"Russia!" and there was a sneer in Dick's voice as he uttered the word.
"Yes, Russia if you like. And still, what then? Would you have Russia go on century by century as it had been going? Would you have scores upon scores of millions of men and women go on existing as they were existing? You know the history of Russia for ten centuries past. What has it been?—a criminal, bloated, corrupt, cruel, overbearing, persecuting aristocracy and bureaucracy on the one hand, and a welter of poor, suffering, starving, outraged, diseased, dying people on the other. That was Russia. And desperate diseases need desperate remedies, my friend. Of course, the very name of Russia is being shuddered at just now. But think, my friend. Birth is always a matter of travail, and Russia is being re-born. But wait. In ten years Russia will be regarded as the pioneer of civilisation—as the herald of a new age. Russia is taking the only step possible that will lead to justice, and to peace, and prosperity for all."
"You don't mean that!" Dick scarcely knew that he spoke.
"I am as certain of it as that I sit here. I swear it by whatever gods there be!"
Plain, stout Mr. John Brown was changed. Dick forgot his fat, chubby hands, his round, benevolent, kindly, but commonplace face. It was a new Mr. John Brown that he saw. A new light shone in his eyes, a new tone had come to his voice, a seemingly new spirit inspired him.
"I go further," cried Mr. Brown, "and I say this: England—the British Isles need the same remedy. All that you have been thinking about are sticking-plasters—palliatives, and not cures. What England needs is a Revolution. All the old corrupt, crushing forces must be destroyed, the old gods overthrown, and a new evangelist must proclaim a new gospel."
"A madman's dream," protested Dick. "Let's talk of something else."
"Not yet," replied Mr. John Brown. "Tell me this, you who long for a new heaven and a new earth—you who plead for justice, for fraternity, for brotherhood: do you believe that the programme—I mean the organised programme—of the Labour Party or the Socialist Party will ever bring about what you desire?"
Dick was silent.
"Ah, you are honest. You know it will not. In your heart of hearts you know, too, that nothing but a thorough upheaval, a complete Revolution of the bad old order of things can bring about what you desire. Patching up an old building whose walls are cracked, whose drains are corrupt, whose foundations are insecure, is waste of time and energy. If you want a new sanitary house the old place has to be demolished and the rubbish cleared away! That's it, my friend. That's what's needed in this country. The rubbish must be cleared away. That's what the people want. For the moment they are crying out for something, they hardly know what, but they will have a Revolution, and they are longing for a leader to lead them, a prophet to interpret their needs."