life would have been quite happy had he not been tortured by the
monstrous superstitions of others.

Then, again, in the town of Marseilles, only two years ago, I met a man
who looked well fed, and had a stalwart, square French face, and whose
politico-economic ideal, though it was not mine, greatly moved me. It
was just past midnight, and I was throwing little stones into the old
Greek harbour, the stench and the glory of which are nearly three
thousand years old; I was to be off at dawn upon a tramp steamer, and I
had so determined to pass the few hours of darkness.

I was throwing pebbles into the water, I say, and thinking about
Ulysses, when this man came slouching up, with his hands in the pockets
of his enormous corduroy trousers, and, looking at me with some contempt
from above (for he was standing, I was sitting), he began to converse
with me. We talked first of ships, then of heat and cold, and so on to
wealth and poverty; and thus it was I came upon his views, which were
that there should be a sort of break up, and houses ought to be burned,
and things smashed, and people killed; and over and above this, it
should be made plain that no one had a right to govern: not the people,
because they were always being bamboozled; obviously not the rich; least
of all, the politicians, to whom he justly applied the most derogatory
epithets. He waved his arm out in the darkness at the Phoceans, at the
half-million of Marseilles, and said, "All that should disappear." The
constructive side of his politico-economic scheme was negative. He was a
practical man. None of your fine theories for him. One step at a time.
Let there be a Chambardement--that is, a noisy collapse, and he would
think about what to do afterwards.

His was not the narrow, deductive mind. He was objective and concrete.