Browsing Revolt Library By Tag : inspector

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The Resurrection

CHAPTER VII.

Finally Matvei Nikitich arrived, and the usher, a long-necked and lean man, with a sideling gait and protruding lower lip, entered the jury-room.

The usher was an honest man, with a university education, but he could not hold any employment on account of his tippling habit. A countess, his wife's patroness, had obtained him his present position three months ago; he still retained it, and was exceedingly glad.

"Are you all here, gentlemen?" he asked, putting on his pince-nez and looking through it.

"I think so," said the cheerful merchant.

"Let us see," said the usher, and drawing a sheet of paper from his pocket, began to call the names of the jury, looking at those that responded to their names now through his pince-nez, now over it.

"Counsilor of State E. M. Nikiforoff."

"Here," said the portly gentleman, who was familiar with all the litigations.

"Retired Colonel I...


Selected  Letters of  Vanzetti from the Dedham Jail, April - June 1927 April 14, 1927.  Dedham Jail DEAR COMRADE MARY [DONOVAN]: Today I have written, written and written all the time.  Now it is late and I am tired.  Yet I cannot help to write to you. . . . What I want to say to you is, again and ever, to be calm and self restrained.  Yes, just that and what I do not know to say.  I knew that you lost your job.   Another of their nice things.  Now you are working days and nights to save Nick and I.  Remember that you must rest, and rest at least for the necessity of it.  Good-bye, and all my regards to you, also Nick. [COMRADE MARY was Mary Donovan, a recording secr... (From : umkc.edu.)

Berkman, Alexander (1912) Prison Memoirs of an Anarchist, Mother Earth Press.

Part II

DESPERATE THOUGHTS

I

"MAKE YOURSELF AT home, now. You'll stay here a while, huh, huh!
      As in a dream I hear the harsh tones. Is the man speaking to me, I wonder. Why is he laughing? I feel so weary, I long to be alone.
      Now the voice has ceased; the steps are receding. All is silent, and I am alone. A nameless weight oppresses me. I feel exhausted, my mind a void. Heavily I fall on the bed. Head buried in the straw pillow, my heart breaking, I sink into deep sleep.

My eyes burn as with hot irons. The heat sears my sight, and consumes my eyelids. Now it pierces my head; my brain is aflame, it is swept by a raging fire. Oh!
      I wake in horror. A stream of dazzling light is pouring into my face. Terrified, I press my hands to my eyes, but the mysterious...


The text is from my copy of Emma Goldman's Anarchism and Other Essays. Second Revised Edition. New York & London: Mother Earth Publishing Association, 1911. pp. 85-114. THE PSYCHOLOGY OF POLITICAL VIOLENCE       TO ANALYZE the psychology of political violence is not only extremely difficult, but also very dangerous. If such acts are treated with understanding, one is immediately accused of eulogizing them. If, on the other hand, human sympathy is expressed with the Attentäter, 1  one risks being considered a possible accomplice. Yet it is only intelligence and sympathy that can bring us closer to the source of human suffering, and teach us the ultimate way out of it.     ... (From : Anarchy Archives.)

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