes that all social +improvement must come from the workers, +but how many difficulties there are! One of +the greatest is the lack of good leaders. I +myself have not much hope for the workers +as long as they remain sheep who are lost +without leaders, are dependent and led either +by honest men who know not clearly how, +where, or why, or by intelligent men, whose +intelligence usually takes the form of trickery +and self-interest. The intelligent honest ones +seem not to be cut out to be leaders, or successful +in any way. Sheep are led or driven +most easily by those who can make the most<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +noise, and they follow as readily over the +precipice as over the road. The slightest +thing serves to frighten and scatter them in all +directions, in outward confusion and helplessness, +unless the burly insistent watchers are for +ever at their heels. Leaders of such a herd +must often be unscrupulous to have any success, +must use their intelligence for all sorts +of devices, often cruel and unjust, to keep +their flocks from wandering: any means justifies +the end, which is the good of the cause.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is a good sign that people from +the higher walks of life are beginning to take +notice of the workingman's problem, and +maybe the ideal leader will come from above, +but even so I doubt if that will help much. I +have a feeling that all movements dependent +on leaders must necessarily fail. Of course, +I know that the people of the 'higher life' +fear the stupidity and brutality of the mass of +workers, and argue that leaders are necessary +to guide and restrain them. This is only +partly true; there is hardly any doubt about +the stupidity of the mob, but they are not at +all so brutal. True, during times of strike +they will throw stones and slug strike-breakers, +but they are not nearly as brutal as the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +'scabs,' who are incited, aided, and protected +by the employers and police, and who lack +the emotional exaltation which often inspires +the workers to this violence.</p> + +<p>"During the teamsters' strike I witnessed a +scene where the strikers hustled the scabs, +overturned several huge wagons loaded with +beef, in the centre of one of the poorest districts +of Chicago, where the people were suffering +from want of meat, but the wretches +did not even have sense enough to help themselves +from this plentiful store which was left +on the street guarded only by one or two policemen. +And there would have been no +danger of arrest, for the policemen could +easily have been swept aside by the rest of the +mob. It made me mad. I felt like shouting +at them, 'you fools, why don't you help yourselves?' +How differently a hungry bunch of +kids would have acted!"</p> + +<p>Terry, in his very different way, wrote on +the same subject:</p> + +<p>"I never knew a sincere, not to say honest, +labour leader, from business agent up. Poor +proletaire! forever crucified between two +sets of thieves—one rioting on his rights, the +other carousing on his wrongs. Labour<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +plods while plunder plays, thus runs the +world away. But if he should take it into +his thick head to be his own walking delegate +some day!"</p> + +<p>This strange master of the "salon," this +poetic interpreter of the philosophy of the +man who has nothing, has, in spite of his +pessimisms, a profound mystic hope. He +wrote:</p> + +<p>"That toiling humanity—the labour movement—to +me is a thing so vast, that whatever +other movements try to exclude themselves +from it, they must be swallowed up in it. All +other things are but the shadows cast behind +or before the ever-marching phalanx of the +unconquerable, the imperishable proletaire. +This is the hope which sends its thrill through +us when nothing else can. At the bottom of +my heart I know I am living but for one +thing, and my life has been nothing but a +preparation for this. Of and for myself I +have accomplished nothing: for to be ever +ready and alert is not accomplishment.... +I see a profound hope in the proletaire, +for to him is granted that intense, wistful +awareness of his common lot and life with +his fellows. His very crowding in factories<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +and tenements, salons, unions, and brothels, +brings it home to him. Yes, this very lack of +space must remorselessly rub it in, even by +dumb, physical close contact. The friction +resulting from ten living in one room must +make one of them phosphorescent—and capable +of giving light to humanity. The tenement +houses are harmless boxes of lucifers as +long as none is ignited. The inhabitants are +wofully benighted, but they possess wonderfully +the quality of brotherhood, of oneness, +hence arises their wonderful psychology and +their æsthetics, so full and overflowing with +pathos, so piercing, it carries one to that borderland +where comic and tragic make marriage.</p> + +<p>"This strange crowding in our consciousness +of things that do not seem to come from +us and yet are of us—this clamouring consciousness +is what drives me to despair and +makes me feel I have not the form or shadow +of things, though I may have the substance. +Yet I am determined to strain my self-consciousness +even to the breaking point; for +though I know madness lies that way, there +stands my Ideal, beckoning. I must grasp +this great common thing which comes from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +all of us, from us crowded proletarians, and +yet is not in any one of us. Together we enjoy +and suffer more than any one of us alone. +There is, I believe, something deeper than the +deepest woe: our racial consciousness is +there and we must find it. At moments of +great insight we are suddenly made aware of +this, the mysterious unity of the Race, but it +is flashed and gone and we must await another +crisis. It is only in moments of sublime sorrow +that the depths of the racial consciousness +is heaved up to us. Joy cannot do this, for joy +is narrow and wants us to do away with sorrow; +but sorrow never wants us to do away +with joy. Keats always beheld joy in an external +attitude of farewell and this is profoundly +and perfectly mystical and real: joy +is swallowed up in something deeper, away +down in the common racial consciousness. +We must all strive to be men beyond essential +harm; else, standing blindly before the meaning +and destiny of the race, we should go mad. +Most of us try to think, intellectuals; fear to +abandon ourselves to alarming states of feeling +where reason is crowded to the wall. And +yet I feel that by abandoning ourselves completely +to mere feeling lies our only hope to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +find the logic of the race that no individual +reason can master.</p> + +<p>"Let me tell you of something that recently +happened to me which shows how strong this +race feeling is, as opposed to merely individual +or family feeling. I heard that my +mother was dying. I had become reconciled +long ago, had seen many things more clearly; +for if joy is of the heart, sorrow is of the soul, +by which we see. I wonder if woman has a +'lake' in her heart. I used to think my +mother had, and when I called to see her once +more, the old love-longing caught me by the +throat. My presence seemed to help her +some, but, though moved, I had passed beyond +the family boundary-line, and was engaged in +stripping myself of everything not belonging +to the soul. If I wish to be something more +than myself, I must be prepared to lose all, +even myself. And what is my family and my +mother?"</p> + +<p>Terry does not like to use the word "religion." +But he certainly belongs to the type +of the religious man. One of the most +marked characteristics of the religious temperament +is this abandonment of personal and +family ties, this indifference and often hostility +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>to social law, "this emotional devotion to +something intangible." All the anarchists and +social rebels I have known have, more or less, +the religious temperament, although a large +part of their activity is employed in scoffing +at and reviling religion—as they think the +God of theology has been largely responsible +for the organisation of social and political injustice. +But the deeply religious spirits have +often been hostile to theology, as well as to all +other complicated forms of society. Here +are some religious words:</p> + +<p>"There must be some meaning," wrote +Terry, "for all this ancient agony. Oh, that +I might expand my written words into an +Epic of the Slums, into an Iliad of the Proletaire! +If an oyster can turn its pain into a +pearl, then, verily, when we have suffered +enough, something must arise out of our torture—else +the world has no meaning. On +this theory, all my pangs are still to come. I +too will arise out of my sacrificial self and +look back on my former bondage in amaze, +even as I now look down on the dizzy slums +where I am and yet am not! It cannot be +that I came up out of the depths for nothing. +If I could pierce my heart and write red lines,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +I might perhaps tell the truth. But only a +High Silence meets me, and I do not understand. +In letting myself down to the bottomless, +I discovered I could not stand it long +enough. I am dumbly dissatisfied. I feel +like a diver who has nigh strangled himself to +bring up a handful of seaweed, and so feels +he must down again—and again—until he attains +somewhere the holy meaning of Life."</p> + +<p>Terry feels that somehow deep in his life +he has been crucified, that society has nailed +him to the cross:</p> + +<p>"I was alone on the cross and with bloodshot, +beseeching eyes beheld the world objectively. +Yet I was aware of a harmony beyond +me, though not in me or around me."</p> + +<p>It is this "harmony beyond," this religious +sense of "something far more deeply interfused" +which, ever conscious in the idealist's +mind, makes the concrete vision of everyday +fact so ugly, leads to anarchism of feeling profound +and constant.</p> + +<p>But in this world, which as a whole the +heart rejects—"my heart," said Terry, "is the +last analysis of all things"—the idealist sees +things of beauty which constitute for him the +elements of perfection, elements which in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +some future state he dreams may be fully realised +in a social whole.</p> + +<p>"I saw a fine thing from the window to-day," +Terry wrote, "a thing of sheer delight, +the complete transfiguration of a human being. +An Italian street labourer came into +the yard and sprawled on the grass to eat his +own lunch. He was bandy-legged from being +coaxed to stand alone too soon. But he +had a most wonderful face; all the mobility +which toil had banished from his form must +have sought refuge in his eyes and his caressing +countenance. Catching sight of some +children playing 'house,' he jumped up and in +a most charming way offered them all of his +cakes and went back to his luncheon. The +children instinctively brought him back some +of the cakes, which he not only refused, but +offered them the rest of his food. They gathered +in a semicircle while he spoke to them. +There came something in his face and attitude +which I have seen many 'cultured' people +vainly attempt. He absolutely was one of +them; the children stood spell-bound, dazed +at the sudden transformation of a man into a +child. The imagination that can become one +with its object is a high form of unconscious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +art and rests upon the heart and the mass feeling +of the race. The ancient folk-lore and +ballads must have arisen from some such +fusion as this. How unfair, at least unwise, it +is to judge the individual action of the proletaire, +when he is made for action in the mass."</p> + +<p>This vague philosophy and transcendental +ethics pass naturally enough, at times, into +the feeling of violent revolution, where bomb-throwing, +if not advocated, is emotionally +sympathetic.</p> + +<p>"Just now," wrote Terry, "there is strong +predisposition among the 'reds' to resort to +Russian methods. It needs only the occasion, +which must be waited for, and cannot be +created. When the 'error' is great enough, +the 'Terror' will surely rise to the occasion. +Were it not for my faith in this, I should be +glad to see Humanity lapse back to whence it +came."</p> + +<p>In the idealist there is a growing impatience +with the world; in his attempt to react +even against Nature and some of the necessary +qualities of men there is such inevitable failure +that no moral revolutionist or anarchist +can indefinitely endure the struggle. He is +destroyed by his fundamental opposition to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +the world which he seeks to destroy. Therefore, +impatiently, weakly, he sometimes +breaks out—with a bomb—even against his +philosophy and his temperament.</p> + +<p>He is led into contradictions. One of +them touches upon his feeling of "class consciousness." +Terry at times, as a transcendental +moralist, rises above this feeling, but his +special instinct as a "labour" man often asserts +itself against and in contradiction to his passion +for the oneness of the race. In my intimate +association with him I sometimes saw +that, much as he liked me, he felt that I was +of another "class." In the work which resulted +in my book, <i>The Spirit of Labour</i>, I +frequently came in discouraging contact with +this "class" distrust of me—in him and in +others. Marie alone seemed free of it, in her +relation to me, and yet she wrote:</p> + +<p>"I think we have a peculiar sympathy for +each other, and yet I realise that in some +subtle way there is not that perfect understanding +there ought to be. Just think of +what extremes we two come from—how different +our social environment! I know you +understand as nearly as is possible for one of +your class, and yet I doubt if you can really<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +sympathise with the ideas of anarchism which +springs naturally from only one class—the labour +class. Do you not hesitate sometimes +and doubt that all men are worthy of the +better things of life, the coalheaver as well as +the banker and artist? Even I hesitate sometimes, +when I see the coarseness and ignorance +of these poor plodders of earth, and when I +think of all the really great things that slavery +has accomplished. But who knows how +much greater things might be, if done freely +by free men? When I remember that these +poor plodders have never had a chance, I relent +and feel so sorry and so hopeless. How +often Terry and I have walked along the +boulevards, admiring the beautiful homes of +the rich. Oh, it used to make me wild! I +felt that I belonged to humanity, and yet I +could only enter these beautiful homes as a +servant, an object of contempt—an object of +contempt supposed, moreover, to have morals, +and religion, too!"</p> + +<p>Of "class consciousness," Terry wrote: +"Class feeling has always been a deep problem +to me: it emanates from profound depths. +This reflection concerns you. Many of your +'labour' friends here seem to regret that there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +were many things they could not tell you; not +that they had any conscious lack of faith in +you as an individual; indeed, they had great +faith in you as a person. Their distrust of +you was a class distrust; they dreaded to betray +the interests of their class. They felt a +fundamental antagonism, not to you as an individual, +but to you as a member of your +class. From their Social Sinai they enunciate +the eleventh commandment, 'Thou shalt +not be a Scab!', and the other ten commandments +do not seem to them so important. But +you, they think, cannot feel this commandment +as they do, so passionately, so fully. To +them, it is the keynote of solidarity; to you, +partly at least, a principle of division, of separation.</p> + +<p>"No wonder our class—the thinkers among +them—rejects the morality of your class—property +morality, and the rest meant only to +make property morality as strong as a law of +God. I made at one time the fatal mistake +of the many simple labourers who are organically +honest. I spent most of my best life in +seeking a solution of our hard lot from those +above me. After a loss of many feathers and +some brave plumage, but no down, I must in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +all humility beat my way back to the traditional +lost ideals of our organically incorporated +class.... Perhaps the most conscienceless +class who seek to solve the insoluble +is the 'cultured' class. But most of them +seem to me like artistic undertakers officiating +at the 'wake' of Life. With their platitudes, +their prudery, and their chastity, they make +for death. These languid ones desire to +have life served up to them in many courses. +Greed lies at the bottom of their being, and so +they preach content to the masses, though for +the workers they have nothing in their shallow +souls but contempt. This cultured leisure +class has had the time and cunning to perpetrate +one great and tragic trick. They have +made social falsehoods so complicated that +they themselves neither understand nor wish +to understand.... Why is it that in all +the great authors I detect an air of condescension, +marking their contempt for those who +make and keep them what they are? With +what fine contempt the 'rube' is surveyed by +the faker who has plucked him! Must I +put these classic souls of art in the same category? +The art for art's sake people—these +make me sick. It is at best an argumentative<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +confusion springing from the fact that in the +perfect work of art there is such a fusion of +form and substance as to resist dissociation +and defy analysis. Perhaps this fact accounts +for Tolstoi's contempt for some of the classic +art. It seems to me that most classic art +is one of two things: either it smacks of smug +content and over-fed geniality or it is permeated +with a profound pessimism. The philosophers +are worse than the artists; they are +the ringleaders of the betrayers of humanity. +Art at least makes the atonement of beauty for +its mistakes, but this cannot be said of philosophy.</p> + +<p>"Herbert Spencer, for instance, who represents +the high-water mark of a philosophy +that will not hold water, pours out the vials +of his bottled-up wrath on the poor unfortunates +of London who are compelled 'to make +a living' by tips in opening the carriage doors +or holding the horses of the wealthy. He +had nothing but loathing for the pregnant girl +who tries to break her 'fall' by taking advantage +of the 'poor laws.' For the workingman, +who sincerely tries, at least, to settle the +'affairs of State' in the pot-house over a mug +of ale, Spencer had nothing but contempt;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +but to the parliamentary people who settle the +same 'affairs' over champagne and prostitutes, +he played the lick-spittle.... The recantation +of his 'Social Statics' is the worst +case of intellectual cowardice on record.... +He went down with final contempt +for the workers who served him, gave him his +daily bread, made his ink, pen, and paper and +bound the twenty volumes of his philosophy +of falsehood! May his 'works' rest in oblivion!...</p> + +<p>"In dismissing Spencer, it is worthy of note +that the very thing which made him pause in +the righting of social wrongs is the thing +which will cause the Revolution, namely, the +complicated nature of social falsehoods. In +recanting his published truth on the land +question, he admitted that, although the legal +title to land was obtained by murder and dispossession +of original occupants, the matter +was now too complicated to be dealt with. If +this be so, if justice cannot be done because of +the difficulties in the way, then all hail to the +simplicity and elemental justice of a Red +Revolution!...</p> + +<p>"Yes, sometimes I feel like the crudest of +the revolutionists, although I call myself a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +philosophical anarchist. Sometimes the jails +seem to yearn for my reception, and I question +my right to be at large. Nothing but a +decreasing cowardice leaves me at liberty. +And if I could not do more for my soul behind +the bars than I have done in front of +them, then I am fit only for durance vile. I, +who have out-fasted the very flies till they fled +my room, dread but one thing in the life of a +prison—that I should have no time for reflection +and repose! but out of a born anarchist +it would make of me a compulsory Socialist, +condemned to work for the State—a veritable +dungeon of disgrace.</p> + +<p>"It is not so much that I love life, though +as a rule the poor, who are so close to life, +worship it in a way that puts all other things +to scorn. I know nothing that reaches farther +up or deeper down than this. It is only +in the gutter that life is truly worshipped. +And that is why I search for my last faith +there—in the gutter, whence all faith really +springs.</p> + +<p>"And yet to have faith even in the gutter is +an act of deep imagination. In the rotting +rooms beneath me lives a worker with a family +of six girls and one boy. Capitalism has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +crucified his carcass for fifty years and now +'laid him off.' He has been looking for work +for the last month. I watch the insanity in +his restless, aimless movements, and I feel +desperate enough to try to get him a job. Unfortunately, +he does not drink; so his pipe, +ever in his mouth, is the only obstacle between +him and the mad-house, or the poor-house. +Every morning at six o'clock, his sandwich +dinner concealed in his pocket, he makes a +brave show of walking away briskly in his +hopeless search for work; for there are too +many younger men. His assumed activity is +only put on till he turns the first corner, for +he tries to conceal his lameness and decrepitude, +especially from his wife, who strains her +gaze after him. Just before starting off he +takes the superfluous precaution to put some +shoe-blacking on his hair which shows white +about the temples. He comes back after a +six hours' search, about noon, his neglected +dinner still in his pocket. He has tramped +ten or twelve miles with no open shop for +him. He does not blame anyone, but regards +it all as an accident that has happened +to him in some unfortunate way. He broods +over this till I can see it in his eyes; but I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +don't dare say anything to him. He is too +old, and I might only make his trouble worse. +If I were a sculptor I would put him before +the world in a material almost as hard and +I hope more enduring than itself. His arms +never hang down by his side, but seem to be +set in the position required by his last job, +shovelling. It reminds me of the time, thirty +years ago, when I was laid off, and the madness +first got in and crouched behind my +eyes....</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose I am mad. It is true that +if I cannot have the intellectual red that heralds +the approach of Dawn, then I want the +red light of Terror that ushers in the Night. +My feelings have been clamouring for many +years against my cowardly better judgment. +I believe some day they will break loose and +throw me, as from a catapult, even up against +the stone wall of atrocity we call Society."</p> + +<p>Thus the idealist becomes frenzied at times +at the incredible difficulties in the way of a +total revolt against society, even against nature. +We shall see how the absolute nature of +his anarchism led Terry further and further +along the path of rejection, "passing up" one +thing after another, even letting anarchism as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +a social enthusiasm go by the board and making +his continued relation with a human being, +even with Marie, a practical impossibility.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3><i>The End of the Salon</i></h3> + + +<p>Terry's love for Marie was partly due, +as we have seen, to his passion for social +propaganda: that she represented the "social +limit" was a strong charm to him. She, +woman-like, always insisted on the personal +relation, and for a long time his interest in +her personality as such, combined with his +social enthusiasm, was strong enough to keep +the bond intact. When, however, his social +enthusiasm paled, and his merely individualistic +anarchism became stronger, his interest +in Marie weakened. The times grew more +frequent with him when he doubted the social +side of anarchism itself—when this social +propaganda seemed as hollow and as unlovely +as society itself; and when he saw the weaknesses +and vanities of his associates, how far +they were from realising any ideal. Then, +more and more, he was thrown back upon +himself, for as his hope in the new society +weakened, his hope in Marie as an embodiment +of it weakened also.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> + +<p>Marie's sex interests, always freely and +boldly expressed, played, at first, no part in +the growing irritability of their relations. +Marie's occasional "affairs" with other men, +sometimes taking her away from the salon for +a time, were taken by Terry in silence. Even +when he came face to face with the fact of +Marie's absence of restraint in this respect, +lack of delicacy and feeling for him, he did +not complain. To do so was against his principles +of personal freedom; and the fling in +the face of society envolved in Marie's conduct +pleased him rather than otherwise; also +there was in him a subtle feeling of superiority +over other men, in the fact that he was +without physiological jealousy, or if not, that +he could at least control it.</p> + +<p>Even Marie's jealousy of him, whenever he +was in the society of another woman, he took +with a patient shrug. Terry's interest in +other women was not a passionate one: in it +was always an element of the pale cast of +thought, and Marie had no real cause for jealousy. +But Terry tolerantly took it as a feminine +weakness and tried to shield Marie from +this unreasonable unhappiness. On her account +he gave up many a desire to talk intimately +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>with some female comrade. But +Marie had no such tolerance for him. Not +only was she quite free with other men and to +the limit, but she often went into a real tantrum +of jealousy. One day she followed +Terry all over town, fearing that he had an +appointment with a well-known radical +woman. Marie often acknowledged to me +her inconsistency. "But, you know," she +would say, "our principles and ideas do not +count much when our fundamental emotions +are concerned."</p> + +<p>This was a true remark of Marie's, and I +have often had occasion to perceive the great +degree of it throughout the radical world. +Men and women often try in that society to +be tolerant; they give one another free rein +sometimes for years, but generally in the end, +the resistance of one or the other weakens; +human nature or prejudice, whichever it is, +asserts itself, and tragedy results. This I +had occasion to see over and over again: how +nature triumphed over the most resolute +idealism and brought about in the end either +ugly passion or pathetic unhappiness.</p> + +<p>As Terry began to doubt his deepest hope, +as he began to turn away from the ideas about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +which his salon was formed, he saw and felt +more clearly the limitations of Marie's personal +character; and her acts began to hurt +him. Perhaps he began to lose faith in both—Marie +and the Salon—at the same time.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," he wrote, "that the days of +the salon are numbered. I am of the opinion +that most of our latter-day radicals are on a +par with our latter-day Christians. They +have grown weary, or wary, of their original +purpose. They seem to think Liberty a beautiful +goddess who will never come: they willingly +believe in her as long as there is no +danger of or in her 'coming.' How frantically +most of the radicals signal back the +'waiting' reply: the track is not clear for the +coming of Liberty!—and they do not want to +have it cleared!...</p> + +<p>"You will be surprised to know that I have +dropped the radicals, with the exception of +Thomson, and I fear he too must walk the +plank and go by the board. I am becoming +quite implacable toward these intelligent +people, and the salon will soon be void of my +presence. The spirit of it has gone already +and cannot be revived. That is why I left +my mother's home—because the spirit of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +home had gone—and why I must leave the +salon. I cannot submit to being a discordant +spirit; therefore I must be a wandering one.</p> + +<p>"So I must leave Katie and Marie. If I +could make a living I would work for it, as +I did when I thought so. But I shall never +work—or toil rather—for sheer subsistence +except behind the bars. I am driven to be a +parasite, for honest living there is none. The +time is up, and I must leave. Several years +ago I ruined whatever robustness I had by +tending bar so that Katie might knock down +some three hundred dollars. At one meal a +day and a place to try to sleep, I think that +she and I are about even; she also thinks so, +though she never says so, to me. She is willing +and able to take care of Marie, for she +has five hundred dollars in the bank and a +great love for the girl."</p> + +<p>Terry, sometimes terribly frank, is extremely +reticent about Marie; and the account +of their misunderstanding comes mainly +from her letters:</p> + +<p>"I have had such a bad misunderstanding +with Terry, or he with me, I don't know +which it is. My God, but women can be +brutal, though! You ought to read Jack<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +London's 'The Call of the Wild.' You +might substitute women for dogs. Some +years ago I was a feast for the dogs (women), +and now I see much of this same fierce brutality +in myself, and poor Terry is feeling it. +I have been away with a man, and Terry +somehow feels it much more keenly than ever +before.</p> + +<p>"And yet I love Terry: surely if I ever +knew what love means, I love him and have +loved him always. Though I am the most +brutal person on earth, I am so without intention, +without knowing it even, at times. +And I am so tired that sometimes I have no +feeling for anything, not even for Terry, and +he does not understand that. I feel out of +harmony with every one just now. It is +hardly indifference, rather a terrible +weariness. Perhaps my recent reading of +Nietzsche has helped to give me a feeling of +weary hopelessness. And then, too, the spirit +of our salon is gone; I don't know exactly +why. Even Terry has changed very much in +his feelings and ideas. He is not much interested +in the things he used to be absorbed +in. He is more cynical, especially of social +science, and yet he seems to me to be making<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +a very science of looking at things unscientifically. +He seems to be holding his emotions +in check, is less impulsive than ever, and is +losing much of that delicacy of feeling and +expression which was so admirable in him.</p> + +<p>"I too am growing cynical, and I hate to +do so. I should like to accept people at +their apparent value and not always look for +motives, as I am getting more and more to +do. I should like to approach everything +and everybody with a perfectly open heart, +as a child does, but I find that I no longer do +that, that I am always prejudiced. I am sure +that this is due to Terry's influence, for he +more and more excludes everything: nothing +is good enough for him. He passes up one +person after another and he has no joy in life. +His personality is so much stronger than +mine that I am like a little thin shadow, +weaker than water, and he can always bring +me around to see his way of looking at people +and things."</p> + +<p>This note in Marie—protest against +Terry's tendency to cut out the simple joy of +life—grew very strong at a later time; now, +however, it was only suggested, and played no +important part.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> + +<p>Indeed, the idea of his leaving her was to +her an intolerable thought; and yet there is +many a letter which suggests the approaching +dissolution of the salon and of their relation. +They were both, at times, terribly tired +of life: with no strenuous occupation, the +word of Nietzsche and of world pessimism, +of excessive individuality, tortured +their nerves and made everything seem of +no avail.</p> + +<p>Work takes one away from life, is a buffer +between sensitive nerves and intensest experience. +Strong natures who for some reason are +dislocated and therefore do not work, or work +only fragmentarily, come too much in contact +with life and often cannot bear it; it +burns and palls at once. So it was with +Terry and Marie. Without either work or +children, they were forced into strenuous personal +relations with one another and into a +feverish relation with "life."</p> + +<p>"I feel so depressed," she wrote; "so many +things have happened this last year which +seemed trivial at the time, but have had big +results, while other things which seemed +events have turned out to be only incidents, +and very small ones. Thus, a careless remark<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +of mine resulted in a quarrel between Terry +and me which did not lessen with time, but +grew larger and larger, until now the relations +of us two idyllic lovers are anything +but pleasant. And a very serious attack +of love from which I suffered last summer +has passed as quickly and lightly as a +breath of wind, while another light love of +mine, which came to me last February, has +assumed large proportions simply because I +have been abused for it by Terry, whom no +one could ever displace in my heart. I was +bound to defend my lover from the attacks of +Terry, whom I had always regarded as above +such a common display of irritation in such +matters. So this other man became a sort of +ideal lover in my mind, and all because of +Terry's opposition. This man had wooed me in +a great, glorious, godless fashion. He was a +big man in the labour world, and he flattered +me immensely, but I should never have cared +for him, if Terry's nature had not suddenly +seemed to weaken....</p> + +<p>"I have been so uneasy about Terry lately. +He has been talking so much about joining +the criminal class. He seems to be losing his +interest in our movement and to be looking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +for some other way of escape, as he calls it. +He says his liberty is only a figment of his +mind, that he has now reached the time for +which he had all along been unconsciously +preparing himself. I am, of course, used to +this kind of talk from Terry. He has been +in the depths of despondency often enough, +but nothing ever came of it except a saloon +brawl. He would usually seek Harris; they +would break a mirror or a few glasses in some +saloon, and the next day Terry would have a +headache, after which he was usually content +to browse around his philosophy in that +mild and subtle way of his, for a week +or so.</p> + +<p>"But now Harris is gone, and Terry does +not know any other person quite so strenuous +in the fine art of breaking glasses and barroom +fixtures in general, so, finding no vent +for his accumulated despondency, he may +possibly do real things. I feel so sadly for +him and wish I could help him. The Lord +knows I would be willing to break any +amount of glassware with him, but he has not +much confidence in my aim, I guess; women +never can throw straight. In fact, he has little +confidence in me in any way lately, for he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +never tells me the details of his schemes, +but only throws out dark and terrible +hints....</p> + +<p>"Truly, something may indeed happen this +time. He is so anti-social. He positively +won't go out anywhere to meet people, won't +go to our picnics or socials, and in manner is +very strange, distant, cold, and polite to Katie +and me. One would think he had been introduced +to us just five minutes before. Perhaps +he thinks that Katie and I want him to +go to work—common, vulgar work, I mean, +for Katie has lost her job and we are living in +the most economical way, for we don't know +when another desirable job can be found. +Now, Terry really ought to know that I +shouldn't have him work for anything in the +world. I know that Katie has not said the +least word to him, but he is so terribly sensitive +that perhaps he suspects what she may be +thinking.</p> + +<p>"Katie is despondent, too, and nearly makes +me crazy talking of her life, past, present, and +future, in the most doleful way. Last night, +after talking to me for two hours about the +misery of life, she made the startling proposal +that she and I commit suicide. 'For,' said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +she, 'I cannot see anything ahead of me but +work, work, like a cart-horse, until I am dead. +I'd rather die now and be done with everything, +and you had better come with me, for +you haven't anything, and if I went alone, +what would become of you, such a poor helpless +creature; see how thin you are, I can +almost look through your bones! Who +would take care of you?'</p> + +<p>"After talking in this strain for what +seemed to me hours and hours, Katie went to +bed and to sleep, and then came Terry from +his solitary walk—he usually goes for a walk +if there are any indications that Katie will do +any talking—and entertained me by carelessly, +carefully hinting at one of his dark, +mysterious plots. Then he, too, went to bed, +and I, too, had forty winks and seventy thousand +nightmares."</p> + +<p>But Marie, even in this growing strain, +never failed in her love and admiration for +the strange man with whom she lived. On +the heels of the above came the following:</p> + +<p>"Terry is one of those characters who has +not lost any of his distinct individuality. His +is a nature which will never become confounded +or obliterated in one's memory. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +instantaneous impression of large soul, sincerity, +and truthfulness he made upon me at our +first meeting has never left me. This impression +must have been very strong, for generally +these impressions grow weaker, if people live +together so closely as poor people must. All +his faults, as well as perhaps his virtues, come +from the fact that he is not at all practical. +In spite of his experience, he does not know +the world, and is a dreamer of dreams. His +wild outbursts are the result, I think, of his +sedentary life. Sometimes we two remain at +our home for weeks without venturing out, +without hardly speaking to each other, and +then suddenly we burst out into the wildest +extravagances of speech!"</p> + +<p>A few days later there was a wilder burst +than ever, and Terry left the salon. Marie +wrote:</p> + +<p>"Last week we all had a row, and Terry has +not been seen or heard of since. The last +words he uttered were that he should return +for his belongings in a few days. I am +dreadfully sorry about it, especially that we +could not have parted good friends. I realise +and always shall be sensible of the great good +I had from him and shall always think of him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +with the best feeling and greatest respect. +The parting has not been a great surprise to +me, for it really has been taking place for a +long time, ever since he withdrew his confidence +from me, now months past, and I have +been acting with other men without his +knowledge. Nothing mattered in our relation +but mutual confidence, but when that +went, it was, I suppose, only a question of +time. And, at the same time that he withdrew +spiritually from me, he seemed to lose +his interest in the movement, and grew more +and more solitary and hopeless.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what Terry is doing, or +where he has gone, and I am uneasy. I +would not fancy this beautiful bohemian life +alone with Katie, and I don't know what to +do."</p> + +<p>"Terry is still away," she wrote a few days +later, "and my horizon looks bleak and lonely. +I want to be alone where I can collect +my thoughts, but, even when Katie is out, I +cannot think, but sit by the window staring at +the old women hanging up the clothes which +everlastingly flap on the lines tied between +the poor old gnarled willow trees. Poor old +trees, their fate has been very like that of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +old women. They bear their burden uncomplainingly, +groan dolefully in the wind, and +shake their old palsied heads. Even the +sparrows, true hoboes of the air, disdain to +seek shelter in their twisted arms. They will +die as they have lived, withering away.</p> + +<p>"I try to interest myself in household affairs, +but that is so stale and unprofitable. +Neither can I read: my thoughts wander +away and Terry intrudes himself constantly +on my mind. I may get so desperate that I +will seek a job as a possible remedy: perhaps +in that way I could get tired enough to +sleep....</p> + +<p>"I have been trying to meet Terry, but he +is as elusive as any vagrant sunbeam. I feel +it would do me a world of good to have a long +heart-to-heart talk with him. If I could only +see him once a week and have him sympathise +with me in a brotherly fashion and hear +him say, in his old way: 'Cheer up, Marie, +the worst is yet to come,' I should be comparatively +happy and satisfied."</p> + +<p>Several more days passed, and with the +lapse of time Marie's mood grew blacker. +Her next letter to me had a deep note of sorrow +and regret and remorse:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Terry has been away since August thirteenth. +He came, while I was out, for his +things. I fear it is his farewell visit; for he +has not shown the slightest disposition to +meet me and talk things over. I have tried +in every way to see him again, but he has thus +far ignored my existence. I had an idea that +we two were made for each other, but I have +been an awful fool. Last February, as you +know, I had an affair, if it may be dignified +by even that name, and just for the fun of the +thing I went with this light love to Detroit, +and came home ill, as you already know. I +returned to Terry full of love and regret and +most properly chastened by my illness and +disappointment; for other men almost always +disappoint me. But I found him positively +beastly. The way he abused that poor man +was terrible, and I had to defend him, for I +know that Terry was unjust to him. I +begged him to blame me, not the other man, +for it was all my doing, but that only made +matters worse.</p> + +<p>"I know that some people can conceal their +obnoxious qualities and show only the sweet +and lovely side of themselves. I sometimes +like to see the reverse side of the medal, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +I expected Terry, as a student of humanity +and an anarchist, to welcome any phase of +character which might enable him to understand +me more completely.</p> + +<p>"I must hesitate in attributing Terry's attitude +to jealousy, for I have had some affairs +before, and he never seemed to care about +them in the least; indeed, I often felt piqued, +and thought he did not mind because he did +not care about me enough. The following two +weeks were, I can truly say, the most infernal +and awful that ever happened to me, and I +wished thousands of times that I might die, +and I did come very close to it. I cannot describe +that hellish time or give you any idea +of Terry's conduct during those weeks. +He was no longer the calm, philosophical +Terry that you know, but the most +terribly cruel thing the mind of man can +conceive.</p> + +<p>"Now, I know these are strong words, and +I don't know if you can imagine Terry that +way, or if you can believe me when I say it +is so. I have thought of it so many times, and +I have come to the conclusion that perhaps +while I was away, he and Harris had a great +debauch together and that Terry must have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +taken some dope which unbalanced him for +a while."</p> + +<p>I do not think it needs "dope" to explain +Terry's conduct. Marie, perhaps, could not +understand the possible cruelty of a disappointed +idealist. When Terry began to see +that neither the anarchists nor Marie would +ultimately fit into his scheme of things, when +his idealistic hope began to break against the +hard rocks of reality, he was capable, in his +despair, of any hard, desperate, and cruel +act.</p> + +<p>Marie continued:</p> + +<p>"During this awful time I did not blame +Terry, dope or no dope. I considered it all +coming to me, and even wished it would keep +on coming until it killed. But I made up my +mind right then and there that if it was fated +that I should keep in the game, there should +be no more 'affairs' for me. And so help me +God I have not had any from that time—six +months ago—till the day Terry left me. And +that other man's name has not once passed my +lips in Terry's presence, and when it was mentioned +by others when he and I were there, I +grew dizzy and sick.</p> + +<p>"In time, these dreadful things were thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +of as little as might be, and Terry and I became +excellent, though platonic friends, a +novel and fascinating relation, wherein sex +had no part. Night after night have we sat +around this table, discussing books and people, +trying to penetrate the mystery of things +strange and new to us. I should rather say +that he talked, and I was his eager listener. +Often, after tossing restlessly on our pillows, +when no sleep would come 'to weight our +eyelids down,' the rest of the night would be +spent in reciting poetry, the inevitable cigarette +in one hand, the other gesticulating in +the most fanciful and fervid manner. He +would recite in passionate whispers—so as +not to awaken Katie—for hours at a time, +poems from Shakespeare to Shelley, and Verlaine +to Whitman, poems tender and sweet, +bitter and ironical and revolutionary, just as +the mood suited him. His feeling for poetry +and nature seemed to grow as his hope for +human society grew less.</p> + +<p>"So our relations were ideally platonic—the +kind you read about in books. Nevertheless, +some of the old bitterness remained in +Terry's heart, for at times he became depressed +and melancholy and so sensitive about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +the least little thing that I was nervous and +in hot water all the time for fear I might +inadvertently say or do something to hurt him +or make him angry. I admit I am not as +placid as I look, and Katie, too, is very inflammable, +so you can understand how tense +the atmosphere was at times.</p> + +<p>"Not very long ago, at the breakfast table +one Sunday morning, I urged Terry to come +to a meeting of the 'radicals,' adding that he +was becoming a regular hermit and that it +would do him good to have more social +pleasure. He turned on me savagely, called +me a hypocrite, and a contemptible one at +that, and made a few more remarks of the +kind. After a few days of strained politeness +on both sides I made bold to ask him for +some explanation—and I have got it coming +yet!</p> + +<p>"These are just the facts. I don't go into +all the little details of our many little vulgar +rows, about the most trivial things. I am +sure, if Terry writes you about this, that his +innate delicacy would never permit him to go +into these sordid details, too many of which I +have perhaps told you. But I am made of +rougher stuff than he. I am never quite as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +unreasonable as he can be at times, but I am +commoner."</p> + +<p>Terry did, indeed, express himself in a +much more laconic way about the quarrel, +than Marie. On the day he left, August +thirteenth, he wrote me the following +note:</p> + +<p>"The premonition in my last letter is fulfilled: +the salon knows me no more."</p> + +<p>A later talk I had with both Katie and +Terry throws light upon the precipitating +cause of Terry's departure on the thirteenth +of August. It was due to Terry's sensitiveness +about his money relationship to Katie. +On that morning Terry was asleep on the +couch, when Katie got up, made breakfast, +and she and Marie asked Terry to join them.</p> + +<p>"Not me," said he.</p> + +<p>"I think you have been eating on me long +enough," rejoined Katie. "It's time you got +out."</p> + +<p>Katie had never allowed herself a remark +of this kind before. But she had not found +another job and the three had been on edge +for some time.</p> + +<p>The remark brought about the climax so +long preparing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll go," he replied, "as soon as I have +finished this cigarette."</p> + +<p>"In the wordy war that followed," said +Terry, "we all three went the limit in throwing +things up to each other. I told Katie +that if it had not been for me and Marie she +would not have had anybody to steal for; +that I was eating on her stealings and mine, +too. And then I left."</p> + +<p>Although, as we shall see, this was not the +end of the relation between Terry and Marie, +it was in reality the sordid end of the idealistic +Salon.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3><i>Marie's Attempt</i></h3> + + +<p>While Marie was trying to find some +trace of Terry, the latter was wandering +about the country.</p> + +<p>"I have been tramping about the country," +he wrote me, "living most of the time in the +parks. This life, where you 'travel by hand,' +crowds out consecutive meditation, but I like +it because I can go away at the first shadow +of uneasiness betrayed on either side. My +existence now is so responsive and irresponsible +that it comes very close to my heart. I am +living a life of contrasts: one week I spent +with a rare friend who has many good books +and admires me for the thing for which +all others condemn me. Strange, is it not, +that the one thing which redeems me in his +far-seeing eyes is what places me beyond redemption +in the minds of others. I have +spent some sleepless nights in his fine home, +kept awake by the seductions of social life +tugging at my heart-strings. So one night I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +stole away from this seduction and slept with +some drunken hoboes in the tall soft grass, +where I could have no doubt about being +welcome. I might as well doubt the grass as +those pals, who without question hailed me +as an equal. I, having the only swell 'front,' +tackled a mansion, and the Irish servant-girl, +to whom I told the truth, gave me a whole +hand-out in a basket, enough for all of us. +My brother hoboes swore I should be the +travelling agent of the gang. But a copper +gave me the 'hot foot,' while I was 'pounding +my ear' in the woods with the other 'boes, +so I straightened and hiked to the stock yards, +where I feel more at home with the +Hibernians.</p> + +<p>"Never have I seen Life more triumphant +and rampant, more brimming over with hope +and defiant of all conditions, hygienic and +otherwise. I am rooming with an Irish +family whose floor space is limited, so we all +have shake-downs, and in the morning can +clear the decks for action with no bedsteads +in the way. I am very 'crummy,' badly flea-bitten, +overrun with bed bugs, somewhat fly-blown, +but, redemption of it all, I am free +and always drunk. Still, I am really getting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +tired of playing the knock-about comedian +and shall soon 'hit the road.'</p> + +<p>"I am willing to do anything for Marie +I can, except to love her as I once did, but +never shall again. Even spirits die, and the +spirit of the salon is so dead that it is beyond +resurrection."</p> + +<p>Marie, however, would not believe that the +spirit of the salon, or at any rate, as much of +that spirit as depended on the relation between +her and Terry, was dead; she was more +conscious than Terry of the ups and downs of +the human nerves and heart and the ever-present +possibility of change, and she went +to work in a wilful attempt to get back her +lover. Her next letter was a triumphant one:</p> + +<p>"I am a very happy girl to-day, and I must +write to tell you so before the mood vanishes, +for I have learned that good moods are very +fleeting.... The cause of my happiness is, +of course, that I have at last met Terry and +we have had a long, delightful talk together, +and I hope our misunderstanding is all cleared +up. Only, now I am afraid I shall begin to +pine and fret because we cannot be together +always, though reason and philosophy and +logic all tell me that the new relation between +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>us two is the very best, noblest, most +ideal—or at least they try to tell me so. It +very nearly approaches the anarchistic standard, +too.</p> + +<p>"There is something fascinating in this new +state of affairs. It is just like falling in love +all over again: the clandestine meetings, with +the one little tremulous caress at parting—which +is all we are bold enough to exchange—thrill +me; it is the mysterious charm of the +first love-affair! It makes my blood sing and +dance. I lie awake the whole night thinking +of our meetings and trying to bring them +vividly back to me.</p> + +<p>"And, do you know, what makes me +supremely glad is the feeling that Terry is +going to love me again, that I am going to +win him back. He thinks that love is an enslaving +thing and harmful to the soul, but my +dear lovely idealist and dreamer has loved +me once and he must love me again. I am so +in love with love and almost as fanatical +about it as the ecstatic artist is about art: love +for love's sake, art for art's sake. I never did—and +hope I never shall—get over that feeling +of awe at the mystery and beauty and +elusiveness of that great force in life—love.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +And I have always felt so sorry for people, +sincere people, who told me honestly that +they have felt that wonder-in-spring sensation +only once in all their lives. It made me +think that I had at least one thing to be very +thankful for, that I was different from them, +that I could experience the divine flame, and +experience it continually. If you knew how +often I have fallen in love with Terry!</p> + +<p>"Poor Terry, I feel so sorry for him, too; +he has no place to stay, though he could stay +indefinitely at three or four houses that I +know of, where his friends would feel only +too glad to have him. But he says he does +not want again to attach himself to any person, +place, or cause, because the time would come +when he should have to break away, and then +he should have to experience death again. So +he intends to move about whenever and +wherever the whim suits. But I am sure this +life will not satisfy Terry for long, for there +is really very much of the hermit in him....</p> + +<p>"I am going to see him again in a few days, +so I have the pleasantest things to dream of. +If I am to win Terry back, I must be extremely +careful: one false move would be +likely to queer the whole thing. Oh, I am<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +tremendously happy, for I am sure I shall +win my dear Terry back again!"</p> + +<p>The next letter, written about a month later, +has a note of discouragement, and also a slight +suggestion of an effort to steel herself against +possible developments in the future:</p> + +<p>"When I go among the comrades and +friends, I must keep such careful watch over +myself. I don't want to show them how I +feel about our separation. The movement +had the strongest conviction that I was so +wrapped up in Terry—I was always so frantically +jealous of him, you know—that I would +surely die, or go crazy, if I were ever separated +from him. So they are all guessing +at present, and don't know just what to think +of me. Apparently I am just the same, in +fact some better, for I laugh and talk more, +much more than I ever did.</p> + +<p>"Terry and I have met several times since +I wrote you, and I am almost discouraged, +and think at times it would be better for me +not to see him at all. I have to be so careful, +and it is awfully hard to control my impulses +to tell him what I feel! But I dare not do +that or he would never see me again, and I +hardly think I could stand that. He is so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +very cold and friendly; of course, he does kiss +me when we meet and at parting, but in such +an indifferent way, and if I allow my lips to +linger or cling to his for just the least part of +a second, you ought to see how abruptly, almost +roughly, he turns away. And I must not +even notice it, and it hurts terribly. I don't +understand how anyone can be so dreadfully +cold. It makes me thrill all over when I see +him bend his head toward me for the customary +kiss, and I close my eyes so that I may +enjoy more intensely that blissful eternity +which I expect, and alas! only one short, perfunctory +little peck, and it is all over—before +my eyes are hardly closed.</p> + +<p>"However, hope has not entirely left me. +After being so intimate with Terry for seven +years I ought surely to know something of +his moods and disposition; and I do hope and +expect that he will in time grow weary of +roaming about and living the way he does +now and that he will begin to yearn for +feminine influences and caprices and tyrannies, +and I hope, for mine in particular!...</p> + +<p>"I should be much happier if I did not +care for him so much, and I hope that in +time I may have only a strong friendly interest +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>in him. At times I envy him: he is so +care-free, without the slightest responsibility +toward anything or anybody; he can break +from old associations and habits so easily and +light-heartedly. I never could have done +that....</p> + +<p>"I am awfully absent-minded these days; +you would laugh at some of the funny things +I do. I ride on the cars miles past my street, +and wander about and forget where I am +going. Sometimes I think of things and then +forget I was thinking."</p> + +<p>In another six weeks' time came still +more gloomy news:</p> + +<p>"Our meetings are as uncertain, unpremeditated, +and unarranged as his wanderings +about the city are. It happened that I was +all alone for the whole of last week, eight +precious days of freedom, especially from +Katie and her woes. I love her, as you know, +but she does get on my nerves, at times. So +I wrote Terry, asking him to come and visit +with me for several days. It must have been +my Jonah day, for the letter reached him, and +he came and stayed here with me for the +whole seven days. During this time we talked +a great deal of our life together and of our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +life since we have not been together, and with +his most calm and philosophical air he spoke +of our circumstances, past and present. It +seemed so pleasant and homelike, so much +like the old days, to have dear Terry here +with me, and I felt such lazy content to see +and hear him, that at times I awoke with a +start, for I could not keep myself from the +idea that our separation was only a horrid +dream.</p> + +<p>"So, when he said things that ought to have +hurt me dreadfully, I positively couldn't feel +hurt. Somehow, the sound of his voice was so +pleasing that I missed the sting of some of +his pessimistic reflections about our love; it +seemed to me that he spoke of others, surely +not of our two selves! But now, since he has +gone, and I have been forced to think of the +things he said, many of the easily accepted +but only half understood reflections on our +love have come back to me with all their +sting. And I must now believe that I have +passed out from Terry's life utterly, and that +there is no return, nor hope of return. The +most I could possibly hope for is an indifferent +friendship, for so he has willed it, +or perhaps fate, rather, has so willed it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +'Dead love can never return,' he said. And I +am now only one of the people he knows! It +is so terrible that I must avoid the blow, must +seek an independence of my own.</p> + +<p>"And I had such high hopes, such dreams +of pillowing his dear head on my bosom, and, +alas! he would consider that intolerable. +And, upon reflection, his head would, in fact, +rest very uneasily on my scrawny breast!</p> + +<p>"So I am trying to resign myself and to +readjust what is left of my life. It seems +pitiful, though, that my life has been so commonplace +all through. Not one single exception, +not one thing that ever happened to +me, or that I ever did, has been different from +the experiences of all the world. My life +with Terry, which I surely expected would +be different, would be an exception to the +commonplace love affairs of all people, has +now ended the same way as everyone else's.</p> + +<p>"Well, I have had seven years of life, that +is perhaps a little more than some people have, +and I ought to be satisfied with that. The +biggest chapter of my life is over and done +and closed for ever and I will try not to look +back or think of it too much. And I shall +tell you the same as if I were making some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +solemn vow, that I will not try any more to +regain the love I have lost."</p> + +<p>This resolution of Marie's seemed to have +helped her considerably, for her later letters +are not quite so exclusively concerned with +the unhappy aspect of her relations with +Terry. The strong vitality of mind and temperament +which enabled this factory girl and +prostitute to adjust herself to a relatively intellectual +and distinguished existence still +stood her in good stead, and enabled her to +meet the present deeply tragic situation step +by step and not go under: her youth and +vitality and her love of life triumphed, as we +shall see, over even this terrible rupture; the +consolatory philosophy of anarchism, which +had educated her, largely fell away, with the +love of the man who had created it for her. +But the work of the social propagandist has +been done on Marie: the woman is a +thoroughly self-conscious individual, as capable +of leading her life as only are very few +really distinguished personalities. Her next +letter shows again a more general interest, +though still largely concerned with Terry:</p> + +<p>"The other night Terry spoke for the +Social Science League on 'The Lesson of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +Haymarket'—referring, as you know, to the +hanging of the anarchists in 1886. <i>The Saturday +Evening Post</i> had quite a lengthy +notice about it the day before the lecture, and +nearly all the morning papers spoke of it the +day after. The lecture hall was well filled +with people who do not usually attend the +S. S. League. And I think these people, who +were not radical, were much shocked and disappointed, +for Terry was not a bit gentle and +well-mannered, nor as philosophical as he +nearly always is. I thought his lecture good, +though there was something forced about it. +Perhaps because he no longer has so much +faith was the cause of his greater violence. +It was as if he was trying to remember what +he had once felt; and that made the expression +rougher than if it had been more spontaneous. +I really do not believe that he is, +at bottom, at all violent. But he tried to be so +in this lecture. He advocated assassination and +regicide and other most violent and blood-curdling +things. His voice and manner, +however, in saying these terrible things were +not at all convincing. When replying to the +critics, he was most violent, and was hissed +and shamed, over half of the audience leaving +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>the hall, very angry and indignant. I +thought, for a while, that a regular free fist-fight +would follow, and it very nearly did, +but Terry had a few friends with him, among +them a German hen-pecked anarchist I must +write you about, and your friend Jimmy, both +of whom were ready to stand by Terry.</p> + +<p>"Needless to say, Terry was gloriously +drunk, and utterly reckless, and after the +meeting was over quite a bunch of us became +as drunk as he, though not quite so gloriously. +He was quite helpless toward the small hours, +when our party broke up, and I took Terry +home with me, as Katie was not there, and on +the way I had the pleasure of acting as a +referee when he and a stranger, who Terry +fancied had insulted him, did really have a +fist-fight; I gathered up their hats and neck-ties +and kept out of the way, ready to call +assistance if need be, which fortunately was +not necessary, for they only rolled around in +the dirt a little, and Terry only had his chin +smashed slightly by the fall.</p> + +<p>"Drunk as he was, he did not strike the +other man, though being stronger he could +have pounded the life out of him; he only +tripped him up and rolled him on the ground.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +Terry is certainly instinctively and naturally +gentle and chivalrous, and I loved him as +much as ever as I took him home and put him +to bed.</p> + +<p>"I am beginning to think I am a genius +in taking care of drunken men, for I have +managed in some way to take home and care +for quite a number of them, for instance, +Harris, who is the most unmanageable and +perverse creature when drunk. I had an experience +taking him home which I would not +dare write you; and I can hardly realise to +this day how I even succeeded in half carrying +and half dragging him to our home from +away down town. He certainly was the limit.</p> + +<p>"On Monday the papers were all shrieking +for Terry's head—wanted him deported or +persecuted or prosecuted. But Terry has a +good many friends and too much of a reputation +as a philosopher; and his friends and his +reputation prevented his becoming a martyr. +Two friends, both newspaper men, managed +to eliminate the most objectionable parts of +Terry's terroristic utterances from their respective +papers, and Terry's sister, the lawyer, +one sergeant of police, and the ferocious but +humane Tim Quinn did the rest. For the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +present, therefore, Terry's desire to be acquainted +with the inside of a prison, or otherwise +to suffer for the cause which he still +half-heartedly believes in, is frustrated.</p> + +<p>"To me the most important aspect of the +lecture was that he prepared it in our home. +So, for another week, we enjoyed one another's +company; and after the lecture he not +only went home with me, as I have said, but +he has remained ever since. I am trying not +to build up any more hopes on this, because I +know that Terry has been in a particularly +reckless mood, and does not care much where +he is. I am sorry that he could not find a +better outlet for his mood than lecturing for +the Social Science League, but that perhaps +is a better and more harmless way than getting +in with the criminals, as he has wanted to do +so often of late. You may be sure, however, +that his talk on the platform will not be forgotten, +and should anything happen, in any +way like the McKinley affair, for instance, I +am sure things would be made very unpleasant +for him. So I hope nothing will happen.</p> + +<p>"Terry is really harmless. He expends all +of his energy in desiring and thinking and +talking, and has nothing left over for action.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> +Whenever he had any scheme in mind I did +not like, I used to encourage him to talk about +it, knowing that he thus would be satisfied, +without acting. He lives almost altogether +in the head and in the imagination, and is +really a teacher, in his own peculiar way, +rather than an actor or practical man. That +is why he takes offence at what seems to me +such little things: they are not little to him, +in his scheme of things, which is not the +scheme of the world, and, alas! not even +mine, I fear. He is so terribly alone, and +growing more so, and I feel so awfully sorry +for him.</p> + +<p>"Especially since our rupture I have been +compelled to be so careful not to hurt his +feelings or trespass on his ideas of right and +wrong; for he imagines he can feel what I am +thinking and feeling, even if no words are +said. He says words only conceal thought +and do not express it. At times I feel so oppressed +and depressed that I should experience +the keenest ecstasy if I could hurt +him in some physical way, use my muscles +on him until I were exhausted. In imagination +I sometimes know the fierce delight and +exaltation of my flesh and spirit in hurting +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>this man whom I love, in hurting +him morally and physically—and I feel the +lightness of my heart as the accumulated +burden of my repression rolls away in the +wildest, freest sensations.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I have only felt this way at +times; and at those times I know I was very +passionate and unreasonable. I had regular +fits of jealousy and anger, but at other times +I had a boundless pity for him, there was +something so pathetic about his gestures and his +voice when he told me he knows just how I +feel about him, that I could have cried out +with the ache of my heart. It was so terrible +to see how he suffered in his heroic attempt +to suffice unto himself, to defy the world. He +tries to think and feel deeper and higher than +anyone else, but this is a terrible, terrible +strain. It is all fearfully sad, and sometimes +I wish I had never known him."</p> + +<p>About his speech, Terry wrote:</p> + +<p>"I am one of the by-products that do not +pay just now, until some process comes along +and sets the seal of its approval on me. Just +now I am deemed worse than useless, and +since my speech on 'The Lesson of the Haymarket +Riot' the authorities are looking for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> +a law that will deport me. This will suit me, +as I will swear that I am a citizen of no man's +land. What I really need is not deportation, +but solitary confinement, for the sake of my +meditations. For even with my scant companionship +I feel as if I were a circus animal. +I still clutch convulsively to the idea that +thought is the only reality and all expression +of it merely a grading down of what was most +high. If I am shut up I must cease talking +and may think about real things, that is, ideal +things. That would help me to put up with +the world, which cannot put up with me unless +I am in cold storage. There is a mental +peace which passeth all understanding, and +perhaps I might find that peace in prison. I +have been insidiously poisoning my own mind +for some time, and unless I can stop this I had +better cease from talking, which does not seem +to purge me of my unconscious pose, and retire +to solitude behind the prison bars. There, undisturbed, +I can meditate and often remember +peacefully the beautiful things I have known +in literature and nature. Beauty is like rain +to the desert, it is rare, but it vanishes only +from the surface of things, and deep down who +knows what secret springs it feeds? As my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> +sands run out, the remembrance of the brief +beauty I have known will break over me like +the pleasant noise of far-off Niagara waters +on the stony desert of my life.</p> + +<p>"I once thought that I could help the mob +to organise its own freedom. But now I see +that we are all the mob, that all human beings +are alike, and that all I or anyone can do is to +save his own soul, to win his own freedom, and +perhaps to teach others to do the same, not so +much through social propaganda as by digging +down to a deeper personal culture. +Though I sometimes think that just now the +prison would help me, yet I also long at times +to talk to the crowd. I wish to tell the smug +ones that we waste our lives in holding on to +things that in our hearts we hold contemptible. +I wish to tell the mob just why there +are thirty thousand steady men out of work +in this city: to do this I may take to the curbstone."</p> + +<p>After his speech Terry returned to the home +of Katie and Marie, as has been described by +Marie, but on no basis of permanence. He +thus speaks of it:</p> + +<p>"You may think that I, too, have 'cashed +in' my ideals; for I am back at the Salon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>—for +how long nobody knows—by special proxy +request of Katie. I will spare myself and you +any moralising on my relapse."</p> + +<p>Katie, explaining Terry's return, said: +"When he went away, Marie was sad all the +time. She could not eat nor sleep and was +looking for her lover every day. After weeks +had passed I said to her: 'When you see Terry +at the Social Science League, bring him home.' +'Do you mean it, Katie?' asked Marie, her +eyes sparkling. She did so, and Terry went +quietly into his room, and the next morning +I made coffee as usual and Terry came out, +and it was all right; it might have been all +right for good, if this damned Nietzsche business +had not come up." But that is anticipating.</p> + +<p>It was after Terry's return that the famous +miner Haywood, just after his acquittal from +the charge of murder in connection with the +Idaho labour troubles, visited Chicago, and +spent most of his time at the Salon with Terry +and Marie and several of their friends. The +Salon was temporarily revived, like the flash +in the pan, under Haywood's stimulating influence. +Terry wrote of him:</p> + +<p>"Haywood has the stern pioneer pride of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +the West. There is a mighty simplicity about +him. He is Walt Whitman's works bound in +flesh and blood. He is a man of few words, +and of instinctive psychic force, and is the big +blond beast of Nietzsche. He knows just what +he is doing and why, and has a great influence +on the crowd: the mob went wild at his mere +presence, and after his brief speech he came +absolutely to be one of them. The swaying mass +becomes, at his touch, in close contact with +their instinctive leader. He is too much in +touch with the people to agree with narrow +trades-union policies. At a secret meeting in +this city with Mitchell and Gompers he hinted +that the Western Federation of Miners would +amalgamate with the American Federation +of Labour on the ground of no trade agreements +and the open shop, and warned them +that no man and no organisation was strong +enough to stand in the way of this development. +The Socialist party made him a big +offer, but he replied that the Labour movement +was big enough for him."</p> + +<p>Of Haywood, Marie wrote: "He is a giant +in size, but as gentle as the most delicate +woman. He has only one eye, but that a very +good one which does not miss things. He has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +been made into a regular hero by the people +here, but he is the most modest man I have +ever met. He is sincere and unassuming, so +calm, with no heroic bluster about him. His +voice is quiet and gentle. We had a blow-out +for him, and all those present were very discreet. +We all forgot our years and our troubles +and we showed him a good time. I hardly +think that even you, with all your democracy, +could have stood for all the things that happened. +Haywood is a big, good-natured boy, +but quite sentimental, too. I think he liked +me pretty well. I am sure he could have won +many much more attractive girls than I, but +somehow he took to me right from the start. +I was introduced to him along with a whole +bunch of girls, all good-lookers, too, but I sat +back quietly and was the only one who did +not say nice things to the hero."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3><i>Marie's Failure</i></h3> + + +<p>Though Terry was back in what was +formerly the Salon, and though the old +spirit seemed at times to be still alive, yet it +was more in appearance than in reality. It is +difficult to regain an emotional atmosphere +once lost; and it is especially difficult to live +by the gospel of freedom, when once the eloquence +of that gospel is no longer deeply felt. +Then there is nothing left to take its place—no +prosaic sense of duty, no steady habit, no +enduring interest in work. As these two human +beings drifted further and further apart from +their common love and their common interest, +the idealistic man became more self-centred, +more unsocial, more fiercely individual, and +the emotional and sensual woman became more +self-indulgent, more hostile to any philosophy—anarchism +such as Terry's, with its blighting +idealism—which limited her simple joy in +life and in mere existence.</p> + +<p>So their quarrels became more brutal, more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +abrupt. Both intensely nervous, both highly +individualised, their characters conflicted +with the intensity of two real and opposing +forces. A tragic aspect of it all was that it +was due to Terry's teaching that Marie attained +to the highly individualised character +which was destined to rebel against the finally +sterilising influence of her master. Even +physical violence became part of their life, +and words that were worse than blows. The +strong bond which still lingered held them +for a time together, notwithstanding what was +becoming the brutality of their relations. One +day Marie called Terry to his coffee and he +refused. A quarrel followed, in the course of +which she hit Terry on the head with a pitcher, +and the resulting blood was smeared over them +both. When calm came again she said to him:</p> + +<p>"Terry, how can we live together?"</p> + +<p>"Ain't we living together? Doesn't this +prove it?" he replied, grimly.</p> + +<p>And this man would use violence in return—and +this was the delicate idealist, the idealist +whose love for Marie had at one time been +part and parcel of his high dreams for humanity +and perfection, a part of his propaganda, +a part of his hope: during which period<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +he had been scrupulous not to use force of +any kind, spiritual or physical, on the girl +whom he doubly loved—the girl whom he +held in his arms every night for years with a +passionate tenderness due to his feeling of her +physical fragility and her social unhappiness, +rather than to any other instinct.</p> + +<p>"Marie," he said, "did not fully understand +the character of my love for her. She +loved me intellectually and sensually, but not +with the soul. She wanted my ideas, and +sex, and more sex, but not the invisible reality, +the harmony of our spirits. From the day +that I fully understood this, my confidence +in her and in all things seemed to go. She felt +that I had withdrawn something from her, +and it made her harder. She began cruelly +to fling the amours that I had tolerated as +long as I hoped for the spiritual best in my +face. It was a kind of revenge on her part."</p> + +<p>Practical troubles, too, lent their disturbing +element to the little remaining harmony +of the three.</p> + +<p>"We shall probably be forced to leave our +rooms in a short time," wrote Marie. "Our +landlord has asked us to leave, without giving +any other reasons than that he wanted a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> +smaller family in these most desirable rooms! +Terry is indignant, for we have been quiet +and orderly, and Katie has always paid the +rent in advance. We shall certainly stay until +the police come and carry us out and our +household goods with us.</p> + +<p>"It is true that we have had unusual difficulty +in paying the rent and in getting enough +to eat and smoke; and this has not added to +our good-nature. You have no doubt read +about the 'money stringency' in this country. +Times are indeed very hard, thousands of men +are out of a job, and the so-called criminals +are very much in evidence. For a long time +Katie could not find work to do and could not +get any of her money from the bank, so that +things looked very 'bohemian' around here +for a while. She could not get anything to +do in her own line, and finally had to go out +to 'service.' But this she could not stand more +than a week, for Katie has fine qualities and +is used to a certain amount of freedom, so she +couldn't stand the slavishness of the servant +life, though she had good wages and nice +things to eat, which Katie likes very much.</p> + +<p>"When Katie started in on this venture she +had the proverbial thirty cents, which she divided +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>up with me—Terry had not returned +from his wanderings at that time—and I recklessly +squandered ten cents of this going to and +returning from the Social Science League. +In a day or two there was nothing edible in our +house but salt, so I squandered my remaining +nickel for bread. I made that loaf last me +nearly four days: I ate only when I was ravenously +hungry, so that it would taste good, for +I hate rye bread. I slept a good deal of the +time. I suffered terribly, though, when my +tobacco gave out, and I spent most of my time +and energy hunting old stumps, and I found +several very good ones in the unswept corners +and under the beds. I even picked some out +of the ashcan. These I carefully collected, +picked out the tobacco and rolled it in fresh +papers, as carefully as any professional hobo."</p> + +<p>When Katie was temporarily hard up, that +naturally put Terry and Marie "on the bum." +But they remained "true blue" and did not +go to work, Marie being willing to put up +with all sorts of discomfort rather than try +for a job. She continued:</p> + +<p>"It is a strange thing that nobody came to +our house during these six days. But on the +sixth day, Terry came, and then I had a good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +square meal, and he even left me carfare and +some of the horrible stuff he calls tobacco. +Two more days elapsed before Katie returned. +Until then I lived on that square meal. I had +ten cents from Terry, but I was sick of rye +bread. On the day that Katie returned, in +fact only a few hours before, I was foolish +enough to visit an anarchist friend, Marna. +I was awfully lonely and thought a little +change would do me good. So I went to +Marna, but got there a little too late for supper. +I must admit I was hungry. I hinted to +Marna that I was, said I'd been in town all +day, and things like that, but she did not +catch on and I was stubborn and wouldn't +ask. Stephen was there, and for a moment +I thought I might eat. He had not had his +supper, and he said that if Marna was not too +tired to cook, he would go and buy a steak. +I tell you, the thought of that steak was awfully +nice and I had to put my handkerchief +to my mouth to keep the water from flowing +over. I offered to cook it for him, but he +passed it up. I made one more desperate bluff +and asked him if he would get some beer for +us! And I reached for my purse, and for one +wild moment I thought sure he had called my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +bluff and would really take my only nickel, my +carfare home. I nearly fell over with suspense, +but in the nick of time he went out, refusing +my money. And I even taunted him, +asked him if he thought it was tainted!</p> + +<p>"When the beer came, I drank most of it. +Beer is a great filler, but of course it went +straight to my head and feet—that is, my +head got light and my feet heavy. But I managed +to navigate to the street car and so on +home, where I found Katie, a cheerful fire +and a delicious smell of cookery and coffee.</p> + +<p>"Now, I must make you a confession. During +these six days I had some thoughts of +working, the only thing I could think of being +a job as a waitress. But when a vision of ham +and pert females and more impertinent males +came to me my courage oozed away, and I did +not even try. I don't think I'll ever work +again. Did you ever read Yeats' story 'Where +There is Nothing?'</p> + +<p>"I love Marna, as you know, but when +she talks to me about 'work,' 'health,' and +the like, I feel like becoming even more solitary +than I am. She says I am not ambitious! +Ye gods, I think I am ever so much more +ambitious than she! I am more ambitious to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +live in these little squalid rooms than in the +mansions of the rich. My kind of happiness—I +mean ideally—is not Marna's kind; and I +am sure now that if I ever find it, it will be in +the slums. Here I can sit and muse, undisturbed +by the ambition of the world. Blake +comes to me as an indulgent father to his tired +and fretful child and sings to me his sunflower +song. If I were in a castle I don't think even +Blake could soothe my restless spirit.</p> + +<p>"But, unfortunately, even in the slums one +needs to eat. Without warning I tumble from +my air castles because some horrible monster +gnaws at me, and will not let me be, however +much I try to ignore him. That mean, sneaking +thing is hunger. And because I am only +mortal, and because the will to live is stronger +than I, I must eat my bread. I often cry when +I think of this contemptible weakness. I have +often tried to overcome this annoying healthiness +of my body. How can people be gourmands? +Even Shelley and Keats had to eat. +What a repulsive word 'eat' is! I would +I could eat my heart and drink my tears. The +world is what it is because we must eat. See +the whole universe eating and eating itself, +over and over! If it were not for this fearful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +necessity, Terry and I should not, perhaps, +have failed in our high attempt!</p> + +<p>"'The chief thing,' said Oscar Wilde, 'that +makes life a failure, from the artistic point +of view, is the thing which lends to life its +sordid security.'</p> + +<p>"But alas! to this sordid security, or to the +care for it, we are driven by our need of bread. +If Terry and Katie and I had never had this +need, we might have become angels of virtue +and insight. But on account of this we never +could really attain freedom; that embittered +our souls and turned us at times viciously +against each other."</p> + +<p>Terry's growing jealousy, which seemed to +surprise Marie, was a sign of the weakening +of his philosophy, as far as it was social and +not purely individual. It may seem strange +that after his real love for her appeared to +pass, his jealousy increased; but this was due +to several causes: if his social interest in her—his +propagandist interest—had continued, her +sexual license would have continued to feed +his passion for social protest. But when Marie +had ceased to interest him as a "case," or a +"type," or a "victim," the only bond remaining +must be that of the pure individual soul<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +or of the body. Terry's lack of sensuality—his +predominating spiritual and mental character—precluded +any strong tie of the physical +kind. So there remained, as a possible tie, +only a close spiritual relation between two +individuals, a soul bond—and this Marie's +character and conduct tended to prevent. +Terry, if they were to be together, saw that +the deeper personal relation must exist, now +that there was no other—and so he was jealous +of any conduct which showed in Marie a lack +of sensibility for the deeper spiritual life; +hence the physiological jealousy, which he +had not felt, or had controlled at one time, +showed itself. No doubt his increasing nervousness +was an added reason—nervousness +due to the long strain, physical and mental, +which his life and social experiment had involved.</p> + +<p>During these last weeks Marie had another +lover, and was especially careless in not concealing +any of its manifestations. She, too, on +her side, was subject to greater and greater +strain. Terry's growing loneliness and austerity, +his melancholy and unsociability, his negative +philosophy, all this tended more and +more to inhibit her natural young joy in life<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +and to give it violent expression. The philosophy +of anarchism had increased her natural +leaning to the free expression of her moods +and passions, and now, with weakened nervous +resources, she hardly cared to make any effort +to restrain what she called her temperament.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he became my lover," she wrote, "and +we disappeared for a few days. Did you ever +read George Moore's Leaves From My Lost +Life? In it is a story called 'The Lovers of +Orelay.' My lover and I spent our few days +together in much the same way as did the +lovers in the story. We had our nice secluded +cool rooms and beautiful flowers. I threw +my petticoats over the chairs and scattered +ribbons and things on the dressing table just +like the girl in the story. And we had nice +things to drink and good cigarettes, and had +all our breakfasts and suppers served in our +rooms. The little adventure turned out better +than such things usually do; nothing awkward +happened to mar our pleasure in any way, and +I'm glad it happened—and is over and done +with.</p> + +<p>"You may think me a very light-headed +and heartless and altogether frivolous person +from my actions. But I felt so humiliated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +and so sorry and so desperate about Terry that +I was ready to embrace any excitement, just +to forget that our great relation had gone. +This time it was to get away from myself, not +in the old physically joyous mood—and to get +away from Terry's poisonous philosophy of +life.</p> + +<p>"This lover of mine was so joyous, so +healthy, so vigorous, so full of life! He was +very different from Terry, and I really needed +him as a kind of tonic. And yet, of course, +I did not care for him deeply at all. In fact, +I want never again to have a deep relation to +anybody, if this between Terry and me +must go.</p> + +<p>"This profound failure has made me reckless; +Terry is sensitive now, and knows from +my manner and face and the way I express +myself just how I am feeling toward any other +man. The other day an old lover of mine +turned up in Chicago, and this brought about +a scene with Terry.</p> + +<p>"To explain this episode I must go back +several years. I once knew a Swiss boy, a +typical Tyrolean. The day I met him in Chicago +he had just arrived from his native land, +and seemed so forlorn and lonely and miserable +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>that my heart went right out to him. He +was such a big, handsome child, too, about +twenty years old. He could not understand a +word of English, and no one talked to him, +but me, who, as you know, had parents who +spoke German. He was delighted and told +me his whole life story, how he became emancipated +and one of the Comrades. His eyes +sparkled so and his cute little blond curls +jumped all over his head with the enthusiasm +and joy of having found some one to talk to, +that I was quite content to sit and watch and +listen. And he thought me the most sympathetic +person in the world.</p> + +<p>"Had I only known the result of my impulse +to say a few words to a lonely boy! For +he did fall in love with me, and in such sturdy +mountaineer fashion that I very nearly had +nervous prostration—and he too—in trying to +get away from his strenuous wooing. For he +started out to win me in the same style +that he would have used toward one of the +cow-girls in his native Alps. He waylaid me +and followed me around everywhere, just +camped on my trail; wanted to carry me away +to some place out West, where there were +mountains. The more I discouraged him, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +more lovesick and forlorn he became, until +finally he became the laughing-stock of the +'movement,' and I was chaffed about it unmercifully. +He knew I had a lover, but that +was no obstacle; and he told me several times +with fine enthusiasm that he would not object +to sharing his love with another man! He +had read something about free love, and +thought he should like to be an Overman and +superior to petty jealousies.</p> + +<p>"Strange to say, my curly-headed Swiss +lover did not 'insult' me, as they call it, though +I naturally enough supposed that he wanted +to, but didn't have enough courage. But I +was wrong, as I discovered later, when I +grossly insulted him! Perhaps a girl is loved +only once in a lifetime in just that way, perhaps +not at all, and I often think I made a mistake +in being so cruel to my boy lover. I +might in time have learned to love him in +the right way, but I couldn't at that time, perhaps +because I was so much occupied with +Terry, my own lover, and with the movement, +which was new to me and very charming, for +I had just discovered it.</p> + +<p>"At times I had an immense pity for the +poor boy and would have done anything to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +help him feel better. I had not the slightest +physical feeling for him, but I should have +been quite willing to indulge him, if he had +asked me. That was part of our philosophy +and my kindness. But he did not ask me, +though he often had the opportunity. He was +quite content to be with me and kiss my hands, +and beg me to love him a little. When he saw +I did not like to have him kiss me so much, he +would grow so sad and forlorn and tiresome. +One day he was at the Salon with others and +annoyed me by hanging about me all the time, +until I couldn't stand it any longer. I called +him into another room and told him bluntly +that I would indulge him, if that would help +him, only he must for heaven's sake leave me +alone!</p> + +<p>"Now, this was a most indelicate thing for +me to do, and I blush as I write of it, but I +was so desperate and possibly a little under +the influence of whiskey—a most convenient +and universal excuse—and had tried all other +means of ridding myself of this annoyance, +even to slapping his face and forbidding him +to come to the house! When I slapped him, +he simply kissed the hand that smote him, and +when I forbade him to return to the house, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +followed me about the streets. If I told you +all the silly and ridiculous things the youth +did or all the mean, brutal things I did to cure +him, you would scarcely believe me.</p> + +<p>"Now when I made that abrupt proposal +to him, he blushed to the tip of his ears, and +then grew very angry, and called me an animal +and a beast and said he had loved me because +he thought I was different from that; +that he did not want that kind of love from me. +After a while his vehemence and anger turned +to tears, and he kissed my hands and sobbed +out his intention of going away. I was repentant +and very sweet and kind to him while he +stayed, but soon he did go West and I did not +see him again till a few weeks ago, when, one +Saturday night, I found him waiting for me at +our rooms. I was astonished and not too glad +to see him, especially now that Terry is so +sensitive.</p> + +<p>"When Terry came home, he looked suspiciously +at me and at the poor Swiss, but +though I was quite innocent, I could not turn +the poor fellow away, after he had come so +far to see me. But I did not feel at all friendly +to him, and I did not speak to him the next +day, especially as Terry went away for several +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>days, to give me a chance, as he put it, to +enjoy my love. Then I told the Swiss with heat +that I never wanted to see him again, and he +went away for good."</p> + +<p>Marie, however, seemed about this time +to have lost any sensibility about Terry's emotion +that she may have possessed. Perhaps it +was because, as I have said, she felt that the +relation of mutual confidence was really +broken and nothing very much mattered. Anyway, +she went so far in her carelessness that +Terry could not help coming in disagreeable +contact with what was growing painful to +him, though he would be far from admitting +it.</p> + +<p>Katie, describing these last weeks, said that +Terry grew more and more jealous and inclined +to violence. He was very imaginative, +and saw in Marie's eyes "something wrong," +as Katie put it. Marie could not be expressive +to Terry after an "affair," and Katie saw that +Terry understood the meaning of this inexpressiveness. +Also, when Terry went away for +a day or two, without an explanation, Marie +was equally "imaginative." Both were intensely +proud, both intensely interested in +their "individuality." One day Terry went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> +away, without an explanation, and returned, +after a few days, "pleasantly piped," as he put +it, sat down and began to undress. It was +dark, and he had no idea that somebody else +was there. But Marie called out harshly, +"You can't sleep here."</p> + +<p>"I understood," said Terry. But Katie replied, +"That's all right," and she slept on the +couch.</p> + +<p>"This kind of thing," said Katie, "put them +further and further apart. Terry couldn't +help feeling the sting there was in it. Marie +had done the same before, but it was in a different +spirit. One of the last scenes was when +H—— was visiting us. He and Marie were +having coffee in her room, and Terry was in +the other room. Marie and H—— called +Katie to come and have coffee with them. +Terry was not invited and this later brought +about a terrible quarrel.</p> + +<p>"But," said Katie, "it was not really jealousy, +though that was part of it, that brought +about the last break. They calmed down, but +then began to read Nietzsche again, and I +think went daffy over him. Terry tried the +Overman theory on me and Marie. Americans +cannot understand German philosophy."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nietzsche's doctrine of the distinguished individual +being "beyond good and evil," a man +superior to the morality of society, his hatred +of Christian civilisation and Christian ethics, +his love of the big forcible blonde who takes +his right by his strength only, all this was +congenial to Terry's character, and especially +so after the weakening of his social philosophy. +The aloofness of the Overman, the individualistic +teachings of Zarathustra, appealed to the +anti-social Terry, to the man who more and +more went back to his egotistic personality, +to whom more and more the "communist" +Christian anarchists made little appeal, who +more and more became what is called an individualist +anarchist, with whom there is little +possibility of relationship, who is essentially +anti-social, whose philosophy is really that of +social destruction. This indeed is the anarchist +who lives in the public mind—a destroyer. +But what the public mind does not +see is that this destructive anarchist is the result +of a lost hope in anarchistic communism, +a lost hope of radical extension of social love, +in absolute solidarity.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3><i>Marie's Revolt</i></h3> + + +<p>"The winners fall by the wayside," wrote +Terry, "while the losers must ever on—hearkening +to some high request, hastening +toward a nameless goal. I am loser, for my +motives are large and my actions small. In my +desire to embrace the universe I may neglect a +comrade. I can be as hard as my life and as +cruel as its finish. I have only an ideal, and +whenever anything or anybody gets in the way +of it I am ruthless in feeling. I must not +give up all that I have—what is in my imagination: +I have nothing else."</p> + +<p>Yes, Terry is hard. He "passes up" remorselessly +not only the individual, but all +society; but it is the hardness of the idealist, +of the man who is still religious in the sense +that he sees a beyond-world with which to +compare this world and find it totally lacking. +So, more and more he "passed up" Marie, +found her more and more lacking, more and +more human. The fact of her being a social<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> +outcast no longer had its strong appeal. He +became hard and cruel to her through idealism, +just as she had been hard and cruel to +him through sensuality and false philosophy. +But her hardness never equalled his fine scorn.</p> + +<p>For a year or two preceding this point +in the situation I had been living in Europe, +and had met a good many men and women +who had given a larger part of their lives to +the making of a social experiment. Some of +them, discouraged, had returned to a "bourgeois" +manner of life, some even to a "bourgeois" +philosophy. Almost all of the anarchists +I have known lost their philosophy and +enthusiasm with middle age, and experience +with the actual constitution of things, combined +with disillusion regarding the ideal. +Most of them had been hurt or broken by +their attempt, but they all retained a certain +something, a certain remaining dignity of +having struggled against the inevitable, and +had acquired insight into some of the deeper +things in life, though having lost some of the +childlike simplicity which is a characteristic +of the social rebel.</p> + +<p>I saw a great deal of an old Frenchman, +who had known Bakunin, and had been astute<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +in the dangerous work of the "International" +in England and Germany. An associate of +William Morris and the other English anarchists +who at that time called themselves socialists, +my friend came in contact with much +that was distinguished in mind and energy; +he afterward carried the propaganda of revolutionary +socialism to Germany, where he was +arrested and imprisoned for five years. He +is now a handsome, white-haired, well-preserved +old man, with fine simple manners and +joy in simple things, love of children and of +long conversations with friends, good will and +peace. He has retained a certain mild contempt +for the "bourgeois," for people who +prefer an easy time in this world to an attempt, +even a foolish one, for radical improvement. +But he knows the world now, +and I fancy many of his illusions are gone.</p> + +<p>Another of my radical friends is now only +thirty-six years old; but already he is tired +and discouraged, socially speaking. He is a +Frenchman, too, with all the easy mental +grace and intellectual culture of his race. +Soon after his student days at the Sorbonne, +the social fever of our day, which burns in the +blood of all who are sensitive, took possession<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +of him. Like Terry, he was drawn emotionally +to an interest in the social outcast; like +Terry, a girl in that class interested him, and +he took up the cause of the girls, and led an +attack against the <i>policiers des mœurs</i>, the +special police who attempt to regulate prostitution +in Paris. He spent all the money he +had in the attempt, lost his respectable friends, +and, after several years of fruitless effort, +hope left him. When I met him he was living +quietly, in bohemian fashion, drawing a +very small salary and devoting himself to abstract +philosophy, to science, and to pessimistic +memories of the days of his social enthusiasm, +or what he now calls his social illusions.</p> + +<p>One of the most pathetic social experiments +I have known was made by a young girl, +whom I also knew at Paris. She generously +determined that she would have no sex prejudices; +and for several years she strove against +the terribly strong social feeling in that regard. +Not only theoretically but practically +she persisted in thinking and acting in a way +which the world calls immoral. She wanted +to show that a girl could be good and yet not +what the world calls chaste. She did not +believe that sex-relations had anything to do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> +with real morality. In one way, she has been +successful. She is as good now—better—as +when she began her experiment. She is +broader and finer and bigger; but she has suffered. +She has been disappointed in her +idealism, disappointed in the way men have +met her frank generosity, she has been injured +in a worldly way. Her strongest desires are +those of all good women—she deeply wants +the necessary shelter for children and social +quiet and pleasure, and these essentials are +denied her because of her idealism. She half +feels this now and is tired and discouraged.</p> + +<p>Another woman who has paid heavily for +her "social" interests is in quite a different +position. She is married to a man who is +also a social idealist. He is so emotionally +occupied with "society" that nature and life +in its more eternal and necessary aspects touch +him lightly. He hardly realises their existence. +She tries to follow him in this direction; +strains her woman's nature, which is a +large one, to the uttermost. It is probable that +the loss of his child was due to this idealistic +contempt for old wisdom. Not a moment +must be lost, not a thought devoted to anything +but the revolution; this necessitated social +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>activity, and that exclusively. Where was +the opportunity for the quiet development and +care of an infant? The children of the "radicals" +are few, and as a rule do not grow up in +the best conditions. This certainly is a terrible +sacrifice entailed upon the social idealist.</p> + +<p>Writers in France and in Europe generally +are much more interested in radical ideas of +society and politics than they are in this country. +The most distinguished among them +are from the American point of view radical, +at least. There is hardly a play of note produced +in France or Germany that does not in +some way trench upon modern social problems. +Anatole France is a philosophical anarchist, +and so is Octave Misbeau. It is not +a disreputable thing to be so in France. An +Emma Goldman there would be an object of +respect. The prime minister of France was +generally regarded as an anarchist before he +went into office. A man of the type of Hervê +would be deemed a madman here. Even a +man as little radical as Jaurès would be considered +a terrible social danger in America +and could not conceivably have the power he +exerts in France, where they have a respect +for ideas as such.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span></p> + +<p>But, combined with this interest in social +things and this willingness to entertain the +most radical ideas, there is a note of pessimism +and disillusionment. Anatole France's work +shows this double tendency well. He reflects +the social revolt and lack of respect for the +old society in a most subtle way, but also he +mirrors the failing hope of the social enthusiast. +He has a deep sympathy for the social +idealist, but nearly every book suggests the +inevitable wreckage of enthusiasm on the +rocks of actuality.</p> + +<p>When, after an absence of several years, I +returned from Europe and went again to Chicago, +I found Terry alone, disheartened, and +different from the Terry I had known. Soon +I saw that in him had taken place a process +not unlike that which had happened to my +friends abroad and which was reflected in +European literature. His letters and Marie's +had already indicated, as we have seen, his +social disappointment. But I found him +more bitter even than I had expected; cut off +even from the anarchists, nourishing almost +insanely his individuality, full of Nietzsche's +philosophy of egotism, rejecting everything +passionately, turning from his friends, turning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> +from himself. Old society had long been +dead for him and now he had no hope for the +new!</p> + +<p>Besides, Marie was not with him: she had +revolted and run away. I had expected to +see her in Chicago; she had written me that +she would be there, but when I arrived I +learned from Terry and Katie that she had +gone away. During the few weeks preceding +my return to Chicago, the quarrels between +the three had grown in poignancy. Terry, +unlike some of the disappointed anarchists I +have known, could not settle back into an +easy acceptance of life. With him it was all +or nothing. More and more fiercely he rejected +all society, even, as we have seen anarchist +society. Of course, Marie came more +and more in the way of this general anathema. +She was young and pleasure-loving, and at +last her nature could no longer stand this general +rejection, the absence of the simple pleasures +of life. It was not their quarrels, even +when they came to blows, that determined her +action. It was a revolt from the radical sterility +of Terry's philosophy. Katie furnished +her with the necessary money, and she went +away to California. There this tired creature, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span>this civilised product of the slums, this +thoughtful prostitute, this striving human being +full of the desire for life and as eager for +excellence as is the moth for the star, went +into camp, and there, in the bosom of nature, +her terrible fatigue was well expressed in the +great sense of relief that resulted: a new +birth, as it were, a refreshing reaction from +slum life and overstrained mental intensity. +This new birth and this reaction from Terry's +philosophy are well expressed in her letters to +Terry and to me. To me she wrote:</p> + +<p>"I have not dared to write you before for +fear of your anger toward me for my abrupt +dismissal of our plans of meeting, but I could +not help it. The life instinct in me would not +be doomed, but was insistent in its demands +and made me flee from insanity and death. So +here I am, far away from civilisation, from +the madding crowd, away up in the mountains, +making a last effort to live the straight +free life of Nature's children, a suckling at +the breasts of Mother Earth. And truly her +milk is passing sweet and goes to the head like +wine, for I feel intoxicated with the beauty +and joy of all things here in this new, wonderful +world. I did not know that such beauty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> +existed, and my appreciation of it is so intense +that it produces sensations of physical pain. +I live much as the birds do, or at least try to—no +thought of the morrow, or of the past, +except when I receive a letter from dear old +Katie or from Terry. Katie asks me if I have +found a job yet, and Terry has some sweet reflections +about death or dead things. But I +recover in an amazingly short time from these +blows, climb to the mountain-top, extend my +arms to the heavens, and embrace passionately +the great, grand, throbbing stillness.</p> + +<p>"I have been here now a whole month and +have not yet wearied of it for a moment. Each +day brings a new, wonderful experience; and +each day I feel a real part of the great wonderful +scheme of things. Indeed, I am becoming +a part of nature. I have grown so +straight and tall, and so beautifully thin and +supple that I can dart in and out of the stream +without bumping myself against the rocks, +can climb steep hills, and let the winds blow +me where they will. I should not be at all +surprised to awaken some morning and find +that I had become one of the tall reeds +that sway to and fro along the banks of our +mountain stream.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span></p> + +<p>"In one of my brief periods of returning +civilisation, just after receiving a terrible letter +from Terry, I had myself weighed at the +store and post-office of the town not far away +from our camp; my weight was exactly eighty +pounds! It seemed to me that I was fading +away into something wild and strange. But +I have never felt such physical and mental +well-being since I can remember. I hardly +need to eat, but our camp cook actually forces +me to swallow something. He is a German +'radical' of the old school. Frightfully tired +of the radical bunch as I am, I like this simple +old man. He is like a part of Nature, +has lived on her bosom all his life, and loves +her and no other. We have visitors at our +camp occasionally, and they bring things to +eat and drink. When they are gone, the cook +and I live on what is left and get along as best +we may. There are lots of wild fruits and +nuts growing about here and they are delicious. +Neither of us has any money nor care +for the morrow.</p> + +<p>"After I arrived here, all the bitterness of +life vanished. I thought and felt very beautifully +of Terry, and always shall, for I have +made an ideal of him, and his grand, noble<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> +head, like a blazing tiger-lily perched upon +a delicate and slender stem, will always be for +me the greatest, most wonderful recollection +of all the years. But I have no longer any +desire to be with him, yet I do love and adore +him, my own wonderful, sweet, great Terry!"</p> + +<p>To Terry she wrote: "I am intoxicated by +all this beauty and love the very air and earth. +I feel the ecstasy of the æsthetic fanatic. +Were I not disturbed by thoughts of you, I +would indeed become another Eve before the +fall, though I have strange desires and my +blood beats as in the veins of married women. +But no lovers can quench my fever. All the +tiresome males are far away and I feel new-born +and free. The air is scented with balsam +and bey, and a pure crystal stream flows +through this valley between two hills covered +with giant redwood trees, and rare orchids of +the most curious shape and colour toss wantonly +in the breeze on the tree and hilltops. +Birds and fishes and reptiles disport themselves +in the sunshine, and giant butterflies of +the most marvellous colours flutter so bravely +among the ferns and flowers. There are no +tents here in our camp, but we are covered +with the fragrant branches of the spicy pines<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> +and nutmeg trees. It is a Paradise, and I +think of you always when I am in the midst +of beauty.</p> + +<p>"My trip here included an eighteen-mile +walk—in one day—think of that! I am getting +as thin and strong as a greyhound. I +don't wear clothes at all, but when I do, it is +the old man's overalls, which I put on to go +to town to get groceries or call for the mail. +At night, our old cook builds a huge fire of +redwood logs, and then his tongue loosens and +he quotes poetry by the column or talks of his +experience as a preacher, actor, village +schoolmaster, and vagabond. Without a cent +he travels all over California, as strong and +rugged as any redwood tree that grows in this +wonderful valley.</p> + +<p>"It is so secluded here that no one would +suspect campers were about. The trail leads +down a steep descent. How stately it is between +the huge stems of the trees, along our +beautiful creek, cool and clear as crystal, and +filled with trout and other fishes. There I +sit in the sun and allow the water to pour over +my shoulders."</p> + +<p>In another letter to Terry she writes:</p> + +<p>"Our sylvan retreat has been somewhat disturbed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>by the advent of Mrs. Johns, her children +and her dog. Annie is also here, but +they will not remain long, it is too quiet, too +lonely, and the nights are too mysterious and +uncanny, strange noises to disturb the slumbers +of the timid. And besides there is nothing +to do, no hurry or bustle or activity. The +spirit of repose, of rest, of sweet laziness +broods over this spot, inviting us to dream +away the hours among the spicy pine trees. +And for two such active ladies it is very dull +here. Even when they go to town they return +disgusted and weary in spirit because of the +slowness of the natives, who are half Spanish, +half Mexican. Even the beautiful trail winding +in and out among the mountains does not +compensate them for the dreadful slowness +of the natives. I, however, love this slowness +and converse amicably with the natives. +And when I am a little active I go fishing, or +climb about, or take a lesson in Spanish from +my old philosopher-cook. I am now learning +a little peasant song, the refrain being, +'Hula, tula, Palomita,' and it does sound so +beautiful that I repeat it over and over. It +means, 'Fly, fly, little dove!'</p> + +<p>"The fishing I do not care for much. It is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> +exciting for a time, but soon grows a bit too +strenuous for my lazy temper. The little +stream is filled with trout; one has flies for +bait which have to be kept on the move continually. +Walking and jerking the lines out +of the water continually soon makes my arms +and legs tired. I like best of all to lie in a +bed of fragrant leaves, my head in the shade +and the rest of me in the sun, the murmur of +the brook in my ears, the skies mirrored in my +eyes, fantastic dreams in my mind—in these +you are seldom absent. At night I sleep as +I have never slept—a deep, dreamless slumber. +I awake to a cold plunge in the stream. +Oh, it just suits me! I am tired of people, +tired of tears and laughter, of men that 'laugh +and weep,' and 'of what may come hereafter, +for men that sow to reap.'"</p> + +<p>A letter from Terry came like a dart into +her solitude and for a moment disturbed her +mood—her deeply hygienic, fruitful mood. +She wrote to him:</p> + +<p>"Your letter was a dreadful, an overwhelming +shock. It aroused passions in me which +I thought were laid to rest. But, after getting +very drunk, I had sense enough to sleep +over it, so that this morning I am almost my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +new self again. Last night I felt like cursing +you with all the wrath of the earth and +heaven. The last three weeks I have been +camping here, caught in the spell of the wonder +and beauty of nature. I have written +you the half crazy rhapsodies of a girl intoxicated +with the joy of life and health. Now +I do indeed think that life is beautiful and +worth the living. No, I do not worry about +you. I am as happy and care-free as the birds, +and live in and for the moment. Everything +in the past is dead. Only when your letter +came, these old things of my old self raised +their heads for a little time, but they too shall +die speedily, if I mistake not. Life is too +wonderful, too beautiful to be marred thus by +the ends of frayed and worn-out passions, by +memories or regrets of you. I have become +happy, healthy, and free, free without hardness, +and in my freedom and joy I have found +my love, my beautiful Terry, whom I may +love passionately, tenderly and for ever, the +dear ideal one. Is it not wonderful? I +crown myself with flowers and go forth to meet +him every day. I kneel at his feet and caress +his dear hands. For I love him dearly, this +very new Terry. Yet, my dear, if you should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> +come near me, I mean, you, my old poisonous +Terry, I would flee from you as from a pest. +I would loath myself and the sun and flowers +and all the other beautiful things of earth. I +do not think of you at all, my old Terry, but +I think of you and love and adore you, my +new, wonderful Terry, and I make myself +beautiful for you. So, my dear old Terry, I +will leave you to 'lice and liberty,' to your +'hard free life,' and I will now lave myself +with the pure crystal waters and make myself +clean again, and then look on the sun once +more and dream again of my own adorable +Terry."</p> + +<p>In this letter, Marie said, by implication, a +deep truth about social revolt. She could +never have lived her life without him, this +strange, poetic man. He awoke in this outcast, +rather vicious girl, a keen longing for the +excellent, for the pleasures of the intelligence +and the temperament; he gave her an assured +sense of her own essential dignity and worth; +defended her against the society that rejected +her. This was a truly Christ-like thing to do, +and this she could never forget or do without. +So, in her wilderness, she holds fast to her +ideal Terry. But with this idealist she could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> +not live, practically. The growing irritation +felt by him because of his radical mal-adjustment +to this world rendered him step by step +more impossible to live with. Harshness, injustice, +became forced upon him as qualities +of his acts. How could he be fair when he +had no understanding of the nature of actuality? +It is probable that no woman can ever +get so far away from actuality as a few rare +idealists of the male sex. Marie's relative good +sense, her vitality and love of life, finally rebelled +against an idealism so exquisite that it +became cruelty and almost madness. And +this is the way with the world. The world +cannot, in the end, endure the idealist, though +it has great need of him. The world can endure +a certain amount of irritation, a certain +amount of fundamental revolt, but when that +revolt reaches the point of absolute rejection, +the world rebels, the worm turns. Marie +represents the world and the worm.</p> + +<p>Plato said there should be no poets in his +Republic. Poets are too disturbing, they fit +into no social organisation, for the truth they +see is larger and often other than the truth of +mankind's housekeeping, of human society. +So they are against society. They are for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> +nature, both God's nature and man's nature, +but man's organisation arouses their passionate +hostility. Therefore, said Plato, let us +have no poets in our Republic. But Plato +was a poet, and he probably knew that poets, +though inimical to the actual working of any +actual society, yet are necessary to keep alive +the deeper ideals of humankind, to arouse perpetually +the instinct for something better than +what we have, something deeply better, something +radically better, not the mere improvements, +palliatives, of the practical man and +the conservative, bourgeois reformer.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3><i>Terry's Finish</i></h3> + + +<p>Terry had given Marie life, and she had +finally used this vitality to free herself +from him and his too exigent idealism. The +result of his relation to her seems from this +point of view pathetically ironical; but it is +only a symbol of the ironical pathos of his relation +to society in general; he and his kind +act as a stimulant and a tonic to the society +which rejects and crushes them. The anarchist +is in a double sense the victim of society. +He is, in the first place, generally a "labour" +victim, is generally the maimed result of our +factory system; and, in the second place, his +philosophy, needed by society, reacts against +himself and turns the world against him. So +he is a double victim, a reiterated social sacrifice.</p> + +<p>When I went to Chicago this last time I +found Terry, as I have said, despondent and +disillusioned; and intensely savage in his rejection, +not only of capitalistic society, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> +apparently of all society. In a way, he had +left his old moorings, the "proletariat" no +longer appealed to him. This mood was not +a part of his philosophy: it was an expression +of his disappointment, of his disillusionment. +He talked about his own life and Marie's with +an almost brutal frankness. He seemed to +take a sad pleasure in stripping the illusion of +human worth and beauty to the bare bones. +In spite of his words, in spite of his previous +letters, it seemed clear to me that Marie had +not lost her hold on him entirely, and that he +deeply felt her defection. Through her he +had failed socially and personally. Around +her much of his life, intellectual and personal, +had been wound. Lingeringly he +talked of her, of her qualities; he seemed to +try to steel himself against all need of human +relation; incidentally he rejected me and +other friends, finding us wanting. Marie, +too, was not perfect, and must be "passed up"; +but his mind rested, in spite of himself, on this +woman and his life with her. Some of the +things he said and wrote to me about this time +indicate his present mood toward me, Marie, +the anarchists, proletariat, and the world in +general.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p> + +<p>A year or two ago he wrote me: "No one, +very close to me geographically, can ever get +much out of me. This is a family trait and +is too deep for me. So don't be downcast if +we should ever meet again and you should +find me as stoical as some crustacean of the +past. Some such antediluvian feeling animates +me to take advantage of your distance +and clamour up out of the depths."</p> + +<p>He did, indeed, "clamour up out of the +depths" very eloquently, but when I saw him +in Chicago I found that I had somehow "lost +touch," like the rest of the world, with him. +He felt it and wrote me:</p> + +<p>"While you were in Italy, I sent you a letter +in which I represented myself as one clamouring +up out of the depths of his being to you +who might understand. Now I sincerely and +deeply regret having made this attempt with +you. In the same letter I predicted that your +return might find me back in the depths of my +being, where I belong. I regret I did not +stay there when you came along. This feeling +is due to no fault of yours or mine; but +points to the fact that I must become still more +exclusive and circumspect."</p> + +<p>Of Marie he wrote: "This attachment between +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span>two human beings is in all circumstances +very terrible. The bond between +Marie and myself was as strong as death, and +partly so because of our great and essential +differences. The first night we spent together +struck one of the deep things in our discord. +I was too nervous and sensitive to touch her +that night, and in the morning she bitterly reproached +me. The first book that really +aroused her to the meaning of life was +'<i>Mademoiselle de Maupin</i>.' Deeper than +this difference was her galling interference in +my affairs which never prompted me to meddle +in hers. And her failure to appreciate +or reciprocate my respect for the integrity of +her personality is the hardest blow she can +ever give to me. I have the same fatal charge +to make against almost all men; the exceptions +are so few and doubtful that I doubt whether +I can ever gain from another that intense receptive +attitude which I am willing to bestow. +Fortunately for me, this illusion that +there are such intense perceivers re-creates itself +out of the veriest dust and dross of humanity. +Like Shelley's 'Cloud,' my illusion +may change, but it cannot die. Now I am in +a state of mind when I am willing to let everything +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>go by default—everything except my +last illusion, that I can never let myself out to +anyone. To Marie—and to you—and one or +two others—I have been sorely tempted to lay +myself out—but not even the moon can seduce +me to reveal myself. My dead and buried +self is my first and last seduction. This is +crazy, of course, but I am heartily sick of all +the 'sense' I know or can know. I believe, +however, that I have lived so close to the +'truth' that its shadow has been cast over all +my life. If, in the last analysis, all is illusion, +I shall stick to the most powerful one—myself. +My feeling for Marie arises largely +from the fact that she is an expression of the +irreparable part of my life—of its deepest essence.</p> + +<p>"A year ago to-day, on the thirteenth of +August," he wrote, "occurred my first, last, +and only breakaway from the best pal I have +ever hoped to have, Marie. Now that it has +passed, I see it in its proper proportions, just +as if it had happened to someone else, but to +one as near and dear to me as myself. I have +broken away from the Mob, too. My sympathy +for what is called the People has been +worn down to a mere thread that might easily<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> +be broken and turn me against them. When +one has been stoned long enough, one may +easily turn into something as hard as stone itself. +I am like the knight of old, turned +inside out. I am developing a coating of internal +mail, as so many of the attacks come +from within. But worse than attacks from +within or without is the sordid security and +mental inertia of all the people about me: +they are strangling me just as surely as if they +put a rope around my neck. By day they +hurry on like ghosts about their business, and +by night they gather in the little tombs of +many rooms they call their homes.</p> + +<p>"You may call it madness, this my cutting +off of all things. I know that I have kept off +madness a long while now. I have shrunk +from 'business' to social anarchy and pure beings, +from these again I have shrunk to books +and poetry, from these again into the solitude +of myself where only I am really at home. +Though I have lost my general bearings, I +still stand at the helm of myself. I am going +to pieces on the rocks of the world, but I still +inhabit the realm of the soul.</p> + +<p>"When I could no longer see my ideals rise +out of my work, I quit that work; for then the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> +work was no longer an expression of myself. +This is the origin of all modern problems. +A man stands to his job because of the visions +that come to him only when at work. He +sees in imagery his own possibilities arise out +of the thing on which he is at work, and easily +links himself to his fellows. Thus does the +worker make of his eternal cerebral rehearsals +an endless chain of imaged solidarity +binding him in a maze from which he can +never think his way out. The fixed gaze of +those who try to grasp the abstract is proof of +this.</p> + +<p>"When I could no longer see my ideals +arise out of human solidarity, I quit my fanatical +belief in the possibility of a Utopia. +So that now I am not even an anarchist. I +am ready to pass it all up."</p> + +<p>When I saw Terry for the last time, and +found him in this almost crazy crisis of extreme +individualism, where he hopelessly +"passed up" everything—human society, love +and friendship, all the things his warm and +loving Irish heart really desired, I felt that +here indeed was a complete expression of the +spirit of revolt. It was so extreme that I and +no one else could follow him in it. It had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> +passed beyond the point where social rebellion +may be useful or stimulating or suggestive +poetically and had reached the sad absurdity +of all extreme attitudes. One lesson +Terry's proud and strenuous soul has never +learned: that the deeper and simpler things +in social growth we must take on faith. We +cannot demand an ideal reason or justification +for all social organisation, for the ways that +human beings have of living together. The +elementary social forms at least must be instinctively +and blindly accepted. To go beyond +in one's rejection the anarchism of the +social communist into what is called individualistic +anarchism is mere egotistic madness +and has as its only value the possible poetry +of a unified personal expression. Into this it +was that Terry fell, and of course he could +find no support for it except in his own soul, +which could not bear the strain. No soul +could, for, struggle as we may, we are largely +social and cannot stand alone. Terry's life +well shows the sympathetic source of social rebellion +and its justification, but it also shows +the ultimate sterility of its extreme expression.</p> + +<p>The latest word I have about Marie is that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> +she is at work "keeping house for a respectable +family" in San Francisco. Her experience +in camping-out seems to have rendered +her normal to, for her, an extreme degree. +Going to work certainly represented as radical +a reaction from Terry and his philosophy +as well could be imagined. A friend of mine +in San Francisco writes of her: "She is now +to all appearances a good, respectable girl. +She wants to live a new life, is working hard, +and is trying to break away from smoking. +Sometimes she feels the restraint severely, and +comes to our house where she knows she can +smoke and express herself. She is in better +health, and I think now is in close enough +touch with nature not to want to go back for +nourishment to ideas and the slum."</p> + +<p>The latest word I have from Terry shows +him faithful to the end—faithful to his character +and his mood:</p> + +<p>"There is a rumour that Marie has got a +job at general housework. This gave me the +blues—after all our life together, this the end! +I'd rather have her do general prostitution, +with the chance of having an occasional rest +in the hospital. But perhaps her drudgery +will kill her enthusiasm for 'vita nuova!'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I should have answered your letter had I +not been suffering from an old malady of +mine which is accompanied by such mental +depression that I could not answer the communication +of even a lost soul. I had to seek +surcease in my old remedy of hasheesh and +chloroform, which was a change from suffering +to stupidity. But I shall not swell the +cosmic chorus of woe by raising my cracked +voice against impending fate. I am more and +more alone, more and more conscious of a +growing something that is keeping me apart +from all whom I can possibly avoid."</p> + +<p>Terry is nearing his logical end, while +Marie is still struggling for life, life given her +in the beginning by this strange man, whose +influence was then to take it away from her; +and from this, like the world, she rebelled. +"Anarchism" she embraced as long as it enhanced +her being; as long as this deeply emotional +philosophy added to the fulness of her +life, she saw its meaning and its use; when it +finally tended to sterilise her new existence, +its "pragmatic" value was nothing.</p> + +<p>This is the test of all social theory: How +It Works Out. In Marie's case, as in the case +of many proletarians, it worked out well, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> +a general civilising and consoling philosophy, +for a time, but when carried to an "idealistic" +extreme, it tended rapidly towards general +death—from which all live things react. So +it was with Marie: she left her "poisonous" +Terry and sought for another vitalising experience. +Goethe said that the best government +is that which makes itself superfluous. +Terry's spiritual influence on Marie, important +for her in the beginning as rendering her +self-respecting and mentally ambitious, had +become superfluous. But it had been of great +value to the girl. So, too, with our society. +The extreme rebellious attitude educates us—sometimes +to the point where rebellion is superfluous.</p> + +<p class='end'>THE END</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + + +<h1><i>The</i><br /> +Autobiography <i>of a</i> Thief</h1> + +<h3>A true story of the life of a criminal<br /> +taken down and edited by Mr. Hapgood.</h3> + +<h3><i>Cloth. 349 pp. $1.25 postpaid.</i></h3> + + +<h2>COMMENTS OF THE CRITICS</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The book as a whole impresses the reader as an accurate presentation +of the thief's personal point of view, a vivid picture of the society +in which he lived and robbed and of the influences, moral and political, +by which he was surrounded. The story indeed has something of the +quality of Defoe's 'Colonel Jacque'; it is filled with convincing details."—<i>New +York Evening Post.</i></p> + +<p>"To one reader at least—one weary reader of many books which +seem for the most part 'flat, stale and unprofitable'—this is a book +that seems eminently 'worth while.' Indeed, every word of the book, +from cover to cover, is supremely, vitally interesting. Most novels are +tame beside it, and few recent books of any kind are so rich in suggestiveness."—<i>Interior.</i></p> + +<p>"What is the value of such an autobiography of a thief as Mr. +Hapgood has given us? It is this. Professional crime is one of the +overprosperous branches of industry in our large cities. As a nation +we are casting around for means to check it, or, in other words, to +divert the activities of the professional criminals into some other industry +in which these men can satisfy their peculiar talents and at +the same time get a living with less inconvenience to the mass of +citizens. The criminal, being as much a human being as the rest of +us, must be known as he is before we can either influence him personally +or legislate for him effectually. If we treat him as we would +the little girl who stole her brother's candy mice or as the man who +under great stress of temptation yields to the impulse to steal against +his struggling will, we will fail, for we overlook the very essence of +the matter—his professionalism. It is safe to say that perusal of +Mr. Hapgood's book will help many a student of criminology to find +his way through the current tangle of statistics, reform plans, analyses +of 'graft' and what not, by the very light of humanity that is in +it."—<i>Chicago Record-Herald.</i></p> + +<p>"The manner and style of 'The Autobiography of a Thief' is that +which attracts even the fastidious lovers of literature. It is the life-story +of a real thief unmistakably impressive in its force and truth. As +a matter of course, the book is on the hinge of a novel, but it contains +the gem and sparkle of genuineness and its complication has the flavor +of accuracy."—<i>New Orleans Item.</i></p> + +<p>"It is not only a powerful plea for the reform of abuses in our +penitentiaries, but it is an extraordinary revelation of the life of a +criminal from his birth up, and an explanation of the conditions which +impelled him first to crime and later to attempted reformation."—<i>New +York Herald.</i></p> + +<p>"The truth found in 'The Autobiography of a Thief' is not only +stranger but far more interesting than much of the present day fiction. +The autobiography of 'Light-fingered Jim' is absorbing, in many pages +startling, in its graphicness.... In spite of its naturalness, daring +and directness, the work has a marked literary style—a finish that +could not have been given by an unexperienced hand. But this adds +to rather than detracts from the charm of the book."—<i>Philadelphia +Public Ledger.</i></p> + +<p>"No more realistic book has been written for a long time than +Hutchins Hapgood's 'The Autobiography of a Thief.' No books on +criminology and no statistics regarding penal institutions can carry the +weight of truth and conviction which this autobiography conveys."—<i>Chicago +Chronicle.</i></p> + +<p>"As a study in sociology it is splendid; as a human story it will +hold attention, every page of it."—<i>Nashville American.</i></p> + +<p>"It is a clear and graphic insight into the lives of the lower world +and is written with impressive force. It is a remarkable addition to +the literature of the season."—<i>Grand Rapids Herald.</i></p> + +<p>"An illuminating and truly instructive book, and one of terrible +fascination."—<i>Christian Endeavor World.</i></p> + +<p>"As a contribution to the study of sociology as illustrated from life +and not from mere text-books, the story recorded by Mr. Hapgood +will be welcomed by all philanthropic people."—<i>New York Observer.</i></p> + +<p>"It is an absorbing story of the making of a criminal, and is rightly +classed by the publishers as a 'human document.' It is absorbing alike +to the reader who reads for the diversion of reading and to those who +are really thoughtful students of the forces which are working in the +life round about them."—<i>Brooklyn Life.</i></p> + +<p>"Those in whom the sense of human oneness and social responsibility +is strong will be intensely interested in these genuine experiences +and in the naïve, if perverted, viewpoint of a pick-pocket, thief and +burglar who has served three terms in State's prison."—<i>Booklovers' +Library.</i></p> + +<p>"It may be that 'Jim' puts things strongly sometimes, but the spirit +of truth at least is plain in every chapter of the book. That, in general, +it is the real thing is the feeling the reader has after he has +finished with 'The Autobiography of a Thief.' It is not a pleasant +book; it is anything but a book such as the young person should receive +as a birthday gift. It is a book however which the man anxious +to keep track of life in this country should read and ponder over."—<span class="smcap">Josiah +Flynt</span>, <i>in the Bookman</i>.</p></div> + +<h2>DUFFIELD AND COMPANY</h2> + +<h3>36 EAST 21ST ST. NEW YORK</h3> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<h1>"<i>The</i> Spirit <i>of</i> Labor"</h1> + +<h2><i>$1.25 Net</i></h2> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"A straightforward narrative which has the +tremendous advantage of disclosing more things +about the greater life of Chicago—and more which +are not generally known to the more sheltered +classes—than any book of its size ever written. +Those who wish to be written down as loving their +fellow-men should read this volume with care. It is +a real book, and worth anybody's while."—<i>The Interior, Chicago.</i></p> + +<p>"Much of the story is set down in this man's +own words, and the whole is made vividly interesting +and really meaningful by the author's broad understanding +and sincerity of purpose."—<i>Life, New York.</i></p> + +<p>"Mr. Hapgood's portrayal of the American +workingman is a 'moving picture' in two senses of +this equivocal phrase. It is kinetoscopic, first of all, +in its lifelikeness and the convincing reality of the +actions it pictures. Then, again, it is emotionally +moving; for the character of Anton, the big, honest, +alert and energetic Chicago laborer, can hardly fail +to arouse in the reader intense admiration, lively +sympathy and not a little amusement free from all +cynicism and class feeling. In 'The Spirit of Labor' +we are brought into living contact with the men and +women we meet on the streets, the great American +public with whom every business man, every pastor +and every politician has daily to reckon. Teamsters, +masons, unionists, saloonkeepers, policemen, wash-women, +newsboys, walking delegates, waitresses, +ward heelers, local bosses, anarchists—the procession +seems endless and the medley beyond all hope of +disentanglement. But it is real life and no parade of +puppets."—<i>New York Tribune.</i></p> + +<p>"We cannot doubt, however, that Anton is a +true type and represents a large portion of the men +of this land with whom workers and students in +social matters must meet. The book deals intimately +with the questions arising between labor and capital, +and is especially interesting in its analysis of the +Chicago spirit as it relates to these matters."—<i>The +Christian Advocate, New York.</i></p> + +<p>"The story of Anton and his socialistic, anarchistic, +and trade union comrades is a faithful and +photographic picture of aspects of the urban activity +of vast multitudes of industrials combining to assist +each one in his fellow in the struggle for existence +and fullness of life. The forces revealed are full of +danger, the temper is ugly, the manners are always +urbane, the judgment not always well informed, the +range of knowledge often limited; but there is +wondrous power, vigor, and the chaotic promise of +a better and larger morality than anything the +churches yet have taught, or the mere book students +have ever dreamed. Miss Jane Addams has discovered +this larger morality in seeming coarseness +and evil, and Mr. Hapgood has given us glimpses of +it in the biography of his man of toil and rebellion. +The Philistine needs the Anarchist to wake him, as +Hume did Kant, from his dogmatic slumbers, and the +Philistine may (let us hope rarely) wear cap and +gown."—<i>The Dial, Chicago.</i></p></div> + + +<div class='transnote'> +<h3><a name="Transcribers_Notes" id="Transcribers_Notes"></a>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_54">54</a>: woman amended to women</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_97">97</a>: acount amended to account</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_102">102</a>: interst amended to interest</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_145">145</a>: pamplets amended to pamphlets</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_148">148</a>: envolved <i>sic</i></p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_154">154</a>: senstive amended to sensitive</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_166">166</a>: inconsistences amended to inconsistencies</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_172">172</a>: beause amended to because</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_241">241</a>: concious amended to conscious</p> + +<p>Punctuation has been standardised.</p> + +<p>Where a word is hyphenated and unhyphenated an equal number +of times, both versions have been retained: pickpocket/pick-pocket; +upstairs/up-stairs.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An Anarchist Woman, by Hutchins Hapgood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ANARCHIST WOMAN *** + +***** This file should be named 26719-h.htm or 26719-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/7/1/26719/ + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Brian Janes and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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