Vendetta in Spain

by Dennis Wheatley

  When he sat down beside her they talked for a while of his trip with de Vendôme, then she said, ‘Now that high summer is here the Court will be moving as usual to San Sebastian, and everyone who matters goes with it; the Embassies and even many big financiers like José, who conducts most of his business from a branch of the bank there. We have a charming villa with a little private bay not far from the city. Both he and I would be so delighted if, when we go north next week, you would accompany us and stay with us for a while.’

  Smiling, he shook his head. ‘It is most kind of you to ask me, Condesa, but I fear I must refuse. On Monday I am off to Barcelona.’

  ‘Barcelona!’ she repeated, opening wide her splendid eyes. ‘Whatever for? At this time of year you will find the heat there intolerable.’

  Her husband knew of the mission he had been given by the King, as also did de Vendôme, who had spoken of it in front of his mother and Conde Ruiz; so he saw no reason for concealing it from her. After drawing for a moment on the Hoyo de Monterry cigar he was smoking, he replied, ‘Please regard it as a secret except from your family, who already know about it, but I am going to Barcelona to hunt anarchists.’

  She gave him a long, steady look then said without a suggestion of a smile, ‘In that case you need not go so far as Barcelona. You had better begin by hunting me. I am an anarchist.’

  4

  Anarchists and anarchists

  De Quesnoy’s ‘devil’s eyebrows’ shot up as he exclaimed, ‘You can’t be serious!’

  ‘I am,’ she assured him, and her full, cupid’s-bow mouth broke into a smile. That smile, although he did not realise it, was one of secret triumph. She had played her cards well. Her shock tactics had succeeded. He was staring at her, and for the first time consciously, in an attempt to assess her personality as a woman.

  He gave a quick shake of his head. ‘I refuse to believe it. What you say does not make sense.’

  ‘It would if you knew more about me. I am a niece of Miguel de Unamuno.’

  The Count’s broad forehead wrinkled again, and he said, ‘Unamuno? I seem to have heard the name as that of an educationalist; is he not a Professor?’

  ‘He is that and much more. He is also a philosopher and now acknowledged as one of the greatest brains that Spain has produced in the past century. His book, The Tragic Sense of Life in Men and Peoples, is already a classic. You should read it.’

  ‘I fear that my Spanish has not yet reached a standard high enough for me to appreciate the nuances of a philosophical treatise. And even if it had, since you imply that your uncle favours violence as a means of bringing about a change in the social order, it is quite certain that I should find myself strongly opposed to his views.’

  ‘He does not advocate violence; he is simply a clear-thinking man with the highest ideals. His wish is to see Spain legally transformed into a true democracy in which all men are equal.’

  De Quesnoy took another pull on his cigar, and said, ‘I see. On the face of it, then, your uncle is a Socialist. That does not tally with your implication that you imbibed anarchist doctrines from him.’

  ‘No; since I have been old enough to think for myself I have moved much further to the Left. I find a great deal of sound sense in the philosophy of the anarchists.’

  Again the Count regarded his lovely companion with a puzzled frown. ‘Do you really mean that? Had you been given Morral’s opportunity on Don Alfonso’s wedding day would you have thrown the bomb?’

  Gulia tossed back her head and laughed. ‘Of course not. How could you even suggest that I might?’

  ‘To be an anarchist is synonymous with holding a belief in the justification of using violence to achieve one’s ends.’

  ‘No, my dear Count; in that you are entirely wrong. In Spain today there are at least a million anarchists, but I doubt if a thousand of them would kill to further the general acceptance of their principles.’

  ‘Oh come, Doña Gulia; when you speak of a million surely you are confusing anarchism with Socialism, and lumping the two together.’

  ‘Indeed I am not. There are many more Socialists than that. By far the greater part of the workers in Madrid, Valencia, Bilboa, Seville and Cadiz is Socialist, whereas the anarchists are concentrated in other areas of the country. The million I spoke of consists of a great part of the workers of Catalonia and the peasantry of Andalusia.’

  ‘The peasantry of Andalusia! You amaze me. I had thought that in Spain, like most other countries, the agricultural population was the main support of the Conservatives.’

  ‘It is not so here. The greater part of the land consists of huge estates owned by absentee landlords who draw their wealth from their properties but never go near them. For generations the wretched tillers of the soil have been forced to work for a miserable pittance under slave-driving bailiffs, or starve. Can you wonder that they would like to throw off the yoke and keep for themselves the results of their labours?’

  ‘No, that is natural enough. And had I given the matter serious thought I might have guessed that such feelings existed from the appalling poverty I saw in many of the villages during my trip to the south. However, I still feel that we are using terms that have different meanings for us. By anarchists I mean the sort of revolutionaries known as dynamiters, who created a reign of terror in Paris in ’94, when I was a young Cadet at St. Cyr, and fanatics like Morral. It is true that ever since the ‘eighties hardly a month has passed without one of them exploding a bomb or knifing some unfortunate person in one country or another. But, even so, their number must be comparatively limited. On the other hand, these hundreds of thousands of Catalonian workers and Andalusian peasants of whom you speak can be striving to gain their ends only by constitutional methods. Obviously those ends are the abolition of privilege, the confiscation of wealth through the penal taxation of the rich and equality for everyone in a Workers’ State. What is that but Socialism?’

  She shook her head. ‘You have defined Socialism but not anarchism. They have certain aims in common, of course, but differ fundamentally in the type of society they wish to bring about.’

  After a moment’s thought de Quesnoy said, ‘What you say interests me tremendously. During the past week I have had the opportunity to acquire a considerable amount of information about the militant anarchists; but I had no idea that their doctrines, exclusive of violence, were accepted by great numbers of law-abiding citizens. In common with most people of our class, I think, I had, too, taken it for granted that, as it is the anarchists who claim kudos for most of the acts of violence committed during strikes, they were Socialists with extreme views. Please tell me now about this fundamental difference between the two creeds.’

  ‘Give me a cigarette, and I will,’ Gulia replied.

  ‘So you smoke,’ he smiled, producing his case.

  She laughed. ‘Yes, sometimes in private; although the Infanta still considers even that somewhat reprehensible in a woman.’

  ‘Indeed?’ de Quesnoy raised his eyebrows. ‘Having all her life had to conform to the stiff etiquette of the Spanish Court has naturally given her a rather forbidding manner, yet I had formed the impression that beneath it she is a very human person. But no matter; please go on.’

  He lit the cigarette for her and Gulia continued. ‘When you said a while back that the Socialists aim for a Workers’ State you were right. Their aim is to better the lot of the masses by nationalising all the social services and canalising the whole wealth of the country into the Treasury, so that it should be redistributed by free education, pensions for people who are too old to work, a fund to support those who are temporarily unemployed through no fault of their own, demolishing slums and building great blocks of modern workers’ flats in their place, increasing the number of hospitals and giving free medical treatment to everyone, and so on.

  ‘To do that would entail the creation of a vast non-productive bureaucracy which would eat up most of the money coming in before any surplus got back through these proj
ects to the people who had earned it. Still worse, the central government would control everything and everybody: where people lived, the hours they worked, what they did with their leisure, and how they brought up their children. Carried to its logical conclusion Socialism becomes Communism, the only difference between the two being that, while the Socialists are prepared to wait until they can gain their ends by legal means, Karl Marx advocated attempts to achieve them more rapidly by insurrection. If either triumphed, in the long run the State would own everything; no one would be permitted to own land or any form of property, or to accumulate money to leave to his relatives. It would be the utter negation of freedom; we would all be slaves of the State.’

  De Quesnoy nodded. ‘I agree. The whole basis of Socialism is that the government should control the entire wealth of a country and the labouring capacity of its people. To do that would be impossible unless it had absolute power, and used compulsion to force on people the way they should lead their lives. Now, what about anarchism?’

  ‘That is utterly different. The anarchist claims to be a law unto himself. That is no new thing. Zeno, the Greek philosopher who founded the Stoic school, was of that opinion; so were the powerful sect of Gnostics in early Christian times. The doctrine of Atheism was preached by many profound thinkers during the middle ages: Joachim, Abbot of Fiore, in Calabria, Amaury of Chartres, and Father John Ball, who played a big part in Wat Tyler’s rebellion. It was because the men who took part in that rebellion believed that law enforced by the State was an evil and crippling thing that, on reaching London, their first act was to burn down the great law offices in the Temple.’

  ‘Of course, there have always been individualists all through history. But militant anarchism as we know it began only in the 1870s. What gave rise to this modern creed that has become such a menace to the social order at the present day?’

  ‘Michael Bakúnin did more than anyone to formulate its principles. He argued that the State was a product of religion and an historically necessary evil representing a lower form of civilisation out of which mankind is now sufficiently advanced to pass; and he demanded its complete abolition. He wished to do away with all legislation and claimed full autonomy for each nation, region and commune. He also held that all individuals should be given full independence, because one becomes really free only when all others are free. Working upwards from the individual, free federations of communes would become free nations. In such nations everything necessary for production would be owned in common by each Labour group or Commune, and each group would administer its own affairs independently of the others.’

  Stubbing out her cigarette, Gulia concluded, ‘So you see anarchism is the complete antithesis of Socialism. Not a single peseta would be wasted on a non-productive bureaucracy. The millions that even now are squandered in that way would be sufficient for every family to live in comfort. The profits of labour would go to those who earned them, and everyone would have the opportunity to develop their own individualities as they wished. That would be real freedom, and it is that which anarchism offers.’

  ‘In theory the case sounds a good one,’ de Quesnoy admitted, ‘but in practice I cannot believe that it could be made to work. All the same, I’d like to know more about it.’

  ‘Then to start with you should read Paul Eltzbacher’s book called Anarchism, in which he gives a very full account of the men he terms the Seven Sages and of the principles they laid down. They were Bakúnin, Proudhon, Max Stirner, Prince Kropotkin, William Godwin, Count Tolstoi, and, I think, yes, the American, Benjamin Tucker. Unfortunately he does not include chapters on Count Carlo Cafiero or Fanelli, the two greatest of Bakúnin’s disciples who carried his doctrines to Italy and Spain; but you can learn about them elsewhere.’

  ‘I thought Max Stirner was a close associate of Marx, and so a Communist,’ the Count remarked.

  ‘He was at one time. To begin with all these champions of the oppressed masses united to form a common front. It was Bakúnin who organised it by founding the International Working Men’s Association. They held a number of Congresses, but it soon became apparent that the views of the principal speakers at them were hopelessly irreconcilable. Marx had the greatest number of followers so he took over the International, while Bakúnin and his followers seceded from it and formed a new Association called the Fédréation Jurassienne. It was that body that initiated Propaganda by Deed.’

  ‘What exactly is meant by that?’

  ‘It is the anarchist term for acts of violence. The militant anarchists argue that if one accepts the propostion that all laws and authority are wrong, it becomes right to endeavour to destroy the whole social fabric that law and authority have built up. Since they are in such a small minority they know that they have no hope of attaining their ends by open revolt: but, they reason to themselves like this—“It is for us to set an example and by so doing draw attention to ourselves and our principles. When the masses see that by our deeds we are striking terror into the oppressors they will take heart, acclaim us, rise and overthrow the whole social structure.”’

  De Quesnoy gave a grim little smile. ‘They certainly must have caused plenty of people in high places a lot of sleepless nights. But I think the chances of their ever succeeding in bringing about a revolution are extremely small. And even if they did they would gain nothing by it. They would only have smoothed the path for the Socialists, and ultimately the Communists.’

  ‘You cannot be certain about that,’ she objected quickly. ‘It would not be so if in the meantime far greater numbers of people had been educated to understand the benefits that anarchism would bring them: that twith the abolition of all law they would at last enjoy true freedom.’

  ‘But no society can possibly exist without law.’

  ‘It could, once everybody realised that their own interests are those of mankind in general. It would then be possible to replace the present legal systems, with their frequent injustices and penal codes, by common brotherly customs which would be universally accepted and willingly observed by all.’

  He shook his head. ‘You paint a Utopia; and I am still amazed to hear that hundreds of thousands of people believe that such a state of things might actually be brought about. Human nature being what it is, this idea that everybody would be content with an equal share of this world’s goods and, out of brotherly love, not seek to increase it at the expense of others would never work. It surprises me, too, that a woman so exceptionally intelligent as yourself, Doña Gulia, can possibly suppose that it could. What of all those who are born lazy, the unscrupulous with a lust for power, and thieves and criminals with no laws or police to keep their depredations in check?’

  Before she could answer de Vendôme came hurrying through the gardens towards the house. Throwing them a quick smile, he called out, ‘Aren’t you two coming in to change? If you don’t, you’ll be late for dinner.’

  As they stood up, she said, ‘There would be difficulties, of course. Every revolution has to go through its birth pangs; but we’ll talk of that another time.’ Giving him a quick glance, she added, ‘José is aware that I hold Liberal views, but not that they are so far to the Left. To know that I believe in anarchism might distress him. I have spoken to you so frankly only because you have now become deeply interested in these problems; but I rely on you to regard all I have said as in confidence.’

  He bowed. ‘I am greatly honoured that you should have given me your confidence, and you may count on me to respect it. But much as I shall look forward to discussing such matters with you again, as I am leaving for Madrid first thing tomorrow morning I fear it will not be until my return from Barcelona.’

  ‘Get your business there over quickly, then.’ She gave him the full benefit of her ravishing smile. ‘And please don’t think that because I am an anarchist I would ever dream of shielding an assassin, whatever his politics. If you are after one of those people who aided Morral I hope you get him. Have you any idea how long you are likely to be away?’
>
  ‘None at all, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Well, we shall be at San Sebastian until the end of September. Do please come to stay with us if you can. José would be delighted. You know he is very fond of you, and so am I.’

  They had reached the house, and as he held the door open for her he quickly concealed his surprise. Such a declaration by a young woman to a friend of her husband’s with whom she had never before held a private conversation was so unconventional as to be startling. But after a moment he decided that he must have misunderstood her. He had a flair for languages and his Spanish was now fluent, but by no means perfect; so he could easily have interpreted wrongly the sense of her remark. She could not have meant that she, too, was very fond of him, but that she, too, would be delighted to see him at San Sebastian.

  Nevertheless, as he watched her graceful figure mounting the curved staircase, he found himself thinking that José was a lucky man to have such a lovely and interesting woman for his wife.

  Early the following morning, de Vendôme drove the Count into Madrid. Having left the bags he had taken on his trip with his heavier luggage, which was still at the Placio Cordoba, he went out to make a number of arrangements. He had decided that the best means of penetrating anarchist circles in Barcelona would be to adopt similar measures to those he had used two years before in Paris, when ferreting out the secrets of the Masons, and pose as a Russian refugee; so his first visit was to the Russian Embassy.

  The Ambassador, Count Soltikoff, was an old friend of his father’s, and had known him from his youth; so he had no hesitation in making certain requests to him and, when asked, giving the true reason for making them.