but nevertheless could not resist the temptation to lecture her on the theories of anarchism that he had been largely responsible for formulating.
“You must understand, dear lady, that not all anarchists wish to blow up Nelson’s Column. Your husband may be as safe with such a group as at any political meeting in your own country. It is only that the term ‘anarchist’ has, regrettably, come to be used by the ignorant general public to refer solely to the authors of certain violent acts—to those who call for class warfare and the overthrow of established society. Not every anarchist believes in such things.”
“But surely it is not just the, so to speak, lay public that identifies anarchists with violence,” Maddie said. “The anarchists themselves have taken the credit—or rather the blame, as one must say—for these acts.”
“I am ashamed to say that some do,” Kropotkin replied. “But just as there are persons who deliberately misinterpret church or civil or military law for their own ends, there will also be anarchists who lose sight of their ideals. There are also a few, I am sorry to say, who take up the cause because it offers the only excitement they have in their lives. If your husband has fallen in with such as these, then I fear he may indeed be in some peril.”
He paused, as if to see how she would take this, but Maddie had learned quickly enough from Devin Grant not to be goaded into defending her motives—or Teddy’s.
“The pure theory of anarchist communism has no place for acts of violence,” Kropotkin went on. “Rather, it envisions a society in which harmony is maintained—much as it is here at Newmarket—by voluntary associations among human beings to bring about what each group desires, not by force, but by cooperation.”
“It seems to me that it is the anarchists who wish to force cooperation on the rest of us,” Maddie said.
“Alas, popular fiction has painted such a vivid picture of the bomb-throwing anarchist that even a person of your obvious intelligence accepts it. We in fact only make proposals … that since control by a central state is wrong, everything needed for human life should be owned in common and distributed according to need. That every man should be free to act and speak as he likes, within the limits set down by his natural respect for others.”
“Forgive me, sir, if I say that I understand why some of your followers might become impatient. Such goals must be almost impossible to realize, human nature being what it is.”
“You have a low opinion of human nature, Mrs. Malcolm.”
“Not at all, sir. Like you, I daresay, I believe people are naturally good ... if they are allowed to be. If, however, they must struggle against poverty, prejudice, or misfortune, then I think it is too much to expect by us more fortunate beings that they not prefer more violent means to improve their lot, whatever innocents they may hurt in the process.”
“And are these your views, dear lady, or those of your husband?”
Maddie hesitated, a little taken aback by the question. She had been thinking more of her own cause than Teddy’s. In fact, she had never discussed Teddy’s beliefs with him, and she was struck for a moment with a doubt about what precisely Teddy would have answered for himself. She had to force her mind back to its goal—getting Kropotkin to help her—almost as if it were a horse that had balked at a jump. Lie if you must, she told herself, but get him on your side.
“We share them, sir,” she said, as confidently as she could, “and it is for that very reason I appeal to you.” She came to a halt to look up at him. “I don’t suppose you ever encountered my husband personally, and in any case I’m certain you would tell me if you had. But Teddy was—is—an idealist, and I cannot imagine that he would have leapt into anything so dangerous as an assassination or similar violent plot if he had not first convinced himself of the
“You must understand, dear lady, that not all anarchists wish to blow up Nelson’s Column. Your husband may be as safe with such a group as at any political meeting in your own country. It is only that the term ‘anarchist’ has, regrettably, come to be used by the ignorant general public to refer solely to the authors of certain violent acts—to those who call for class warfare and the overthrow of established society. Not every anarchist believes in such things.”
“But surely it is not just the, so to speak, lay public that identifies anarchists with violence,” Maddie said. “The anarchists themselves have taken the credit—or rather the blame, as one must say—for these acts.”
“I am ashamed to say that some do,” Kropotkin replied. “But just as there are persons who deliberately misinterpret church or civil or military law for their own ends, there will also be anarchists who lose sight of their ideals. There are also a few, I am sorry to say, who take up the cause because it offers the only excitement they have in their lives. If your husband has fallen in with such as these, then I fear he may indeed be in some peril.”
He paused, as if to see how she would take this, but Maddie had learned quickly enough from Devin Grant not to be goaded into defending her motives—or Teddy’s.
“The pure theory of anarchist communism has no place for acts of violence,” Kropotkin went on. “Rather, it envisions a society in which harmony is maintained—much as it is here at Newmarket—by voluntary associations among human beings to bring about what each group desires, not by force, but by cooperation.”
“It seems to me that it is the anarchists who wish to force cooperation on the rest of us,” Maddie said.
“Alas, popular fiction has painted such a vivid picture of the bomb-throwing anarchist that even a person of your obvious intelligence accepts it. We in fact only make proposals … that since control by a central state is wrong, everything needed for human life should be owned in common and distributed according to need. That every man should be free to act and speak as he likes, within the limits set down by his natural respect for others.”
“Forgive me, sir, if I say that I understand why some of your followers might become impatient. Such goals must be almost impossible to realize, human nature being what it is.”
“You have a low opinion of human nature, Mrs. Malcolm.”
“Not at all, sir. Like you, I daresay, I believe people are naturally good ... if they are allowed to be. If, however, they must struggle against poverty, prejudice, or misfortune, then I think it is too much to expect by us more fortunate beings that they not prefer more violent means to improve their lot, whatever innocents they may hurt in the process.”
“And are these your views, dear lady, or those of your husband?”
Maddie hesitated, a little taken aback by the question. She had been thinking more of her own cause than Teddy’s. In fact, she had never discussed Teddy’s beliefs with him, and she was struck for a moment with a doubt about what precisely Teddy would have answered for himself. She had to force her mind back to its goal—getting Kropotkin to help her—almost as if it were a horse that had balked at a jump. Lie if you must, she told herself, but get him on your side.
“We share them, sir,” she said, as confidently as she could, “and it is for that very reason I appeal to you.” She came to a halt to look up at him. “I don’t suppose you ever encountered my husband personally, and in any case I’m certain you would tell me if you had. But Teddy was—is—an idealist, and I cannot imagine that he would have leapt into anything so dangerous as an assassination or similar violent plot if he had not first convinced himself of the
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