Then it was that the flame of indignation burst forth. It came first in a hiss and another and a third–then a crackling fire of hisses greeted his last sentence. When the hissing calmed, his voice rose slightly. He went on:
“We of the middle classes–we have risen above the great mass below us: we are permitted to learn–a little–to imitate and expand somewhat. But above us, thank God, is another group in the social organization. Here at the top stand the blessed, privileged few who are the world’s prophets and dreamers and seers–they know God; they drink deep of the rising tide of everlasting life that is booming in, flooding the 332world with mercy and love and brotherhood; and what they see in one century–and die for disclosing–we all see in the next century and fight to hold it fast!” He stood looking at the floor, then opened wide his glaring eyes, a fanatic’s mania blazing in them, lifted his arms and cried with a great voice like a trumpet: “You–you–you who have known God’s mercy and his goodness and his love–why, in the dead Christ’s name do you sit here and let the flood of life be dammed away from your brothers, stealing the waters of life like thieves from your brethren by your cruel laws and customs and the chains of social circumstance!”
They tried to hiss again but he hurried on as one possessed of a demon: “A little love, a little sacrifice, a little practical brotherly care from each of you each day would help. We don’t want your alms, we want justice. Thousands of babies–loved just as yours are loved–are slaughtered every month through poisoned food that comes from commercial greed. Thousands of fathers and brothers over this land are killed every year because it is cheaper to kill them than to protect them by machinery guarded and watched. Their blood is upon you–for by your laws, by your middle class courts you could stop its flowing. Thousands of mothers die every week from poor housing–you could stop that if you would. They are stopping it by laws in other lands. Millions of girls the world over are led like sheep to shameful lives because of industrial conditions that your vote and voice could change; and yet,” his voice lost its accusing tone and he spoke gently, even tenderly, “as babies they cuddled in their mothers’ arms and roused all the hope and inspired all the love that a soft little body may bring. Millions and millions of mothers who clasp their children to them in hope, must see those children go into life to be broken and crushed by the weight from above.”
As Grant was speaking he noticed that Morty Sands was nodding his head off in gorgeous approval. Then without thinking how his words might cut, he cried, “And look at our good friend Morty Sands who enjoys every luxury and is arrayed as the lilies of the field! What does Morty give to society that he can promise the girl who marries him, comfort and ease and all the happiness that physical affluence 333may bring? And then there sits Mugs Bowman. What can Mugs offer his girl except a life of hard, grinding work, a houseful of children and a death perhaps of slow disease? Yet Mugs must have his houseful of children for they must all work to support Morty. Where is the justice in a society organized like this?
“For Christ’s living sake,” cried the man as his face glowed in his emotion, “let life wash in from its holy source to these our brothers. Shame on you–you greedy ones, you dollar worshipers–you dam the stream, you muddy the waters, you poison the well of life–shame–shame!” he cried and then paused, gloated perhaps in his pause, for the storm he saw gathering in the crowd, to break. His face was transfigured by the passion in his heart and seemed illumined with wrath.
“The flag–the flag!” bawled deaf John Kollander, rising, “He is desecrating Old Glory!”
Then fire met fire and the conflagration was past control. It raged over the church noisily.
“Look-a here, young man,” called Joseph Calvin, standing in his seat.
“The flag–will no one defend the flag!” bellowed John Kollander, while Rhoda, his wife, looked on with amiable approval.
“P-put him out,” stuttered Kyle Perry, and his clerks and understrappers joined the clamor.