The Book of Lies





I am not an Anarchist in your sense of the word: your brain is too dense for any known explosive to affect it.


I am not an Anarchist in your sense of the word: fancy a Policeman let loose on Society!


While there exists the burgess, the hunting man, or any man with ideals less than Shelley's and self-discipline less than Loyola's — in short, any man who falls far short of MYSELF — I am against Anarchy, and for Feudalism.


Every "emancipator" has enslaved the free.


The title is the name of one of the authors of the affair of the Haymarket, in Chicago. See Frank Harris, "The Bomb".

Paragraph 1 explains that Frater P. sees no use in the employment of such feeble implements as bombs. Nor does he agree even with the aim of the Anarchists, since, although Anarchists themselves need no restraint, not daring to drink cocoa, lest their animal passions should be aroused (as Olivia Haddon assures my favourite Chela), yet policemen, unless most severely repressed, would be dangerous wild beasts.

The last bitter sentence is terribly true; the personal liberty of the Russian is immensely greater than that of the Englishman. The latest Radical devices for securing freedom have turned nine out of ten Englishmen into Slaves, obliged to report their movements to the government like so many ticket-of-leave men.

The only solution of the Social Problem is the creation of a class with the true patriarchal feeling, and the manners and obligations of chivalry.

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