the dwelling place of ligh-第68章
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pavement in front of it； she entered the building。。。。
End of The Dwelling Place of Light； V2
by Winston Churchill
THE DWELLING…PLACE OF LIGHT
BY WINSTON CHURCHILL
VOLUME 3。
CHAPTER XV
Occasionally the art of narrative may be improved by borrowing the method
of the movies。 Another night has passed； and we are called upon to
imagine the watery sunlight of a mild winter afternoon filtering through
bare trees on the heads of a multitude。 A large portion of Hampton
Common is black with the people of sixteen nationalities who have
gathered there； trampling down the snow； to listen wistfully and eagerly
to a new doctrine of salvation。 In the centre of this throng on the
bandstandreminiscent of concerts on sultry； summer nightsare the
itinerant apostles of the cult called Syndicalism； exhorting by turns in
divers tongues。 Antonelli had spoken； and many others； when Janet；
impelled by a craving not to be denied； had managed to push her way
little by little from the outskirts of the crowd until now she stood
almost beneath the orator who poured forth passionate words in a language
she recognized as Italian。 Her curiosity was aroused； she was unable to
classify this tall man whose long and narrow face was accentuated by a
pointed brown beard； whose lips gleamed red as he spoke； whose slim hands
were eloquent。 The artist as propagandistthe unsuccessful artist with
more facility than will。 The nose was classic； and wanted strength； the
restless eyes that at times seemed fixed on her were smouldering windows
of a burning house： the fire that stirred her was also consuming him。
Though he could have been little more than five and thirty； his hair was
thinned and greying at the temples。 And somehow emblematic of this
physiognomy and physique； summing it up and expressing it in terms of
apparel； were the soft collar and black scarf tied in a flowing bow。
Janet longed to know what he was saying。 His phrases； like music； played
on her emotions； and at last； when his voice rose in crescendo at the
climax of his speech； she felt like weeping。
〃Un poeta！〃 a woman beside her exclaimed。
〃Who is he？〃 Janet asked。
〃Rolfe；〃 said the woman。
〃But he's an Italian？〃
The woman shrugged her shoulders。 〃It is his name that is all I know。〃
He had begun to speak again； and now in English； with an enunciation； a
distinctive manner of turning his phrases new to such gatherings in
America； where labour intellectuals are little known； surprising to
Janet； diverting her attention； at first； from the meaning of his words。
〃Labour；〃 she heard； 〃labour is the creator of all wealth； and wealth
belongs to the creator。 The wage system must be abolished。 You； the
creators； must do battle against these self…imposed masters until you
shall come into your own。 You who toil miserably for nine hours and
produce； let us say； nine dollars of wealthdo you receive it？ No； what
is given you is barely enough to keep the slave and the slave's family
alive！ The master； the capitalist； seizes the rightful reward of your
labour and spends it on luxuries； on automobiles and fine houses and
women； on food he can't eat； while you are hungry。 Yes； you are slaves；〃
he cried； 〃because you submit like slaves。〃
He waited； motionless and scornful； for the noise to die down。 〃Since I
have come here to Hampton； I have heard some speak of the state； others
of the unions。 Yet the state is your enemy； it will not help you to gain
your freedom。 The legislature has shortened your hours；but why？
Because the politicians are afraid of you； and because they think you
will be content with a little。 And now that the masters have cut your
wages； the state sends its soldiers to crush you。 Only fifty cents； they
sayonly fifty cents most of you miss from your envelopes。 What is
fifty cents to them？ But I who speak to you have been hungry； I know
that fifty cents will buy ten loaves of bread； or three pounds of the
neck of pork； or six quarts of milk for the babies。 Fifty cents will
help pay the rent of the rat…holes where you live。〃 Once more he was
interrupted by angry shouts of approval。 〃And the labour unions； have
they aided you？ Why not？ I will tell you whybecause they are the
servile instruments of the masters。 The unions say that capital has
rights； bargain with it； but for us there can be only one bargain；
complete surrender of the tools to the workers。 For the capitalists are
parasites who suck your blood and your children's blood。 From now on
there can be no compromise； no truce； no peace until they are
exterminated。 It is war。〃 War！ In Janet's soul the word resounded like
a tocsin。 And again； as when swept along East Street with the mob； that
sense of identity with these people and their wrongs； of submergence with
them in their cause possessed her。 Despite her ancestry； her lot was
cast with them。 She； too； had been precariously close to poverty； had
known the sordidness of life； she； too； and Lise and Hannah had been
duped and cheated of the fairer things。 Eagerly she had drunk in the
vocabulary of that new and terrible philosophy。 The master class must be
exterminated！ Was it not true； if she had been of that class； that
Ditmar would not have dared to use and deceive her？ Why had she never
thought of these things before？。。。 The light was beginning to fade； the
great meeting was breaking up； and yet she lingered。 At the foot of the
bandstand steps； conversing with a small group of operatives that
surrounded him； she perceived the man who had just spoken。 And as she
stood hesitating； gazing at him； a desire to hear more； to hear all of
this creed he preached； that fed the fires in her soul； urged her
forward。 Her need； had she known it； was even greater than that of these
toilers whom she now called comrades。 Despite some qualifying reserve
she felt； and which had had to do with the redness of his lips； he
attracted her。 He had a mind； an intellect； he must possess stores of
the knowledge for which she thirsted； he appeared to her as one who had
studied and travelled； who had ascended heights and gained the wider view
denied her。 A cynical cosmopolitanism would have left her cold； but
here； apparently； was a cultivated man burning with a sense of the
world's wrongs。 Ditmar； who was to have led her out of captivity； had
only thrust her the deeper into bondage。。。。 She joined the group；
halting on the edge of it； listening。 Rolfe was arguing with a man about
the labour unions； but almost at once she knew she had fixed his
attention。 From time to time； as he talked； his eyes sought hers boldly；
and in their dark pupils were tiny points of light that stirred and
confused her； made her wonder what was behind them； in his soul。 When he
had finished his argument； he singled her out。
〃You do not work in the mills？〃 he asked。
〃No； I'm a stenographeror I was one。〃
〃And now？〃
〃I've given up my place。〃
〃You want to join us？〃
〃I was interested in what you said。 I never heard anything like it
before。〃
He looked at her intently。
〃Come； let us walk a little way；〃 he said。 And she went along by his
side； through the Common； feeling a neophyte's excitement in the
freemasonry； the contempt for petty conventions of this newly achieved
doctrine of brotherhood。 〃I will give you things to read； you shall be
one of us。〃
〃I'm afraid I shouldn't understand them；〃 Janet replied。 〃I've read so
little。〃
〃Oh； you will understand；〃 he assured her； easily。 〃There is too much
learning； too much reason and intelligence in the world； too little
impulse and feeling； intuition。 Where do reason and intelligence lead
us？ To selfishness； to thirst for power…straight into the master class。
They separate us from the mass of humanity。 No； our fight is against
those who claim more enlightenment than their fellowmen； who control the
public schools and impose reason on our children； because reason leads to
submission； makes us content with our station in life。 The true
syndicalist is an artist； a revolutionist！〃 he cried。
Janet found this bewildering and yet through it seemed to shine for her a
gleam of l
