ABSTRACT
Revolution, like war, is infinite tragedy, since, in its very nature it means pain and suffering and the tragic confusion of means with ends. The innocent not less than the guilty are its victims. It is the enemy of Reason and Freedom, the twin goddesses whose triumph gives what of beauty there is in the ultimate texture of men's lives. Where there is social conflict, Hate and Fear rule the destinies of us all, and even if there is high purpose in the price they exact, it is a purpose stained by bloody sacrifice. That is the prospect, grim and bitter and evil, we confront at the eleventh hour of what we might have made a great civilization. There are in every society little groups of devoted men and women who know that the spirit of evil can be exorcised where there is the will to find the terms of peace, and the ardour to discover the conditions of fellowship.
