Guy de Maupassant once remarked to me that it was necessary to
preserve the Anarchists in order to make modern history interesting.
The rulers of the world seem to be of the same opinion. Over and
over again scientists and men of common sense have told them that
the Anarchist is simply a diseased mind, requiring to be dealt with
like other brain-sick creatures. But statesmen and police alike have
persisted in treating the Anarchist as a serious politician, with
results which are, unfortunately, too well known.
It is true that, after the death of Elizabeth of Austria, the
chivalrous King of Italy, Humbert, summoned a conference of
diplomatists and police directors in Venice to consider methods for
dealing with the Anarchists. But he would have done better to call in
Professor Lombroso. I myself would undertake to guarantee the life of
every ruler in Europe and America, for the sum of £20,000 a year,
provided I were allowed to incarcerate in an asylum every man whom I
could prove to be a sufferer from homicidal mania.
As it was, I foreboded that the only result of King Humbert’s gallant
action would be to point him out to these creatures as their next
victim. Yet I must now so far confess myself mistaken as to declare
that the death of the late King of Italy does not really lie at the
door of Anarchism.
It was another European sovereign, more alive to the realities of
the situation than Humbert, who secretly commissioned me to make
an investigation into the organisation of the Anarchist sect and
the trend of its operations. I must not disclose the name of this
monarch; to do so would be to point him out to the vengeance of the
assassins.
As soon as I had received his commission I laid aside all my other
work and prepared to disappear for an indefinite period.
My first step was to transform myself into a workman, or rather a
loafer, for an industrious workman is seldom found among the ‘active’
Anarchists. I secured a few jobs in Paris as a house-painter’s
labourer--that is to say, I did the scraping and cleaning before the
skilled workman applied the fresh coats of paint. I took care to show
no zeal in my employment, and in the intervals of work I hung about
the brasseries and grumbled at the smallness of my earnings.
By these tactics I quickly earned the reputation of a good comrade,
and a true-hearted Republican. The Socialists of the quarter I had
chosen to work in quickly recognised me as a likely convert, and I
allowed them to enrol me in one of the most advanced societies.
All these measures were mere preliminaries to the final one of
blossoming forth as a declared Anarchist. It is from the ranks
of Socialism that Anarchism draws its recruits. Though the two
theories are utterly opposed, they express the same discontent with
civilisation. An Anarchist is little more than a Socialist who has
gone out of his mind.
By going over to the Anarchist group from the arms of their rivals, I
ensured myself a welcome which would never have been given to me had
I attempted to force myself upon them at the outset.
Among the Anarchists it was necessary to adopt rather different
tactics. I had now to play the part of a dangerous lunatic, only
awaiting direction from some superior mind to commit an act of
violence.
Paris itself is not an important Anarchist centre. The French police
are too quick witted for their capital to be a comfortable residence
for these desperadoes. The three great centres, as most people know,
are Zürich, London, and Jersey City, U.S.A.
Zürich is the Russian headquarters, and is rather a place for
Nihilists than international Anarchists. I therefore decided to cross
over to London, in the hope of coming into touch with the leading
minds of the sect.
In London I found myself received without the least suspicion. My
carefully prepared record stood me in good stead. I was introduced by
my Parisian comrades as a promising convert from Socialism, and no
one inquired further.
I found the London Anarchists torn by internal dissensions which left
them no time to think of attacking kings and queens. The first man
I was asked to murder was Prince ----, the leader of the idealist
group, whose sole offence was his refusal to concur in the homicidal
programme of the active Anarchists.
I refused to execute this mandate, on the plea that I had vowed to
put to death a crowned head, and could not afford to risk my life in
the pursuit of humbler prey.
I may state here that the elaborate machinery of secret meetings,
oaths, ballots, and so on has no existence except in the imagination
of popular novelists. Their fantastic descriptions can only provoke
a smile on the part of any one who has been behind the scenes of
Anarchism.
The Anarchists are a fluctuating community, here to-day and gone
to-morrow, among whom a few leading spirits who have learned to know
and trust each other by actual experience exercise an influence much
like that exercised by the Front Bench over a Parliamentary party
in England, an influence which varies with their own concord and
strength of character.
When these leaders find a man whom they see to be a suitable
instrument, they bring their influence to bear on him to carry
out whatever object they may agree upon. In some cases perhaps a
pantomimic scene is arranged, such as we read of in romances, to
impress a weak mind. I can only say that I never saw anything of the
sort.
A well-known Anarchist, whose name would be recognised immediately
were I to mention it, took me aside one night, and suggested to me
the removal of the Prince. I gave the answer I have mentioned, and
the proposal was instantly dropped.
My refusal was followed, naturally enough, by an attempt on my own
life. Two days afterwards the editor of an Anarchist paper, who had
taken rather a fancy to me, came round to my lodgings before daybreak
and advised me to leave for America. He gave me no reason for this
advice, but he was very urgent with me, and insisted on writing me a
letter of introduction to a man living in Jersey City. I promised to
consider the matter, and he bade me farewell.
On leaving my lodging an hour later to go and look for a job--the
customary pretence--I discovered immediately that I was being
followed. I need scarcely say that for me to baffle the clumsy
espionage of such blunderers would have been the easiest thing in
the world. But I wished to see how far they would go, and I allowed
my tracker to follow me all day. At night I went down to the Thames
Embankment. I placed myself on the edge of the river steps by
Cleopatra’s Needle, and waited.
I am a good swimmer, and I did not think it likely that my enemy
would use a weapon if he thought he could get rid of me by the simple
method of pushing me into the water. A pistol would be too dangerous
for himself on account of the report. I had seen that he did not
carry a stick. He was probably armed with a knife, and he might try
and give me a thrust with it as he pushed me over; but a knife-thrust
in the back is not a very serious thing to a man who has been in the
habit of wearing a mail shirt for twenty years.
I am ready to confess that my heart beat faster as I heard the
stealthy tread coming up behind me. To my surprise the would-be
assassin paused before he had got within striking distance, and
shuffled with his feet on the flags. Puzzled by these tactics I
glanced round and saw a young man, not more than twenty years of age,
whose face was white, and who was trembling in every limb. At once
I grasped the situation. The poor wretch’s heart had failed him, and
he was trying to put me on my guard against himself, in order that he
might have an excuse for not carrying out his task.
I walked past him without a word, shook him off in the course of the
next hour, and took the last train to Liverpool.
On my arrival in the States, I lost no time in seeking out the man
to whom my editor friend had furnished me with an introduction. To
the European reader it may be worth while to explain that Jersey City
practically joins on to New York, so that it is really a suburb of
the American metropolis.
I was received with open arms by this man--an Italian named
Ferretti--and I became a member of the most influential Anarchist
club. Among those I sometimes played dominoes with there was a
long-haired dreamer named Bresci, a visitor from Paterson. All this
time I passed under the name of Lebrun. My American citizenship I
carefully concealed.
I soon saw that some one had informed the American group of my being
bound by oath to kill a crowned head. On all hands I was treated with
the deference due to a prospective martyr. It was not long before
Ferretti himself began to sound me as to my willingness to make
Humbert of Italy my victim.
[Illustration: “I walked past him without a word.”]
I was careful not to discourage this suggestion as I had the one made
to me in London. I listened to all Ferretti had to say with apparent
acquiescence.
‘Humbert has placed himself at the head of our enemies,’ he urged.
‘This Venice conference is a declaration of war. If we wish to
maintain our moral ascendency we must strike a blow which will
intimidate other rulers from proceeding against us.’
As soon as I could get away I went into New York and sent a code
telegram to my secretary in Paris for him to decipher and send on
to the King of Italy. It was in these terms: ‘_Anarchists in Jersey
City, U.S.A., are looking for man to send against you. Have ports
watched._’
Unfortunately the King paid no attention to this warning. He was a
fatalist, it seems.
Ferretti returned to the charge before long. I kept him in play,
neither consenting nor refusing, my object being, of course, to
retain his confidence. I did not want another man to be despatched
instead of me without my knowledge.
It was not long before others beside Ferretti began to try and
influence me in the same direction. It is difficult to trace the
first birth of suspicion in the mind, but a suspicion was born in
mine that these men had some motive which they had not yet disclosed
to me for urging me to this attempt.
I tested them at last by making a counter-proposal. It was in the
club, late one night, and there were present, beside Ferretti,
another Italian who called himself ‘The Bear,’ a bearded German named
Peters, and a Swiss watchmaker, who was lame and used crutches. These
four seemed to have a common understanding.
Peters had been acting as spokesman, and strongly denouncing the
proceedings at Venice, which he described as an abandonment of the
methods of civilisation--a curious complaint for an Anarchist to make.
Ferretti applied the moral.
‘Some one must be found to avenge us,’ he declared. ‘If Humbert is
suffered to live, our principles are doomed.’
‘I am not sure of that,’ I answered. ‘Humbert is not a politician.
He has been stirred up because Luccheni killed a woman, which, in my
opinion, was an unwise action. We ought to choose our victims more
carefully. It is absurd to pick off a man like Humbert, when there
are such enemies as ---- and ---- alive.’
My remarks were received in ominous silence. The other four exchanged
looks of disappointment. The Bear was the first to protest.
‘It is the curse of Anarchism that every one wants to have his own
opinion. It seems to me that when men like ourselves, who have guided
the movement for years, are agreed on the right course of action, a
new comrade ought to accept our decision.’
I did not retort that the word Anarchist, if it meant anything, meant
one who had his own opinion and refused to be guided by the agreement
of others. There is nothing a fanatic resents so much as reason,
except ridicule. Instead, I affected to be surprised.
‘Do you mean that you disapprove of the execution of ----?’ I
demanded, naming a man whose reputation for cruelty and bigotry was
world wide.
‘The removal of Humbert ought to come first,’ was the answer.
‘Do you say that deliberately? Have all our comrades made up their
minds, or is it merely your own opinion?’
‘It is the judgment of us four,’ said The Bear. ‘That ought to be
enough.’
‘We are willing to provide funds for any comrade who will undertake
the mission,’ added Peters.
‘But not for any other mission, such as one against ----?’ I ventured
to object.
‘We have not said that. We are ready to consider an application.’
The last answer came from the lame watchmaker, who had kept his eyes
fixed on me with a close scrutiny during the whole conversation. It
was evident that this man was more cautious than the other three,
and that he had begun to distrust me. Perhaps he thought I was a
boaster; perhaps his suspicions went deeper.
‘Well, I am not under anybody’s orders,’ I said, rising to my feet.
‘Show me that I can serve the cause better by Humbert’s removal than
any one else’s, and I will take the mission.’
The four let me come away in silence. I had now no doubt whatever
that there was some very strong motive in the background behind all
this talk about the Venice conference, and I sent a fresh wire to
the threatened King--‘_American group absolutely determined on your
death, and offering bribes._’
This telegram was treated with the same indifference as its
predecessor.
Ferretti was naturally more inclined to trust me than were the
others, thanks to my London friend’s recommendation. I was,
therefore, not surprised to receive a call from him the next day, and
to find that he was at last going to show his hand.
‘It is right, is it not,’ he began, ‘that you are prepared to
undertake the removal of one of our enemies, provided you are
satisfied that you are doing good to the cause?’
‘That is all I ask,’ I responded; ‘Humbert or another, what does it
matter to me?’
[Illustration: “‘I am not under anybody’s orders,’ I said, rising to
my feet.”]
‘You don’t consider that the fact that Humbert has taken a leading
part against us marks him out for destruction?’
‘No, I don’t; I don’t believe he is any worse than the others.’
‘Very well; admitting that, for the sake of argument; if I were to
prove to you that Humbert’s death would benefit the cause specially
in other ways, what would you say?’
‘If I believed that, I should most likely consent.’
‘Good! That is what I expected. Now you understand that what I am
going to tell you must be in the very greatest confidence.’