ts,
attempts to capture Berlin for the cause, the successful fighting of
his own law-case. And amid all this, the writing of one of his most
wonderful and virulent books, at once deeply instructing and
passionately inflaming the German working-man.

And always the same sledge-hammer hitting at the same nail--Universal
Suffrage. Get that and you may get everything. Nourish no resentment
against the capitalists. They are the product of history as much as
your happier children will be. But on the other hand, no inertia, no
submission! Wake up! English or French working-men would follow me in
a trice. You are a pack of valets.

In such a whirl Helene von Doenniges was shot off from his mind as a
spinning-top throws off a straw.

But when, after a couple of months of colossal activity, incessant
correspondence, futile attempts to convert friends, quarrels with the
authorities, grapplings with the internal cabals of the Union itself,
he fled on his summer tour--where was the great new Party? He had
hoped to have five hundred thousand men at his back, but they had come
in by beggarly hundreds. There was even talk of an insurance bonus to
attract them. Lassalle had exaggerated both the magnetism of his
personality and the intelligence and discontent of the masses. His
masterful imagination had made the outer world a mere reflection of
his inner world. Even in those early days, when he was scarcely known,
and that favorably rather than otherwise, he had imagined himself the
pet aversion of the comfortable classes. Knowing the role he purposed
to play, his dramatic self-consciousness had reaped in anticipation
the rebel's reward. And now, though he was nearer detestation than
before, there was still no Party of revolt for him to lead. But he
worked on undaunted, Titanic, spending his money to subsidize
tottering democratic papers, using his summer journeyings to try to
attach not abilities in the countries he passed through, and his stay
at the waters to draw up a great speech, with which he toured on his
return. And now a new cry! The cowardly venal Press must be swept
away. "As true as you are here, hanging on my lips, eager and
transported, as true as my soul trembles with the purest enthusiasm in
pouring itself wholly into yours, so truly does the certainty
penetrate me that a day will come when we shall launch the thunderbolt
which will bury that Press in eternal night." He proposed that the
newspapers should therefore b