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must not complain if their victims awake some day to the logic of the theory, so persistently put forward in justification of the distinctions existing in society today, and, acting thereon, drive them from the mansions and palaces, and compel them—once the fit, but now the unfit-to toil that the once unfortunate may revel in luxury which they once enjoyed.
Such conditions are not necessary, nor are they desirable. The only struggle necessary to the existence of all, is a struggle with the crudities of inorganic nature, and with the weeds and brambles.
Imagine a condition of freedom, a condition in which every one has an equal opportunity with every one else. Superabundance of the requisites of life, culture and refinement, would soon exist. Under these conditions who would be the fittest? Those who took best care of themselves, that lived such lives as to give themselves strength, health and vigor. The careless, the indifferent, those who acted so as to break down their health, those would be the "unfit," the ones who first would "perish."
Now it only remains to be said, that, considering that our fitness depends largely upon ourselves, it behooves all true revolutionists to show that they understand this theory and, if the ruling class will not hearken to reason, will not allow a re-modeling of conditions so as to give full liberty to each and all, then they must prove themselves the fittest to survive not only in theory but also in fact. They must show that they can endure more exposure, cold, hunger and suffering than their victims, or—the others proving themselves the fittest—they must perish.
The War Spirit.
I hate that drum's discordant sound
Parading round and round and round;
To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields,
And lures from cities, farms and fields,
To sell their liberties for charms
Of tawdry lace and glittering arms,
And, when ambitious voice commands,
To march, and fight, and fall on foreign lands.
I hate that drum's discordant sound
Parading round and round and round;
To me, it speaks of ravaged plains,
Of burning towns and ruined swains;
Of mangled forms and broken bones;
Of widows' tears and orphans' moans,
And all that misery's hand bestows
To swell the catalogue of human woes.
The war spirit has been extolled as the noblest quality of man. It has been made the subject of essays and philosophical dissertations. It has been one of the great themes of the poet and the novelist, and has been constantly shown on the stage. All of these great moulders of public opinion have for ages tried to impress upon their devotees the idea that the war spirit is the great moving and ennobling power that raised humanity above the brutes. The horrors of war have been described by some men of genius, but their voices have been drowned by the roll of the drum and the shouts of adoration raised to the conquering warrior. Military commanders have been given places in institutions of instruction; they have been petted and feasted in society as some sort of superior beings. They have been put into positions of trust and influence, and the young taught to look upon them as worthy of unusual honor. So widespread is the war spirit that even religious bodies, going forth to spread a gospel of "peace on earth and good-will toward men," as they have claimed, have adopted the organization and discipline of armies on a war footing.
