[Editor: This short story by Henry Lawson was published in The Worker (Sydney, NSW), 15 September 1894.]
The dying anarchist.
By Henry Lawson.
“I see it all now! I was blind to all things save injustice — I was blind to all things save injustice! I could not see the beauties of nature — I hated flowers! I was blind to all things save injustice! I saw it in all. God, how I hated it! Hate —! I hated everything — my country first and worst! ‘My country’ — my country — ‘my own, my native land.’ ‘Lives there a man with soul so dead ——’ Oh, the fools!
“My country! What did it do for me? It poisoned my childhood — it poisoned my life — it murdered my manhood! … What have I got to look back on? Dirt and poverty — poverty and dirt — not dirt, but filth — poverty and filth — rottenness and disease and all horrors! Not dirt, for dirt is clean! We saw nothing of it in the slums — the rich have it all! I mean earth.
“My brain is going again — going back to the old things. I’d better die. I can do no good — nor a million like me! I’m tired of it all — I’m tired of ists and isms. Oh, I’m so tired! What is it to me — or you, comrade, if — if — are you there yet, old man — a thankless job you’ve got — if — what was I saying? — if the world ever reforms or not? We’ve been blind all through. I begin to see it now. Our lives were a mistake. …. My life! What was my life? … Don’t worry — don’t bother! Let me go on — let me go on, old man — it will do me good. I must speak — I must speak of it. If I don’t I’ll go mad before I die. I don’t want to hurt you, comrade, but I must speak. …. My life! A gutter brat and a crust! But I was happy then, because I was too young to see things — to think. …. I was born among the brothels, but not of them. I wish I had been. Better for me — better for me, perhaps, had I been born a bastard of the lowest brothel that man ever made.
“My life! I knew no boyhood. That bitter servitude of Grinder Brothers — it came in the place of boyish pleasures, education, love, and marriage! And then the manhood ruined in a sweating den! …. But perhaps I was different from other children, and, so, different from other men! I think I was — I begin to see it now. I hope I was, for their sakes. … But why for their sakes? I said I hated everything. … So I do — so I do! What did my countrymen do for me? They hanged my brother — a poor, weak-minded victim of the cursed social system! And they choked him! A victim of social rottenness — an idiot from birth. Hanged a living brother’s’ brother — hanged a living sister’s brother — hanged a living father’s son — hanged a living mother’s son — and left her and them to face the world! That’s what society did, and does! We were fighting our way up and out of the slums when that happened. Didn’t our brothers and sisters tear us down again? They murdered my father — he killed himself! They murdered my mother — she broke her heart! They murdered my sister — she went down! They murdered my soul — but I lived! … God! curse my country — for ever and ever!
“God! I hate them all — the blind, selfish ignorant fools who live in idleness and lust, and the blind, selfish, ignorant brutes who slave and starve. … I dreamed once of reformation. Reformation! Oh, the fools! The same things over again — and worse for awhile. I toiled for it with others — others who were like myself then. Worked night after night, and gave up everything — sacrificed everything — it was little, but all we had — for the sake of “our fellowmen,” who would be the first to mock us and tear us to pieces. Fellowmen! Poor curs who would bite you if you tried to stop their masters from kicking them.
“I dreamed of revolution with blood and fire. ‘Side by side!’ ‘Shoulder to shoulder!’ ‘Liberty or death!’ ‘March on! March on!’ I pictured myself in a liberty cap on top of a barricade: a hero — a son of Liberty all covered with burnt powder and dust and blood — and god-like in the smoke — fighting for my Queen — (Liberty) — and the roar of battle — and my comrades fighting, every man like me, as they roared the Marseillaise! … Then, afterwards, wounded and dying — for Freedom — in the arms of a beautiful daughter of the new-born Republic!
“Vanity! God! I can laugh even now! Even I was a slave to vanity …. And the welfare and gratitude and love of future generations! Washington fought for future generations. What of them now? They mock him in their ignorance — the last generation made him a god of cant, even as the ‘Christians’ made Christ a god of cant.
“The fever is on me again. … I begin to see it now: I might have broken away from it all and been happy when I came to these new lands. But no! The horror of the past was on me! … It is said that some of your bushrangers were driven to the bush by the law. I believe that. I know how a man can be driven when the shadow of the law is once over his house. My house! What a house!
“I have been through it all, Republican, Conservative, Socialist, Anarchist, Ishmael! Broken idols — or perhaps I broke them myself in my blindness. … I lost faith in human nature! … Even when people were kind to me, and the world seemed treating me well. I grew suspicious. ‘Axes to grind — axes to grind!’ I cried, even when there were no axes to grind. … Ah, my brothers, trust each other! Trust each other! Be true if you can — but trust each other! Have faith to the end.
“Son of Ishmael — a son of Ishmael. Sons of Ishmael, banded together — hating each other, only that we hated the world more. A bond of hate — the Anarchists. No, not hating each other: we held each other in contempt — we distrusted one another — but we hated the world!
“I had lost hope for reformation, but I hoped for destruction and revenge. Read ‘Cæsar’s Column.’ We struck at times, and once we struck a blow that shook the world. … You who live in these new lands, you do not know the misery that is in the cities of the old lands, and if the truth was put before you as you could see it, and you were strong enough, you would invade the north to ‘rescue’ those wretches in the slums and on the fields. And they would side with their masters and turn against you.
“God! — if there is a God! But no — I will believe in something — a man must in the end! Spirit of Right — Spirit of Justice — Spirit of Love — Spirit of Mercy — Spirit of Kindness — hear me! Give me twilight — the light was too fierce. Shade my eyes— I saw things too plainly. Give me love — I lost it! Give me faith — I lost it! Give me coolness — the fire was too hot! Give me — give — me — Rest! … Lift me up! Give me a drink of water! Comrade — old man! I never meant you! … Judge me now, God!
“Comrade? No! I hate that word now. It has become a word of cant like ‘Brother,’ and ‘Union’ — like your ‘Mateship!’ I am disgusted with it all. Old man! Sit there — don’t go away! I might sleep now — see me through! It will be the last time — not long; not — long.
“I was sleeping. What woke me? Oh, I know! … I woke up to die! …. Send the priest away. … Alice! Alice! I’m coming! … Alice! … My soul — at last — you have found me!”
Source:
The Worker (Sydney, NSW), 15 September 1894, p. 1
Editor’s notes:
Cæsar’s Column = Caesar’s Column: A Story of the Twentieth Century (1890), a novel by Ignatius Donnelly (1831-1901), an American author and Congressman
See: 1) “Caesar’s Column”, Wikipedia
2) “Ignatius L. Donnelly”, Wikipedia
cant = a set, standard, or stock phrase (especially ones which have become regarded as meaningless due to heavy repetition); the use of conventional or oft-repeated opinions, sentiments, or thoughts; a specialized jargon, phraseology, or vocabulary used within a certain group or sub-culture (such as jockeys, journalists, lawyers, religious sects, goths, punks, or thieves; the cant of thieves); to talk insincerely or hypocritically, especially regarding morality, religion or spirituality (such as priests using pious platitudes about brotherly love or turning the other cheek, when not practicing what they teach; the cant of pious hypocrites); to beg, talk, or whine in a singsong or whining manner (such as used by beggars or vagabonds)
Grinder Brothers = a fictional personification of Capitalists (derived from the idea that Capitalists would “grind down” employees by overworking them, and/or by using harsh, uncaring, or unfair personnel management)
Ishmael = an outcast, a wanderer; derived from the Biblical story of Ishmael, who was the eldest son of Abraham and Hagar (the handmaiden of Abraham’s wife, Sarah) who was cast out after Sarah gave birth to Isaac
See: “Ishmael”, Wikipedia
ists and isms = a reference to ideologies and their adherents (e.g. Anarchists, Capitalists, Communists, Nationalists, Protectionists, Socialists; Anarchism, Capitalism, Communism, Conservatism, Liberalism, Nationalism, Protectionism, Republicanism, Socialism)
Liberty or death = a shortened version or adaptation of the phrase “Give me liberty or give me death!”, attributed to Patrick Henry, an American politician and rebel, in a speech he made in March 1775, just prior to the beginning of the American War of Independence in April 1775
See: 1) “Give me liberty or give me death!”, Wikipedia
2) “Patrick Henry”, Wikipedia
Lives there a man with soul so dead = a reference to the beginning of the sixth canto in the poem “Lay of the Last Minstrel” (1805) by the Scottish author Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832): “Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land!” [See: The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott, New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1843, page 78]
son of Ishmael = an outcast, a wanderer [see: Ishmael]
sweater = an employer who overworks and underpays his employees (from the allegation against an employer who works his employees so hard that they sweat profusely)
sweating den = a sweating factory, shop, or workplace; a place of work run by a sweater [see: sweater]
Washington = George Washington (1732-1799), an American politician and rebel; he was the leader of the American patriots in the American War of Independence, and became the first President of the United States of America; he was born in Popes Creek (Virginia Colony, British America) in 1731, and died at Mount Vernon (Virginia, USA) in 1799
See: “George Washington”, Wikipedia
[Editor: Changed “— !I hated” to “—! I hated” (moved space), “my brothers, rust each other” to “my brothers, trust each other”.]
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