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diff --git a/5774-h/5774-h.htm b/5774-h/5774-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..089f1a2 --- /dev/null +++ b/5774-h/5774-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8105 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + They Call Me Carpenter, by Upton Sinclair + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of They Call Me Carpenter, by Upton Sinclair + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: They Call Me Carpenter + +Author: Upton Sinclair + + +Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5774] +This file was first posted on September 1, 2002 +Last Updated: March 10, 2018 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THEY CALL ME CARPENTER *** + + + + +Text file produced by Charles Aldarondo, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THEY CALL ME CARPENTER + </h1> + <h3> + A Tale of the Second Coming + </h3> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Upton Sinclair + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h4> + New York <br /> <br /> 1922 + </h4> + <h4> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </h4> + <h3> + To <br /> <br /> Charles F. Nevens <br /> <br /> True and devoted friend + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + I + </h3> + <p> + The beginning of this strange adventure was my going to see a motion + picture which had been made in Germany. It was three years after the end + of the war, and you'd have thought that the people of Western City would + have got over their war-phobias. But apparently they hadn't; anyway, there + was a mob to keep anyone from getting into the theatre, and all the other + mobs started from that. Before I tell about it, I must introduce Dr. Karl + Henner, the well-known literary critic from Berlin, who was travelling in + this country, and stopped off in Western City at that time. Dr. Henner was + the cause of my going to see the picture, and if you will have a moment's + patience, you will see how the ideas which he put into my head served to + start me on my extraordinary adventure. + </p> + <p> + You may not know much about these cultured foreigners. Their manners are + like softest velvet, so that when you talk to them, you feel as a Persian + cat must feel while being stroked. They have read everything in the world; + they speak with quiet certainty; and they are so old—old with + memories of racial griefs stored up in their souls. I, who know myself for + a member of the best clubs in Western City, and of the best college + fraternity in the country—I found myself suddenly indisposed to + mention that I had helped to win the battle of the Argonne. This foreign + visitor asked me how I felt about the war, and I told him that it was + over, and I bore no hard feelings, but of course I was glad that Prussian + militarism was finished. He answered: “A painful operation, and we all + hope that the patient may survive it; also we hope that the surgeon has + not contracted the disease.” Just as quietly as that. + </p> + <p> + Of course I asked Dr. Henner what he thought about America. His answer was + that we had succeeded in producing the material means of civilization by + the ton, where other nations had produced them by the pound. “We + intellectuals in Europe have always been poor, by your standards over + here. We have to make a very little food support a great many ideas. But + you have unlimited quantities of food, and—well, we seek for the + ideas, and we judge by analogy they must exist—” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't find them?” I laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “I have come to seek them.” + </p> + <p> + This talk occurred while we were strolling down our Broadway, in Western + City, one bright afternoon in the late fall of 1921. We talked about the + picture which Dr. Henner had recommended to me, and which we were now + going to see. It was called “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari,” and was a + “futurist” production, a strange, weird freak of the cinema art, supposed + to be the nightmare of a madman. “Being an American,” said Dr. Henner, + “you will find yourself asking, 'What good does such a picture do?' You + will have the idea that every work of art must serve some moral purpose.” + After a pause, he added: “This picture could not possibly have been + produced in America. For one thing, nearly all the characters are thin.” + He said it with the flicker of a smile—“One does not find American + screen actors in that condition. Do your people care enough about the life + of art to take a risk of starving for it?” + </p> + <p> + Now, as a matter of fact, we had at that time several millions of people + out of work in America, and many of them starving. There must be some + intellectuals among them, I suggested; and the critic replied: “They must + have starved for so long that they have got used to it, and can enjoy it—or + at any rate can enjoy turning it into art. Is not that the final test of + great art, that it has been smelted in the fires of suffering? All the + great spiritual movements of humanity began in that way; take primitive + Christianity, for example. But you Americans have taken Christ, the + carpenter—” + </p> + <p> + I laughed. It happened that at this moment we were passing St. + Bartholomew's Church, a great brown-stone structure standing at the corner + of the park. I waved my hand towards it. “In there,” I said, “over the + altar, you may see Christ, the carpenter, dressed up in exquisite robes of + white and amethyst, set up as a stained glass window ornament. But if + you'll stop and think, you'll realize it wasn't we Americans who began + that!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the other, returning my laugh, “but I think it was you who + finished him up as a symbol of elegance, a divinity of the respectable + inane.” + </p> + <p> + Thus chatting, we turned the corner, and came in sight of our goal, the + Excelsior Theatre. And there was the mob! + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <p> + At first, when I saw the mass of people, I thought it was the usual + picture crowd. I said, with a smile, “Can it be that the American people + are not so dead to art after all?” But then I observed that the crowd + seemed to be swaying this way and that; also there seemed to be a great + many men in army uniforms. “Hello!” I exclaimed. “A row?” + </p> + <p> + There was a clamor of shouting; the army men seemed to be pulling and + pushing the civilians. When we got nearer, I asked of a bystander, “What's + up?” The answer was: “They don't want 'em to go in to see the picture.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “It's German. Hun propaganda!” + </p> + <p> + Now you must understand, I had helped to win a war, and no man gets over + such an experience at once. I had a flash of suspicion, and glanced at my + companion, the cultured literary critic from Berlin. Could it possibly be + that this smooth-spoken gentleman was playing a trick upon me—trying, + possibly, to get something into my crude American mind without my + realizing what was happening? But I remembered his detailed account of the + production, the very essence of “art for art's sake.” I decided that the + war was three years over, and I was competent to do my own thinking. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Henner spoke first. “I think,” he said, “it might be wiser if I did + not try to go in there.” + </p> + <p> + “Absurd!” I cried. “I'm not going to be dictated to by a bunch of + imbeciles!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the other, “you are an American, and don't have to be. But I am + a German, and I must learn.” + </p> + <p> + I noted the flash of bitterness, but did not resent it. “That's all + nonsense, Dr. Henner!” I argued. “You are my guest, and I won't—” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, my friend,” said the other. “You can doubtless get by without + trouble; but I would surely rouse their anger, and I have no mind to be + beaten for nothing. I have seen the picture several times, and can talk + about it with you just as well.” + </p> + <p> + “You make me ashamed of myself,” I cried—“and of my country!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! It is what you should expect. It is what I had in mind when I + spoke of the surgeon contracting the disease. We German intellectuals know + what war means; we are used to things like this.” Suddenly he put out his + hand. “Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go with you!” I exclaimed. But he protested—that would + embarrass him greatly. I would please to stay, and see the picture; he + would be interested later on to hear my opinion of it. And abruptly he + turned, and walked off, leaving me hesitating and angry. + </p> + <p> + At last I started towards the entrance of the theatre. One of the men in + uniform barred my way. “No admittance here!” + </p> + <p> + “But why not?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a German show, and we aint a-goin' to allow it.” + </p> + <p> + “Now see here, buddy,” I countered, none too good-naturedly, “I haven't + got my uniform on, but I've as good a right to it as you; I was all + through the Argonne.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you want to see Hun propaganda for?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I want to see what it's like.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can't go in; we're here to shut up this show!” + </p> + <p> + I had stepped to one side as I spoke, and he caught me by the arm. I + thought there had been talk enough, and gave a sudden lurch, and tore my + arm free. “Hold on here!” he shouted, and tried to stop me again; but I + sprang through the crowd towards the box-office. There were more than a + hundred civilians in or about the lobby, and not more than twenty or + thirty ex-service men maintaining the blockade; so a few got by, and I was + one of the lucky ones. I bought my ticket, and entered the theatre. To the + man at the door I said: “Who started this?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, sir. It's just landed on us, and we haven't had time to + find out.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the picture German propaganda?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing like that at all, sir. They say they won't let us show German + pictures, because they're so much cheaper; they'll put American-made + pictures out of business, and it's unfair competition.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” I exclaimed, and light began to dawn. I recalled Dr. Henner's remark + about producing a great many ideas out of a very little food; assuredly, + the American picture industry had cause to fear competition of that sort! + I thought of old “T-S,” as the screen people call him for short—the + king of the movie world, with his roll of fat hanging over his collar, and + his two or three extra chins! I though of Mary Magna, million dollar queen + of the pictures, contriving diets and exercises for herself, and weighing + with fear and trembling every day! + </p> + <h3> + III + </h3> + <p> + It was time for the picture to begin, so I smoothed my coat, and went to a + seat, and was one of perhaps two dozen spectators before whom “The Cabinet + of Dr. Caligari” received its first public showing in Western City. The + story had to do with a series of murders; we saw them traced by a young + man, and fastened bit by bit upon an old magician and doctor. As the drama + neared its climax, we discovered this doctor to be the head of an asylum + for the insane, and the young man to be one of the inmates; so in the end + the series of adventures was revealed to us as the imaginings of a madman + about his physician and keepers. The settings and scenery were in the + style of “futurist” art—weird and highly effective. I saw it all in + the light of Dr. Henner's interpretation, the product of an old, perhaps + an overripe culture. Certainly no such picture could have been produced in + America! If I had to choose between this and the luxurious sex-stuff of + Mary Magna—well, I wondered. At least, I had been interested in + every moment of “Dr. Caligari,” and I was only interested in Mary off the + screen. Several times every year I had to choose between mortally hurting + her feelings, and watching her elaborate “vamping” through eight or ten + costly reels. + </p> + <p> + I had read many stories and seen a great many plays, in which the hero + wakes up in the end, and we realize that we have been watching a dream. I + remembered “Midsummer Night's Dream,” and also “Looking Backward.” An old, + old device of art; and yet always effective, one of the most effective! + But this was the first time I had ever been taken into the dreams of a + lunatic. Yes, it was interesting, there was no denying it; grisly stuff, + but alive, and marvelously well acted. How Edgar Allen Poe would have + revelled in it! So thinking, I walked towards the exit of the theatre, and + a swinging door gave way—and upon my ear broke a clamor that might + have come direct from the inside of Dr. Caligari's asylum. “Ya, ya. Boo, + boo! German propaganda! Pay your money to the Huns! For shame on you! + Leave your own people to starve, and send your cash to the enemy.” + </p> + <p> + I stopped still, and whispered to myself, “My God!” During all the time—an + hour or more—that I had been away on the wings of imagination, these + poor boobs had been howling and whooping outside the theatre, keeping the + crowds away, and incidentally working themselves into a fury! For a moment + I thought I would go out and reason with them; they were mistaken in the + idea that there was anything about the war, anything against America in + the picture. But I realized that they were beyond reason. There was + nothing to do but go my way and let them rave. + </p> + <p> + But quickly I saw that this was not going to be so easy as I had fancied. + Right in front of the entrance stood the big fellow who had caught my arm; + and as I came toward him I saw that he had me marked. He pointed a finger + into my face, shouting in a fog-horn voice: “There's a traitor! Says he + was in the service, and now he's backing the Huns!” + </p> + <p> + I tried to have nothing to do with him, but he got me by the arm, and + others were around me. “Yein, yein, yein!” they shouted into my ear; and + as I tried to make my way through, they began to hustle me. “I'll shove + your face in, you damned Hun!”—a continual string of such abuse; and + I had been in the service, and seen fighting! + </p> + <p> + I never tried harder to avoid trouble; I wanted to get away, but that big + fellow stuck his feet between mine and tripped me, he lunged and shoved me + into the gutter, and so, of course, I made to hit him. But they had me + helpless; I had no more than clenched my fist and drawn back my arm, when + I received a violent blow on the side of my jaw. I never knew what hit me, + a fist or a weapon. I only felt the crash, and a sensation of reeling, and + a series of blows and kicks like a storm about me. + </p> + <p> + I ask you to believe that I did not run away in the Argonne. I did my job, + and got my wound, and my honorable record. But there I had a fighting + chance, and here I had none; and maybe I was dazed, and it was the + instinctive reaction of my tormented body—anyhow, I ran. I staggered + along, with the blows and kicks to keep me moving. And then I saw half a + dozen broad steps, and a big open doorway; I fled that way, and found + myself in a dark, cool place, reeling like a drunken man, but no longer + beaten, and apparently no longer pursued. I was falling, and there was + something nearby, and I caught at it, and sank down upon a sort of wooden + bench. + </p> + <h3> + IV + </h3> + <p> + I had run into St. Bartholomew's Church; and when I came to—I fear I + cut a pitiful figure, but I have to tell the truth—I was crying. I + don't think the pain of my head and face had anything to do with it, I + think it was rage and humiliation; my sense of outrage, that I, who had + helped to win a war, should have been made to run from a gang of cowardly + rowdies. Anyhow, here I was, sunk down in a pew of the church, sobbing as + if my heart was broken. + </p> + <p> + At last I raised my head, and holding on to the pew in front, looked about + me. The church was apparently deserted. There were dark vistas; and + directly in front of me a gleaming altar, and high over it a stained glass + window, with the afternoon sun shining through. You know, of course, the + sort of figures they have in those windows; a man in long robes, white, + with purple and gold; with a brown beard, and a gentle, sad face, and a + halo of light about the head. I was staring at the figure, and at the same + time choking with rage and pain, but clenching my hands, and making up my + mind to go out and follow those brutes, and get that big one alone and + pound his face to a jelly. And here begins the strange part of my + adventure; suddenly that shining figure stretched out its two arms to me, + as if imploring me not to think those vengeful thoughts! + </p> + <p> + I knew, of course, what it meant; I had just seen a play about delirium, + and had got a whack on the head, and now I was delirious myself. I thought + I must be badly hurt; I bowed my reeling head in my arms, and began to sob + like a kid, out loud, and without shame. But somehow I forgot about the + big brute, and his face that I wanted to pound; instead, I was ashamed and + bewildered, a queer hysterical state with a half dozen emotions mixed up. + The Caligari story was in it, and the lunatic asylum; I've got a cracked + skull, I thought, and my mind will never get right again! I sat, huddled + and shuddering; until suddenly I felt a quiet hand on my shoulder, and + heard a gentle voice saying: “Don't be afraid. It is I.” + </p> + <p> + Now, I shall waste no time telling you how amazed I was. It was a long + time before I could believe what was happening to me; I thought I was + clean off my head. I lifted my eyes, and there, in the aisle of the most + decorous church of St. Bartholomew, standing with his hand on my head, was + the figure out of the stained glass window! I looked at him twice, and + then I looked at the window. Where the figure had been was a great big + hole with the sun shining through! + </p> + <p> + We know the power of suggestion, and especially when one taps the deeps of + the unconscious, where our childhood memories are buried. I had been + brought up in a religious family, and so it seemed quite natural to me + that while that hand lay on my head, the throbbing and whirling should + cease, and likewise the fear. I became perfectly quiet, and content to sit + under the friendly spell. “Why were you crying?” asked the voice, at last. + </p> + <p> + I answered, hesitatingly, “I think it was humiliation.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it something you have done?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Something that was done to me.” + </p> + <p> + “But how can a man be humiliated by the act of another?” + </p> + <p> + I saw what he meant; and I was not humiliated any more. + </p> + <p> + The stranger spoke again. “A mob,” he said, “is a blind thing, worse than + madness. It is the beast in man running away with his master.” + </p> + <p> + I thought to myself: how can he know what has happened to me? But then I + reflected, perhaps he saw them drive me into the church! I found myself + with a sudden, queer impulse to apologize for those soldier boys. “We had + some terrible fighting,” I cried. “And you know what wars do—to the + minds of the people, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the stranger, “I know, only too well.” + </p> + <p> + I had meant to explain this mob; but somehow, I decided that I could not. + How could I make him understand moving picture shows, and German + competition, and ex-service men out of jobs? There was a pause, and he + asked, “Can you stand up?” + </p> + <p> + I tried and found that I could. I felt the side of my jaw, and it hurt, + but somehow the pain seemed apart from myself. I could see clearly and + steadily; there were only two things wrong that I could find—first, + this stranger standing by my side, and second, that hole in the window, + where I had seen him standing so many Sunday mornings! + </p> + <p> + “Are you going out now?” he asked. As I hesitated, he added, tactfully, + “Perhaps you would let me go with you?” + </p> + <p> + Here was indeed a startling proposition! His costume, his long hair—there + were many things about him not adapted to Broadway at five o'clock in the + afternoon! But what could I say? It would be rude to call attention to his + peculiarities. All I could manage was to stammer: “I thought you belonged + in the church.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I?” he replied, with a puzzled look. “I'm not sure. I have been + wondering—am I really needed here? And am I not more needed in the + world?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said I, “there's one thing certain.” I pointed up to the window. + “That hole is conspicuous.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is true.” + </p> + <p> + “And if it should rain, the altar would be ruined. The Reverend Dr. + Lettuce-Spray would be dreadfully distressed. That altar cloth was left to + the church in the will of Mrs. Elvina de Wiggs, and God knows how many + thousands of dollars it cost.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose that wouldn't do,” said the stranger. “Let us see if we can't + find something to put there.” + </p> + <p> + He started up the aisle, and through the chancel. I followed, and we came + into the vestry-room, and there on the wall I noticed a full length, + life-sized portrait of old Algernon de Wiggs, president of the Empire + National Bank, and of the Western City Chamber of Commerce. “Let us see if + he would fill the place,” said the stranger; and to my amazement he drew + up a chair, and took down the huge picture, and carried it, seemingly + without effort, into the church. + </p> + <p> + He stepped upon the altar, and lifted the portrait in front of the window. + How he got it to stay there I am not sure—I was too much taken aback + by the procedure to notice such details. There the picture was; it seemed + to fit the window exactly, and the effect was simply colossal. You'd have + to know old de Wiggs to appreciate it—those round, puffy cheeks, + with the afternoon sun behind them, making them shine like two enormous + Jonathan apples! Our leading banker was clad in decorous black, as always + on Sunday mornings, but in one place the sun penetrated his form—at + one side of his chest. My curiosity got the better of me; I could not + restrain the question, “What is that golden light?” + </p> + <p> + Said the stranger: “I think that is his heart.” + </p> + <p> + “But that can't be!” I argued. “The light is on his right side; and it + seems to have an oblong shape—exactly as if it were his wallet.” + </p> + <p> + Said the other: “Where the treasure is, there will the heart be also.” + </p> + <h3> + VI + </h3> + <p> + We passed out through the arched doorway, and Broadway was before us. I + had another thrill of distress—a vision of myself walking down this + crowded street with this extraordinary looking personage. The crowds would + stare at us, the street urchins would swarm about us, until we blocked the + traffic and the police ran us in! So I thought, as we descended the steps + and started; but my fear passed, for we walked and no one followed us—hardly + did anyone even turn his eyes after us. + </p> + <p> + I realized in a little while how this could be. The pleasant climate of + Western City brings strange visitors to dwell here; we have Hindoo swamis + in yellow silk, and a Theosophist college on a hill-top, and people who + take up with “nature,” and go about with sandals and bare legs, and a mane + of hair over their shoulders. I pass them on the street now and then—one + of them carries a shepherd's crook! I remember how, a few years ago, my + Aunt Caroline, rambling around looking for something to satisfy her + emotions, took up with these queer ideas, and there came to her front + door, to the infinite bewilderment of the butler, a mild-eyed prophet in + pastoral robes, and with a little newspaper bundle in his hand. This, + spread out before my aunt, proved to contain three carrots and two onions, + carefully washed, and shining; they were the kindly fruits of the earth, + and of the prophet's own labor, and my old auntie was deeply touched, + because it appeared that this visitor was a seer, the sole composer of a + mighty tome which is to be found in the public library, and is known as + the “Eternal Bible.” + </p> + <p> + So here I was, strolling along quite as a matter of course with my strange + acquaintance. I saw that he was looking about, and I prepared for + questions, and wondered what they would be. I thought that he must + naturally be struck by such wonders as automobiles and crowded + street-cars. I failed to realize that he would be thinking about the souls + of the people. + </p> + <p> + Said he, at last: “This is a large city?” + </p> + <p> + “About half a million.” + </p> + <p> + “And what quarter are we in?” + </p> + <p> + “The shopping district.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it a segregated district?” + </p> + <p> + “Segregated? In what way?” + </p> + <p> + “Apparently there are only courtesans.” + </p> + <p> + I could not help laughing. “You are misled by the peculiarities of our + feminine fashions—details with which you are naturally not familiar—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, quite the contrary,” said he, “I am only too familiar with them. In + childhood I learned the words of the prophet: 'Because the daughters of + Zion are haughty, and walk with stretched forth necks and wanton eyes, + walking and mincing as they go, and making a tinkling with their feet; + therefore the Lord will smite with a scab the crown of the head of the + daughters of Zion, and the Lord will discover their secret parts. In that + day the Lord will take away the bravery of their tinkling ornaments about + their feet, and their cauls, and their round tires like the moon, the + chains, and the bracelets, and the mufflers, the bonnets, and the + ornaments of the legs, and the headbands, and the tablets, and the + earrings, and nose jewels, the changeable suits of apparel, and the + mantles, and the wimples, and the crisping pins, the glasses, and the fine + linen, and the hoods, and the veils. And it shall come to pass that + instead of sweet smell there shall be stink; and instead of a girdle a + rent; and instead of well set hair, baldness; and instead of a stomacher a + girding of sackcloth; and burning instead of beauty.'” + </p> + <p> + From the point of view of literature this might be great stuff; but on the + corner of Broadway and Fifth Street at the crowded hours it was unusual, + to say the least. My companion was entering into the spirit of it in a + most alarming way; he was half chanting, his voice rising, his face + lighting up. “'Thy men shall fall by the sword, and thy mighty in the war. + And her gates shall lament and mourn; and she being desolate shall sit + upon the ground.'” + </p> + <p> + “Be careful!” I whispered. “People will hear you!” + </p> + <p> + “But why should they not?” He turned on me a look of surprise. “The people + hear me gladly.” And he added: “The common people.” + </p> + <p> + Here was an aspect of my adventure which had not occurred to me before. + “My God!” I thought. “If he takes to preaching on street corners!” I + realized in a flash—it was exactly what he would be up to! A panic + seized me; I couldn't stand that; I'd have to cut and run! + </p> + <p> + I began to speak quickly. “We must get across this street while we have + time; the traffic officer has turned the right way now.” And I began + explaining our remarkable system of traffic handling. + </p> + <p> + But he stopped me in the middle. “Why do we wish to cross the street, when + we have no place to go?” + </p> + <p> + “I have a place I wish to take you to,” I said; “a friend I want you to + meet. Let us cross.” And while I was guiding him between the automobiles, + I was desperately trying to think how to back up my lie. Who was there + that would receive this incredible stranger, and put him up for the night, + and get him into proper clothes, and keep him off the soap-box? + </p> + <p> + Truly, I was in an extraordinary position! What had I done to get this + stranger wished onto me? And how long was he going to stay with me? I + found myself recalling the plight of Mary who had a little lamb! + </p> + <p> + Fate had me in its hands, and did not mean to consult me. We had gone less + than a block further when I heard a voice, “Hello! Billy!” I turned. Oh, + Lord! Oh, Lord! Of all the thankless encounters—Edgerton Rosythe, + moving picture critic of the Western City “Times.” Precisely the most + cynical, the most profane, the most boisterous person in a cynical and + profane and boisterous business! And he had me here, in full daylight, + with a figure just out of a stained glass window in St. Bartholomew's + Church! + </p> + <h3> + VII + </h3> + <p> + “Hello, Billy! Who's your good-looking friend?” Rosythe was in full sail + before a breeze of his own making. + </p> + <p> + How could I answer. “Why—er—” + </p> + <p> + The stranger spoke. “They call me Carpenter.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the critic. “Mr. Carpenter, delighted to meet you.” He gave the + stranger a hearty grip of the hand. “Are you on location?” + </p> + <p> + “Location?” said the other; and Rosythe shot an arrow of laughter towards + me. Perhaps he knew about the vagaries of my Aunt Caroline; anyhow, he + would have a fantastic tale to tell about me, and was going to exploit it + to the limit! + </p> + <p> + I made a pitiful attempt to protect my dignity. “Mr. Carpenter has just + arrived,” I began&& + </p> + <p> + “Just arrived, hey?” said the critic. “Oviparous, viviparous, or + oviviparous?” He raised his hand; actually, in the glory of his wit, he + was going to clap the stranger on the shoulder! + </p> + <p> + But his hand stayed in the air. Such a look as came on Carpenter's face! + “Hush!” he commanded. “Be silent!” And then: “Any man will join in + laughter; but who will join in disease?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey?” said Rosythe; and it was my turn to grin. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Carpenter has just done me a great service,” I explained. “I got + badly mauled in the mob—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried the other. “At the Excelsior Theatre!” Here was something to + talk about, to cover his bewilderment. “So you were in it! I was watching + them just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they still at it?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure thing!” + </p> + <p> + “A fine set of boobs,” I began— + </p> + <p> + “Boobs, nothing!” broke in the other. “What do you suppose they're doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Saving us from Hun propaganda, so they told me.” + </p> + <p> + “The hell of a lot they care about Hun propaganda! They are earning five + dollars a head.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure as you're born!” + </p> + <p> + “You really know that?” + </p> + <p> + “Know it? Pete Dailey was at a meeting of the Motion Picture Directors' + Association last night, and it was arranged to put up the money and hire + them. They're a lot of studio bums, doing a real mob scene on a real + location!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll be damned!” I said. “And what about the police?” + </p> + <p> + “Police?” laughed the critic. “Would you expect the police to work free + when the soldiers are paid? Why, Jesus Christ——” + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon?” said Carpenter. + </p> + <p> + “Why—er—” said Rosythe; and stopped, completely bluffed. + </p> + <p> + “You ought not swear,” I remarked, gravely; and then, “I must explain. I + got pounded by that mob; I was knocked quite silly, and this gentleman + found me, and healed me in a wonderful way.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said the critic, with genuine interest. “Mind cure, hey? What line?” + </p> + <p> + I was about to reply, but Carpenter, it appeared, was able to take care of + himself. “The line of love,” he answered, gently. + </p> + <p> + “See here, Rosythe,” I broke in, “I can't stand on the street. I'm + beginning to feel seedy again. I think I'll have a taxi.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the critic. “Come with me. I'm on the way to pick up the + missus. Right around the corner—a fine place to rest.” And without + further ado he took me by the arm and led me along. He was a good-hearted + chap inside; his rowdyisms were just the weapons of his profession. We + went into an office building, and entered an elevator. I did not know the + building, or the offices we came to. Rosythe pushed open a door, and I saw + before me a spacious parlor, with birds of paradise of the female sex + lounging in upholstered chairs. I was led to a vast plush sofa, and sank + into it with a sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + The stranger stood beside me, and put his hand on my head once more. It + was truly a miracle, how the whirling and roaring ceased, and peace came + back to me; it must have shown in my face, for the moving picture critic + of the Western City “Times” stood watching me with a quizzical smile + playing over his face. I could read his thoughts, as well as if he had + uttered them: “Regular Svengali stuff, by God!” + </p> + <h3> + VIII + </h3> + <p> + I was so comfortable there, I did not care what happened. I closed my eyes + for a while; then I opened them and gazed lazily about the place. I noted + that all the birds of paradise were watching Carpenter. With one accord + their heads had turned, and their eyes were riveted upon him. I found + myself thinking. “This man will make a hit with the ladies!” Like the + swamis, with their soft brown skins, and their large, dark, cow-like eyes! + </p> + <p> + There had been silence in the place. But suddenly we all heard a moan; I + felt Carpenter start, and his hand left my head. A dozen doors gave into + this big parlor—all of them closed. We perceived that the sound came + through the door nearest to us. “What is it?” I asked, of Rosythe. + </p> + <p> + “God knows,” said he; “you never can tell, in this place of torment.” + </p> + <p> + I was about to ask, “What sort of place is it?” But the moan came again, + louder, more long drawn out: “O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh!” It ended in a sort of + explosion, as if the maker of it had burst. + </p> + <p> + Carpenter turned, and took two steps towards the door; then he stopped, + hesitating. My eyes followed him, and then turned to the critic, who was + watching Carpenter, with a broad grin on his face. Evidently Rosythe was + going to have some fun, and get his revenge! + </p> + <p> + The sound came again—louder, more harrowing. It came at regular + intervals, and each time with the explosion at the end. I watched + Carpenter, and he was like a high-spirited horse that hears the cracking + of a whip over his head. The creature becomes more restless, he starts + more quickly and jumps farther at each sound. But he is puzzled; he does + not know what these lashes mean, or which way he ought to run. + </p> + <p> + Carpenter looked from one to another of us, searching our faces. He looked + at the birds of paradise in the lounging chairs. Not one of them moved a + muscle—save only those muscles which caused their eyes to follow + him. It was no concern of theirs, this agony, whatever it was. Yet, + plainly, it was the sound of a woman in torment: “O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh!” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter wanted to open that door. His hand would start towards it; then + he would turn away. Between the two impulses he was presently pacing the + room; and since there was no one who appeared to have any interest in what + he might say, he began muttering to himself. I would catch a phrase: “The + fate of woman!” And again: “The price of life!” I would hear the terrible, + explosive wail: + </p> + <p> + “O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh!” And it would wring a cry out of the depths of + Carpenter's soul: “Oh, have mercy!” + </p> + <p> + In the beginning, the moving picture critic of the Western City “Times” + had made some effort to restrain his amusement. But as this performance + went on, his face became one enormous, wide-spreading grin; and you can + understand, that made him seem quite devilish. I saw that Carpenter was + more and more goaded by it. He would look at Rosythe, and then he would + turn away in aversion. But at last he made an effort to conquer his + feelings, and went up to the critic, and said, gently: “My friend: for + every man who lives on earth, some woman has paid the price of life.” + </p> + <p> + “The price of life?” repeated the critic, puzzled. + </p> + <p> + Carpenter waved his hand towards the door. “We confront this everlasting + mystery, this everlasting terror; and it is not becoming that you should + mock.” + </p> + <p> + The grin faded from the other's face. His brows wrinkled, and he said: “I + don't get you, friend. What can a man do?” + </p> + <p> + “At least he can bow his heart; he can pay his tribute to womanhood.” + </p> + <p> + “You're too much for me,” responded Rosythe. “The imbeciles choose to go + through with it; it's their own choice.” + </p> + <p> + Said Carpenter: “You have never thought of it as the choice of God?” + </p> + <p> + “Holy smoke!” exclaimed the critic. “I sure never did!” + </p> + <p> + At that moment one of the doors was opened. Rosythe turned his eyes. “Ah, + Madame Planchet!” he cried. “Come tell us about it!” + </p> + <h3> + IX + </h3> + <p> + A stoutish woman out of a Paris fashion-plate came trotting across the + room, smiling in welcome: “Meester Rosythe!” She had black earrings + flapping from each ear, and her face was white, with a streak of scarlet + for lips. She took the critic by his two hands, and the critic, laughing, + said: “Respondez, Madame! Does God bring the ladies to this place?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, surely, Meester Rosythe! The god of beautee, he breengs them to us! + And the leetle god with the golden arrow, the rosy cheeks and the leetle + dimple—the dimple that we make heem for two hundred dollars a piece—eh, + Meester Rosythe? He breengs the ladies to us!” + </p> + <p> + The critic turned. “Madame Planchet, permit me to introduce Mr. Carpenter. + He is a man of wonder, he heals pain, and does it by means of love.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how eenteresting! But what eef love heemself ees pain—who shall + heal that, eh, Meester Carpentair?” + </p> + <p> + “O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-h!” came the moan. + </p> + <p> + Said Rosythe: “Mr. Carpenter thinks you make the ladies suffer too much. + It worries him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but the ladies do not mind! Pain? What ees eet? The lady who makes + the groans, she cannot move, and so she ees unhappy. Also, she likes to + have her own way, she ees a leetle—what you say?—spoilt. But + her troubles weel pass; she weel be beautiful, and her husband weel love + her more, and she weel be happy.” + </p> + <p> + “O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh!” from the other room; and Madame Planchet prattled + away: “I say to them, Make plenty of noises! Eet helps! No one weel be + afraid, for all here are worshippers of the god of beautee—all weel + bear the pains that he requires. Eh, Meester Carpentair?” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter was staring at her. I had not before seen such intensity of + concentration on his face. He was trying to understand this situation, so + beyond all believing. + </p> + <p> + “I weel tell you something,” said Madame Planchet, lowering her voice + confidentially. “The lady what you hear—that ees Meeses T-S. You + know Meester T-S, the magnate of the peectures?” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter did not say whether he knew or not. + </p> + <p> + “They come to me always, the peecture people; to me. The magician, the + deputee of the god of beautee. Polly Pretty, she comes, and Dolly Dimple, + she comes, and Lucy Love, she comes, and Betty Belle Bird. They come to me + for the hair, and for the eyes, and for the complexion. You are a workair + of miracles yourself—but can you do what I do? Can you make the + skeen all new? Can you make the old young?” + </p> + <p> + “O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Mary Magna, she comes to me, and she breengs me her old grandmother, and + she says, 'Madame,' she says, 'make her new from the waist up, for you can + nevair tell how the fashions weel change, and what she weel need to show.' + Ha, ha, ha, she ees wittee, ees the lovely Mary! And I take the old lady, + and her wrinkles weel be gone, and her skeen weel be soft like a leetle + baby's, and in her cheeks weel be two lovely dimples, and she weel dance + with the young boys, and they weel not know her from her grandchild—ha, + ha, ha!—ees eet not the wondair?” + </p> + <p> + I knew by now where I was. I had heard many times of Madame Planchet's + beauty-parlors. I sat, wondering; should I take Carpenter by the arm, and + lead him gently out? Or should I leave him to fight his own fight with + modern civilization? + </p> + <p> + “O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh!” + </p> + <p> + Madame turned suddenly upon me. “I know you, Meester Billee,” she said. “I + have seen you with Mees Magna! Ah, naughtee boy! You have the soft, fine + hair—you should let it grow—eight inches we have to have, and + then you can come to me for the permanent wave. So many young men come to + me for the permanent wave! You know eet? Meester Carpentair, you see, he + has let hees hair grow, and he has the permanent wave—eet could not + be bettair eef I had done eet myself. I say always, 'My work ees bettair + than nature, I tell nature by the eemperfections.' Eh, voila?” + </p> + <p> + I am not sure whether it was for the benefit of me or of Carpenter. The + deputee of the god of beautee was moved to volunteer a great revelation. + “Would you like to see how we make eet—the permanent wave? I weel + show you Messes T-S. But you must not speak—she would not like eet + if I showed her to gentlemen. But her back ees turned and she cannot move. + We do not let them see the apparatus, because eet ees rather frightful, + eet would make them seek. You will be very steel, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Mum's the word, Madame,” said Rosythe, speaking for the three of us. + </p> + <p> + “O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh!” moaned the voice. + </p> + <p> + “First, I weel tell you,” said Madame. “For the complete wave we wind the + hair in tight leetle coils on many rods. Eet ees very delicate operations—every + hair must be just so, not one crooked, not one must we skeep. Eet takes a + long time—two hours for the long hair; and eet hurts, because we + must pull eet so tight. We wrap each coil een damp cloths, and we put them + een the contacts, and we turn on the eelectreeceetee—and then eet + ees many hours that the hair ees baked, ees cooked een the proper curves, + eh? Now, very steel, eef you please!” + </p> + <p> + And softly she opened the door. + </p> + <h3> + X + </h3> + <p> + Before us loomed what I can only describe as a mountain of red female + flesh. This flesh-mountain had once apparently been slightly covered by + embroidered silk lingerie, but this was now soaked in moisture and reduced + to the texture of wet tissue paper. The top of the flesh-mountain ended in + an amazing spectacle. It appeared as if the head had no hair whatever; but + starting from the bare scalp was an extraordinary number of thin rods, six + inches or so in length. These rods stood out in every direction, and being + of gleaming metal, they gave to the head the aspect of some bright Phoebus + Apollo, known as the “far-darter;” or shall I say some fierce Maenad with + electric snakes having nickel-plated skins; or shall I say some terrific + modern war-god, pouring poison gases from a forest of chemical tubes? Over + the top of the flesh-mountain was a big metal object, a shining concave + dome with which all the tubes connected; so that a stranger to the + procedure could not have felt sure whether the mountain was holding up the + dome, or was dangling from it. A piece of symbolism done by a maniac + artist, whose meaning no one could fathom! + </p> + <p> + From the dome there was given heat; so from the pores of the + flesh-mountain came perspiration. I could not say that I actually saw + perspiration flowing from any particular pore; it is my understanding that + pores are small, and do not squirt visible jets. What I could say is that + I saw little trickles uniting to form brooks, and brooks to form rivers, + which ran down the sides of the flesh-mountain, and mingled in an ocean on + the floor. + </p> + <p> + Also I observed that flesh-mountains when exposed to heat do not stand up + of their own consistency, but have a tendency to melt and flatten; it was + necessary that this bulk should be supported, so there were three + attendants, one securely braced under each armpit, and the third with a + more precarious grip under the mountain's chin. Every thirty seconds or so + the heaving, sliding mass would emit one of those explosive groans: + “O-o-o-o-o-oh!” Then it would collapse, an avalanche would threaten to + slide, and the living caryatids would shove and struggle. + </p> + <p> + Said Madame Planchet, in her stage-whisper: “The serveece of the young god + of beautee!” And my fancy took flight. I saw proud vestals tending sacred + flames on temple-clad islands in blue Grecian seas; I saw acolytes waving + censers, and grave, bearded priests walking in processions crowned with + myrtle-wreaths. I wondered if ever since the world began, the young god of + beautee looking down from his crystal throne had beheld a stranger ritual + of adoration! + </p> + <p> + Silently we drew back from the door-way, and Madame closed the door, + reducing the promethean groans and the strong ammoniacal odors. I did not + see the face of Carpenter, because he had turned it from us. Rosythe + favored me with a smile, and whispered, “Your friend doesn't care for + beautee!” Then he added, “What do you suppose he meant by that stuff about + 'the price of life' and 'the choice of God?'” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you really get it?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I'm damned if I did.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” I said, “you didn't tell us what sort of place this was; + and Carpenter thought it must be a maternity-ward.” + </p> + <p> + The moving picture critic of the Western City “Times” gave me one wild + look; then from his throat there came a sound like the sudden bleat of a + young sheep in pain. It caused Carpenter to start, and Madame Planchet to + start, and for the first time since we entered the place, the birds of + paradise gave signs of life elsewhere than in the eye-muscles. The sheep + gave a second bleat, and then a third, and Rosythe, red in the face and + apparently choking, turned and fled to the corridor. + </p> + <p> + Madame Planchet drew me apart and said: “Meester Billee, tell me + something. Ees eet true that thees gentleman ees a healer? He takes away + the pains?” + </p> + <p> + “He did it for me,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “He ees vairy handsome, eh, Meester Billee?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is true.” + </p> + <p> + “I have an idea; eet ees a wondair.” She turned to my friend. “Meester + Carpentair, they tell me that you heal the pains. I think eet would be a + vairy fine thing eef you would come to my parlor and attend the ladies + while I give them the permanent wave, and while I skeen them, and make + them the dimples and the sweet smiles. They suffer so, the poor dears, and + eef you would seet and hold their hands, they would love eet, they would + come every day for eet, and you would be famous, and you would be reech. + You would meet—oh, such lovely ladies! The best people in the ceety + come to my beauty parlors, and they would adore you, Meester Carpentair—what + do you say to eet?” + </p> + <p> + It struck me as curious, as I looked back upon it; Madame Planchet so far + had not heard the sound of Carpenter's voice. Now she forced him to speak, + but she did not force him to look at her. His gaze went over her head, as + if he were seeing a vision; he recited: + </p> + <p> + “Because the daughters of Zion are haughty, and walk with stretched forth + necks and wanton eyes, walking and mincing as they go, and making a + tinkling with their feet; therefore the Lord will smite with a scab the + crown of the head of the daughters of Zion, and the Lord will discover + their secret parts.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mon Dieu!” cried Madame Planchet. + </p> + <p> + “In that day the Lord will take away the bravery of their twinkling + ornaments about their feet, and their cauls, and their round tires like + the moon, the chains, and the bracelets, and the mufflers, the bonnets, + and the ornaments of the legs, and the headbands, and the tablets, and the + earrings, the rings and nose jewels, the changeable suits of apparel, and + the mantles, and the wimples, and the crisping pins, the glasses, and the + fine linen, and the hoods, and the veils. And it shall come to pass that + instead of sweet smell there shall be stink; and instead of a girdle a + rent; and instead of well set hair, baldness; and instead of a stomacher a + girding of sackcloth: and burning instead of beauty.” + </p> + <p> + And at that moment the door from the corridor was flung open, and Mary + Magna came in. + </p> + <h3> + XI + </h3> + <p> + “My God, will you look who's here! Billy, wretched creature, I haven't + laid eyes on you for two months! Do you have to desert me entirely, just + because you've fallen in love with a society girl with the face of a + Japanese doll-baby? What's the matter with me, that I lose my lovers + faster than I get them? Edgerton Rosythe, come in here—you've got a + good excuse, I admit—I'm almost as much scared of your wife as you + are yourself. But still, I'd like a chance to get tired of some man first. + Hello, Planchet, how's my old grannie making out in your scalping-shop? + Say, would you think it would take three days labor for half a dozen Sioux + squaws to pull the skin off one old lady's back? And a week to tie up the + corners of her mouth and give her a permanent smile! 'Why, grannie,' I + said, 'good God, it would be cheaper to hire Charlie Chaplin to walk round + in front of you all the rest of your life!' And—why, what's this? + For the love of Peter, somebody introduce me to this gentleman. Is he a + friend of yours, Billy? Carpenter? Excuse me, Mr. Carpenter, but we + picture people learn to talk about our faces and our styles, and it isn't + every day I come on a million dollars walking round on two legs. Who does + the gentleman work for?” + </p> + <p> + The storm of Mary Magna stopped long enough for her to stare from one to + another of us. “What? You mean nobody's got him? And you all standing + round here, not signing any contracts? You, Edgerton—you haven't run + to the telephone to call up Eternal City? Well, as it happens, T-S is + going to be here in five minutes—his wife is being made beautiful + once again somewhere in this scalping-shop. Take my advice, Mr. Carpenter, + and don't sign today—the price will go up several hundred per week + as long as you hold off.” + </p> + <p> + Mary stopped again; and this was most unusual, for as a general rule she + never stopped until somebody or something stopped her. But she was + fascinated by the spectacle of Carpenter. “My good God! Where did he come + from? Why, it seems like—I'm trying to think—yes, it's the + very man! Listen, Billy; you may not believe it, but I was in a church a + couple of weeks ago. I went to see Roxanna Riddle marry that grand duke + fellow. It was in a big church over by the park—St. Bartholomew's, + they call it. I sat looking at a stained glass window over the altar, and + Billy, I swear I believe this Mr. Carpenter came down from that window!” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe he did, Mary,” I put in. + </p> + <p> + “But I'm not joking! I tell you he's the living, speaking image of that + figure. Come to think of it, he isn't speaking, he hasn't said a word! + Tell me, Mr. Carpenter, have you got a voice, or are you only a close up + from 'The Servant in the House' or 'Ben Hur'? Say something, so I can get + a line on you!” + </p> + <p> + Again I stood wondering; how would Carpenter take this? Would he bow his + head and run before a hail-storm of feminine impertinence? Would she + “vamp” him, as she did every man who came near her? Or would this man do + what no man alive had yet been able to do—reduce her to silence? + </p> + <p> + He smiled gently; and I saw that she had vamped him this much, at least—he + was going to be polite! “Mary,” he said, “I think you are carrying + everything but the nose jewels.” + </p> + <p> + “Nose jewels? What a horrid idea! Where did you get that?” + </p> + <p> + “When you came in, I was quoting the prophet Isaiah. Some eighty + generations of ladies have lived on earth since his day, Mary; they have + won the ballot, but apparently they haven't discovered anything new in the + way of ornaments. Some of the prophet's words may be strange to you, but + if you study them you will see that you've got everything he lists: 'their + tinkling ornaments about their feet, and their cauls, and their round + tires like the moon, the chains, and the bracelets, and the mufflers, the + bonnets, and the ornaments of the legs, and the headbands, and the + tablets, and the earrings, the rings, and nose jewels, the changeable + suits of apparel, and the mantles, and the wimples, and the crisping pins, + the glasses, and the fine linen, and the hoods, and the veils.'” + </p> + <p> + As Carpenter recited this list, his eyes roamed from one part to another + of the wondrous “get up” of Mary Magna. You can imagine her facing him—that + bold and vivid figure which you have seen as “Cleopatra” and “Salome,” as + “Dubarry” and “Anne Boleyn,” and I know not how many other of the famous + courtesans and queens of history. In daily life her style and manner is + every bit as staggering; she is a gorgeous brunette, and wears all the + colors there are—when she goes down the street it is like a whole + procession with flags. I'll wager that, apart from her jewels, which may + or may not have been real, she was carrying not less than five thousand + dollars worth of stuff that fall afternoon. A big black picture hat, with + a flower garden and parts of an aviary on top—but what's the use of + going over Isaiah's list? + </p> + <p> + “Everything but the nose jewels,” said Carpenter, “and they may be in + fashion next week.” + </p> + <p> + “How about the glasses?” put in Rosythe, entering into the fun. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, shucks!” said I, protecting my friend. “Turn out the contents of your + vanity-bag, Mary.” + </p> + <p> + “And the crisping-pins?” laughed the critic. + </p> + <p> + “Hasn't Madame Planchet just shown us those?” + </p> + <p> + All this while Mary had not taken her eyes off Carpenter. “So you are + really one of those religious fellows!” she exclaimed. “You'll know + exactly what to do without any directing! How perfectly incredible!” And + at that appropriate moment T-S pushed open the door and waddled in! + </p> + <h3> + XII + </h3> + <p> + You know the screen stars, of course; but maybe you do not know those + larger celestial bodies, the dark and silent and invisible stars from + which the shining ones derive their energies. So, permit me to introduce + you to T-S, the trade abbreviation for a name which nobody can remember, + which even his secretaries have to keep typed on a slip of paper just + above their machine—Tszchniczklefritszch. He came a few years ago + from Ruthenia, or Rumelia, or Roumania—one of those countries where + the consonants are so greatly in excess of the vowels. If you are as rich + as he, you call him Abey, which is easy; otherwise, you call him Mr. T-S, + which he accepts as a part of his Americanization. + </p> + <p> + He is shorter than you or I, and has found that he can't grow upward, but + can grow without limit in all lateral directions. There is always a little + more of him than his clothing can hold, and it spreads out in rolls about + his collar. He has a yellowish face, which turns red easily. He has small, + shiny eyes, he speaks atrocious English, he is as devoid of culture as a + hairy Ainu, and he smells money and goes after it like a hog into a + swill-trough. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, everybody! Madame, vere's de old voman? + </p> + <p> + “She ees being dressed—” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, speed her up! I got no time. I got—Jesus Christ!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, exactly,” said Mary Magna. + </p> + <p> + The great man of the pictures stood rooted to the spot. “Vot's dis? Some + joke you people playin' on me?” He shot a suspicious glance from one to + another of us. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mary, “he's real. Honest to God!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! You bring him for an engagement. Vell, I don't do no business outside + my office. Send him to see Lipsky in de mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + “He hasn't asked for an engagement,” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he ain't. Vell, vot's he hangin' about for? Been gittin' a permanent + vave? Ha, ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Cut it out, Abey,” said Mary Magna. “This is a gentleman, and you must be + decent. Mr. Carpenter, meet Mr. T-S.” + </p> + <p> + “Carpenter, eh? Vell, Mr. Carpenter, if I vas to make a picture vit you I + gotta spend a million dollars on it—you know you can't make no cheap + skate picture fer a ting like dat, if you do you got a piece o' cheese. + It'd gotta be a costume picture, and you got shoost as much show to market + vun o' dem today as you got vit a pauper's funeral. I spend all dat money, + and no show to git it back, and den you actors tink I'm makin' ten million + a veek off you—” + </p> + <p> + “Cut it out, Abey!” broke in Mary. “Mr. Carpenter hasn't asked anything of + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he ain't, hey? So dat's his game. Vell, he'll find maybe I can vait + as long as de next feller. Ven he gits ready to talk business, he knows + vere Eternal City is, I guess. Vot's de matter, Madame, you got dat old + voman o' mine melted to de chair?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll see, I'll see, Meester T-S,” said Madame, hustling out of the room. + </p> + <p> + Mary came up to the great man. “See here, Abey,” she said, in a low voice, + “you're making the worst mistake of your life. Apparently this man hasn't + been discovered. When he is, you know what'll happen.” + </p> + <p> + “Vere doss he come from?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. Billy here brought him. I said he must have come out of a + stained glass window in St. Bartholomew's Church.” + </p> + <p> + “Oho, ho!” said T-S. + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow, he's new, and he's too good to keep. The paper's 'll get hold of + him sure. Just look at him!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mary, can he act?” + </p> + <p> + “Act? My God, he don't have to act! He only has to look at you, and you + want to fall at his feet. Go be decent to him, and find out what he + wants.” + </p> + <p> + The great man surveyed the figure of the stranger appraisingly. Then he + went up to him. “See here, Mr. Carpenter, maybe I could make you famous. + Vould you like dat?” + </p> + <p> + “I have never thought of being famous,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “Vell, you tink of it now. If I hire you, I make you de greatest actor in + de vorld. I make it a propaganda picture fer de churches, dey vould show + it to de headens in China and in Zululand. I make you a contract fer ten + years, and I pay you five hunded dollars a veek, vedder you vork or not, + and you vouldn't have to vork so much, because I don't catch myself makin' + a million dollar feature picture vit gawd amighty and de angels in it for + no regular veekly releases. Maybe you find some cheap skate feller vit + some vild cat company vot promise you more; but he sells de picture and + makes over de money to his vife's brudders, and den he goes bust, and vere + you at den, hey? Mary Magna, here, she tell you, if you git a contract vit + old Abey, it's shoost like you got libbidy bonds. I make dat lovely lady a + check every veek fer tirty-five hunded dollars, an' I gotta sign it vit my + own hand, and I tell you it gives me de cramps to sign so much money all + de time, but I do it, and you see all dem rings and ribbons and veils and + tings vot she buys vit de money, she looks like a jeweler's shop and a + toy-store all rolled into vun goin' valkin' down de street.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Carpenter was just scolding me for that,” said Mary. “I've an idea if + you pay him a salary, he'll feed it to the poor.” + </p> + <p> + “If I pay it,” said T-S, “it's his, and he can feed it to de dicky-birds + if he vants to. Vot you say, Mr. Carpenter?” + </p> + <p> + I was waiting with curiosity to hear what he would say; but at that moment + the door from the “maternity-room” was opened, and the voice of Madame + Planchet broke in: “Here she ees!” And the flesh-mountain appeared, with + the two caryatids supporting her. + </p> + <h3> + XIII + </h3> + <p> + “My Gawd!” gasped Mrs. T-S. “I'm dyin'!” + </p> + <p> + Her husband responded, beaming, “So you gone and done it again!” + </p> + <p> + Said Mrs. T-S: “I'll never do it no more!” + </p> + <p> + Said the husband: “Y'allus say dat. Fergit it, Maw, you're all right now, + you don't have to have your hair frizzed fer six mont's!” + </p> + <p> + Said Mrs. T-S: “I gotta lie down. I'm dyin', Abey, I tell you. Lemme git + on de sofa.” + </p> + <p> + Said the husband: “Now, Maw, we gotta git to dinner—” + </p> + <p> + “I can't eat no dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Vot?” There was genuine alarm in the husband's voice. “You can't eat no + dinner? Sure you gotta eat your dinner. You can't live if you don't eat. + Come along now, Maw.” + </p> + <p> + “O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh!” + </p> + <p> + T-S went and stood before her, and a grin came over his face. “Sure, now, + ain't it fine? Say, Mary, look at dem lovely curves. Billy, shoost look + here! Vy, she looks like a kid again, don't she! Madame, you're a daisy—you + sure deliver de goods.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Planchet beamed, and the flesh-mountain was feebly cheered. “You + like it, Abey?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I like it! Maw, it's grand! It's like I got a new girl! Come on + now, git up, we go git our dinner, and den we gotta see dem night scenes + took. Don't forgit, we're payin' two tousand men five dollars apiece + tonight, and we gotta git our money out of 'em.” Then, taking for granted + that this settled it, he turned to the rest. “You come vit us, Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “I must wait for my grannie.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, you leave your car fer grannie, and you come vit us, and we git + some dinner, and den we see dem mob scenes took. You come along, Mr. + Carpenter, I gotta have some talk vit you. And you, Billy? And Rosythe—come, + pile in.” + </p> + <p> + “I have to wait for the missus,” said the critic. “We have a date.” + </p> + <p> + “Vell,” said T-S, and he went up close. “You do me a favor, Rosythe; don't + say nuttin' about dis fellow Carpenter tonight. I feed him and git him + feelin' good, and den I make a contract vit him, and I give you a front + page telegraph story, see?” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said the critic. + </p> + <p> + “Mum's de vord now,” said the magnate; and he waddled out, and the two + caryatids lifted the flesh-mountain, and half carried it to the elevator, + and Mary walked with Carpenter, and I brought up the rear. + </p> + <p> + The car of T-S was waiting at the door, and this car is something special. + It is long, like a freight-car, made all of shining gun-metal, or some + such material; the huge wheels are of solid metal, and the fenders are so + big and solid, it looks like an armored military car. There is an extra + wheel on each side, and two more locked on to the rear. There is a + chauffeur in uniform, and a footman in uniform, just to open the doors and + close them and salute you as you enter. Inside, it is all like the sofas + in Madame's scalping shop; you fall into them, and soft furs enfold you, + and you give a sigh of Contentment, “O-o-o-o-o-o-oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Prince's,” said T-S to the chauffeur, and the palace on wheels began to + glide along. It occurred to me to wonder that T-S was not embarrassed to + take Carpenter to a fashionable eating-place. But I could read his + thoughts; everybody would assume that he had been “on location” with one + of his stars; and anyhow, what the hell? Wasn't he Abey + Tszchniczklefritszch? + </p> + <p> + “Wor-r-r-r-r! Wor-r-r-r-r-r!” snarled the horn of the car; and I could + understand the meaning of this also. It said: “I am the car of Abey + Tszchniczklefritszch, king of the movies, future king of the world. Get + the hell out o' my way!” So we sped through the crowded streets, and + pedestrians scattered like autumn leaves before a storm. “My Gawd, but I'm + hungry!” said T-S. “I ain't had nuttin' to eat since lunch-time. How goes + it, Maw? Feelin' better? Vell, you be all right ven you git your grub.” + </p> + <p> + So we came to Prince's, and drew up before the porte-cochere, and found + ourselves confronting an adventure. There was a crowd before the place, a + surging throng half-way down the block, with a whole line of policemen to + hold them back. Over the heads of the crowd were transparencies, frame + boxes with canvas on, and lights inside, and words painted on them. + “Hello!” cried T-S. “Vot's dis?” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly I recalled what I had read in the morning's paper. The workers of + the famous lobster palace had gone on strike, and trouble was feared. I + told T-S, and he exclaimed: “Oh, hell! Ain't we got troubles enough vit + strikers in de studios, vitout dey come spoilin' our dinner?” + </p> + <p> + The footman had jumped from his seat, and had the door open, and the great + man began to alight. At that moment the mob set up a howl. “For shame! For + shame! Unfair! Don't go in there! They starve their workers! They're + taking the bread out of our mouths! Scabs! Scabs!” + </p> + <p> + I got out second, and saw a spectacle of haggard faces, shouting menaces + and pleadings; I saw hands waved wildly, one or two fists clenched; I saw + the police, shoving against the mass, poking with their sticks, none too + gently. A poor devil in a waiter's costume stretched out his arms to me, + yelling in a foreign dialect: “You take de food from my babies!” The next + moment the club of a policeman came down on his head, crack. I heard Mary + scream behind me, and I turned, just in the nick of time. Carpenter was + leaping toward the policeman, crying, “Stop!” + </p> + <p> + There was no chance to parley in this emergency. I grabbed Carpenter in a + foot-ball tackle. I got one arm pinned to his side, and Mary, good old + scout, got the other as quickly. She is a bit of an athlete—has to + keep in training for those hoochie-coochies and things she does, when she + wins the love of emperors and sultans and such-like world-conquerors. + Also, when we got hold of Carpenter, we discovered that he wasn't much but + skin and bones anyhow. We fairly lifted him up and rushed him into the + restaurant; and after the first moment he stopped resisting, and let us + lead him between the aisles of diners, on the heels of the toddling T-S. + There was a table reserved, in an alcove, and we brought him to it, and + then waited to see what we had done. + </p> + <h3> + XIV + </h3> + <p> + Carpenter turned to me-and those sad but everchanging eyes were flashing. + “You have taken a great liberty!” + </p> + <p> + “There wasn't any time to argue,” I said. “If you knew what I know about + the police of Western City and their manners, you wouldn't want to monkey + with them.” + </p> + <p> + Mary backed me up earnestly. “They'd have mashed your face, Mr. + Carpenter.” + </p> + <p> + “My face?” he repeated. “Is not a man more than his face?” + </p> + <p> + You should have heard the shout of T-S! “Vot? Ain't I shoost offered you + five hunded dollars a veek fer dat face, and you vant to go git it + smashed? And fer a lot o' lousy bums dat vont vork for honest vages, and + vont let nobody else vork! Honest to Gawd, Mr. Carpenter, I tell you some + stories about strikes vot we had on our own lot—you vouldn't spoil + your face for such lousy sons-o'-guns—” + </p> + <p> + “Ssh, Abey, don't use such langwich, you should to be shamed of yourself!” + It was Maw, guardian of the proprieties, who had been extracted from the + car by the footman, and helped to the table. + </p> + <p> + “Vell, Mr. Carpenter, he dunno vot dem fellers is like—” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Abey!” commanded the old lady. “Ve ain't ordered no stump + speeches fer our dinner.” + </p> + <p> + We seated ourselves. And Carpenter turned his dark eyes on me. “I observe + that you have many kinds of mobs in your city,” he remarked. “And the + police do interfere with some of them.” + </p> + <p> + “My Gawd!” cried T-S. “You gonna have a lot o' bums jumpin' on people ven + dey try to git to dinner?” + </p> + <p> + Said Carpenter: “Mr. Rosythe said that the police would not work unless + they were paid. May I ask, who pays them to work here? Is it the + proprietor of the restaurant?” + </p> + <p> + “Vell,” cried T-S, “ain't he gotta take care of his place?” + </p> + <p> + “As a matter of fact,” said I, laughing, “from what I read in the 'Times' + this morning, I gather that an old friend of Mr. Carpenter's has been + paying in this case.” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter looked at me inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Algernon de Wiggs, president of the Chamber of Commerce, issued a + statement denouncing the way the police were letting mobs of strikers + interfere with business, and proposing that the Chamber take steps to stop + it. You remember de Wiggs, and how we left him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I remember,” said Carpenter; and we exchanged a smile over that + trick we had played. + </p> + <p> + I could see T-S prick forward his ears. “Vot? You know de Viggs?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Carpenter possesses an acquaintance with our best society which will + astonish you when you realize it.” + </p> + <p> + “Vy didn't you tell me dat?” demanded the other; and I could complete the + sentence for him: “Somebody has offered him more money!” + </p> + <p> + Here the voice of Maw was heard: “Ain't we gonna git nuttin' to eat?” + </p> + <p> + So for a time the problem of capital and labor was put to one side. There + were two waiters standing by, very nervous, because of the strike. T-S + grabbed the card from one, and read off a list of food, which the waiter + wrote down. Maw, who was learning the rudiments of etiquette, handed her + card to Mary, who gave her order, and then Maw gave hers, and I gave mine, + and there was only Carpenter left. + </p> + <p> + He was sitting, his dark eyes roaming here and there about the + dining-room. Prince's, as you may know, is a gorgeous establishment: too + much so for my taste—it has almost as much gilded moulding as if T-S + had designed it for a picture palace. In front of Carpenter's eyes sat a + dame with a bare white back, and a rope of big pearls about it, and a + tiara of diamonds on top; and beyond her were more dames, and yet more, + and men in dinner-coats, putting food into red faces. You and I get used + to such things, but I could understand that to a stranger it must be + shocking to see so many people feeding so expensively. + </p> + <p> + “Vot you vant to order, Mr. Carpenter?” demanded T-S; and I waited, full + of curiosity. What would this man choose to eat in a “lobster palace”? + </p> + <p> + Carpenter took the card from his host and studied it. Apparently he had no + difficulty in finding the most substantial part of the menu. “I'll have + prime ribs of beef,” said he; “and boiled mutton with caper sauce; and + young spring turkey; and squab en casserole; and milk fed guinea fowl—” + The waiter, of course, was obediently writing down each item. “And planked + steak with mushrooms; and braised spare ribs—” + </p> + <p> + “My Gawd!” broke in the host. + </p> + <p> + “And roast teal duck; and lamb kidneys—” + </p> + <p> + “Fer the love o' Mike, Mr. Carpenter, you gonna eat all dat?” + </p> + <p> + “No; of course not.” + </p> + <p> + “Den vot you gonna do vit it?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to take it to the hungry men outside.” + </p> + <p> + Well, sir, you'd have thought the world had stopped turning round, so + still it was. The two waiters nearly dropped their order-pads and their + napkins; they did drop their jaws, and Mrs. T-S's permanent wave seemed + about to go flat. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hell!” cried T-S at last. “You can't do it!” + </p> + <p> + “I can't?” + </p> + <p> + “You can't order only vot you gonna eat.” + </p> + <p> + “But then, I don't want anything. I'm not hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “But you can't sit here like a dummy, man!” He turned to the waiter. “You + bring him de same vot you bring me. Unnerstand? And git a move on, cause + I'm starvin'. Fade out now!” And the waiter turned and fled. + </p> + <h3> + XV + </h3> + <p> + The proprietor of Eternal City wiped his perspiring forehead with his + napkin, and started rather hurriedly to make conversation. I understood + that he wanted to enjoy his dinner, and proposed to talk about something + pleasant in the meantime. “I vonna tell you about dis picture ve're goin' + to see took, Mr. Carpenter. I vant you should see de scale we do tings on, + ven we got a big subjic. Y'unnerstand, dis is a feature picture ve're + makin' now; a night picture, a big mob scene.”. + </p> + <p> + “Mob scene?” said Carpenter. “You have so many mobs in this world of + yours!” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, sure,” said T-S. “You gotta take dis vorld de vay you find it. + Y'can't change human nature, y'know. But dis vot you're gonna see tonight + is only a play mob, y'unnerstand.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what seems strangest of all to me,” said the other, thoughtfully. + “You like mobs so well that you make imitation ones!” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, de people, dey like to see crowds in a picture, and dey like to see + action. If you gonna have a big picture, you gotta spend de money.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not take this real mob that is outside the door?” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha, ha! Ve couldn't verk dat very good, Mr. Carpenter. Ve gotta have + it in de right set; and ven you git a real mob, it don't alvays do vot you + vant exactly! Besides, you can't take night pictures unless you got your + lights and everyting. No, ve gotta make our mobs to order; we got two + tousand fellers hired—” + </p> + <p> + “What Mr. Rosythe called 'studio bums'? You have that many?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, we could git ten tousand if de set vould hold 'em. Dis picture is + called 'De Tale o' Two Cities,' and it's de French revolution. It's about + a feller vot takes anodder feller's place and gits his head cut off; and + say, dere's a sob story in it vot's a vunder. Ven dey brought me de + scenario, I says, 'Who's de author?' Dey says, 'It's a guy named Charles + Dickens.' 'Dickens?' says I. 'Vell, I like his verk. Vot's his address?' + And Lipsky, he says, says he, 'Dey tell me he stays in a place called + Vestminster Abbey, in England.' 'Vell,' says I, 'send him a cablegram and + find out vot he'll take fer an exclusive contract.' So we sent a cablegram + to Charles Dickens, Vestminster Abbey, England, and we didn't git no + answer, and come to find out, de boys in de studios vas havin' a laugh on + old Abey, because dis guy Dickens is some old time feller, and de Abbey is + vere dey got his bones. Vell, dey can have deir fun—how de hell's a + feller like me gonna git time to know about writers? Vy, only twelve years + ago, Maw here and me vas carryin' pants in a push-cart fer a livin', and + we didn't know if a book vas top-side up or bottom—ain't it, Maw?” + </p> + <p> + Maw certified that it was—though I thought not quite so eagerly as + her husband. There were five little T-S's growing up, and bringing + pressure to let the dead past stay buried, in Vestminster Abbey or + wherever it might be. + </p> + <p> + The waiter brought the dinner, and spread it before us. And T-S tucked his + napkin under both ears, and grabbed his knife in one hand and his fork in + the other, and took a long breath, and said: “Good-bye, folks. See you + later!” And he went to work. + </p> + <h3> + XVI + </h3> + <p> + For five minutes or so there was no sound but that of one man's food going + in and going down. Then suddenly the man stopped, with his knife and fork + upright on the table in each hand, and cried: “Mr. Carpenter, you ain't + eatin' nuttin'!” + </p> + <p> + The stranger, who had apparently been in a daydream, came suddenly back to + Prince's. He looked at the quantities of food spread about him. “If you'd + only let me take a little to those men outside!” He said it pleadingly. + </p> + <p> + But T-S tapped imperiously on the table, with both his knife and fork + together. “Mr. Carpenter, eat your dinner! Eat it, now, I say!” It was as + if he were dealing with one of the five little T-S's. And Carpenter, + strange as it may seem, obeyed. He picked up a bit of bread, and began to + nibble it, and T-S went to work again. + </p> + <p> + There was another five minutes of silence; and then the picture magnate + stopped, with a look of horror on his face. “My Gawd! He's cryin'!” Sure + enough, there were two large tears trickling, one down each cheek of the + stranger, and dropping on the bread he was putting into his mouth! + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Mr. Carpenter,” protested T-S. “Is it dem strikers?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry; you see—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, honest, man, vy should you spoil your dinner fer a bunch o' damn + lousy loafers—” + </p> + <p> + “Abey, vot a vay to talk at a dinner-party!” broke in Maw. + </p> + <p> + And then suddenly Mary Magna spoke. It was a strange thing, though I did + not realize it until afterwards. Mary, the irrepressible, had hardly said + one word since we left the beauty parlors! Mary, always the life of dinner + parties, was sitting like a woman who had seen the ghost of a dead child; + her eyes following Carpenter's, her mind evidently absorbed in probing his + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Abey!” said she, with sudden passion, of a sort I'd never seen her + display before. “Forget your grub for a moment, I have something to say. + Here's a man with a heart full of love for other people—while you + and I are just trying to see what we can get out of them! A man who really + has a religion—and you're trying to turn him into a movie doll! Try + to get it through your skull, Abey!” + </p> + <p> + The great man's eyes were wide open. “Holy smoke, Mary! Vot's got into + you?” And suddenly he almost shrieked. “Lord! She's cryin' too!” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm not,” declared Mary, vialiantly. But there were two drops on her + cheeks, so big that she was forced to wipe them away. “It's just a little + shame, that's all. Here we sit, with three times as much food before us as + we can eat; and all over this city are poor devils with nothing to eat, + and no homes to go to—don't you know that's true, Abey? Don't you + know it, Maw?” + </p> + <p> + “Looka here, kid,” said the magnate; “you know vot'll happen to you if you + git to broodin' over tings? You git your face full o' wrinkles—you + already gone and spoilt your make-up.” + </p> + <p> + “Shucks, Abey,” broke in Maw, “vot you gotta do vit dat? Vy don't you mind + your own business?” + </p> + <p> + “Mind my own business? My own business, you say? Vell, I like to know vot + you call my business! Ven I got a contract to pay a girl tirty-five hunded + dollars a veek fer her face, and she goes and gits it all wrinkles, I ask + any jury, is it my business or ain't it? And if a feller vants to pull de + tremulo stop fer a lot o' hoboes and Bullsheviki, and goes and spills his + tears into his soup—” + </p> + <p> + It sounded fierce; but Mary apparently knew her Abey; also, she saw that + Maw was starting to cry. “There's no use trying to bluff me, Abey. You + know as well as I do there are hungry people in this city, and no fault of + theirs. You know, too, you eat twice what you ought to, because I've heard + the doctor tell you. I'm not blaming you a bit more than I do myself—me, + with two automobiles, and a whole show-window on my back.” And suddenly + she turned to Carpenter. “What can we do?” + </p> + <p> + He answered: “Here, men gorge themselves; in Russia they are eating their + dead.” + </p> + <p> + T-S dropped his knife and fork, and Maw gave a gulp. “Oh, my Gawd!” + </p> + <p> + “There are ten million people doomed to starve. Their children eat grass, + and their bellies swell up and their legs dwindle to broom-sticks; they + stagger and fall into the ditches, and other children tear their flesh and + devour it.” + </p> + <p> + “O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh!” wailed Maw; and the diners at Prince's began to + stare. + </p> + <p> + “Now looka here!” cried T-S, wildly. “I say dis ain't no decent way to + behave at a party. I say it ain't on de level to be a feller's guest, and + den jump on him and spoil his dinner. See here, Mr. Carpenter, I tell you + vot I do. You be good and eat your grub, so it don't git vasted, and I + promise you, tomorrow I go and hunt up strike headquarters, and give dem a + check fer a tousand dollars, and if de damn graftin' leaders don't hog it, + dey all git someting to eat. And vot's more, I send a check fer five + tousand to de Russian relief. Now ain't dat square? Vot you say?” + </p> + <p> + “What I say is, Mr. T-S, I cannot be the keeper of another man's + conscience. But I'll try to eat, so as not to be rude.” + </p> + <p> + And T-S grunted, and went back to his feeding; and the stranger made a + pretense of eating, and we did the same. + </p> + <h3> + XVII + </h3> + <p> + It happens that I was brought up in a highly conscientious family. To my + dear mother, and to her worthy sisters, there is nothing in the world more + painful than what they call a “scene”—unless possibly it is what + they call a “situation.” And here we had certainly had a “scene,” and + still had a “situation.” So I sat, racking my brains to think of something + safe to talk about. I recalled that T-S had had pretty good success with + his “Tale of Two Cities” as a topic of conversation, so I began: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Carpenter, the spectacle you are going to see this evening is rather + remarkable from the artistic point of view. One of the greatest scenic + artists of Paris has designed the set, and the best judges consider it a + real achievement, a landmark in moving picture work.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about it,” said Carpenter; and I was grateful for his tone of + interest. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know how much you know about picture making—” + </p> + <p> + “You had better explain everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. T-S has built a large set, representing a street scene in Paris + over a century ago. He has hired a thousand men—” + </p> + <p> + “Two tousand!” broke in T-S. + </p> + <p> + “In the advertisements?” I suggested, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” insisted the other. “Two tousand, really. In de advertisements, + five tousand.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said I, “these men wear costumes which T-S has had made for them, + and they pretend to be a mob. They have been practicing all day, and by + now they know what to do. There is a man with a megaphone, shouting orders + to them, and enormous lights playing upon them, so that men with cameras + can take pictures of the scene. It is very vivid, and as a portrayal of + history, is truly educational.” + </p> + <p> + “And when it is done—what becomes of the men?” + </p> + <p> + Utterly hopeless, you see! We were right back on the forbidden ground! + “How do you mean?” I evaded. + </p> + <p> + “I mean, how do they live?” + </p> + <p> + “Dey got deir five dollars, ain't dey?” It was T-S, of course. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but that won' last very long, will it? What is the cost of this + dinner we are eating?” + </p> + <p> + The magnate of the movies looked to the speaker, and then burst into a + laugh. “Ho, ho, ho! Dat's a good vun!” + </p> + <p> + Said I, hastily: “Mr. T-S means that there are cheaper eating places to be + found.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Carpenter, “why don't we find one?” + </p> + <p> + “It's no use, Billy. He thinks it's up to me to feed all de bums on de + lot. Is dat it, Mr. Carpenter?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't say, Mr. T-S; I don't know how many there are, and I don't know + how rich you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, dey got five million out o' verks in this country now, and if I + vanted to bust myself, I could feed 'em vun day, maybe two. But ven I got + done, dey vouldn't be nobody to make pictures, and somebody vould have to + feed old Abey—or maybe me and Maw could go back to carryin' pants in + a push cart! If you tink I vouldn't like to see all de hungry fed, you got + me wrong, Mr. Carpenter; but vot I learned is dis—if you stop fer + all de misery you see in de vorld about you, you vouldn't git novhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Carpenter, “what difference would that make?” + </p> + <p> + The proprietor of Eternal City really wanted to make out the processes of + this abnormal mind. He wrinkled his brows, and thought very hard over it. + </p> + <p> + “See here, Mr. Carpenter,” he began at last, “I tink you got hold o' de + wrong feller. I'm a verkin' man, de same as any mechanic on my lot. I + verked ever since I vas a liddle boy, and if I eat too much now, maybe + it's because I didn't get enough ven I vas liddle. And maybe I got more + money dan vot I got a right to, but I know dis—I ain't never had + enough to do half vot I vant to! But dere's plenty fellers got ten times + vot I got, and never done a stroke o' vork fer it. Dey're de vuns + y'oughter git after!” + </p> + <p> + Said Carpenter: “I would, if I knew how.” + </p> + <p> + “Dey's plenty of 'em right in dis room, I bet.” And Mary added: “Ask + Billy; he knows them all!” + </p> + <p> + “You flatter me, Mary,” I laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't dey some of 'em here?” demanded T-S. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's true. There are some not far away, who are developing a + desire to meet Mr. Carpenter, unless I miss the signs.” + </p> + <p> + “Vere are dey at?” demanded T-S. + </p> + <p> + “I won't tell you that,” I laughed, “because you'd turn and stare into + their faces.” + </p> + <p> + “So he vould!” broke in Maw. “How often I gotta tell you, Abey? You got no + more manners dan if you vas a jimpanzy.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said the magnate, grinning good naturedly. “I'll keep + a-eatin' my dinner. Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's Mrs. Parmelee Stebbins,” said I. “She boasts a salon, and has to + have what are called lions, and she's been watching Mr. Carpenter out of + the corner of her eye ever since he came into the room—trying to + figure out whether he's a lion, or only an actor. If his skin were a bit + dark, she would be sure he was an Eastern potentate; as it, she's afraid + he's of domestic origin, in which case he's vulgar. The company he keeps + is against him; but still—Mrs. Stebbins has had my eye three times, + hoping I would give her a signal, I haven't given it, so she's about to + leave.” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, she can go to hell!” said T-S, keeping his promise to devote + himself to his dinner. “I offered Parmelee Stebbins a tird share in 'De + Pride o' Passion' fer a hunded tousand dollars, and de damn fool turned me + down, and de picture has made a million and a quarter a'ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said I, “he's probably paying for it by sitting up late to buy the + city council on this new franchise grab of his; and so he hasn't kept his + date to dine with his expensive family at Prince's. Here is Miss Lucinda + Stebbins; she's engaged to Babcock, millionaire sport and man about town, + but he's taking part in a flying race over the Rocky Mountains tonight, + and so Lucinda feels bored, and she knows the vaudeville show is going to + be tiresome, but still she doesn't want to meet any freaks. She has just + said to her mother that she can't see why a person in her mother's + position can't be content to meet proper people, but always has to be + getting herself into the newspapers with some new sort of nut.” + </p> + <p> + “My Gawd, Billy!” cried Maw. “You got a dictaphone on dem people?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but I know the type so well, I can tell by their looks. Lucinda is + thinking about their big new palace on Grand Avenue, and she regards + everyone outside her set as a burglar trying to break in. And then there's + Bertie Stebbins, who's thinking about a new style of collar he saw + advertised to-day, and how it would look on him, and what impression it + would make on his newest girl.” + </p> + <p> + It was Mary who spoke now: “I know that little toad. I've seen him dancing + at the Palace with Dorothy Doodles, or whatever her name is.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said I, “Mrs. Stebbins runs the newer set—those who hunt + sensations, and make a splurge in the papers. It costs like smoke, of + course—” And suddenly I stopped. “Look out!” I whispered. “Here she + comes!” + </p> + <h3> + XVIII + </h3> + <p> + I heard Maw catch her breath, and I heard Maw's husband give a grunt. Then + I rose. “How are you, Billy?” gurgled a voice—one of those voices + made especially for social occasions. “Wretched boy, why do you never come + to see us?” + </p> + <p> + “I was coming to-morrow,” I said—for who could prove otherwise? + “Mrs. Stebbins, permit me to introduce Mrs. Tszchniczklefritszch.” + </p> + <p> + “Charmed to meet you, I'm sure,” said Mrs. Stebbins. “I've heard my + husband speak of your husband so often. How well you are looking, Mrs.—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped; and Maw, knowing the terrors of her name, made haste to say + something agreeable. “Yes, ma'am; dis country agrees vit me fine. Since I + come here, I've rode and et, shoost rode and et.” + </p> + <p> + “And Mr. T-S,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Howdydo, Mr. T-S?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty good, ma'am,” said T-S. He had been caught with his mouth full, + and was making desperate efforts to swallow. + </p> + <p> + A singular thing is the power of class prestige! Here was Maw, a good + woman, according to her lights, who had worked hard all her life, and had + achieved a colossal and astounding success. She had everything in the + world that money could buy; her hair was done by the best hair-dresser, + her gown had been designed by the best costumer, her rings and bracelets + selected by the best jeweller; and yet nothing was right, no power on + earth could make it right, and Maw knew it, and writhed the consciousness + of it. And here was Mrs. Parmelee Stebbins, who had never done a useful + thing in all her days—except you count the picking out of a rich + husband; yet Mrs. Stebbins was “right,” and Maw knew it, and in the + presence of the other woman she was in an utter panic, literally quivering + in every nerve. And here was old T-S, who, left to himself, might have + really meant what he said, that Mrs. Stebbins could go to hell; but + because he was married, and loved his wife, he too trembled, and gulped + down his food! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Stebbins is one of those American matrons who do not allow marriage + and motherhood to make vulgar physical impressions upon them. Her pale + blue gown might have been worn by her daughter; her cool grey eyes looked + out through a face without a wrinkle from a soul without a care. She was a + patroness of art and intellect; but never did she forget her fundamental + duty, the enhancing of the prestige of a family name. When she was + introduced to a screen-actress, she was gracious, but did not forget the + difference between an actress and a lady. When she was introduced to a + strange man who did not wear trousers, she took it quite as an everyday + matter, revealing no trace of vulgar human curiosity. + </p> + <p> + There came Bertie, full grown, but not yet out of the pimply stage, and + still conscious of the clothes which he had taken such pains to get right. + Bertie's sister remained in her seat, refusing naughtily to be compromised + by her mother's vagaries; but Bertie had a purpose, and after I had + introduced him round, I saw what he wanted—Mary Magna! Bertie had a + vision of himself as a sort of sporting prince in this movie world. His + social position would make conquests easy; it was a sort of + Christmas-tree, all a-glitter with prizes. + </p> + <p> + I was standing near, and heard the beginning of their conversation. “Oh, + Miss Magna, I'm so pleased to meet you. I've heard so much about you from + Miss Dulles.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dulles?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; Dorothy Dulles.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry. I don't think I ever heard of her.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Dorothy Dulles, the screen actress?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't place her.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but she's a star!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but you know, Mr. Stebbins—there are so many stars in the + heavens, and not all of them visible to the eye.” + </p> + <p> + I turned to Bertie's mamma. She had discovered that Carpenter looked even + more thrilling on a close view; he was not a stage figure, but a really + grave and impressive personality, exactly the thing to thrill the ladies + of the Higher Arts Club at their monthly luncheon, and to reflect prestige + upon his discoverer. So here she was, inviting the party to share her box + at the theatre; and here was T-S explaining that it couldn't be done, he + had got to see his French revolution pictures took, dey had five tousand + men hired to make a mob. I noted that Mrs. Stebbins received the + “advertising” figures on the production! + </p> + <p> + The upshot of it was that the great lady consented to forget her box at + the theatre, and run out to the studios to see the mob scenes for the “The + Tale of Two Cities.” T-S hadn't quite finished his dinner, but he waved + his hand and said it was nuttin', he vouldn't keep Mrs. Stebbins vaitin'. + He beckoned the waiter, and signed his magic name on the check, with a + five-dollar bill on top for a tip. Mrs. Stebbins collected her family and + floated to the door, and our party followed. + </p> + <p> + I expected another scene with the mob; but I found that the street had + been swept clear of everything but policemen and chauffeurs. I knew that + this must have meant rough work on the part of the authorities, but I said + nothing, and hoped that Carpenter would not think of it. The Stebbins car + drew up by the porte-cochere; and suddenly I discovered why the wife of + the street-car magnate was known as a “social leader.” “Billy,” she said, + “you come in our car, and bring Mr. Carpenter; I have something to talk to + you about.” Just that easily, you see! She wanted something, so she asked + for it! + </p> + <p> + I took Carpenter by the arm and put him in. Bertie drove, the chauffeur + sitting in the seat beside him. “Beat you to it!” called Bertie, with his + invincible arrogance, and waved his hand to the picture magnate as we + rolled away. + </p> + <h3> + XIX + </h3> + <p> + As it happened, we made a poor start. Turning the corner into Broadway, we + found ourselves caught in the jam of the theatre traffic, and our car was + brought to a halt in front of the “Empire Varieties.” If you have been on + any Broadway between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, you can imagine the + sight; the flaring electric signs, the pictures of the head line artists, + the people waiting to buy tickets, and the crowds on the sidewalk pushing + past. There was one additional feature, a crowd of “rah-rah boys,” with + yellow and purple flags in their hands, and the glory of battle in their + eyes. As our car halted, the cheer-leader gave a signal, and a hundred + throats let out in unison: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Rickety zim, rickety zam, + Brickety, stickety, slickety slam! + Wallybaloo! Billybazoo! + We are the boys for a hullabaloo—Western City!” + </pre> + <p> + It sounded all the more deafening, because Bertie, in the front seat, had + joined in. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” said I. “We must have won the ball-game!” + </p> + <p> + “You <i>bet</i> we did!” said Bertie, in his voice of bursting + self-importance. + </p> + <p> + “Ball-game?” asked Carpenter. + </p> + <p> + “Foot-ball,” said I. “Western City played Union Tech today. Wonder what + the score was.” + </p> + <p> + The cheer leader seemed to take the words out of my mouth. Again the + hundred voices roared: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “What was the score? + Seventeen to four! + Who got it in the neck? + Union Tech! + Who took the kitty? + Western City!” + </pre> + <p> + Then more waving of flags, and yells for our prize captain and our agile + quarter-back: “Rah, rah, rah, Jerry Wilson! Rah, rah, rah, Harriman! + Western City, Western City, Western City! W-E-S-T-E-R-N-C-I-T-Y! Western + City!” + </p> + <p> + You have heard college yells, no doubt, and can imagine the tempo of these + cries, the cumulative rush of the spelled out letters, the booming roar at + the end. The voice of Bertie beat back from the wind-shield with + devastating effect upon our ears; and then our car rolled on, and the + clamor died away, and I answered the questions of Carpenter. “They are + college boys. They have won a game with another college, and are + celebrating the victory.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said the other, “how do they manage to shout all together that + way?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they've practiced that, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—they gather and practice making those noises?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely.” + </p> + <p> + “They make them in cold blood?” + </p> + <p> + I laughed. “Well, the blood of youth is seldom entirely cold. They imagine + the victory while they rehearse, no doubt.” + </p> + <p> + When Carpenter spoke again, it was half to himself. “You make your + children into mobs! You train them for it!” + </p> + <p> + “It really isn't that bad,” I replied. “It's all in good temper—it's + their play.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes! But what is play but practice for reality? And how shall love + be learned in savage war-dances?” + </p> + <p> + They tell us that we have a new generation of young people since the war; + a generation which thinks for itself, and has its own way. I was an + advocate of this idea in the abstract, but I must admit that I was + startled by the concrete case which I now encountered. Bertie suddenly + looked round from his place in the driver's seat. “Say,” he demanded, in a + grating voice, “where was that guy raised?” + </p> + <p> + “Bertie <i>dear</i>!” cried his mother. “Don't be rude!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not being rude,” replied the other. “I just want to know where he got + his nut ideas.” + </p> + <p> + “Bertie <i>dear</i>!” cried the mother, again; and you knew that for + eighteen or nineteen years she had been crying “Bertie <i>dear</i>!”—in + a tone in which rebuke was tempered by fatuous maternal admiration. And + all the time, Bertie had gone on doing what he pleased, knowing that in + her secret heart his mother was smiling with admiration of his + masterfulness, taking it as one more symptom of the greatness of the + Stebbins line. I could see him in early childhood, stamping on the floor + and commanding his governess to bring him a handkerchief—and + throwing his shoe at her when she delayed! + </p> + <p> + Presently it was Lucinda's turn. Lucinda, you understand, was in revolt + against the social indignity which her mother had inflicted upon her. When + Carpenter had entered the car, she had looked at him once, with a + deliberate stare, then lifted her chin, ignoring my effort to introduce + him to her. Since then she had sat silent, cold, and proud. But now she + spoke. “Mother, tell me, do we have to meet those horrid fat old Jews + again?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Stebbins wisely decided that this was not a good time to explore the + soul of a possible Eastern potentate. Instead, she elected to talk for a + minute or two about a lawn fete she was planning to give next week for the + benefit of the Polish relief. “Poland is the World's Bulwark against + Bolshevism,” she explained; and then added: “Bertie <i>dear</i>, aren't + you driving recklessly?” + </p> + <p> + Bertie turned his head. “Didn't you hear me tell that old sheeny I was + going to beat him to it?” + </p> + <p> + “But, Bertie <i>dear</i>, this street is crowded!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, let them look out for themselves!” + </p> + <p> + But a few seconds later it appeared as if the son and heir of the Stebbins + family had decided to take his mother's advice. The car suddenly slowed up—so + suddenly as to slide us out of our seats. There was a grinding of brakes, + and a bump of something under the wheels; then a wild stream from the + sidewalk, and a half-stifled cry from the chauffeur. Mrs. Stebbins gasped, + “Oh, my God!” and put her hands over her face; and Lucinda exclaimed, in + outraged irritation, “Mamma!” Carpenter looked at me, puzzled, and asked, + “What is the matter?” + </p> + <h3> + XX + </h3> + <p> + The accident had happened in an ill-chosen neighborhood: one of those + crowded slum quarters, swarming with Mexicans and Italians and other + foreigners. Of course, that was the only neighborhood in which it could + have happened, because it is only there that children run wild in the + streets at night. There was one child under the front wheels, crushed + almost in half, so that you could not bear to look at it, to say nothing + of touching it; and there was another, struck by the fender and knocked + into the gutter. There was an old hag of a woman standing by, with her + hands lifted into the air, shrieking in such a voice of mingled terror and + fury as I had never heard in my life before. It roused the whole quarter; + there were people running out of twenty houses, I think, before one of us + could get out of the car. + </p> + <p> + The first person out was Carpenter. He took one glance at the form under + the car, and saw there was no hope there; then he ran to the child in the + gutter and caught it into his arms. The poor people who rushed to the + scene found him sitting on the curb, gazing into the pitiful, quivering + little face, and whispering grief-stricken words. There was a street-lamp + near, so he could see the face of the child, and the crowd could see him. + </p> + <p> + There came a woman, apparently the mother of the dead child. She saw the + form under the car, and gave a horrified scream, and fell into a faint. + There came a man, the father, no doubt, and other relatives; there was a + clamoring, frantic throng, swarming about the car and about the victims. I + went to Carpenter, and asked, “Is it dead?” He answered, “It will live, I + think.” Then, seeing that the crowd was likely to stifle the little one, + he rose. “Where does this child live?” he asked, and some one pointed out + the house, and he carried his burden into it. I followed him, and it was + fortunate that I did so, because of the part I was able to play. + </p> + <p> + I saw him lay the child upon a couch, and put his hands upon its forehead, + and close his eyes, apparently in prayer. Then, noting the clamor outside + growing louder, I went to the door and looked out, and found the Stebbins + family in a frightful predicament. The mob had dragged Bertie and the + chauffeur outside the car, and were yelling menaces and imprecations into + their faces; poor Bertie was shouting back, that it wasn't his fault, how + could <i>he</i> help it? But they thought he might have helped coming into + their quarter with his big rich car; why couldn't he stay in his own part + of the city, and kill the children of the rich? A man hit him a blow in + the face and knocked him over; his mother shrieked, and leaped out to help + him, and half a dozen women flung themselves at her, and as many men at + the chauffeur. There was a pile of bricks lying handy, and no doubt also + knives in the pockets of these foreign men; I believe the little party + would have been torn to pieces, had it not occurred to me to run into the + house and summon Carpenter. + </p> + <p> + Why did I do it? I think because I had seen how the crowd gave way before + him with the child in his arms. Anyhow, I knew that I could do nothing + alone, and before I could find a policeman it might be many times too + late. I told Carpenter what was happening, and he rose, and ran out to the + street. + </p> + <p> + It was like magic, of course. To these poor foreigners, Catholics most of + them, he did not suggest a moving picture actor on location; he suggested + something serious and miraculous. He called to the crowd, stretching out + his arms, and they gave way before him, and he walked into them, and when + he got to the struggling group he held his arms over them, and that was + all there was to it. + </p> + <p> + Except, of course, that he made them a speech. Seeing that he was saving + Bertie Stebbins' life, it was no more than fair that he should have his + own way, and that a member of the younger generation should listen in + unprotesting silence to a discourse, the political and sociological + implications of which must have been very offensive to him. And Bertie + listened; I think he would not have made a sound, even if he could have, + after the crack in the face he had got. + </p> + <p> + “My people,” said Carpenter, “what good would it do you to kill these + wretches? The blood-suckers who drain the life of the poor are not to be + killed by blows. There are too many of them, and more of them grow in + place of those who die. And what is worse, if you kill them, you destroy + in yourselves that which makes you better than they, which gives you the + right to life. You destroy those virtues of patience and charity, which + are the jewels of the poor, and make them princes in the kingdom of love. + Let us guard our crown of pity, and not acquire the vices of our + oppressors. Let us grow in wisdom, and find ways to put an end to the + world's enslavement, without the degradation of our own hearts. For so + many ages we have been patient, let us wait but a little longer, and find + the true way! Oh, my people, my beloved poor, not in violence, but in + solidarity, in brotherhood, lies the way! Let us bid the rich go on, to + the sure damnation which awaits them. Let us not soil our hands with their + blood!” + </p> + <p> + He spread out his arms again, majestically. “Stand back! Make way for + them!” + </p> + <p> + Not all the crowd understood the words, but enough of them did, and set + the example. In dead silence they withdrew from the sides and front of the + car. The body of the dead child had been dragged out of the way and laid + on the sidewalk, covered by a coat; and so Carpenter said to the Stebbins + family: “The road is clear before you. Step in.” Half dazed, the four + people obeyed, and again Carpenter raised his voice. “Drinkers of human + blood, devourers of human bodies, go your way! Go forward to that doom + which history prepares for parasites!” + </p> + <p> + The engine began to purr, and the car began to move. There was a low + mutter from the crowd, a moan of fury and baffled desire; but not a hand + was lifted, and the car shot away, and disappeared down the street, + leaving Carpenter standing on the curb, making a Socialist speech to a mob + of greasers and dagoes. + </p> + <h3> + XXI + </h3> + <p> + When he stopped speaking, it was because a woman pressed her way through + the crowd, and caught one of his hands. “Master, my baby!” she sobbed. + “The little one that was hurt!” So Carpenter said to the crowd, “The sick + child needs me. I must go in.” They started to press after him, and he + added, “You must not come into the room. The child will need air.” He went + inside, and knelt once more by the couch, and put his hand on the little + one's forehead. The mother, a frail, dark Mexican woman, crouched at the + foot, not daring to touch either the man or the child, but staring from + one to the other, pressing her hands together in an agony of dread. + </p> + <p> + The little one opened his eyes, and gazed up. Evidently he liked what he + saw, for he kept on gazing, and a smile spread over his features, a + wistful and tender and infinitely sad little smile, of a child who perhaps + never had a good meal in his lifetime. “Nice man!” he whispered; and the + woman, hearing his voice again, began sobbing wildly, and caught + Carpenter's free hand and covered it with her tears. “It is all right,” + said he; “all right, all right! He will get well—do not be afraid.” + He smiled back at the child, saying: “It is better now; you will not have + so much pain.” To me he remarked, “What is there so lovely as a child?” + </p> + <p> + The people thronging the doorway spread word what was going on, and there + were shouts of excitement, and presently the voice of a woman, clamoring + for admission. The throng made way, and she brought a bundle in her arms, + which being unfolded proved to contain a sick baby. I never knew what was + the matter with it; I don't suppose the mother knew, nor did Carpenter + seem to care. The woman knelt at his feet, praying to him; but he bade her + stand up, and took the child from her, and looked into its face, and then + closed his eyes in prayer. When he handed back the burden, a few minutes + later, she gazed at it. Something had happened, or at least she thought it + had happened, for she gave a cry of joy, and fell at Carpenter's feet + again, and caught the hem of his garment with one hand and began to kiss + it. The rumor spread outside, and there were more people clamoring. Before + long, filtering into the room, came the lame, and the halt, and the blind. + </p> + <p> + I had been reading not long ago of the miracles of Lourdes, so I knew in a + general way what to expect. I know that modern science vindicates these + things, demonstrating that any powerful stimulus given to the unconscious + can awaken new vital impulses, and heal not merely the hysterical and + neurotic, but sometimes actual physical ailments. Of course, to these + ignorant Mexicans and Italians, there was no possible excitement so great + as that caused by Carpenter's appearance and behavior. I understood the + thing clearly; and yet, somehow, I could not watch it without being + startled—thrilled in a strange, uncomfortable way. + </p> + <p> + And later on I had company in these unaccustomed emotions; the crowd gave + way, and who should come into the room but Mary Magna! She did not speak + to either of us, but slipped to one side and stood in silence—while + the crowd watched her furtively out of the corner of its eyes, thinking + her some foreign princess, with her bold, dark beauty and her costly + attire. I went over to her, whispering, “How did you get here?” She + explained that, when we did not arrive at the studios, she had called up + the Stebbins home and learned about the accident. “They warned me not to + come here, because this man was a terrible Bolshevik; he made a + blood-thirsty speech to the mob. What did he say?” + </p> + <p> + I started to tell; but I was interrupted by a piercing shriek. A sick and + emaciated young girl with paralyzed limbs had been carried into the room. + They had laid her on the couch, from which the child had been taken away, + and Carpenter had put his hands upon her. At once the girl had risen up—and + here she stood, her hands flung into the air, literally screaming her + triumphant joy. Of course the crowd took it up—these primitive + people are always glad of a chance to make a big noise, so the whole room + was in a clamor, and Carpenter had hard work to extract himself from the + throng which wished to touch his hands and his clothing, and to worship + him on their knees. + </p> + <p> + He came over to us, and smiled. “Is not this better than acting, Mary? + </p> + <p> + “Yes, surely—if one can do it.” + </p> + <p> + Said he: “Everyone could do it, if they knew.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that really true?” she asked, with passionate earnestness. + </p> + <p> + “There is a god in every man, and in every woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't they know it, then?” + </p> + <p> + “There is a god, and also a beast. The beast is old, and familiar, and + powerful; the god is new, and strange, and afraid. Because of his fear, + the beast kills him.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the beast?” + </p> + <p> + “His name is self; and he has many forms. In men he is greed; in women he + is vanity, and goes attired in much raiment—the chains, and the + bracelets, and the mufflers—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't!” cried Mary, wildly. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Mary; I won't.” And he didn't. But, looking at Mary, it seemed + that she was just as unhappy as if he had. + </p> + <p> + He turned to an old man who had hobbled into the room on crutches. “Poor + old comrade! Poor old friend!” His voice seemed to break with pity. “They + have worked you like an old mule, until your skin is cracked and your + joints grown hard; but they have not been so kind to you as to an old mule—they + have left you to suffer!” + </p> + <p> + To a pale young woman who staggered towards him, coughing, he cried: “What + can I do for you? They are starving you to death! You need food—and + I have no food to give!” He raised his arms, in sudden wrath. “Bring forth + the masters of this city, who starve the poor, while they themselves riot + in wantonness!” + </p> + <p> + But the members of the Chamber of Commerce and of the Bankers' Association + of Western City were not within hearing, nor are their numbers as a rule + to be found in the telephone book. Carpenter looked about the place, now + lined pretty well with cripples and invalids. Only a couple of hours of + spreading rumor had been needed to bring them forth, unholy and dreadful + secrets, dragged from the dark corners and back alley-ways of these + tenements. He gazed from one crooked and distorted face to another, and + put his hand to his forehead with a gesture of despair. “No, no!” he said. + “It is of no use!” He lifted his voice, calling once more to the masters + of the city. “You make them faster than I can heal them! You make them by + machinery—and he who would help them must break the machine!” + </p> + <p> + He turned to me; and I was startled, for it was as if he had been inside + my mind. “I know, it will not be easy! But remember, I broke the empire of + Rome!” + </p> + <p> + That was his last flare. “I can do no more,” he whispered. “My power is + gone from me; I must rest.” And his voice gave way. “I beg you to go, + unhappy poor of the world! I have done all that I can do for you tonight.” + </p> + <p> + And silently, patiently, as creatures accustomed to the voice of doom, the + sick and the crippled began to hobble and crawl from the room. + </p> + <h3> + XXII + </h3> + <p> + He sat on the edge of the couch, gazing into space, lost in tragic + thought; and Mary and I sat watching him, not quite certain whether we + ought to withdraw with the rest. But he did not seem aware of our + presence, so we stayed. + </p> + <p> + In our world it is not considered permissible for people to remain in + company without talking. If the talk lags, we have to cast hurriedly about + in our minds for something to say—it is called “making + conversation.” But Carpenter evidently did not know about this custom, and + neither of us instructed him. Once or twice I stole a glance at Mary, + marvelling at her. All her life she had been a conversational volcano, in + a state of perpetual eruption; but now, apparently she passed judgment on + her own remarks, and found them not worth making. + </p> + <p> + In the doorway of the room appeared the little boy who had been knocked + down by the car. He looked at Carpenter, and then came towards him. When + Carpenter saw him, a smile of welcome came upon his face; he stretched out + an arm, and the little fellow nestled in it. Other children appeared in + the doorway, and soon he had a group about him, sitting on his knees and + on the couch. They were little gutter-urchins, but he, seemingly, was + interested in knowing their names and their relationships, what they + learned in school, and what games they played. I think he had Bertie's + foot-ball crowd in mind, for he said: “Some day they will teach you games + of love and friendship, instead of rivalry and strife.” + </p> + <p> + Presently the mother of the household appeared. She was distressed, + because it did not seem possible that a great man should be interested in + the prattle of children, when he had people like us, evidently rich + people, to talk to. “You will bother the master,” she said, in Spanish. He + seemed to understand, and answered, “Let the children stay with me. They + teach me that the world might be happy.” + </p> + <p> + So the prattle went on, and the woman stood in the doorway, with other + women behind her, all beaming with delight. They had known all their lives + there was something especially remarkable about these children; and here + was their pride confirmed! When the little ones laughed, and the stranger + laughed with them, you should have seen the pleasure shining from a + doorway full of dusky Mexican faces! + </p> + <p> + But after a while one of the children began to rub his eyes, and the + mother exclaimed—it was so late! The children had stayed awake + because of the excitement, but now they must go to bed. She bundled them + out of the room, and presently came back, bearing a glass of milk and a + plate with bread and an orange on it. The master might be hungry, she + said, with a humble little bow. In her halting English she offered to + bring something to us, but she did not suppose we would care for poor + people's food. She took it for granted that “poor people's food” was what + Carpenter would want; and apparently she was right, for he ate it with + relish. Meantime he tried to get the woman to sit on the couch beside him; + but she would not sit in his presence—or was it in the presence of + Mary and me? I had a feeling, as she withdrew, that she might have been + glad to chat with him, if a million-dollar movie queen and a spoiled young + club man had not been there to claim prior rights. + </p> + <h3> + XXIII + </h3> + <p> + So presently we three were alone once more; and Mary, gazing intently with + those big dark eyes that the public knows so well, opened up: “Tell me, + Mr. Carpenter! Have you ever been in love?” + </p> + <p> + I was startled, but if Carpenter was, he gave no sign. “Mary,” he said, “I + have been in grief.” Then thinking, perhaps, that he had been abrupt, he + added: “You, Mary—you have been in love?” + </p> + <p> + She answered: “No.” I'm not sure if I said anything out loud, but my + thought was easy to read, and she turned upon me. “You don't know what + love is. But a woman knows, even though she doesn't act it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course,” I replied; “if you want to go into metaphysics—” + </p> + <p> + “Metaphysics be damned!” said Mary, and turned again to Carpenter. + </p> + <p> + Said he: “A good woman like you—” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Me</i>?” cried Mary. And she laughed, a wild laugh. “Don't hit me when + you've got me down! I've sold myself for every job I ever got; I sold + myself for every jewel you saw on me this afternoon. You notice I've got + them off now!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand, Mary,” he said, gently. “Why does a woman like you + sell herself?” + </p> + <p> + “What else has she got? I was a rat in a tenement. I could have been a + drudge, but I wasn't made for that. I sold myself for a job in a store, + and then for ribbons to be pretty, and then for a place in the chorus, and + then for a speaking part—so on all the way. Now I portray other + women selling themselves. They get fancy prices, and so do I, and that + makes me a 'star.' I hope you'll never see my pictures.” + </p> + <p> + I sat watching this scene, marvelling more than ever. That tone in Mary + Magna's voice was a new one to me; perhaps she had not used it since she + played her last “speaking part!” I thought to myself, there was a crisis + impending in the screen industry. + </p> + <p> + Said Carpenter: “What are you going to do about it, Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “What can I do? My contract has seven years to run.” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't you do something honest? I mean, couldn't you tell an honest + story in your pictures?” + </p> + <p> + “Me? My God! Tell that to T-S, and watch his face! Why, they hunt all the + world over for some new kind of clothes for me to take off; they search + all history for some war I can cause, some empire I can wreck. Me play an + honest woman? The public would call it a joke, and the screen people would + call it indecent.” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter got up, and began to pace the room. “Mary,” said he, “I once + lived under the Roman empire—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. I was Cleopatra, and again I was Nero's mistress while he + watched the city burning.” + </p> + <p> + “Rome was rough, and crude, and poor, Mary. Rome was nothing to this. This + is Satan on my Father's throne, making new worlds for himself.” He paced + the room again, then turned and said: “I don't understand this world. I + must know more about it, if I am to save it!” There was such grief, such + selfless pity in his voice as he repeated this: “I must know more!” + </p> + <p> + “You know everything!” exclaimed Mary, suddenly. “You are all wisdom!” + </p> + <p> + But he went on, speaking as if to himself, pondering his problem: “To + serve others, yet not to indulge them; for the cause of their enslavment + is that they have accepted service without return. And how shall one + preach patience to the poor, when the masters make such preaching a new + means of enslavement?” He looked at me, as if he thought that I could + answer his question. Then with sudden energy he exclaimed: “I must meet + those who are in rebellion against enslavement! Tomorrow I want to meet + the strikers—all the strikers in your city.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have your hands full,” I said—for I was a coward, and wanted + to keep him out of it. + </p> + <p> + “How shall I find them?” he persisted. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; I suppose their headquarters are at the Labor Temple.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go there. Meantime, I fear I shall have to be alone. I need to + think about the things I have learned.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going to stay?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + Said Mary, hesitatingly: “My car is outside—” + </p> + <p> + He answered: “In ancient days I saw the young patricians drive through the + streets in their chariots; no, I shall not ride with them again.” + </p> + <p> + Said I: “I have an apartment at the club, with plenty of room—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, friend. I have seen enough of the masters of this city. From now + on, if you want to see me, you will find me among the poor.” + </p> + <p> + “If I may meet you in the morning,” I said—“to show you to the Labor + Temple—” Yes, I would see him through! + </p> + <p> + “By all means,” said he. “But you must come early, for I cannot delay.” + </p> + <p> + “Where shall I come?” + </p> + <p> + “Come here. I am sure these people will give me shelter.” He looked about + him. “I suspect that some of them sleep in this room; but they have a + little porch outside, and if they will let me stay there I shall be alone, + which is what I want now.” After a moment, he added, “What I wish to do is + to pray. Have you ever tried prayer, Mary?” + </p> + <p> + She answered, simply, “I wouldn't know how.” + </p> + <p> + “Come to me, and I will teach you,” he said. + </p> + <h3> + XXIV + </h3> + <p> + I went early next morning, but not early enough. The Mexican woman told me + that “the master” had waited, and finally had gone. He had asked the way + to the Labor Temple, and left word that I would find him there. So I + stepped back into my taxi, and told the driver to take the most direct + route. + </p> + <p> + Meantime I kept watch for my friend, and I did not have to watch very + long. There was a crowd ahead, the street was blocked, and a premonition + came to me: “Good Lord, I'm too late—he's got into some new mess!” I + leaned out of the window, and sure enough, there he was standing on the + tail-end of a truck, haranguing a crowd which packed the street from one + line of houses to the other. “And before he got half way to the Labor + Temple!” I thought to myself. + </p> + <p> + I got out, and paid the driver of the taxi, and pushed into the crowd. Now + and then I caught a few words of what Carpenter was telling them, and it + seemed quite harmless—that they were all brothers, that they should + love one another, and not do one another injustice. What could there have + been that made him think it necessary to deliver this message before + breakfast? I looked about, noting that it was the Hebrew quarter of the + city, plastered with signs with queer, spattered-up letters. I thought: + “Holy smoke! Is he going to convert the Jews?” + </p> + <p> + I pushed my way farther into the crowd, and saw a policeman, and went up + to him. “Officer, what's this all about?” I spoke as one wearing the + latest cut of clothes, and he answered accordingly. “Search me! They + brought us out on a riot call, but when we got here, it seems to have + turned into a revival meeting.” + </p> + <p> + I got part of the story from this policeman, and part from a couple of + bystanders. It appeared that some Jewish lady, getting her shopping done + early, had complained of getting short weight, and the butcher had ordered + her out of his shop, and she had stopped to express her opinion of + profiteers, and he had thrown her out, and she had stood on the sidewalk + and shrieked until all the ladies in this crowded quarter had joined her. + Their fury against soaring prices and wages that never kept up with them, + had burst all bounds, and they had set out to clean up the butcher-shop + with the butcher. So there was Carpenter, on his way to the Labor Temple, + with another mob to quell! + </p> + <p> + “You know how it is,” said the policeman. “It really does cost these poor + devils a lot to live, and they say prices are going down, but I can't see + it anywhere but in the papers.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said I, “I guess you were glad enough to have somebody do this + job.” + </p> + <p> + He grinned. “You bet! I've tackled crowds of women before this, and you + don't like to hit them, but they claw into your face if you don't. I guess + the captain will let this bird spout for a bit, even if he does block the + traffic.” + </p> + <p> + We listened for a minute. “Bear in mind, my friends, I am come among you; + and I shall not desert you. I give you my justice, I give you my freedom. + Your cause is my cause, world without end. Amen.” + </p> + <p> + “Now wouldn't that jar you?” remarked the “copper.” “Holy Christ, if you'd + hear some of the nuts we have to listen to on street-corners! What do you + suppose that guy thinks he can do, dressed up in Abraham's nightshirt?” + </p> + <p> + Said Carpenter: “The days of the exploiter are numbered. The thrones of + the mighty are tottering, and the earth shall belong to them that labor. + He that toils not, neither shall he eat, and they that grow fat upon the + blood of the people—they shall grow lean again.” + </p> + <p> + “Now what do you think o' that?” demanded the guardian of authority. “If + that ain't regular Bolsheviki talk, then I'm dopy. I'll bet the captain + don't stand much more of that.” + </p> + <p> + Fortunately the captain's endurance was not put to the test. The orator + had reached the climax of his eloquence. “The kingdom of righteousness is + at hand. The word will be spoken, the way will be made clear. Meantime, my + people, I bid you go your way in peace. Let there be no more disturbance, + to bring upon you the contempt of those who do not understand your + troubles, nor share the heartbreak of the poor. My people, take my peace + with you!” He stretched out his arms in invocation, and there was a murmur + of applause, and the crowd began slowly to disperse. + </p> + <p> + Which seemed to remind my friend the policeman that he had authority to + exercise. He began to poke his stick into the humped backs of poor Jewish + tailors, and into the ample stomachs of fat Jewish housewives. “Come on + now, get along with you, and let somebody else have a bit o' the street.” + I pushed my way forward, by virtue of my good clothes, and got through the + press about Carpenter, and took him by the arm, saying, “Come on now, + let's see if we can't get to the Labor Temple.” + </p> + <h3> + XXV + </h3> + <p> + There was a crowd following us, of course; and I sought to keep Carpenter + busy in conversation, to indicate that the crowd was not wanted. But + before we had gone half a block I felt some one touch me on the arm, and + heard a voice, saying, “I beg pardon, I'm a reporter for the 'Evening + Blare'.” + </p> + <p> + Now, of course, I had known this must come; I had realized that I would be + getting myself in for it, if I went to join Carpenter that morning. I had + planned to warn him, to explain to him what our newspapers are; but how + could I have foreseen that he was going to get into a riot before + breakfast, and bring out the police reserves and the police reporters? + </p> + <p> + “Excuse us,” I said, coldly. “We have something urgent—” + </p> + <p> + “I just want to get something of this gentleman's speech—” + </p> + <p> + “We are on our way to the Labor Temple. If you will come there in a couple + of hours, we will give you an interview.” + </p> + <p> + “But I must have a story for our first edition, that goes to press before + that.” + </p> + <p> + I had Carpenter by the arm, and kept him firmly walking. I could not get + rid of the reporter, but I was resolved to get my warning spoken, + regardless of anything. Said I: “This is a matter extremely urgent for you + to understand, Mr. Carpenter. This young man represents a newspaper, and + anything you say to him will be read in the course of a few hours by + perhaps a hundred thousand people. If it is found especially senational, + the Continental Press may put it on its wires, and it will go to several + hundred papers all over the country—” + </p> + <p> + “Twelve hundred and thirty-seven papers,” corrected the young man. + </p> + <p> + “So you see, it is necessary that you should be careful what you say—far + more so than if you were speaking to a handful of Mexican laborers or + Jewish housewives.” + </p> + <p> + Said Carpenter: “I don't understand what you mean. When I speak, I speak + the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course,” I replied—and meantime I was racking my poor wits + figuring out how to present this strange acquaintance of mine most + tactfully to the world. I knew the reporter would not tarry long; he would + grab a few sentences, and rush away to telephone them in. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what I'm free to tell,” I began. “This gentleman is a + healer, a man of very remarkable gifts. Mental healing, you understand.” + </p> + <p> + “I get you,” said the reporter. “Some religion?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Carpenter teaches a new religion.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. A sort of prophet! And where does he come from?” + </p> + <p> + I tried to evade. “He has just arrived—” + </p> + <p> + But the blood-hound of the press was not going to be evaded. “Where do you + come from, sir?” he demanded, of Carpenter. + </p> + <p> + To which Carpenter answered, promptly: “From God.” + </p> + <p> + “From God? Er—oh, I see. From God! Most interesting! How long ago, + may I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! That is indeed extraordinary! And this mob that you've just been + addressing—did you use some kind of mind cure on them?” + </p> + <p> + I could see the story taking shape; the headlines flamed before my mind's + eye—streamer heads, all the way across the sheet, after the fashion + of our evening papers: + </p> + <h3> + PROPHET FRESH FROM GOD QUELLS MOB + </h3> + <h3> + XXVI + </h3> + <p> + I came to a sudden decision in this crisis. The sensible thing to do was + to meet the issue boldly, and take the job of launching Carpenter under + proper auspices. He really was a wonderful man, and deserved to be treated + decently. + </p> + <p> + I addressed the reporter again. “Listen. This gentleman is a man of + remarkable gifts, and does not take money for them; so, if you are going + to tell about him at all, do it in a dignified way.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course! I had no other idea—” + </p> + <p> + “Your city editor might have another idea,” I remarked, drily. “Permit me + to introduce myself.” I gave him my name, and saw him start. + </p> + <p> + “You mean <i>the</i> Mr.—” Then, giving me a swift glance, he + decided it was not necessary to complete the question. + </p> + <p> + Said I: “Here is my card,” and handed it to him. + </p> + <p> + He glanced at it, and said, “I'll be very glad to explain matters to the + desk, and see that the story is handled exactly as you wish.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” I replied. “Now, yesterday I was caught in that mob at the + picture theatre, and knocked nearly insensible. This gentleman found me, + and healed me almost instantly. Naturally, I am grateful, and as I find + that he is a teacher, who aids the poor, and will not take money from + anyone, I want to thank him publicly, and help to make him known.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, of course!” said the reporter; and before my mind's eye + flashed a new set of headlines: + </p> + <h3> + WEALTHY CLUBMAN MIRACULOUSLY HEALED + </h3> + <p> + Or perhaps it would be a double head: + </p> + <h3> + CLUBMAN, SLUGGED BY MOB, HEALED BY PROPHET + </h3> + <p> + WEALTHY SCION, VICTIM OF PICTURE RIOT, RESTORED BY MAN FRESH FROM GOD + </p> + <p> + I thought that was sensation enough, and that the interview would end; but + alas for my hopes! Said that blood-hound of the press: “Will you give + public healings to the people, Mr. Carpenter?” + </p> + <p> + To which Carpenter answered: “I am not interested in giving healings.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Worldly and corrupt people ask me to do miracles, to prove my power to + them. But the proof I bring to the world is a new vision and a new hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see! Your religion! May I ask about it?” + </p> + <p> + “You are the first; the world will follow you. Say to the people that I + have come to understand the nature and causes of their mobs.” + </p> + <p> + “Mobs?” said the puzzled young blood-hound. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to understand a land which is governed by mobs; I wish to know, + who lives upon the madness of others.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been studying a mob this morning?” inquired the reporter. + </p> + <p> + “I ask, why do the police of Mobland put down the mobs of the poor, and + not the mobs of the rich? I ask, who pays the police, and who pays the + mobs.” + </p> + <p> + “I see! You are some kind of radical!” And with sickness of soul I saw + another headline before my mind's eye: + </p> + <h3> + WEALTHY CLUBMAN AIDS BOLSHEVIK PROPHET + </h3> + <p> + I hastened to break in: “Mr. Carpenter is not a radical; he is a lover of + man.” But then I realized, that did not sound just right. How the devil + was I to describe this man? How came it that all the phrases of + brotherhood and love had come to be tainted with “radicalism”? I tried + again: “He is a friend of peace.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, really!” observed the reporter. “A pacifist, hey?” And I thought: + “Damn the hound!” I knew, of course, that he had the rest of the formula + in his head: “Pro-German!” Out loud I said: “He teaches brotherhood.” + </p> + <p> + But the hound was not interested in my generalities and evasions. “Where + have you seen mobs of the rich, Mr. Carpenter?” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen them whirling through the streets in automobiles, killing the + children of the poor.” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen that?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw it last night.” + </p> + <p> + Now, I had inspected our “Times” and our “Examiner” that morning, and + noted that both, in their accounts of the accident, had given only the + name of the chauffeur, and suppressed that of the owner. I understood what + an amount of social and financial pressure that feat had taken; and here + was Carpenter about to spoil it! I laid my hand on his arm, saying: “My + friend, you were a guest in that car. You are not at liberty to talk about + it.” + </p> + <p> + I expected to be argued with; but Carpenter apparently conceded my point, + for he fell silent. It was the young reporter who spoke. “You were in an + auto accident, I judge? We had only one report of a death, and that was + caused by Mrs. Stebbins' car. Were you in that?” Then, as neither + Carpenter nor I replied, he laughed. “It doesn't matter, because I + couldn't use the story. Mr. Stebbins is one of our 'sacred cows.' + Good-day, and thank you.” + </p> + <p> + He started away; and suddenly all my terror of newspaper publicity + overwhelmed me. I simply could not face the public as guardian of a + Bolshevik! I shouted: “Young man!” And the reporter turned, respectfully, + to listen. “I tell you, Mr. Carpenter is <i>not</i> a radical! Get that + clear!” And to the young man's skeptical half-smile I exclaimed: “He's a + Christian!” At which the reporter laughed out loud. + </p> + <h3> + XXVII + </h3> + <p> + We got to the Labor Temple, and found the place in a buzz of excitement, + over what had occurred in front of Prince's last night. I had suspected + rough work on the part of the police, and here was the living evidence—men + with bandages over cracked heads, men pulling open their shirts or pulling + up their sleeves to show black and blue bruises. In the headquarters of + the Restaurant Workers we found a crowd, jabbering in a dozen languages + about their troubles; we learned that there were eight in jail, and + several in the hospital, one not expected to live. All that had been going + on, while we sat at table gluttonizing—and while tears were running + down Carpenter's cheeks! + </p> + <p> + It seemed to me that every third man in the crowd had one of the morning's + newspapers in his hand—the newspapers which told how a furious mob + of armed ruffians had sought to break its way into Prince's, and had with + difficulty been driven off by the gallant protectors of the law. A man + would read some passage which struck him as especially false; he would + tell what he had seen or done, and he would crumple the paper in his hand + and cry. “The liars! The dirty liars!”—adding adjectives not + suitable for print. + </p> + <p> + I realized more than ever that I had made a mistake in letting Carpenter + get into this place. It was no resort for anybody who wanted to be + patriotic, or happy about the world. All sorts of wonderful promises had + been made to labor, to persuade it to win the war; and now labor came with + the blank check, duly filled out according to its fancy—and was in + process of being kicked downstairs. Wages were being “liquidated,” as the + phrase had it; and there was an endless succession of futile strikes, all + pitiful failures. You must understand that Western City is the home of the + “open shop;” the poor devils who went on strike were locked out of the + factories, and slugged off the streets; their organizations were betrayed + by spies, and their policies dedeviled by provocateurs. And all the mass + of misery resulting seemed to have crowded into one building this bright + November morning; pitiful figures, men and women and even a few children—for + some had been turned out of their homes, and had no place to go; ragged, + haggard, and underfed; weeping, some of them, with pain, or lifting their + clenched hands in a passion of impotent fury. My friend T-S, the king of + the movies, with all his resources, could not have made a more complete + picture of human misery—nor one more fitted to work on the sensitive + soul of a prophet, and persuade him that capitalist America was worse than + imperial Rome. + </p> + <p> + The arrival of Carpenter attracted no particular attention. The troubles + of these people were too recent for them to be aware of anything else. All + they wanted was some one to tell their troubles to, and they quickly found + that this stranger was available for the purpose. He asked many questions, + and before long had a crowd about him—as if he were some sort of + government commissioner, conducting an investigation. It was an all day + job, apparently; I hung round, trying to keep myself inconspicuous. + </p> + <p> + Towards noon came a boy with newspapers, and I bought the early edition of + the “Evening Blare.” Yes, there it was—all the way across the front + page; not even a big fire at the harbor and an earthquake in Japan had + been able to displace it. As I had foreseen, the reporter had played up + the most sensational aspects of the matter: Carpenter announced himself as + a prophet only twenty-four hours out of God's presence, and proved it by + healing the lame and the halt and the blind—and also by hypnotising + everyone he spoke to, from a wealthy young clubman to a mob of Jewish + housewives. Incidentally he denounced America as “Mobland,” and called it + a country governed by madmen. + </p> + <p> + I took the paper to him, thinking to teach him a little worldly prudence. + Said I: “You remember, I tried to keep out that stuff about mobs—” + </p> + <p> + He took the sheet from my hands and looked at the headlines. I saw his + nostrils dilate, and his eyes flash. “Mobs? This paper is a mob! It is the + worst of your mobs!” And it fell to the floor, and he put his foot on the + flaring print. + </p> + <p> + Said he: “You talk about mobs—listen to this.” Then, to one of the + group about him: “Tell how they mobbed you!” The man thus addressed, a + little Russian tailor named Korwsky, narrated in his halting English that + he was the secretary of the tailors' union, and they had a strike, and a + few days ago their offices had been raided at night, the door “jimmed” + open and the desk rifled of all the papers and records. Evidently it had + been done by the bosses or their agents, for nothing had been taken but + papers which would be of use against the strike. “Dey got our members' + list,” said Korwsky. “Dey send people to frighten 'em back to verk! Dey + call loans, dey git girls fired from stores if dey got jobs—dey + hound 'em every way!” + </p> + <p> + The speaker went on to declare that no such job could have been pulled off + without the police knowing; yet they made no move to arrest the criminals. + His voice trembled with indignation; and Carpenter turned to me. + </p> + <p> + “You have mobs that come at night, with dark lanterns and burglars' + tools!” + </p> + <p> + I had noticed among the men talking to Carpenter one who bore a striking + resemblance to him. He was tall and not too well nourished; but instead of + the prophet's robes of white and amethyst, he wore the clothes of a + working-man, a little too short in the sleeves; and where Carpenter had a + soft and silky brown beard, this man had a skinny Adam's apple that worked + up and down. He was something of an agitator, I judged, and he appeared to + have a religious streak. “I am a Christian,” I heard him say; “but one of + the kind that speak out against injustice. And I can show you Bible texts + for it,” he insisted. “I can prove it by the word of God.” + </p> + <p> + This man's name was James, and I learned that he was one of the striking + carpenters. The prophet turned to him, and said: “Tell him your story.” So + the other took from his pocket a greasy note-book, and produced a + newspaper clipping, quoting an injunction which Judge Wollcott had issued + against his union. “Read that,” said he; but I answered that I knew about + it. I remember hearing my uncle laughing over the matter at the + dinner-table, saying that “Bobbie” Wollcott had forbidden the strikers to + do everything but sit on air and walk on water. And now I got another view + of “Bobbie,” this time from a prophet fresh from God. Said the prophet: + “Your judges are mobs!” + </p> + <h3> + XXVIII + </h3> + <p> + Soon after the noon-hour, there pushed his way into the crowd a young man, + whom I recognized as one of the secretaries of T-S. He was looking for me, + and told me in a whisper that his employer was downstairs in his car, and + wanted to see Mr. Carpenter and myself about something important. He did + not want to come up, because it was too conspicuous. Would we come down + and take a little drive? I answered that I should be willing, but I knew + Carpenter would not—he had been in an automobile accident the night + before, and had refused to ride again. + </p> + <p> + Then, said the secretary, was there some room where we could meet? I went + to one of the officials, and asked for a vacant room where I could talk + about a private matter with a friend. I managed to separate Carpenter from + his crowd and took him to the room, and presently Everett, the secretary, + came with T-S. + </p> + <p> + The great man shook hands cordially with both of us; then, looking round + to make sure that no one heard us, he began: “Mr. Carpenter, I told you I + vould give a tousand dollars to dese strikers.” + </p> + <p> + The other's face, which had looked so grey and haggard, was suddenly + illumined as if by his magical halo. “I had forgotten it! There are so + many hungry in there; I have been watching them, wondering when they would + be fed.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said T-S. “Here you are.” And reaching into his pocket, he + produced a wad of new shiny hundred dollar notes, folded together. “Count + 'em.” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter took the money in his hand. “So this is it!” he said. He looked + at it, as if he were inspecting some strange creature from the wilds of + Patagonia. + </p> + <p> + “It's de real stuff,” said T-S, with a grin. + </p> + <p> + “The stuff for which men sell their souls, and women their virtue! For + which you starve and beat and torture one another—” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't it pretty?” said the magnate, not a bit embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + The other began reading the writing on the notes—as you may remember + having done in some far-off time of childhood. “Whose picture is this?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + “I dunno,” said the magnate. “De Secretary of de Treasury, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said the other, “why not your picture, Mr. T-S?” + </p> + <p> + “Mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + “My picture on de money?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? You are the one who makes it, and enables everyone else to make + it.” + </p> + <p> + It was one of those brand new ideas that come only to geniuses and + children. I could see that T-S had never thought of it before; also, that + he found it interesting to think of. Carpenter went on: “If your picture + was on it, then every one would know what it meant. People would say: + 'Render unto T-S the things that are T-S's.' When you were paying off your + mobs, you would pay them with your own money, and whenever they spent it, + the people would bow to Caesar—I mean to T-S.” + </p> + <p> + He said it without the trace of a smile; and T-S had no idea there was a + smile anywhere in the neighborhood. In a business-like tone he said: “I'll + tink about it.” Then he went on: “You give it to de strikers—” + </p> + <p> + But Carpenter interrupted: “It was you who were going to give it. I cannot + give nor take money.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you von't take it to dem?” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't possibly do it, Mr. T-S.” + </p> + <p> + “But, man—” + </p> + <p> + “Your promise was that <i>you</i> would come and give it. Now do so.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Carpenter, if I vas to do such a ting, it vould cost me a + million dollars. I vould git into a row vit de Merchants' and + Manufacturers' Association, dey vould boycott my business, dey vould give + me a black eye all over de country. You dunno vot you're askin', Mr. + Carpenter.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand then—you are in business alliance with men who are + starving these people into submission, and you are afraid to help them? + Afraid to feed the poor!” The far-off, wondering look came again to his + face. “The world is organized!” he said, to himself. “There is a mob of + masters! What can I do to save the people?” + </p> + <p> + T-S was unchanged in his cheerful good-nature. “You give dem a tousand + dollars and you help a lot. Nobody can do it all.” + </p> + <p> + But Carpenter was not satisfied; he shook his head, sadly. “Please take + this,” he said, and pressed the roll of bills back into the hands of the + astounded magnate! + </p> + <h3> + XXIX + </h3> + <p> + However, T-S had come there to get something that day, and I thought I + knew what it was. He swallowed his consternation, and all the rest of his + emotions. “Now, now, Mr. Carpenter! Ve ain't a-goin' to quarrel about a + ting like dat. Dem fellers is hungry, and de money vill give dem vun good + feed. Ve git somebody to bring it to dem, and we be friends shoost de + same. Billy, maybe you could give it, hey?” + </p> + <p> + I drew back with a laugh. “You don't get me into your quarrels!” + </p> + <p> + “Vell,” said T-S—and suddenly he had an inspiration. “I know. I git + Mary Magna to give it! She's a voman!” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter turned with sudden wonder. “Then women are permitted to have + hearts?” + </p> + <p> + “Shoost so, Mr. Carpenter! Ha, ha, ha! Ve business fellers—my Gawd, + if you knew vot business is, you'd vunder we got hearts enough to keep our + blood movin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Business,” said Carpenter, still pondering. “Then it's business—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, business—” put in T-S. “Dat's it!” And he lowered his voice, + and looked round once more. “It's time we vas talkin' business now! Mr. + Carpenter, I be frank vit you, I put all my cards on de table. I seen de + papers shoost now, vot vunderful tings you do—healin' de sick and + quellin' de mobs and all dat—and I tink I gotta raise my offer, Mr. + Carpenter. If you sign a contract I got here in my pocket, I pay you a + tousand dollars a veek. Vot you say, my friend?” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter did not say anything, and so the magnate began to expatiate upon + the artistic triumphs he would achieve. “I make such a picture fer you as + de vorld never seen before. You can do shoost vot you vant in dat story—all + de tings you like to do, and nuttin' you didn't like. I never said dat to + no man before, but I know you now, Mr. Carpenter, and all I ask you is to + heal de sick and quell de mobs, shoost like today. I pledge you my vord—I + put it in de contract if you say so—I make nuttin' but Bible + pictures.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very kind of you, Mr. T-S, and I thank you for the compliment; + but I fear you will have to get some one else to play my part.” + </p> + <p> + Said T-S: “I vant you to tink, Mr. Carpenter, vot it vould mean if you had + a tousand dollars every week. You could feed all de babies of de strikers. + I vouldn't care vot you did—you could feed my own strikers, ven I + git some at Eternal City. A tousand dollars a veek is an awful pile o' + money to have!” + </p> + <p> + “I know that, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “And vot's more, I pay you five tousand cash on de signin' of de contract. + You can go right in now vit dese strikers—maybe you could beat + Prince's vit all dat money!” Then, as Carpenter still shook his head: “I + give you vun more raise, my friend—but dat's de last, you gotta + believe me. I pay you fifteen hunded a veek. I aint ever paid so much + money to a green actor in my life before, and I don't tink anybody else in + de business ever did.” + </p> + <p> + But still Carpenter shook his head! + </p> + <p> + “Vould you mind tellin' me vy, Mr. Carpenter?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. You tell me that I may quell mobs for you. But there are mobs + in your business that I could not quell.” + </p> + <p> + “Vot mobs?” + </p> + <p> + “Among others, yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—you are a mob; a mob of money! You storm the souls of men, and + of women too. It will take a stronger force than I to quell you.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't git you,” said T-S, helplessly; but then, thinking it over a bit, + he went on: “I guess I'm a vulgar feller, Mr. Carpenter, and maybe all my + pictures ain't vot you call high-brow. But if I had a man like you to vork + vit, I could make vot you call real educational pictures. You're vot dey + call a prophet, you got a message fer de vorld; vell, vy don't you let me + spread it fer you? If you use my machinery, you can talk to a billion + people. Dat's no joke—if dey is dat many alive, I bring 'em to you; + I bring de Japs and de Chinks and de niggers—de vooly-headed savages + vot vould eat your missionaries if you sent 'em. I offer you de whole + vorld, Mr. Carpenter; and you vould be de boss!” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter became suddenly grave. “My friend,” said he, “a long time ago + there was a prophet, and he was offered the world. The story is told us—'Again, + the devil taketh him up into an exceeding high mountain, and sheweth him + all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them; and saith unto him, + All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me.' + You recall that story, Mr. T-S?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said T-S, “I ain't vun o' dese litry fellers.” But he realized that + the story was not complimentary to him, and he showed his chagrin. “I tell + you vun ting, Mr. Carpenter, if you vas to know me better, you vouldn't + call me a devil.” + </p> + <p> + And suddenly the other put his hand on the great man's shoulder. “I + believe that, my friend; I hate the sin but love the sinner—And so, + suppose you come to lunch with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Lunch?” said T-S, taken aback. + </p> + <p> + “I went to dinner with you last night. Now you come to lunch with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Vere at, Mr. Carpenter?” + </p> + <p> + Said Carpenter: “When I went with you, I did not ask where.” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter signed to me and to Everett, the secretary, and the four of us + went out of the room. I was as much mystified as the picture magnate, but + I held my peace, and Carpenter led us to the elevator, and down to the + street. “No,” said he, to T-S, “there is no need to get into your car. The + place is just around the corner.” And he put his arm in that of the + magnate, and led him down the street—somewhat to the embarrassment + of his victim, for there was a crowd following us. People had read the + afternoon papers by now, and it was no longer possible to walk along + unheeded, with a prophet only twenty-four hours from God, who healed the + sick and quelled mobs before breakfast. But T-S set his teeth and bore it—hoping + this might be the way to land his contract. + </p> + <h3> + XXX + </h3> + <p> + We turned the corner, and soon I saw what was before us, and almost cried + out with glee. It was really too good to be true! Carpenter, in the course + of his talks with strikers, had learned where their soup-kitchen was + located, the relief-headquarters where their families were being fed; and + he now had the sublime audacity to take the picture magnate to lunch among + them! + </p> + <p> + The place was an empty warehouse, fitted with long tables, and benches + made of planks that were old and full of splinters. Here in rows of twenty + or thirty were seated men and women and children, mixed together; before + each one a bowl of not very thick soup, and a hunk of bread, and a tin cup + full of hot brown liquid, politely taken for coffee. It was a meal which + would have been spurned by any of the “studio bums” of T-S's mob-scenes; + but now T-S was going to be a good sport, and sit on a splintery plank and + eat it! + </p> + <p> + Nor was that all. As we pushed our way into the place, Carpenter turned to + the magnate, and without a trace of embarrassment, said: “You understand, + Mr. T-S, I have no money. But we must pay—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sure!” said T-S, quickly. “I'll pay!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said the other; and he turned to an official of the union + with whom he had got acquainted in the course of the morning. He + introduced us all, not forgetting the secretary, and then said: “Mr. T-S + is the moving picture producer, and wants to have lunch with you, if you + will consent.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sure!” said the official, cordially. + </p> + <p> + “He will pay for it,” added Carpenter. “He has brought along a thousand + dollars for that purpose.” + </p> + <p> + T-S started as if some one had struck him; and the official started too. + “WHAT?” + </p> + <p> + “He will pay a thousand dollars,” declared Carpenter. “It is a fact, and + you may tell the people, if you wish.” + </p> + <p> + “My Gawd, no!” cried T-S wildly. + </p> + <p> + But the official did not heed him. He faced the crowd and stretched out + his arms. “Boys! Boys! This is Mr. T-S, the picture producer, and he's + come to lunch with us, and he's going to pay a thousand dollars for it!” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment of amazed silence, then a roar from the company. Men + leaped to their feet and yelled. And there stood poor T-S-not enjoying the + ovation! + </p> + <p> + “Give it to them,” whispered Carpenter; and the magnate, thus held up, + took out the roll of bills, and turned it over to the trembling official, + who leaped onto a chair and waved the miracle before the crowd. “A + thousand dollars! A thousand dollars!” He counted it over before their + eyes and called, louder than ever, “A thousand dollars!” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter, followed by T-S and the secretary and myself, went down the + line of tables, shaking hands with many on the way, and being patted on + the back by others. Also T-S shook hands, and was patted. Seats were found + for us, and food was brought—double portions of it, as if to make + the plight of the poor magnate even more absurd! I watched him out of the + corner of my eye; he enjoyed that costly meal just about as much as + Carpenter had enjoyed the one at Prince's last night! + </p> + <p> + However, he was game, and spilled no tears into his soup; and Carpenter + ate with honest appetite, having had no breakfast. The strikers about us + ate as if they had missed both breakfast and supper; they laughed and + chatted and made jokes with us—you would have thought they were + celebrating the winning of the strike and the end of all their troubles. + In the midst of the meal I noted two well-dressed young men by the door, + asking questions; I chuckled to myself, seeing more head-lines—double + ones, and extra size: + </p> + <p> + PROPHET OF GOD VAMPS MOVIE KING MAGNATE OF SCREEN PAYS THOUSAND FOR LUNCH + </p> + <p> + But I knew that T-S had never yet paid a thousand dollars without getting + something for it, and I was not surprised when, after he had gulped down + his meal, he turned to his host and, disregarding the company and the + excitement, demanded, “Now, Mr. Carpenter, tell me, do I git de contract?” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter had had his jest, and was through with it. He answered, gravely: + “You must understand me, Mr. T-S. You don't want a contract with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't?” + </p> + <p> + “If I were to sign it, it would not be a week before you would be sorry, + and would be asking me to release you.” + </p> + <p> + “Vy is dat, Mr. Carpenter?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I am going to do things which will make me quite useless to you + in a business way.” + </p> + <p> + “Dat can't be true, Mr. Carpenter!” + </p> + <p> + “It is true, and you will realize it soon. I assure you, it won't be a day + before you will be ashamed of having known me.” + </p> + <p> + T-S was gazing at the speaker, not certain whether this was something very + terrible, or only a polite evasion. “Mr. Carpenter,” he answered, “if all + de vorld vas to give you up, I vouldn't!” + </p> + <p> + Said Carpenter: “I tell you, before the cock crows again, you will deny + three times that you know me.” And then, without awaiting response from + the amazed T-S, he turned to speak to the man on the other side of him. + </p> + <p> + The magnate of the pictures sat silent, evidently frightened. At last he + turned to me and asked, “Vot you tink he meant by dat, Billy?” + </p> + <p> + I answered: “I think he meant that you are to play the part of Peter.” + </p> + <p> + “Peter? Peter Pan?” + </p> + <p> + “No; St. Peter, who denied his master.” + </p> + <p> + “Vell,” said T-S, patiently, “you know, I ain't vun o' dese litry + fellers.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell it to you some time,” I continued. “It's kind of funny. If he's + right, you are going to be the first pope, and sit at the golden gate, + holding the keys of heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “My Gawd!” said T-S. + </p> + <p> + “And you've made a record in the movies.” I added. “You've played Satan + and St. Peter, both on the same day! That is 'doubling' with a vengeance!” + </p> + <h3> + XXXI + </h3> + <p> + When I got back to the Labor Temple, I learned that there was to be a + mass-meeting of the strikers this Saturday evening. It had been planned + some days ago, and now was to be turned into a protest against police + violence and “government by injunction.” There was a cheap afternoon paper + which professed sympathy with the workers, and this published a manifesto, + signed by a number of labor leaders, summoning their followers to make + clear that they would no longer submit to “Cossack rule.” + </p> + <p> + It appeared now that these leaders were considering inviting Carpenter to + become one of the speakers at their meeting. Two of them came up to me. I + had heard this stranger speak, and did I think he could hold an audience? + I gave assurance; he was a man of dignity, and would do them credit. They + were afraid the newspapers would represent him as a freak, but of course + their meeting would hardly fare very well in the papers anyhow. One of + them asked, cautiously, how much of an extremist was he? Labor leaders + were having a hard time these days to hold down the “reds,” and the + employers were not giving them any help. Did I think Carpenter would + support the “reds”? I answered that I didn't know the labor movement well + enough to judge, but one thing they could be sure of, he was a man of + peace, and would not preach any sort of violence. + </p> + <p> + The matter was settled a little later, when Mary Magna drove up to the + Labor Temple in her big limousine. Mary, for the first time in the memory + of anyone who knew her, was without her war-paint; dressed like a + Quakeress—a most uncanny phenomenon! She had not a single jewel on; + and before long I learned why—she had taken all she owned to a + jeweler that morning, and sold them for something over six thousand + dollars. She brought the money to the fund for the babies of the strikers; + nor did she ask anyone else to hand it in for her. It was Mary's fashion + to look the world in the eye and say what she was doing. + </p> + <p> + T-S was still hanging about, and at first he tried to check this insane + extravagance, but then he thought it over and grinned, saying, “I git my + tousand dollars back in advertising!” When I pointed out to him what would + be the interpretation placed by newspaper gossip on Mary's intervention in + the affairs of Carpenter, he grinned still more widely. “Ain't he got a + right to be in love vit Mary? All de vorld's in love vit Mary!” And of + course, there was a newspaper reporter standing by his side, so that this + remark went out to the world as semi-official comment! + </p> + <p> + You understand that by this time the second edition of the papers was on + the streets, and it was known that the new prophet was at the Labor + Temple. Curiosity seekers came filtering in, among them half a dozen more + reporters, and as many camera men. After that, poor Carpenter could get no + peace at all. Would he please say if he was going to do any more healing? + Would he turn a little more to the light—just one second, thank you. + Would he mind making a group with Miss Magna and Mr. T-S and the “wealthy + young scion”? Would he consent to step outside for some moving pictures, + before the light got too dim? It was a new kind of mob—a ravening + one, making all dignity and thought impossible. In the end I had to mount + guard and fight the publicity-hounds away. Was it likely this man would go + out and pose for cameras, when he had just refused fifteen hundred dollars + a week from Mr. T-S to do that very thing? And then more excitement! Had + he really refused such an offer? The king of the movies admitted that he + had! + </p> + <p> + We live in an age of communication; we can send a bit of news half way + round the world in a few seconds, we can make it known to a whole city in + a few hours. And so it was with this “prophet fresh from God”; in spite of + himself, he was seized by the scruff of the neck and flung up to the + pinnacle of fame! He had all the marvels of a lifetime crowded into one + day—enough to fill a whole newspaper with headlines! + </p> + <p> + And the end was not yet. Suddenly there was a commotion in the crowd, and + a man pushed his way through—Korwsky, the secretary of the tailor's + union, who, learning of Carpenter's miracles, had rushed all the way home, + and got a friend with a delivery wagon, and brought his half-grown son + post-haste. He bore him now in his arms, and poured out to Carpenter the + pitiful tale of his paralyzed limbs. Such a gentle, good child he was; no + one ever heard a complaint; but he had not been able to stand up for five + years. + </p> + <p> + So, of course, Carpenter put his hands upon the child, and closed his eyes + in prayer; and suddenly he put him down to the ground and cried: “Walk!” + The lad stared at him, for one wild moment, while people caught their + breath; then, with a little choking cry, he took a step. There came a + shout from the spectators, and then—Bang!—a puff as if a gun + had gone off, and a flash of light, and clouds of white smoke rolling to + the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + Women screamed, and one or two threatened to faint; but it was nothing + more dangerous than the cameraman of the Independent Press Service, who + had hired a step-ladder, and got it set up in a corner of the room, ready + for any climax! A fine piece of stage management, said his jealous rivals; + others in the crowd were sure it was a put up job between Carpenter and + Korwsky. But the labor leaders knew the little tailor, and they believed. + After that there was no doubt about Carpenter's being a speaker at the + mass-meeting! + </p> + <h3> + XXXII + </h3> + <p> + It came time when the rest of us were ready for dinner, but Carpenter said + that he wanted to pray. Apparently, whenever he was tired, and had work to + do he prayed. He told me that he would find his own way to Grant Hall, the + place of the mass-meeting; but somehow, I didn't like the idea of his + walking through the streets alone. I said I would call for him at + seven-thirty and made him promise not to leave the Labor Temple until that + hour. + </p> + <p> + I cast about in my mind for a body-guard, and bethought me of old Joe. His + name is Joseph Camper, and he played centre-rush with my elder brother in + the days before they opened up the game, and when beef was what counted. + Old Joe has shoulders like the biggest hams in a butcher shop, and you can + trust him like a Newfoundland dog. I knew that if I asked him not to let + anybody hurt my friend, he wouldn't—and this regardless of the + circumstance of my friend's not wearing pants. Old Joe knows nothing about + religion or sociology—only wrestling and motor-cars, and the price + of wholesale stationery. + </p> + <p> + So I phoned him to meet me, and we had dinner, and at seven-thirty sharp + our taxi crew drew up at the Labor Temple. Half a minute later, who should + come walking down the street but Everett, T-S's secretary! “I thought I'd + take the liberty,” he said, apologetically. “I thought Mr. Carpenter might + say something worth while, and you'd be glad to have a transcript of his + speech.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that's very kind of you,” I answered, “I didn't know you were + interested in him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I didn't know it myself, but I seem to be; and besides, he told me + to follow him.” + </p> + <p> + I went upstairs, and found the stranger waiting in the room where I had + left him. I put myself on one side of him, and the ex-centre-rush on the + other, with Everett respectfully bringing up the rear, and so we walked to + Grant Hall. Many people stared at us, and a few followed, but no one said + anything—and thank God, there was nothing resembling a mob! I took + my prophet to the stage entrance of the hall, and got him into the wings; + and there was a pathetically earnest lady waiting to give him a tract on + the horrors of vivisection, and an old gentleman with a white beard and + palsied hands, inviting him to a spiritualistic seance. Funniest of all, + there was Aunt Caroline's prophet, the author of the “Eternal Bible,” with + his white robes and his permanent wave, and his little tribute of carrots + and onions wrapped in a newspaper. I decided that these were Carpenter's + own kind of troubles, and I left him to attend to them, and strolled out + to have a look at the audience. + </p> + <p> + The hall was packed, both the floor and the galleries; there must have + been three thousand people. I noted a big squad of police, and wondered + what was coming; for in these days you can never tell whether any public + meeting is to be allowed to start, and still less if it is to be allowed + to finish. However, the crowd was orderly, the only disturber being some + kind of a Socialist trying to sell literature. + </p> + <p> + I saw Mary Magna come in, with Laura Lee, another picture actress, and + Mrs. T-S. They found seats; and I looked for the magnate, and saw him + talking to some one near the door. I strolled back to speak to him, and + recognized the other man as Westerly, secretary of the Merchants' and + Manufacturers' Association. I knew what he was there for—to size up + this new disturber Of the city's peace, and perhaps to give the police + their orders. + </p> + <p> + It was not my wish to overhear the conversation, but it worked out that + way, partly because it is hard not to overhear T-S, and partly because I + stopped in surprise at the first words: “Good Gawd, Mr. Vesterly, vy + should I vant to give money to strikers? Dat's nuttin' but fool newspaper + talk. I vent to see de man, because Mary Magna told me he vas a vunderful + type, and I said I'd pay him a tousand dollars on de contract. You know + vot de newspapers do vit such tings!” + </p> + <p> + “Then the man isn't a friend of yours?” said the other. + </p> + <p> + “My Gawd, do I make friends vit every feller vot I hire because he looks + like a character part?” + </p> + <p> + At this point there came up Rankin, one of T-S's directors. “Hello!” said + he. “I thought I'd come to hear your friend the prophet.” + </p> + <p> + “Friend?” said T-S. “Who told you he's a friend o' mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the papers said—” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, de papers 're nutty!” + </p> + <p> + And then came one of the strikers who had been in the soup-kitchen—a + fresh young fellow, proud to know a great man. “How dy'do, Mr. T-S? I hear + our friend, Mr. Carpenter, is going—” + </p> + <p> + “Cut out dis friend stuff!” cried T-S, irritably. “He may be yours—he + ain't mine!” + </p> + <p> + I strolled up. “Hello, T-S!” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Billy! Hello!” + </p> + <p> + “So you've denied him three times!” + </p> + <p> + “Vot you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Three times—and the cock hasn't crowed yet! That man's a prophet + for sure, T-S!” + </p> + <p> + The magnate pretended not to understand, but the deep flush on his + features gave him away. + </p> + <p> + “How dy'do, Mr. Westerly,” I said. “What do you think of Mr. T-S in the + role of the first pope?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean he's going to act?” inquired the other, puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Come off!” exclaimed Rankin, who knew better, of course. + </p> + <p> + “He's going to be St. Peter,” I insisted, “and hold the keys to the golden + gate. He's planning a religious play, you know, for this fellow Carpenter. + Maybe he might cast Mr. Westerly for a part—say Pontius Pilate.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha, ha!” said the secretary of our “M. and M.” “Pretty good! Ha, ha, + ha! Gimme a chance at these bunk-shooters—I'll shut 'em up, you + bet!” + </p> + <h3> + XXXIII + </h3> + <p> + The chairman of the meeting was a man named Brown, the president of the + city's labor council. He was certainly respectable enough, prosy and + solemn. But he was deeply moved on this question of clubbing strikers' + heads; and you could see that the crowd was only waiting for a chance to + shout its indignation. The chairman introduced the president of the + Restaurant Workers, a solid citizen whom you would have taken for a + successful grocer. He told about what had happened last night at Prince's; + and then he told about the causes of the strike, and the things that go on + behind the scenes in big restaurants. I had been to Prince's many times in + my life, but I had never been behind the scenes, nor had I ever before + been to a labor-meeting. I must admit that I was startled. The things they + put into the hashes! And the distressing habit of unorganized waiters, + when robbed of their tips or otherwise ill-treated, to take it out by + spitting into the soup! + </p> + <p> + A couple of other labor men spoke, and then came James, the carpenter with + a religious streak. He had a harsh, rasping voice, and a way of poking a + long bony finger at the people he was impressing. He was desperately in + earnest, and it caused him to swallow a great deal, and each time his + Adam's apple would jump up. “I'm going to read you a newspaper clipping,” + he began; and I thought it was Judge Wollcott's injunction again, but it + was a story about one of our social leaders, Mrs. Alinson Pakenham, who + has four famous Pekinese spaniels, worth six thousand dollars each, and + weighing only eight ounces—or is it eighty ounces?—I'm not + sure, for I never was trusted to lift one of the wretched little brutes. + Anyhow, their names are Fe, Fi, Fo, and Fum, and they have each their own + attendant, and the four have a private limousine in which to travel, and + they dine off a service of gold plate. And here were hundreds of starving + strikers, with their wives, also starving; and a couple of thousand other + workers in factories and on ranches who were in process of having their + wages “deflated.” The orator quoted a speech of Algernon de Wiggs before + the Chamber of Commerce, declaring that the restoration of prosperity, + especially in agriculture, depended upon “deflation,” and this alone; and + suddenly James, the carpenter with a religious streak, launched forth: + </p> + <p> + “Go to now, you rich men, weep and howl for your miseries that are coming + upon you! Your riches are corrupted, and your garments are moth-eaten! + Your gold and silver is cankered; and the rust on it shall be a witness + against you, and shall eat your flesh as if it were fire. You have heaped + treasure together for the last days. Behold the hire of the laborers, who + have reaped your fields; you have kept it back by fraud, and the cries of + the reapers have entered into the ears of the Lord! You have lived in + pleasure on the earth, and been wanton; you have nourished your hearts, as + in a day of slaughter. You have condemned and killed the just—” + </p> + <p> + At this point in the tirade, my old friend the ex-centre-rush, who was + standing in the wings with me, turned and whispered: “For God's sake, + Billy, what kind of a Goddamn Bolshevik stunt is this, anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + I answered: “Hush, you dub! He's quoting from the Bible!” + </p> + <h3> + XXXIV + </h3> + <p> + President Brown of the Western City Labor Council arose to perform his + next duty as chairman. Said he: + </p> + <p> + “The next speaker is a stranger to most of you, and he is also a stranger + to me. I do not know what his doctrine is, and I assume no responsibility + for it. But he is a man who has proven his friendship for labor, not by + words, but by very unusual deeds. He is a man of remarkable personality, + and we have asked him to make what suggestions he can as to our problems. + I have pleasure in introducing Mr. Carpenter.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon the prophet fresh from God arose from his chair, and come slowly + to the front of the platform. There was no applause, but a silence made + part of curiosity and part of amazement. His figure, standing thus apart, + was majestic; and I noted a curious thing—a shining as of light + about his head. It was so clear and so beautiful that I whispered to Old + Joe: “Do you see that halo?” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Billy!” said the ex-centre-rush. “You're getting nutty!” + </p> + <p> + “But it's plain as day, man!” + </p> + <p> + I felt some one touch my arm, and saw the little lady of the + anti-vivisection tracts peering past me. “Do you see his aura?” she + whispered, excitedly. + </p> + <p> + “Is that what it is?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It's purple. That denotes spirituality.” + </p> + <p> + I thought to myself, “Good Lord, am I getting to be that sort?” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter began to speak, quietly, in his grave, measured voice. “My + brothers!” He waited for some time, as if that were enough; as if all the + problems of life would be solved, if only men would understand those two + words. “My brothers: I am, as your chairman says, a stranger to this world + of yours. I do not understand your vast machines and your complex arts. + But I know the souls of men and women; when I meet greed, and pride, and + cruelty, the enslavements of the flesh, they cannot lie to me. And I have + walked about the streets of your city, and I know myself in the presence + of a people wandering in a wilderness. My children!—broken-hearted, + desolate, and betrayed—poorest when you are rich, loneliest when you + throng together, proudest when you are most ignorant—my people, I + call you into the way of salvation!” + </p> + <p> + He stretched out his arms to them, and on his face and in his whole look + was such anguish, that I think there was no man in that whole great throng + so rooted in self-esteem that he was not shaken with sudden awe. The + prophet raised his hands in invocation: “Let us pray!” He bowed his head, + and many in the audience did the same. Others stared at him in + bewilderment, having long ago forgotten how to pray. Here and there some + one snickered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, God, Our Father, we, Thy lost children, return to Thee, the Giver of + Life. We bring our follies and our greeds, and cast them at Thy feet. We + do not like the life we have lived. We wish to be those things which for + long ages we have dreamed in vain. Wilt Thou show the way?” + </p> + <p> + His hands sank to his sides, and he raised his head. “Such is the prayer. + What is the answer? It has been made known: Ask, and it shall be given + you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. For + everyone that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him + that knocketh it shall be opened.—These are ancient words, by many + forgotten. What do they mean? They mean that we are children of our + Father, and not slaves of earthly masters. Would a man make a slave of his + own child? And shall man be more righteous than his Creator? + </p> + <p> + “My brothers: You are hungry, and in need, and your children cry for + bread; do I bid you feed them upon words? Not so; but the life of men is + made by the will of men, and that which exists in steel and stone existed + first in thought. If your thought is mean and base, your world is a place + of torment; if your thought is true and generous, your world is free. + </p> + <p> + “There was once a man who owned much land, and upon it he built great + factories, and many thousand men toiled for him, and he grew fat upon the + product of their labor, and his heart was high. And it came to pass that + his workers rebelled; and he hired others, and they shot down the workers, + so that the rest returned to their labor. And the master said: The world + is mine, and none can oppose me. But one day there arose among the workers + a man who laughed. And his laughter spread, until all the thousands were + laughing; they said, We are laughing at the thought that we should work + and you take the fruit of our labor. He ordered his troops to shoot them, + but his troops were also laughing, and he could not withstand the laughter + of so many men; he laughed also, and said, let us end this foolish thing. + </p> + <p> + “Is there a man among you who can say, I am worthy of freedom? That man + shall save the world. And I say to you: Make ready your hearts for + brotherhood; for the hour draws near, and it is a shameful thing when man + is not worthy of his destiny. A man may serve with his body, and yet be + free, but he that is a slave in his soul admires the symbols of mastery, + and lusts after its fruits. + </p> + <p> + “What are the fruits of mastery? They are pride and pomp, they are luxury + and wantoness and the shows of power. And who is there among you that can + say to himself, these things have no roots in my heart? That man is great, + and the deliverance of the world is the act of his will.” + </p> + <h3> + XXXV + </h3> + <p> + The speaker paused, and turned; his gaze swept the platform, and those + seated on it. Said he: “You are the representatives of organized labor. I + do not know your organization, therefore I ask: For what are you united? + Is it to follow in the footsteps of your masters, and bind others as they + have bound you?” + </p> + <p> + He waited for an answer, and the chairman, upon whom his gaze was fixed, + cried, “No!” Others also cried, “No!” and the audience took it up with + fervor. Carpenter turned to them. “Then I say to you: Break down in your + hearts and in the hearts of your fellows the worship of those base things + which mastership has brought into the world. If a man pile up food while + others starve, is not this evil? If a woman deck herself with clothing to + her own discomfort, is not this folly? And if it be folly, how shall it be + admired by you, to whom it brings starvation and despair? + </p> + <p> + “Before me sit young women of the working class. Say to yourselves: I tear + from my fingers the jewels which are the blood and tears of my fellow-men; + I wash the paint from my face, and from my head and my bosom I take the + silly feathers and ribbons. I dare to be what I am. I dare to speak truth + in a world of lies. I dare to deal honestly with men and women. + </p> + <p> + “Before me sit young men of the working-class. I say to you: Love honest + women. Do not love harlots, nor imitations of harlots. Do not admire the + idle women of the ruling class, nor those who ape them, and thereby + glorify them. Do not admire languid limbs and pouting lips and the signs + of haughtiness and vanity, your own enslavements. + </p> + <p> + “A tree is known by the fruit it gives; and the masters are known by the + lives they give to their servants. They are known by misery and + unemployment, by plague and famine, by wars, and the slaughter of the + people. Let judgment be pronounced upon them! + </p> + <p> + “You have heard it said: Each for himself, and the devil take the + hindmost. But I say to you: Each for all, and the hindmost is your charge. + I say to you: If a man will not work, let him be the one that hungers; if + he will not serve, let him be your criminal. For if one man be idle, + another man has been robbed; and if any man make display of wealth, that + man has the flesh of his brothers in his stomach. Verily, he that lives at + ease while others starve has blood-guilt upon him; and he that despises + his fellows has committed the sin for which there is no pardon. He that + lives for his own glory is a wolf, and vengeance will hunt him down; but + he that loves justice and mercy, and labors for these things, dwells in + the bosom of my Father. + </p> + <p> + “Do not think that I am come to bring you ease and comfort; I am come to + bring strife and discontent to this world. For the time of martyrdom draws + near, and from your Father alone can you draw the strength to endure your + trials. You are hungry, but you will be starved; you are prisoned in mills + and mines, but you will be walled up in dungeons; you are beaten with + whips, but you will be beaten with clubs, your flesh will be torn by + bullets, your skin will be burned with fire and your lungs poisoned with + deadly gases—such is the dominion of this world. But I say to you, + resist in your hearts, and none can conquer you, for in the hearts of men + lies the past and the future, and there is no power but love. + </p> + <p> + “You say: The world is evil, and men are base; why should I die for them? + Oh, ye of little faith, how many have died for you, and would you cheat + mankind? If there is to be goodness in the world, some one must begin; who + will begin with me? + </p> + <p> + “My brothers: I am come to lead you into the way of justice. I bid you + follow; not in passion and blind excitement, but as men firm in heart and + bent upon service. For the way of self-love is easy, while the way of + justice is hard. But some will follow, and their numbers will grow; for + the lives of men have grown ill beyond enduring, and there must be a new + birth of the spirit. Think upon my message; I shall speak to you again, + and the compulsion of my law will rest upon you. The powers of this world + come to an end, but the power of good will is everlasting, and the body + can sooner escape from its own shadow than mankind can escape from + brotherhood.” + </p> + <p> + He ceased, and a strange thing happened. Half the crowd rose to its feet; + and they cried, “Go, on!” Twice he tried to retire to his seat, but they + cried, “Go on, go on!” Said he, “My brothers, this is not my meeting, + there are other speakers—” But they cried, “We want to hear you!” He + answered, “You have your policies to decide, and your leaders must have + their say. But I will speak to you again to-morrow. I am told that your + city permits street speaking on Western City Street on Sundays. In the + morning I am going to church, to see how they worship my Father in this + city of many mobs; but at noon I will hold a meeting on the corner of + Fifth and Western City Streets, and if you wish, you may hear me. Now I + ask you to excuse me, for I am weary.” He stood for a moment, and I saw + that, although he had never raised his voice nor made a violent gesture, + his eyes were dark and hollow with fatigue, and drops of sweat stood upon + his forehead. + </p> + <p> + He turned and left the platform, and Old Joe and I hurried around to join + him. We found him with Korwsky the little Russian tailor whose son he had + healed. Korwsky claimed him to spend the night at his home; the friend + with the delivery wagon was on hand, and they were ready to start. I asked + Carpenter to what church he was going in the morning, and he startled me + by the reply, “St. Bartholomew's.” I promised that I would surely be on + hand, and then Old Joe and I set out to walk home. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said I. “What do you think of him?” + </p> + <p> + The ex-centre-rush walked for a bit before he answered. “You know, Billy + boy,” said he, “we do lead rotten useless lives.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord!” I thought; it was the first sign of a soul I had ever noted + in Old Joe! “Why,” I argued, “you sell paper, and that's useful, isn't + it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know whether it is or not. Look at what's printed on it—mostly + advertisements and bunk.” And again we walked for a bit. “By the way,” + said the ex-centre-rush, “before he got through, I saw that aura, or + whatever you call it. I guess I'm getting nutty, too!” + </p> + <h3> + XXXVI + </h3> + <p> + The first thing I did on Sunday morning was to pick up the “Western City + Times,” to see what it had done to Carpenter. I found that he had achieved + the front page, triple column, with streamer head all the way across the + page: + </p> + <p> + PROPHET IN TOWN, HEALS SICK, RAVES AT RICH AMERICA IS MOBLAND, ALLEGED IN + RED RIOT OF TALK + </p> + <p> + There followed a half page story about Carpenter's strenuous day in + Western City, beginning with a “Bolshevik stump speech” to a mob of + striking tailors. It appears that the prophet had gone to the Hebrew + quarter of the city, and finding a woman railing at a butcher because of + “alleged extortion,” had begun a speech, inciting a mob, so that the + police reserves had to be called out, and a riot was narrowly averted. + From there the prophet had gone to the Labor Temple, announcing himself to + the reporters as “fresh from God,” with a message to “Mobland,” his name + for what he prophesied America would be under his rule. He had then healed + a sick boy, the performance being carefully staged in front of moving + picture cameras. The account of the “Times” did not directly charge that + the performance was a “movie stunt,” but it described it in a mocking way + which made it obviously that. The paper mentioned T-S in such a way as to + indicate him as the originator of the scheme, and it had fun with Mary + Magna, pawning her paste jewels. It published the flash-light picture, and + also a picture of Carpenter walking down the street, trailed by his mob. + </p> + <p> + In another column was the climax, the “red riot of talk” at Grant Hall. + James, the striking carpenter, had indulged in virulent and semi-insane + abuse of the rich; after which the new prophet had stirred the mob to + worse frenzies. The “Times” quoted sample sentences, such as: “Do not + think that I am come to bring you ease and comfort; I am come to bring + strife and disorder to this world.” + </p> + <p> + I turned to the editorial page, and there was a double-column leader, made + extra impressive by leads. “AN INFAMOUS BLASPHEMY,” was the heading. + Perhaps you have a “Times” in your own city; if so, you will no doubt + recognize the standard style: + </p> + <p> + “For many years this newspaper has been pointing out to the people of + Western City the accumulating evidence that the men who manipulate the + forces of organized labor are Anarchists at heart, plotting to let loose + the torch of red revolution over this fair land. We have clearly showed + their nefarious purpose to overthrow the Statue of Liberty and set up in + its place the Dictatorship of the Walking Delegate. But, evil as we + thought them, we were naive enough to give them credit for an elemental + sense of decency. Even though they had no respect for the works of man, we + thought at least they would spare the works of God, the most sacred + symbols of divine revelation to suffering humanity. But yesterday there + occurred in this city a performance which for shameless insolence and + blasphemous perversion exceeds anything but the wildest flight of a + devil's imagination, and reveals the bosses of the Labor Trust as wanton + defilers of everything that decent people hold precious and holy. + </p> + <p> + “What was the spectacle? A moving picture producer, moved by blind, and we + trust unthinking lust for gain, produces in our midst an alleged + 'prophet,' dressed in a costume elaborately contrived to imitate and + suggest a Sacred Presence which our respect for religion forbids us to + name; he brings this vile, perverted creature forward, announcing himself + to the newspapers as 'fresh from God,' and mouthing phrases of social + greed and jealousy with which for the past few years the Hun-agents and + Hun-lovers in our midst have made us only too sickenly familiar. This + monstrous parody of divine compassion is escorted to that headquarters of + Pro-Germanism and red revolution, the Labor Temple, and there performs, in + the presence of moving picture cameras, a grotesque parody upon the laying + on of hands and the healing of the sick. The 'Times' presents a photograph + of this incredible infamy. We apologize to our readers for thus aiding the + designs of cunning publicity-seekers, but there is no other way to make + clear to the public the gross affront to decency which has been + perpetrated, and the further affronts which are being planned. This + appears to be a scheme for making a moving picture 'star'; this + 'Carpenter'—note the silly pun—is to become the latest + sensation in million dollar movie dolls, and the American public is to be + invited to pay money to witness a story of sacred things played by a real + 'prophet' and worker of 'miracles'!” + </p> + <p> + “But the worst has yet to be told. The masters of the Labor Trust, not to + be outdone in bidding for unholy notoriety, had the insolence to invite + this blasphemous charlatan to their riot of revolutionary ranting called a + 'protest meeting.' He and other creatures of his ilk, summoning the forces + which are organizing red ruin in our city, proceed to rave at the police + and the courts for denying to mobs of strikers the right to throw + brickbats at honest workers looking for jobs, and to hold the pistol of + the boycott at the heads of employers who dare to stand for American + liberty and democracy! We have heard much mouthing of class venom and hate + in this community, but never have our ears been affronted by anything so + unpardonable as this disguising of the doctrine of Lenin and Trotsky in + the robes of Christian revelation. This 'prophet fresh from God,' as he + styles himself, is a man of peace and brotherly love—oh, yes, of + course! We know these wolves in sheeps' clothing, these pacifists and + lovers of man with the gold of the Red International in their pockets, and + slavering from their tongues the fine phrases of idealism which + conveniently protect them from the strong hand of the law! We have seen + their bloody work for four years in Russia, and we tell them that if they + expect to prepare the confiscation of property and the nationalization of + women in this country while disguising themselves in moving picture + imitations of religion, they are grossly underestimating the intelligence + of the red-blooded citizens of this great republic. We shall be much + mistaken if the order-loving and patriotic people of our Christian + community do not find a way to stamp their heel upon this vile viper + before its venom shall have poisoned the air we breathe.” + </p> + <h3> + XXXVII + </h3> + <p> + Then I picked up the “Examiner.” Our “Examiner” does not go in so much for + moral causes; it is more interested in getting circulation, for which it + relies upon sensation, and especially what it calls “heart interest,” + meaning sex. It had found what it wanted in this story, as you may judge + by the headlines: + </p> + <h3> + MOVIE QUEEN PAWNS JEWELS FOR PROPHET OF GOD + </h3> + <p> + Then followed a story of which Mary Magna was the centre, with T-S and + myself for background. The reporter had hunted out the Mexican family with + which Carpenter had spent the night, and he drew a touching picture of + Carpenter praying over Mary in this humble home, and converting her to a + better life. Would the “million dollar vamp,” as the “Examiner” called + her, now take to playing only religious parts? Mary was noncommittal on + the point; and pending her decision, the “Examiner” published her + portraits in half a dozen of her most luxurious roles—for example, + as Salome after taking off the seventh veil. Side by side with Carpenter, + that had a real “punch,” you may believe! + </p> + <p> + The telephone rang, and there was the voice of T-S, fairly raving. He + didn't mind the “Examiner” stuff; that was good business, but that in the + “Times”—he was going to sue the “Times” for a million dollars, by + God, and would I back him in his claim that he had not put Carpenter up to + the healing business? + </p> + <p> + After a bit, the magnate began apologizing for his repudiation of the + prophet. He was in a position, just now with these hard times, where the + Wall Street crowd could ruin him if he got in bad with them. And then he + told me a curious story. Last night, after the meeting, young Everett, his + secretary, had come to him and asked if he could have a couple of months' + leave of absence without pay. He was so much interested in Carpenter that + he wanted to follow him and help him! + </p> + <p> + “Y' know, Billy,” said the voice over the phone, “y' could a' knocked me + over vit a fedder! Dat young feller, he vas alvays so quiet, and such a + fine business feller, I put him in charge of all my collections. I said to + him, 'Vot you gonna do?' And he said, 'I gonna learn from Mr. Carpenter.' + Says I, 'Vot you gonna learn?' and he says, 'I gonna learn to be a better + man.' Den he vaits a minute, and he says, 'Mr. T-S, he <i>told</i> me to + foller him!' J' ever hear de like o' dat?” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Vot could I say? I vanted to say, 'Who's givin' you de orders?' But I + couldn't, somehow! I hadda tell him to go ahead, and come back before he + forgot all my business.” + </p> + <p> + I dressed, and had my breakfast, and drove to St. Bartholomew's. It was a + November morning, bright and sunny, as warm as summer; and it is always + such a pleasure to see that goodly company of ladies and gentlemen, so + perfectly groomed, so perfectly mannered, breathing a sense of peace and + well being. Ah, that wonderful sense of well being! “God's in His Heaven, + all's right with the world!” And what a curious contrast with the Labor + Temple! For a moment I doubted Carpenter; surely these ladies with their + decorative bonnets, their sweet perfumes, their gowns of rose and lilac + and other pastel shades—surely they were more important + life-products than women in frowsy and dowdy imitation clothes! Surely it + was better to be serene and clean and pleasant, than to be terrible and + bewildered, sick and quarrelsome! I was seized by a frenzy, a sort of + instinctive animal lust for this life of ease and prettiness. No matter if + those dirty, raucous-voiced hordes of strikers, and others of their “ilk”—as + the “Times” phrased it—did have to wash my clothes and scrub my + floors, just so that <i>I</i> stayed clean and decent! + </p> + <p> + I bowed to a score or two of the elegant ladies, and to their escorts in + shiny top hats and uncreased kid gloves, and went into the exquisite + church with its glowing stained glass window, and looked up over the altar—and + there stood Carpenter! I tell you, it gave me a queer shock. There he was, + up in the window, exactly where he had always been; I thought I had + suddenly wakened from a dream. There had been no “prophet fresh from God,” + no mass-meeting at Grant Hall, no editorial in the “Times”! But suddenly I + heard a voice at my elbow: “Billy, what is this awful thing you've been + doing?” It was my Aunt Caroline, and I asked what she meant, and she + answered, “That terrible prophet creature, and getting your name into the + papers!” + </p> + <p> + So I knew it was true, and I walked with my dear, sweet old auntie down + the aisle, and there sat Aunt Jennie, with her two lanky girls who have + grown inches every time I run into them; and also Uncle Timothy. Uncle + Timothy was my guardian until I came of age, so I am a little in awe of + him, and now I had to listen to his whispered reproaches—it being + the first principle of our family never to “get into the papers.” I told + him that it wasn't my fault I had been knocked down by a mob, and surely I + couldn't help it if this man Carpenter found me while I was unconscious, + and made me well. Nor could I fail to be polite to my benefactor, and try + to help him about. My Uncle Timothy was amazed, because he had accepted + the “Times” story that it was all a “movie” hoax. Everybody will tell you + in Western City that they “never believe a word they read in the 'Times'”; + but of course they do—they have to believe something, and what else + have they? + </p> + <p> + I was trying to think about that picture over the altar. Of course, they + would naturally have replaced it! I wondered who had found old de Wiggs up + there; I wondered if he knew about it, and if he had any idea who had + played that prank. I looked to his pew; yes, there he sat, rosy and + beaming, bland as ever! I looked for old Peter Dexter, president of the + Dexter Trust Company—yes, he was in his pew, wizened and hunched up, + prematurely bald. And Stuyvesant Gunning, of the Fidelity National—they + were all here, the masters of the city's finance and the pillars of “law + and order.” Some wag had remarked if you wanted to call directors' meeting + after the service, you could settle all the business of Western City in + St. Bartholomew's! + </p> + <p> + The organ pealed and the white-robed choir marched in, bearing the golden + crosses, and followed by the Reverend Dr. Lettuce-Spray, smooth-shaven, + plump and beautiful, his eyes bent reverently on the floor. They were + singing with fervor that most orthodox of hymns: + </p> + <p> + The church's one foundation Is Jesus Christ, her Lord. + </p> + <p> + It is a beautiful old service, as you may know, and I had been taught to + love it and thrill to it as a little child, and we never forget those + things. Peace and propriety are its keynotes; order and dignity, combined + with sensuous charm. Everyone knows his part, and it moves along like a + beautiful machine. I knelt and prayed, and then sat and listened, and then + stood and sang—over and over for perhaps three-quarters of an hour. + We came to the hymn which precedes the sermon, and turning to the number, + we obediently proclaimed: + </p> + <p> + The Son of God goes forth to war A kingly crown to gain: His blood-red + banner streams afar: Who follows in His train? + </p> + <p> + During the singing of the last verse, the Reverend Lettuce-Spray had moved + silently into the pulpit. After the choir had sung “Amen,” he raised his + hands in invocation—and at that awesome moment I saw Carpenter come + striding up the aisle! + </p> + <h3> + XXXVIII + </h3> + <p> + He knew just where he was going, and walked so fast that before anyone had + time to realize what was happening, he was on the altar steps, and facing + the congregation. You could hear the gasp of amazement; he was so + absolutely identical with the painted figure over his head, that if he had + remained still, you could not have told which was painting and which was + flesh and blood. The rector in the pulpit stood with his mouth open, + staring as if seeing a ghost. + </p> + <p> + The prophet stretched out both his hands, and pointed two accusing fingers + at the congregation. His voice rang out, stern and commanding: “Let this + mockery cease!” Again he cried: “What do ye with my Name?” And pointing + over his head: “Ye crucify me in stained glass!” + </p> + <p> + There came murmurs from the congregation, the first mutterings of a storm. + “Oh! Outrageous! Blasphemy!” + </p> + <p> + “Blasphemy?” cried Carpenter. “Is it not written that God dwelleth not in + temples made with hands? Ye have built a temple to Mammon, and defile the + name of my Father therein!” + </p> + <p> + The storm grew louder. “This is preposterous!” exclaimed my uncle Timothy + at my side. And the Reverend Lettuce-Spray managed to find his voice. + “Sir, whoever you are, leave this church!” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter turned upon him. “You give orders to me—you who have + brought back the moneychangers into my Father's temple?” And suddenly he + faced the congregation, crying in a voice of wrath: “Algernon de Wiggs! + Stand up!” + </p> + <p> + Strange as it may seem, the banker rose in his pew; whether under the + spell of Carpenter's majestic presence, or preparing to rush at him and + throw him out, I could not be sure. The great banker's face was vivid + scarlet. + </p> + <p> + And Carpenter pointed to another part of the congregation. “Peter Dexter! + Stand up!” The president of the Dexter Trust Company also arose, trembling + as if with palsy, mumbling something, one could not tell whether protest + or apology. + </p> + <p> + “Stuyvesant Gunning! Stand up!” And the president of the Fidelity National + obeyed. Apparently Carpenter proposed to call the whole roll of financial + directors; but the procedure was halted suddenly, as a tall, white-robed + figure strode from its seat near the choir. Young Sidney Simpkinson, + assistant to the rector, went up to Carpenter and took him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Leave this house of God,” he commanded. + </p> + <p> + The other faced him. “It is written, Thou shalt not take the name of the + Lord thy God in vain, for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh + His name in vain.” + </p> + <p> + Young Simpkinson wasted no further words in parley. He was an advocate of + what is known as “muscular Christianity,” and kept himself in trim playing + on the parish basket-ball team. He flung his strong arms about Carpenter, + and half carrying him, half walking him, took him down the steps and down + the aisle. As he went, Carpenter was proclaiming: “It is written, My house + shall be called a house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves. + He that steals little is called a pickpocket, but he that steals much is + called a pillar of the church. Verily, he that deprives the laborer of the + fruit of his toil is more dangerous than he that robs upon the highway; + and he that steals the state and the powers of government is the father of + all thieves.” + </p> + <p> + By that time, the prophet had been hustled two-thirds down the aisle; and + then came a new development. Unobserved by anyone, a number of Carpenter's + followers had come with him into the church; and these, seeing the way he + was being handled, set up a cry: “For shame! For shame!” I saw Everett, + secretary to T-S, and Korwsky, secretary of the tailor's union; I saw some + one leap at Everett and strike him a ferocious blow in the teeth, and two + other men leap upon the little Russian and hurl him to the ground. + </p> + <p> + I started up, involuntarily. “Oh, shame! Shame!” I cried, and would have + rushed out into the aisle. But I had to pass my uncle, and he had no + intention of letting me make myself a spectacle. He threw his arms about + me, and pinned me against the pew in front; and as he is one of the ten + ranking golfers at the Western City Country Club, his embrace carried + authority. I struggled, but there I stayed, shouting, “For shame! For + shame!” and my uncle exclaiming, in a stern whisper, “Shut up! Sit down, + you fool!” and my Aunt Caroline holding onto my coat-tails, crying, and my + aunt Jennie threatening to faint. + </p> + <p> + The melee came quickly to an end, for the men of the congregation seized + the half dozen disturbers and flung them outside, and mounted guard to + make sure they did not return. I sank back into my seat, my worthy uncle + holding my arm tightly with both hands, lest I should try to make my + escape over the laps of Aunt Caroline and Aunt Jennie. + </p> + <p> + All this time the Reverend Lettuce-Spray had been standing in the pulpit, + making no sound. Now, as the congregation settled back into order, he + said, with the splendid, conscious self-possession of one who can remain + “equal to the occasion”: “We will resume the service.” And he opened his + portfolio, and spread out his manuscript before him, and announced: + </p> + <p> + “Our text for the morning is the fifth chapter of the gospel according to + St. Matthew, the thirty-ninth and fortieth verses: 'But I say unto you, + that ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right + cheek, turn to him the other also. And if any man shall sue thee at law, + and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also.” + </p> + <h3> + XXXIX + </h3> + <p> + I sat through the sermon, and the offertory, and the recessional. After + that my uncle tried to detain me, to warn and scold me; but he no longer + used physical force, and nothing but that would have held me. At the door + I asked one of the ushers what had become of the prophet, thinking he + might be in jail. But the answer was that the gang had gone off, carrying + their wounded; so I ran round the corner to where my car was parked, and + within ten minutes I was on Western City Street, where Carpenter had + announced that he would speak. + </p> + <p> + There had been nothing said about the proposed meeting in the papers, and + no one knew about it save those who had been present at Grant Hall. But it + looked as if they had told everyone they knew, and everyone they had told + had come. The wide street was packed solid for a block, and in the midst + of this throng stood Carpenter, upon a wagon, making a speech. + </p> + <p> + There was no chance to get near, so I bethought me of an alley which ran + parallel to the street. There was an obscure hotel on the street, and I + entered it through the rear entrance, and had no trouble in persuading the + clerk to let me join some of the guests of the hotel who were watching the + scene from the second story windows. + </p> + <p> + The first thing which caught my attention was the figure of Everett, + seated on the floor of the wagon from which the speech was being made. I + saw that his face was covered with blood; I learned later that he had + three teeth knocked out, and his nose broken. Nevertheless, there he was + with his stenographer's notebook, taking down the prophet's words. He told + me afterwards that he had taken even what Carpenter said in the church. + “I've an idea he won't last very long,” was the way he put it; “and if + they should get rid of him, every word he's said will be precious. Anyhow, + I'm going to get what I can.” + </p> + <p> + Also I saw Korwsky, lying on the floor of the wagon, evidently knocked + out; and two other men whom I did not know, nursing battered and bloody + faces. Having taken all that in at a glance, I gave my attention to what + Carpenter was saying. + </p> + <p> + He was discussing churches and those who attend them. Later on, my + attention was called to the curious fact that his discourse was merely a + translation into modern American of portions of the twenty-third chapter + of St. Matthew; a free adaptation of those ancient words to present day + practices and conditions. But I had no idea of this while I listened; I + was shocked by what seemed to me a furious tirade, and the guests of the + hotel were even more shocked—I think they would have taken to + throwing things out of the windows at the orator, had it not been for + their fear of the crowd. Said Carpenter: + </p> + <p> + “The theologians and scholars and the pious laymen fill the leisure class + churches, and it would be all right if you were to listen to what they + preach, and do that; but don't follow their actions, for they never + practice what they preach. They load the backs of the working-classes with + crushing burdens, but they themselves never move a finger to carry a + burden, and everything they do is for show. They wear frock-coats and silk + hats on Sundays, and they sit at the speakers' tables at the banquets of + the Civic Federation, and they occupy the best pews in the churches, and + their doings are reported in all the papers; they are called leading + citizens and pillars of the church. But don't you be called leading + citizens, for the only useful man is the man who produces. (Applause.) And + whoever exalts himself shall be abased, and whoever humbles himself shall + be exalted. + </p> + <p> + “Woe unto you, doctors of divinity and Catholics, hypocrites! for you shut + up the kingdom of heaven against men; you don't go in yourself and you + don't let others go in. Woe unto you, doctors of divinity and + Presbyterians, hypocrites! for you foreclose mortgages on widows' houses, + and for a pretense you make long prayers. For this you will receive the + greater damnation! Woe unto you, doctors of divinity and Methodists, + hypocrites! for you send missionaries to Africa to make one convert, and + when you have made him, is twice as much a child of hell as yourselves. + (Applause.) Woe unto you, blind guides, with your subtleties of doctrine, + your transubstantiation and consubstantiation and all the rest of it; you + fools and blind! Woe unto you, doctors of divity and Episcopalians, + hypocrites! for you drop your checks into the collection-plate and you pay + no heed to the really important things in the Bible, which are justice and + mercy and faith in goodness. You blind guides, who choke over a fly and + swallow a flivver! (Laughter.) Woe unto you, doctors of divinity and + Anglicans, hypocrites! for you dress in immaculate clothing kept clean by + the toil of frail women, but within you are full of extortion and excess. + You blind high churchmen, clean first your hearts, so that the clothes you + wear may represent you. Woe unto you, doctors of divinity and Baptists, + hypocrites! for you are like marble tombs which appear beautiful on the + outside, but inside are full of dead men's bones and all uncleanness. Even + so you appear righteous to men, but inside you are full of hypocrisy and + iniquity. (Applause.) Woe unto you doctors of divinity and Unitarians, + hypocrites! because you erect statues to dead reformers, and put wreaths + upon the tombs of old-time martyrs. You say, if we had been alive in those + days, we would not have helped to kill those good men. That ought to show + you how to treat us at present. (Laughter.) But you are the children of + those who killed the good men; so go ahead and kill us too! You serpents, + you generation of vipers, how can you escape the damnation of hell?” + </p> + <h3> + XL + </h3> + <p> + When Carpenter stopped speaking, his face was dripping with sweat, and he + was pale. But the eager crowd would not let him go. They began to ask him + questions. There were some who wanted to know what he meant by saying that + he came from God, and some who wanted to know whether he believed in the + Christian religion. There were others who wanted to know what he thought + about political action, and if he really believed that the capitalists + would give up without using force. There was a man who had been at the + relief kitchen, and noted that he ate soup with meat in it, and asked if + this was not using force against one's fellow creatures. The old gentleman + who represented spiritualism was on hand, asking if the dead are still + alive, and if so, where are they? + </p> + <p> + Then, before the meeting was over, there came a sick man to be healed; and + others, pushing their way through the crowd, clamoring about the wagon, + seeking even to touch the hem of Carpenter's garments. After a couple of + hours of this he announced that he was worn out. But it was a problem to + get the wagon started; they could only move slowly, the driver calling to + the people in front to make room. So they went down the street, and I got + into my car and followed at a distance. I did not know where they were + going, and there was nothing I could do but creep along—a poor + little rich boy with a big automobile and nobody to ride in it, or to pay + any attention to him. + </p> + <p> + The wagon drove to the city jail; which rather gave me a start, because I + had been thinking that the party might be arrested at any minute, on + complaint to the police from the church. But apparently this did not + trouble Carpenter. He wished to visit the strikers who had been arrested + in front of Prince's restaurant. He and several others stood before the + heavy barred doors asking for admission, while a big crowd gathered and + stared. I sat watching the scene, with phrases learned in earliest + childhood floating through my mind: “I was sick, and ye visited me; I was + in prison, and ye came unto me.” + </p> + <p> + But it appeared that Sunday was not visitors' day at the jail, and the + little company was turned away. As they climbed back into the wagon, I saw + two husky fellows come from the jail, a type one learns to know as plain + clothes men. “Why won't they let him in?” cried some one in the crowd; and + one of the detectives looked over his shoulder, with a sneering laugh: + “We'll let him in before long, don't you worry!” + </p> + <p> + The wagon took up its slow march again. It was a one-horse express-cart, + belonging, as I afterwards learned, to a compatriot of Korwsky the tailor. + This man, Simon Karlin, earned a meager living for himself and his family + by miscellaneous delivery in his neighborhood; but now he was so + fascinated with Carpenter that he had dropped everything in order to carry + the prophet about. I mention it, because next day in the newspapers there + was much fun made of this imitation man of God riding about town in a half + broken-down express-wagon, hauled by a rickety and spavined old nag. + </p> + <p> + The company drove to one of the poorer quarters of the city, and stopped + before a workingman's cottage on a street whose name I had never heard + before. I learned that it was the home of James, the striking carpenter, + and on the steps were his wife and a brood of half a dozen children, and + his old father and mother, and several other people unidentified. There + were many who had walked all the way following the wagon, and others + gathered quickly, and besought the prophet to speak to them, and to heal + their sick. Apparently his whole life was to consist of that kind of + thing, for he found it hard to refuse any request. But finally he told + them he must be quiet, and went inside, and James mounted guard at the + door, and I sat in my car and waited until the crowd had filtered away. + There was no good reason why I should have been admitted, but James + apparently was glad to see me, and let me join the little company that was + gathered in his home. + </p> + <p> + There was Everett, who had now washed the blood off his face, but had not + been able to put back his lost teeth, nor to heal the swollen mass that + had once been his upper lip and nose. And there was Korwsky, who was now + able to sit up and smile feebly, and two other men, whose names I did not + learn, nursing battered faces. Carpenter prayed over them all, and they + became more cheerful, and eager to talk about the adventure, each telling + over what had happened to him. I noted that Everett, in spite of what must + have been intense pain, was still faithfully taking down every word the + prophet uttered. + </p> + <p> + It had been known that Carpenter was to honor this house with his + presence, and the family were all dressed in their best, and had got + together a supper, in spite of hard times and strikes. We had sandwiches + and iced tea and a slice of pie for each of us, and I was interested to + observe that the prophet, tired as he was, liked to laugh and chat over + his food, exactly like any uninspired human being. He never failed to get + the children around him and tell them stories, and hear their bright + laughter. + </p> + <h3> + XLI + </h3> + <p> + But, of course, serious things kept intruding. Karlin the express driver, + had a sick wife, and Carpenter heard about her and insisted upon going to + see her. Apparently there was no end to this business of the poor being + sick. It was a new thing to me—this world swarming with dirty and + miserable and distracted people. Of course, I had known about “the poor,” + but always either in the abstract, or else as an individual, or a family, + that one could help. But here was a new world, thickly peopled, swarming; + that was the terrible part of it—the vastness of it, the thickness + of the population in these regions of “the poor.” It was like some sort of + delirium; like being lost in a wilderness, of which the trees were + miseries, and deformities, and pains! I could understand to the full + Carpenter's feeling when he put his hands to his forehead, exclaiming: + “There is so much to do and so few to do it! Pray to God, that he will + send some to help us!” + </p> + <p> + When he returned from Simon Karlin's, he brought with him the latter's + wife, whom he had healed of a fever; and here was another of the company + whom he insisted upon helping—“Comrade” Abell, one of the men I had + noticed at the meeting last night, and who appeared to be done up. This + man, I learned, was secretary of the Socialist local of Western City. I + had known there were Socialists in the city, just as I knew there were + poor, but I had never seen one, and was curious about Abell. He was a + lawyer; and that might suggest to you a certain type of person, brisk and + well dressed—but apparently Socialist lawyers are not true to type. + Comrade Abell was a shy, timid little man, with black hair straggling + about his ears, and sometimes into his eyes. He had a gentle, pathetic + face, and his voice was melancholy and caressing. He was clad in a frock + coat of black broadcloth, which had once been appropriate for Sunday; but + I should judge it had been worn for twenty years, for it was green about + the collar and the cuffs and button-holes. + </p> + <p> + Comrade Abell's office and also his home were in a second story, over a + grocery-store in this neighborhood, and here also was a little hall used + as a meeting-place by the Socialists. Every Saturday night Abell and two + or three of his friends conducted a soap-box meeting on Western City + Street, and gave away propaganda leaflets and sold a few pamphlets and + books. He had had quite a supply of literature of all kinds at his office, + nearly two thousand dollars worth, he told Carpenter, but a few months + previously the place had been mobbed. A band of ex-service men, + accompanied by a few police and detectives, had raided it and terrified + the wife and children by breaking down the doors and throwing the contents + of desks and bureaus out on the floor. They had dumped the literature into + a truck and carted it away, and after two or three weeks they had dumped + it back again, having found nothing criminal in it. “But they ruined it so + that it can't be sold!” broke in James, indignantly. “Most of it was + bought on credit, and how can we pay for it.” + </p> + <p> + James was also a Socialist, it appeared, while Korwsky and his friend + Karlin advocated “industrial action,” and these fell to arguing over + “tactics,” while Carpenter asked questions, so as to understand their + different points of view. Presently Korwsky was called out of the room, + and came back with an announcement which he evidently considered grave. + John Colver was in the neighborhood, and wanted to know if Carpenter would + meet him. + </p> + <p> + “Who is John Colver?” asked the prophet. And it was explained that this + was a dangerous agitator, now under sentence of twenty years in jail, but + out on bail pending the appeal of his case to the supreme court. Colver + was a “wobbly,” well known as one of their poets. Said Korwsky, “He tinks + you vouldn't like to know him, because if de spies find it out, dey vould + git after you.” + </p> + <p> + “I will meet any man,” said Carpenter. “My business is to meet men.” And + so in a few minutes the terrible John Colver was escorted into the room. + </p> + <p> + Now, every once in a while I had read in the “Times” how another bunch of + these I.W.W's. were put on trial, and how they were insolent to the judge, + and how it was proved they had committed many crimes, and how they were + sentenced to fourteen years in State's prison under our criminal + syndicalism act. Needless to say, I had never seen one of these desperate + men; but I had a quite definite idea what they looked like—dark and + sinister creatures, with twisted mouths and furtive eyes. I knew that, + because I had seen a couple of moving picture shows in which they figured. + But now for the first time I met one, and behold, he was an open-faced, + laughing lad, with apple cheeks and two most beautiful rows of even white + teeth that gleamed at you! + </p> + <p> + “Fellow-worker Carpenter!” he cried; and caught the prophet by his two + hands. “You are an old friend of ours, though you may not know it! We + drink a toast to you in our jungles.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that so?” said Carpenter. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I really have no right to see you,” continued the other, + “because I'm shadowed all the time, and you know my organization is + outlawed.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it outlawed?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Colver, “they say we burn crops and barns, and drive + copper-nails into fruit-trees, and spikes into sawmill lumber.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you do that?” + </p> + <p> + Colver laughed his merry laugh. “We do it just as often as you act for the + movies, Fellow-worker Carpenter!” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Carpenter. “What do you really do?” + </p> + <p> + “What we really do is to organize the unskilled workers.” + </p> + <p> + “For what do you organize them?” + </p> + <p> + “So that they will be able to run the industries when the system of greed + breaks down of its own rottenness.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said the prophet, and he thought for a moment. “It is a slave + revolt!” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” said the other. + </p> + <p> + “I know what they do to slave revolts, my brother. You are fortunate if + they only send you to prison.” + </p> + <p> + “They do plenty more than that,” said Colver. “I will give you our + pamphlet, 'Drops of Blood,' and you may read about some of the lynching + and tarring and feathering and shooting of Mobland.” His eyes twinkled. + “That's a dandy name you've hit on! I shall be surprised if it doesn't + stick.” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter went on questioning, bent upon knowing about this outlaw + organization and its members. It was clear before long that he had taken a + fancy to young John Colver. He made him sit beside him, and asked to hear + some of his poetry, and when he found it really vivid and beautiful, he + put his arm about the young poet's shoulders. Again I found memories of + old childhood phrases stirring in my mind. Had there not once been a + disciple named John, who was especially beloved? + </p> + <h3> + XLII + </h3> + <p> + Presently the young agitator began telling about an investigation he had + been making in the lumber country of the Northwest. He was writing a + pamphlet on the subject of a massacre which had occurred there. A mob of + ex-soldiers had stormed the headquarters of the “wobblies,” and the latter + had defended themselves, and killed two or three of their assailants. A + news agency had sent out over the country a story to the effect that the + “wobblies” had made an unprovoked assault upon the ex-soldiers. “That's + what the papers do to us!” said John Colver. “There have been scores of + mobbings as a result, and just now it may be worth a man's life to be + caught carrying a red card in any of these Western states.” + </p> + <p> + So there was the subject of non-resistance, and I sat and listened with + strangely mingled feelings of sympathy and repulsion, while this group of + rebels of all shades and varieties argued whether it was really possible + for the workers to get free without some kind of force. Carpenter, it + appeared, was the only one in the company who believed it possible. The + gentle Comrade Abell was obliged to admit that the Socialists, in using + political action, were really resorting to force in a veiled form. They + sought to take possession of the state by voting; but the state was an + instrument of force, and would use force to carry out its will. “You are + an anarchist!” said the Socialist lawyer, addressing Carpenter. + </p> + <p> + To my surprise Carpenter was not shocked by this. + </p> + <p> + “If I admit no power but love,” said he, “how can I have anything to do + with government?” + </p> + <p> + More visitors called, and were admitted, and presently the little room was + packed with people, and a regular meeting was in progress. I heard more + strange ideas than I had ever known existed in the world. I tried not to + be offended; but I thought there ought to be at least a few words said for + plain ordinary human beings who carry no labels, so I ventured now and + then to put in a mild suggestion—for example, that there were quite + a few people in the world who did not love all their neighbors, and could + not be persuaded to love them all at once, and it might be necessary to + put just a little restraint upon them for a time. Again I suggested, maybe + the workers were not yet sufficiently educated to run the industries, they + might need some help from the present masters. “Just a little more + education,” I ventured— + </p> + <p> + And John Colver laughed, the first ugly laugh I had heard from him. + “Education by the masters? Education at the end of a club!” + </p> + <p> + “My boy,” I argued, “I know there are plenty of employers who are rough, + but there are others who are good men, who would like to change the + system, would like to do something, if they knew what it was. But who will + tell them what to do? Take me, for example. I have a great deal of wealth + which I have not earned; but what can I do about it? What do you say, Mr. + Carpenter?” + </p> + <p> + I turned to him, as the true authority; and the others also turned to him. + He answered, without hesitation: “Sell everything that you have and give + it to the unemployed.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said I, “would that really solve the problem. They would spend it, + and we should be right where we were before.” + </p> + <p> + Said Carpenter: “They are unemployed because you have taken from them + wealth which you have not earned. Give it back to them.” + </p> + <p> + And then, seeing that I was not satisfied, he added: “How hard it is for a + rich man to understand the meaning of social justice! Indeed, it would be + easier for a strike leader to get the truth published in your 'Times', + than for a rich man to understand what the word social justice means.” + </p> + <p> + The company laughed, and I subsided, and let the wave of conversation roll + by. It was only later that I realized the part I had just been playing. It + had been easy for me to recognize T-S as St. Peter, but I had not known + myself as that rich young man who had asked for advice, and then rejected + it. “When he heard this, he was very sorrowful; for he was very rich.” + Yes, I had found my place in the story! + </p> + <h3> + XLIII + </h3> + <p> + You may believe that next morning my first thought was to get hold of the + “Times” and see what they had done to my prophet. Sure enough, there he + was on the front page, three columns wide, with the customary streamer + head: + </p> + <h3> + MOB OF ANARCHISTS RAID ST. BARTHOLMEW'S + </h3> + <h3> + PROPHET AND RAGGED HORDE BREAK UP CHURCH SERVICES + </h3> + <p> + I skimmed over the story quickly; I noted that Carpenter was represented + as having tried to knock down the Reverend Mr. Simpkinson, and that the + prophet's followers had assaulted members of the congregation. I confess + to some relief upon discovering that my own humble part in the adventure + had not been mentioned. I suspected that my Uncle Timothy must have been + busy at the telephone on Sunday evening! But then I turned to the + “Examiner,” and alas, there I was! “A certain rich young man,” rising up + to protect an incendiary prophet! I remembered that my Uncle Timothy had + had a violent row with the publisher of the “Examiner” a year or two ago, + over some political appointment! + </p> + <p> + The “Times” had another editorial, two columns, double leaded. Yesterday + the paper had warned the public what to expect; today it saw the + prophecies justified, and what it now wished to know was, had Western City + a police department, or had it not? “How much longer do our authorities + propose to give rein to this fire-brand imposter? This prophet of God who + rides about town in a broken-down express-wagon, and consorts with movie + actresses and red agitators! Must the police wait until his seditious + doctrines have fanned the flames of mob violence beyond control? Must they + wait until he has gathered all the others of his ilk, the advocates of + lunacy and assassination about him, and caused an insurrection of class + envy and hate? We call upon the authorities of our city to act and act at + once; to put this wretched mountebank behind bars where he belongs, and + keep him there.” + </p> + <p> + There was another aspect of this matter upon which the “Times” laid + emphasis. After long efforts on the part of the Chamber of Commerce and + other civic organizations, Western City had been selected as the place for + the annual convention of the Mobland Brigade. In three days this + convention would be called to order, and already the delegates were + pouring in by every train. What impression would they get of law and order + in this community? Was this the purpose for which they had shed their + blood in a dreadful war—that their country might be affronted by the + ravings of an impious charlatan? What had the gold-star mothers of Western + City to say to this? What did the local post of the Mobland Brigade + propose to do to save the fair name of their city? Said the “Times”: “If + our supine authorities refuse to meet this emergency, we believe there are + enough 100% Americans still among us to protect the cause of public + decency, and to assert the right of Christian people to worship their God + without interference from the Dictatorship of the Lunatic Asylum.” + </p> + <p> + Now, I had been so much interested in Carpenter and his adventures that I + had pretty well overlooked this matter of the Mobland Brigade and its + convention. I belong to the Brigade myself, and ought to have been serving + on the committee of arrangements; instead of which, here I was chasing + around trying to save a prophet, who, it appeared, really wanted to get + into trouble! Yes, the Brigade was coming; and I could foresee what would + happen when a bunch of these wild men encountered Carpenter's express + wagon on the street! + </p> + <h3> + XLIV + </h3> + <p> + I swallowed a hasty cup of coffee, and drove in a taxi to the Labor + Temple. Carpenter had said he would be there early in the morning, to help + with the relief work again. I went to the rooms of the Restaurant Workers, + and found that he had not yet arrived. I noticed a group of half a dozen + men standing near the door, and there seemed something uncordial in the + look they gave me. One of them came toward me, the same who had sought my + advice about permitting Carpenter to speak at the mass meeting. “Good + morning,” he said; and then: “I thought you told me this fellow Carpenter + was not a red?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said I, taken by surprise, “is he?” + </p> + <p> + “God Almighty!” said the other. “What do you call this?” And he held up a + copy of the “Times.” “Going in and shouting in the middle of a church + service, and trying to knock down a clergyman!” + </p> + <p> + I could not help laughing in the man's face. “So even you labor men + believe what you read in the 'Times'! It happens I was present in the + church myself, and I assure you that Carpenter offered no resistance, and + neither did anyone else in his group. You remember, I told you he was a + man of peace, and that was all I told you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the other, somewhat more mildly, “even so, we can't stand for + this kind of thing. That's no way to accomplish anything. A whole lot of + our members are Catholics, and what will they make of carryings-on like + this? We're trying to persuade people that we're a law-abiding + organization, and that our officials are men of sense.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said I. “And what do you mean to do about it?” + </p> + <p> + “We have called a meeting of our executive committee this morning, and are + going to adopt a resolution, making clear to the public that we knew + nothing about this church raid, and that we don't stand for such things. + We would never have permitted this man Carpenter to speak on our platform, + if we had known about his ideas.” + </p> + <p> + I had nothing to say, and I said it. The other was watching me uneasily. + “We hear the man proposes to come back to our relief kitchen. Is that so?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe he does; and I suppose you would rather he didn't. Is that it?” + The other admitted that was it, and I laughed. “He has had his thousand + dollars worth of hospitality, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we don't want to hurt his feelings,” said the other. “Of gourse our + members are having a hard time, and we were glad to get the money, but it + would be better if our central organization were to contribute the funds, + rather than to have us pay such a price as this newspaper publicity.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let your committee vote the money, and return it to Mr. T-S, and + also to Mary Magna.” + </p> + <p> + It took the man sometime to figure out a reply to this proposition. “We + have no objection to Mr. T-S coming here,” he said, “or Miss Magna + either.” + </p> + <p> + “That is,” said I, “so long as they obey the law, and don't get in bad + with the Western City 'Times'!” After a moment I added, “You may make your + mind easy. I will go downstairs and wait for Mr. Carpenter, and tell him + he is not wanted.” + </p> + <p> + And so I left the Labor Temple and walked up and down on the sidewalk in + front. It was really rather unreasonable of me to be annoyed with this + labor man for having voiced the same point of view of “common sense” which + I had been defending to Carpenter's group on the previous evening. Also, I + was obliged to admit to myself that if I were a labor leader, trying to + hold together a group of half-educated men in the face of public sentiment + such as existed in this city, I might not have the same carefree, laughing + attitude towards life as a certain rich young man whose pockets were + stuffed with unearned increments. + </p> + <p> + To this mood of tolerance I had brought myself, when I saw a white robe + come round the corner, arm in arm with a frock coat of black broadcloth. + Also there came Everett, looking still more ghastly, his nose and lip + having become purple, and in places green. Also there was Korwsky, and two + other men; Moneta, a young Mexican cigarmaker out of work, and a man named + Hamby, who had turned up on the previous evening, introducing himself as a + pacifist who had been arrested and beaten up during the war. Somehow he + did not conform to my idea of a pacifist, being a solid and rather + stoutish fellow, with nothing of the idealist about him. But Carpenter + took him, as he took everybody, without question or suspicion. + </p> + <h3> + XLV + </h3> + <p> + I joined the group, and made clear to them, as tactfully as I could, that + they were not wanted inside. Comrade Abell threw up his hands. “Oh, those + labor skates!” he cried. “Those miserable, cowardly, grafting politicians! + Thinking about nothing but keeping themselves respectable, and holding on + to their fat, comfortable salaries!” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, vat you expect?” cried Korwsky. “You git de verkin' men into + politics, and den you blame dem fer bein' politicians!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing was said about returning the money, I suppose?” remarked Everett, + in a bitter tone. + </p> + <p> + “Something was said,” I replied. “I said it. I don't think the money will + be returned.” + </p> + <p> + Then Carpenter spoke. “The money was given to feed the hungry,” said he. + “If it is used for that purpose, we can ask no more. And if men set out to + preach a new doctrine, how can they expect to be welcomed at once? We have + chosen to be outcasts, and must not complain. Let us go to the jail. + Perhaps that is the place for us.” So the little group set out in a new + direction. + </p> + <p> + On the way we talked about the labor movement, and what was the matter + with it. Comrade Abell said that Carpenter was right, the fundamental + trouble was that the workers were imbued with the psychology of their + masters. They would strike for this or that improvement in their + condition, and then go to the polls and vote for the candidates of their + masters. But Korwsky was more vehement; he was an industrial unionist, and + thought the present craft unions worse than nothing. + </p> + <p> + Little groups of labor aristocrats, seking to benefit themselves at the + expense of the masses, the unorganized, unskilled workers and the floating + population of casual labor! That was why those “skates” at the Labor + Temple has so little enthusiasm for Carpenter and his doctrine of + brotherhood! In this country where every man was trying to climb up on the + face of some other man! + </p> + <p> + Our little group had come out on Broadway. It attracted a good deal of + attention, and a number of curiosity seekers were beginning to trail + behind us. “We'll get a crowd again, and Carpenter 'll be making a + speech,” I thought; and as usual I faced a moral conflict. Should I stand + by, or should I sneak away, and preserve the dignity of my family? + </p> + <p> + Suddenly came a sound of music, fifes and drums. It burst on our ears from + round the corner, shrill and lively—“The Girl I Left Behind Me.” + Carpenter, who was directly in front of me, stopped short, and seemed to + shrink away from what was coming, until his back was against the + show-window of a department-store, and he could shrink no further. + </p> + <p> + It was a company of ex-service men in uniform; one or two hundred, + carrying rifles with fixed bayonets which gleamed in the sunshine. There + were two fifers and two drummers at their head, and also two flags, one + the flag of the Brigade, and the other the flag of Mobland. I remembered + having noted in the morning papers that the national commander of the + brigade was to arrive in town this morning, and no doubt this was a + delegation to do him honor. + </p> + <p> + The marchers swept down on us, and past us, and I watched the prophet. His + eyes were wide, his whole face expressing anguish. “Oh God, my Father!” he + whispered, and seemed to quiver with each thud of the tramping feet on the + pavement. After the storm had passed, he stood motionless, the pain still + in his face “It is Rome! It is Rome!” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I, “it is Mobland.” + </p> + <p> + He went on, as if he had not heard me. “Rome! Eternal Rome! Rome that + never dies!” And he turned upon me his startled eyes. “Even the eagles!” + </p> + <p> + For a moment I was puzzled; but then I remembered the golden eagle with + wings outspread, that perches on top of our national banner. “We only use + one eagle,” I said, somewhat feebly. + </p> + <p> + To which he answered, “The soul of one eagle is the same as the soul of + two.” + </p> + <p> + Now, I had felt quite certain that Carpenter would not get along very well + with the Brigade, and I was more than ever decided that he must be got out + of the way somehow or other. But meantime, the first task was to get him + away from this crowd which was rapidly collecting. Already he was in the + full tide of a speech. “Those sharp spears! Can you not see them thrust + into the bowels of human beings? Can you not see them dripping with the + blood of your brothers?” + </p> + <p> + I whispered to Everett, thinking him one among this company of enthusiasts + who might have a little common sense left. “We had better get him away + from here!” And Everett put his hand gently on the prophet's shoulder, and + said, “The prisoners in the jail are hoping for us.” I took him by the + other arm, and we began to lead him down the street. When we had once got + him going, we walked him faster and faster, until presently the crowd was + trailing out into a string of idlers and curiosity seekers, as before. + </p> + <h3> + XLVI + </h3> + <p> + The party came to the city jail, and knocked for admission. But no doubt + the authorities had taken consultation in the meantime, and there was no + admission for prophets. The party stood on the steps, baffled and + bewildered, a pitiful and pathetic little group. + </p> + <p> + For my part, I thought it just as well that Carpenter had not got inside, + for I knew what he would find there. It happens that my Aunt Jennie + belongs to a couple of women's clubs, and they have been making a fuss + about our city jail; they have kept on making it for many years, but + apparently without accomplishing anything. The place was built a + generation ago, for a city of perhaps one-tenth our present size; it is + old and musty, and the walls are so badly cracked that it has been + condemned by the building department. It is so crowded that half a dozen + men sometimes sleep on the floor of a single cell. They are devoured by + vermin, and lie in semi-darkness, some of them shivering with cold and + others half suffocated. They stay there, sometimes for many months + unheeded, because the courts are crowded, and if Comrade Abell's word may + be taken in the matter, every poor man is assumed to be guilty until he is + proven innocent. I have heard Aunt Jennie arguing the matter with + considerable energy. Our banks are housed in palaces, and our Chamber of + Commerce and our Merchants and Manufacturers and our Real Estate Exchange + and all the rest of our boosters have commodious and expensive quarters; + but our prisoners lie in torment, and no one boosts for them. + </p> + <p> + Did Carpenter know these things? Had the strikers or his little company of + agitators, told him about them? Suddenly he said, “Let us pray;” and there + on the steps of the jail he raised his hands in invocation, and prayed for + all prisoners and captives. And when he finished, Comrade Abell suddenly + lifted his voice and began to sing. I would not have supposed that so big + a voice could have come out of so frail a body; but I was reminded that + Abell had been practicing on soap-boxes a good part of his life. He was + one of these shouting evangelists—only his gospel was different. He + sang: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Arise, ye pris'ners of starvation! + Arise, ye wretched of the earth! + For justice thunders condemnation, + A better world's in birth. +</pre> + <p> + I think I would have shuddered, even more than I did, if I had known the + name of this song; if I had realized that this group of fanatics were + sounding the dread Internationale on the steps of our city jail! I suspect + that what saved them was the fact that the guardians of the jail had no + more idea what it was than I had! + </p> + <p> + The group had sung a couple of verses, when the iron-barred doors were + opened, and a policeman stepped out. He addressed Carpenter, who was not + singing. “Tell that bunch of nuts of yours to can the yowling.” + </p> + <p> + To which Carpenter replied: “I tell you that if these men should hold + their peace, the stones of your jail would immediately cry out!” And he + turned, and looked up and down the streets of the city, and suddenly I saw + that he was weeping. “Oh, Mobland, Mobland! If you had known even at this + time the way of justice! But the way is hid from your eyes, and you will + not see it, and now the hour is coming, the horrors of the class war are + upon you, ruin and destruction are at hand! Your towers of pride shall + fall, your own children shall destroy you; they shall not leave you one + stone upon another, because you knew not the time for justice when it + came.” + </p> + <p> + The doors of the jail opened again, and three or four more policemen came + out, with clubs in their hands. “Get along, now!” they said roughly, and + began poking the prophet and his disciples in the back; they poked them + down the stairs and along the street for a block or so—until they + were sure the ears of the jail inmates would no longer be troubled by + offensive sounds. But still they did not arrest them, and I marveled, + wondering how long it could go on. I had an uneasy feeling that the longer + the climax was postponed, the more severe it would be. + </p> + <p> + There was quite a crowd following us now, hoping that something + sensational would happen. And presently a woman saw us, and rushed into + the house, and came out leading a blind man, and appealing to Carpenter to + restore his sight; and when he stopped to do this, there were a couple of + newspaper men, and an operator with a camera, and more excitement and more + crowds! So we started to walk again, and came to Main Street, which in our + city is given up to ten cent picture-shows, and pawn-brokers, and old + clothes shops, and eating-stands for workingmen. A block or so distant we + saw a mass of people, and something warned me—my heart sank into my + boots. Another mob! + </p> + <h3> + XLVII + </h3> + <p> + There was shouting, and people running from every direction. The throng + would surge back, and a few run from it. “What's the matter?” I cried to + one of these, and the answer was, “They're cleaning out the reds!” Comrade + Abell, who knew the neighborhood, exclaimed in dismay, “It's Erman's Book + Store!” + </p> + <p> + “Who's doing this?” I asked of another bystander, and the answer was, “The + Brigade! They're cleaning up the city before the convention!” And Comrade + Abell clasped his hands to his forehead, and wailed in despair, “It's + because they've been selling the 'Liberator'! Erman told me last week he'd + been warned to stop selling it!” + </p> + <p> + Now, I don't know whether or not Carpenter had ever heard of this radical + monthly. But he knew that here was a mob, and people in trouble, and he + shook off the hands which sought to restrain him, and pushed his way into + the throng, which gave way before him, either from respect or from + curiosity. I learned later that some of the mob had dragged the bookseller + and his two clerks out by the rear entrance, and were beating them pretty + severely. But fortunately Carpenter did not see this. All he saw were a + dozen or so ex-soldiers in uniform carrying armfuls of magazines and books + out into a little square, which was made by the oblique intersection of + two avenues. They were dumping the stuff into a pile, and a man with a + five gallon can was engaged in pouring kerosene over it. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” said Carpenter, “what is this that you do?” + </p> + <p> + The other turned upon him and stared. “What the hell you got to do with + it? Get out of the way there!” And to emphasize his words he slopped a jet + of kerosene over the prophet's robes. + </p> + <p> + Said Carpenter: “Do you know what a book is? One of your poets has + described it as the precious life-blood of a great spirit, embalmed and + preserved to all posterity.” + </p> + <p> + The other laughed scornfully. “Was he talkin' about Bolsheviki books, you + reckon?” + </p> + <p> + Said Carpenter: “Are you one that should be set to judge books? Have you + read these that you are about to destroy?” And as the other, paying no + attention, knelt down to strike a match and light the pyre, he cried, in a + louder voice: “Behold what a thing is war! You have been trained to kill + your fellow men; the beast has been let loose in your heart, and he raves + within!” + </p> + <p> + “One of these God-damn pacifists, eh?” cried the ex-soldier; and he + dropped his matches and sprang up with fists clenched. Carpenter faced him + without flinching; there was something so majestic about him, the man did + not strike him, he merely put his spread hand against the prophet's chest + and shoved him violently. “Get back out of the way!” + </p> + <p> + I well knew the risk I was taking, but I could not refrain. “Now, look + here, buddy!” I began; and the soldier whirled upon me. “You one of these + Huns, too?” + </p> + <p> + “I was all through the Argonne,” I said quickly. “And I belong to the + Brigade.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh ho! Well, pitch in here, and help carry out this bloody Arnychist + literature!” + </p> + <p> + I was about to answer, but Carpenter's voice rang out again. He had turned + and stretched out his arms to the crowd, and we both stopped to listen to + his words. + </p> + <p> + “Shall ye be wolves, or shall ye be men? That is the choice, and ye have + chosen wolfhood. The blood of your brothers is upon your hands, and murder + in your hearts. You have trained your young men to be killers of their + brothers, and now they know only the law of madness.” + </p> + <p> + There were a dozen ex-doughboys in sound of this discourse, and I judged + they would not stand much of it. Suddenly one of them began to chant; and + the rest took it up, half laughing, half shouting: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Rough! Tough! + We're the stuff! + We want to fight and we can't get enough! +</pre> + <p> + And after that: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hail! Hail! The gang's all here! + We're going to get the Kaiser! +</pre> + <p> + The crowd joined in, and the words of the prophet were completely drowned + out. A moment later I heard a gruff voice behind me. “Make way here!” + There came a policeman, shoving through. “What's all this about?” + </p> + <p> + The fellow with the kerosene can spoke up: “Here's this damn Arnychist + prophet been incitin' the crowd and preachin' sedition! You better take + him along, officer, and put him somewhere he'll be safe, because me and my + buddies won't stand no more Bolsheviki rantin'.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed ludicrous when I looked back upon it; though at the moment I did + not appreciate the funny side. Here was a group of men engaged in raiding + a book-store, beating up the proprietor and his clerks, and burning a + thousand dollars worth of books and magazines on the public street; but + the policeman did not see a bit of that, he had no idea that any such + thing was happening! All he saw was a prophet, in a white nightgown + dripping with kerosene, engaged in denouncing war! He took him firmly by + the arm, saying, “Come along now! I guess we've heard enough o' this;” and + he started to march Carpenter down the street. + </p> + <p> + “Take me too!” cried Moneta, the Mexican, beside himself with excitement; + and the policeman grabbed him with the other hand, and the three set out + to march. + </p> + <h3> + XLVIII + </h3> + <p> + I no longer had any impulse to interfere. In truth I was glad to see the + policeman, considering that his worst might be better than the mob's best. + About half the crowd followed us, but the singing died away, and that gave + Comrade Abell his chance. He was walking directly behind the policeman, + and suddenly he raised his voice, and all the rest of the way to the + station-house he provided marching tunes: first the Internationale, and + then the Reg Flag, and then the Marseillaise: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ye sons of toil, awake to glory! + Hark, hark! What myriads bids you rise! + Your children, wives, and grand sires hoary— + Behold their tears and hear their cries! +</pre> + <p> + When we came to the station house, the policeman gave Moneta a shove and + told him to get along; he had not done anything, and was denied the honor + of being arrested. The officer pushed Carpenter through the door, and bade + the rest of us keep out. + </p> + <p> + Said Abell: “I am an attorney.” + </p> + <p> + “The hell you are!” said the other. “I thought you were an opery singer.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm a practicing attorney,” said Abell, “and I represent the man you have + arrested. I presume I have a right to enter.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am a prospective bondsman,” I stated, with sudden inspiration. “So + let me in also.” + </p> + <p> + We entered, and the policeman led his prisoner to the sergeant at the + desk. The latter asked the charge, and was told, “Disturbing the peace and + blocking traffic.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, sergeant,” said I, “this is preposterous. All this prisoner did was + to try to stop a mob from destroying property.” + </p> + <p> + “You can tell all that to the magistrate in the morning,” said the + sergeant. + </p> + <p> + “What is the bail?” I demanded. + </p> + <p> + “You are prepared to put up bail?” + </p> + <p> + I answered that I was; and then for the first time Carpenter spoke. “You + mean you wish to pay money to secure my release? Let there be no money + paid for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me explain, Mr. Carpenter,” I pleaded. “You will accomplish nothing + by spending the night in a police cell. You will have no opportunity to + talk with the prisoners. They will keep you by yourself.” + </p> + <p> + He answered, “My Father will be with me.” And gazing into the face of the + sergeant, he demanded, “Do you think you can build a cell to which my + Father cannot come?” + </p> + <p> + The officer was an old hand, with a fringe of grey hair around his bald + head, and no doubt he had been asked many queer questions in his day. His + response was to inquire the prisoner's name; and when the prisoner kept + haughty silence, he wrote down “John Doe Carpenter,” and proceeded: “Where + do you live?” + </p> + <p> + Said Carpenter: “The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have + nests, but he that espouses the cause of justice has no home in a world of + greed.” + </p> + <p> + So the sergeant wrote: “No address,” and nodded to a jailer, who took the + prophet by the arm and led him away through a steel-barred door. + </p> + <p> + Abell and I went outside and joined the rest of the group. None of us knew + just what to do—with the exception of Everett, who sat on the steps + with his notebook, and made me repeat to him word for word what Carpenter + had said! + </p> + <h3> + XLIX + </h3> + <p> + Comrade Abell told us where the police-court was located, and we agreed to + be there at nine o'clock next morning. Then I parted from the rest, and + walked until I met a taxi and drove to my rooms. + </p> + <p> + I felt desolate and forlorn. Nothing in my old life had any interest for + me. This was the afternoon when I usually went to the Athletic Club to + box; but now I found myself wondering, what would Carpenter say to such + imitation fighting? I decided I would stay by myself for a while, and take + a walk and think things over. I had been dissatisfied with my life for a + long time; the glamor had begun to wear off the excitement of youth, and I + had begun to suspect that my life was idle and vain. Now I knew that it + was: and also I knew that the world was a place of torment and woe. + </p> + <p> + I returned late in the afternoon, and a few minutes afterwards my + telephone rang, and I discovered that somebody else was dissatisfied with + life. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Billy,” said the voice of T-S. “I see dat feller Carpenter is in + jail. Vy don't you bail him out?” + </p> + <p> + “He won't let me,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Vell, maybe it might be a good ting to leave him in jail a veek, till dis + Brigade convention gits over.” + </p> + <p> + “Funny!” said I. “I had the same idea!” + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” continued the other, “I been feelin' awful bad because I told + dem fellers I didn't know him. D' you suppose he knows I said dat, Billy?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said I, “he knew you were going to say it, so probably he knows + you said it.” + </p> + <p> + “Vell,” said T-S, “maybe you laugh at me, but I been tinkin' I tell dem + fellows to go to hell.” + </p> + <p> + “What fellows?” + </p> + <p> + “De whole damn vorld! Billy, I like dat feller Carpenter! I never met a + feller like him before. You tink he vould let me go to see him in de + jail?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure he'd be glad to see you,” I said; “if the jailers didn't + object.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I fix de jailers all right!” + </p> + <p> + “But T-S,” I added, “I don't believe he'll sign any contract.” + </p> + <p> + “Contract nuttin',” said T-S. “I shoost vant to see him, Billy. Is dere + anyting I could do fer him?” + </p> + <p> + I thought for a moment; then I said: “You might do something for one of + his friends, and that's young Everett. He got pretty badly hurt, and he's + sticking at the job of taking down all Carpenter's speeches. He ought to + have a surgeon, and also a first class stenographer to take turns with + him. Have you got another man like him?” + </p> + <p> + “I dunno,” said T-S. “You don't find a young feller like Matt Everett + everyday.” + </p> + <p> + I started. “What do you say is his name?” + </p> + <p> + “Matthew,” said T-S. “Vy you ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said I; “just a coincidence!” + </p> + <p> + Our conversation ended with the remark by T-S that he would call up the + station-house and arrange to see Carpenter. Five minutes later the + telephone rang again, and I heard the magnate's voice: “Billy, dey say + he's been bailed out!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” I cried. “He declared he wouldn't have it done.” + </p> + <p> + “Somebody done it vitout askin' him! De money vas paid, and dey turned him + out!” + </p> + <p> + “Who did it?” + </p> + <p> + “Guess!” + </p> + <p> + “You mean it was you?” + </p> + <p> + “I vouldn't 'a dared. I only shoost found out about it. Mary Magna done + it, and she's took him avay somevere.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord!” I exclaimed; and before my mind's eye flashed another + headline: + </p> + <h3> + FAIR FILM STAR FREES LOVE-CULT PROPHET + </h3> + <p> + I promised to try to find out about the prophet at once. “He won't get + away,” I said, “because he doesn't ride in automobiles, and he and Mary + can't walk very far on the street without the newspapers finding them!” + </p> + <p> + I took my telephone-book, and looked up the name Abell. It is an unusual + name, and there was only one attorney bearing it. (I was struck by the + fact that the first name of this attorney was Mark.) I called him on the + phone, and heard the familiar gentle voice. Yes, Comrade Carpenter had + just arrived, and Miss Magna was with him. They were going to have a + little party, and they would be glad to have me come. Yes, Mr. T-S would + be welcome, of course. So then I called up the magnate of the pictures, + and not without an inward smile, conferred on him the gracious permission + to spend the evening at the headquarters of Local Western City of the + Socialist Party! + </p> + <h3> + L + </h3> + <p> + When I got to the meeting-place I found that a feast had been spread. I + don't know where the money came from; maybe it was Bolshevik gold, as the + enemy charged, or maybe it was the ill-gotten gains of a “million dollar + movie vamp.” Anyhow, there was a table spread with a couple of cloths that + were clean, if ragged, and on them flowers and fruit. Carpenter was seated + at the head of the table, and I noted to my surprise that he had on a + beautiful robe of snow-white linen, instead of the one he had formerly + worn, which was not only stained with kerosene but filthy with the dust of + the streets. I learned that Mrs. T-S had brought this festal garment—a + simple matter for her, because in movie studios they have wardrobe rooms + where they turn out any sort of costume imaginable. + </p> + <p> + This robe was so striking that it created a little controversy. James, the + carpenter, who had an ascetic spirit, considered it necessary to speak + plainly, and point out that Mrs. T-S would have done better to take the + money and give it to the poor. But the prophet answered: “Let this woman + alone. She has done a good thing. The poor you have always with you, but + me you have only for a short time. This woman has helped to make our feast + happy, and men will tell about it in future years.” + </p> + <p> + But that did not satisfy the ascetic James, who retired to his corner + grumbling. “I know, we're going to start a new church—the same old + graft all over again! A man has no business to say a thing like that. The + first thing you know, they'll be taking the widow's mite to buy silk and + velvet dresses for him and golden goblets for him to drink from! And then, + before you know it they'll be setting him up in stained glass windows, and + priests'll be wearing jewelled robes, and saying it's all right, and + quoting his words!” I perceived that it wasn't so easy for a prophet to + manage a bunch of disciples in these modern days! + </p> + <p> + The controversy did not seem to trouble Mrs. T-S, who was waddling about, + perfectly happy in the kitchen—doing the things she would have done + all the time, if her husband's social position had not required her to + keep a dozen servants. Also, I noted to my great astonishment that Mary + Magna, instead of taking a place at the prophet's right hand, according to + the prerogative of queens, had put on a plain apron and was helping “Maw” + and Mrs. Abell. More surprising yet, T-S had seated himself + inconspicuously at the foot of the table, while at the prophet's right + hand there sat a convict with a twenty year jail sentence hanging over him—John + Colver, the “wobbly” poet! Again an ancient phrase learned in childhood + came floating through my mind: “He hath put down the mighty from their + seats, and exalted them of low degree!” + </p> + <p> + Somehow word had been got to all the little group of agitators of various + shades. There was Korwsky, the secretary of the tailors' union—whose + first name I learned was Luka; also his fellow Russian, the + express-driver,—Simon Karlin, and Tom Moneta, the young Mexican + cigar-maker. There was Matthew Everett, free to be a guest on this + occasion, because T-S had brought along another stenographer. There was + Mark Abell, and another Socialist, a young Irishman named Andy Lynch, a + veteran of the late war who had come home completely cured of militarism, + and was now spending his time distributing Socialist leaflets, and + preaching to the workers wherever he could get two or three to listen. + Also there was Hamby, the pacifist whom I did not like, and a second I. W. + W., brought by Colver—a lad named Philip, who had recently been + indicted by the grand jury, and was at this moment a fugitive from justice + with a price upon his head. + </p> + <p> + The door of the room was opened, and another man came in; a striking + figure, tall and gaunt, with old and pitifully untidy clothing, and a half + month's growth of beard upon his chin. He wore an old black hat, frayed at + the edges; but under this hat was a face of such gentleness and sadness + that it made you think of Carpenter's own. Withal, it was a Yankee face—of + that lean, stringy kind that we know so well. The newcomer's eyes fell + upon Carpenter, and his face lighted; he set down an old carpet-bag that + he was carrying, and stretched out his two hands, and went to him. + “Carpenter! I've been looking for you!” + </p> + <p> + And Carpenter answered, “My brother!” And the two clasped hands, and I + thought to myself with astonishment, “How does Carpenter know this man?” + </p> + <p> + Presently I whispered to Abell, “Who is he?” I learned that he was one I + had heard of in the papers—Bartholomew Howard, the “millionaire + hobo;” he was grandson and heir of one of our great captains of industry, + and had taken literally the advice of the prophet, to sell all that he had + and give it to the unemployed. He traveled over the country, living among + the hobos and organizing them into his Brotherhood. Now you would have + thought that he and Carpenter had known each other all their lives; as I + watched them, I found myself thinking: “Where are the clergy and the + pillars of St. Bartholomew's Church?” There were none of them at this + supper-party! + </p> + <h3> + LI + </h3> + <p> + T-S had stopped at a caterer's on his way to the gathering, and had done + his humble best in the form of a strawberry short-cake almost half as + large around as himself; also several bottles of purple color, with the + label of grape juice. When the company gathered at the table and these + bottles were opened, they made a suspicious noise, and so we all made + jokes, as people have the habit of doing in these days of getting used to + prohibition. I noticed that Carpenter laughed at the jokes, and seemed to + enjoy the whole festivity. + </p> + <p> + It happened that fate had placed me next to James, so I listened to more + asceticism. “He oughtn't to do things like this! People will say he likes + to eat rich food and to drink. It's bad for the movement for such things + to be said.” + </p> + <p> + “Cheer up, my friend!” I laughed. “Even the Bolsheviks have a feast now + and then, when they can get it.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll see what the newspapers do with this tomorrow,” growled the other; + “then you won't think it so funny.” + </p> + <p> + “Forget it!” I said. “There aren't any reporters here.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said he, “but there are spies here, you may be sure. There are spies + everywhere, nowadays. You'll see!” + </p> + <p> + Presently Carpenter called on some of the company for speeches. Would + Bartholomew tell about the unemployed, what their organization was doing, + and what were their plans? And after that he asked John Colver, who sat on + his right hand, to recite some of his verses. John and his friend Philip, + a blue eyed, freckle-faced lad who looked as if he might be in high + school, told stories about the adventures of outlaw agitators. For several + months these two had been traveling the country as “blanket stiffs,” + securing employment in lumber-camps and mines, gathering the workers + secretly in the woods to listen to the new gospel of deliverance. The + employers were organized on a nation-wide scale everywhere throughout the + country, and the workers with their feeble craft unions were like men + using bows and arrows against machine-guns. There must be One Big Union—that + was the slogan, and if you preached it, you went every hour in peril of + such a fate that you counted fourteen years in jail as comparatively a + happy ending. + </p> + <p> + Said Carpenter: “It is not such a bad thing for a cause to have its + preachers go to jail.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the lad of the blue eyes and the freckled face, “we try to + keep a few outside, to tell what the rest are in for!” + </p> + <p> + Later on, I remember, John Colver told a funny story about this pal of + his. The story had to do with grape juice instead of with propaganda, but + it appealed to me because it showed the gay spirit of these lads. The two + of them had sought refuge from a storm in a barn, and there, lying buried + in the hay with the rain pouring down on the roof, they had heard the + farmer coming to milk his cows. The man had evidently just parted from his + wife, and there had been a quarrel; but the farmer hadn't dared to say + what he wanted to, so now he took it out on the cows! “Na! na! na!” he + shouted, with furious vehemence. “That's it! Go on! Nag, nag, nag! Don't + stop, or I might manage to get a word in! Yes, I'm late, of course I'm + late! Do you expect me to drive by the clock? Maybe I did forget the sugar! + Maybe I've got nothing on my mind but errands! Whiskey? Maybe it's + whiskey, and maybe it's gin, and maybe it's grape-juice!” The farmer set + down his milk-pail and his lantern, and shook his clenched fist at the + patient cattle. “I'm a man, I am, and I'll have you understand I'm master + in my own house! I'll drink if I feel like drinking, I'll stop and chat + with my neighbors if I feel like stopping, I'll buy sugar if I remember to + buy it, and if you don't like it, you can buy your own!” And so on—becoming + more inspired with his own eloquence—or maybe with the whiskey, or + the gin, or the grape-juice; until young Philip became so filled with the + spirit of the combat that he popped up out of the hay and shouted, “Good + for you, old man! Stand up for your rights! Don't let her down you! Hurrah + for men!” And the astounded farmer stood staring with his mouth open, + while the two “wobbles” leaped up and fled from the barn, so convulsed + with laughter they hardly noticed the floods of rain pouring down upon + them. + </p> + <h3> + LII + </h3> + <p> + But, of course, it wasn't long before this little company became serious + again. Carpenter told Franklin that he ought not stay here; he, Carpenter, + was too conspicuous a figure, the authorities were certain to be watching + him. Korwsky backed him up. There were sure to be spies here! They would + never leave such a man unwatched. They would set to work to get something + on him, and if they couldn't get it they would make it. When Carpenter + asked what he meant, he explained, “Dey'll plant dynamite in de place vere + you are, or dey'll fake up some letters to show you been plannin' + violence.” + </p> + <p> + “And do people believe such things?” asked Carpenter. + </p> + <p> + “Believe dem?” cried Korwsky. “If dey see it in de papers, dey believe it—sure + dey do!” + </p> + <p> + The prophet answered, “Let a man live so that the world will believe him + and not his enemies.” Then he added a startling remark. “There is one + among us who will betray me.” + </p> + <p> + Of course, they all looked at one another in consternation. They were + deeply distressed, and each tried in turn—“Comrade,” or “Brother,” + or “Fellow-worker,” or whatever term they used—“is it I?” Presently + the sturdy looking fellow named Hamby, who called himself a pacifist, + asked, “Is it I?” And Carpenter answered, quietly, “You have said it.” + </p> + <p> + Then, of course, some of the others started up; they wanted to throw him + out, but Carpenter bade them sit down again, saying, “Let things take + their course; for the powers of this world will perish more quickly if + they are permitted to kill themselves.” + </p> + <p> + Apparently he saw no reason why this episode should be permitted to + interfere with the festivities. Mary Magna came in laughing, bearing the + strawberry short-cake, and set it on the table and proceeded to portion it + out. When it was served, Carpenter said, “I shall not be with you much + longer, my friends; but you will remember me when you see this beautiful + red fruit on top of a cake; and also you will think of me and my message + when you taste rich purple grape-juice that has perhaps stayed a day or + two too long in the bottle!” + </p> + <p> + Some of the company laughed, but others of them had tears in their eyes; + and I noticed that in the midst of the merriment the fellow Hamby got up + and slipped out of the room. Not long after that the company began to + disperse for various reasons. Karlin explained that his old horse had been + working all day, and had had no supper. Colver was uneasy, not for + himself, but for his friend, and I saw him start every time the door was + opened. Also, T-S was having some night-scenes taken, and he and Mary were + to see the work. Finally Carpenter dismissed the company, with the + statement that he wished to retire to Comrade Abell's private office to + pray; and Abell and his friend Lynch and the young Mexican said they would + watch and wait for him. The rest of us took our departure, not without + misgivings and sorrow in our hearts. + </p> + <h3> + LIII + </h3> + <p> + Now, you may find it hard to believe a confession which I have put off + making—the fact that at this time I was engaged to be married. There + was a certain member of what is called the “younger set,” whom I had given + reason to expect that I would think about her at least once in a while. + But here for precisely three days I had been chasing about at the skirts + of a prophet fresh from God, getting my name into the newspapers in + scandalous fashion, and not daring even to call the young lady on the + telephone and make apologies. That evening there was a dinner-dance at her + home, and I supposed I was supposed to be there; but no one had bothered + to invite me, and as a matter of fact I would not have known of the affair + if I had not seen the announcement in the papers. I was too late for the + dinner, but I got myself a taxicab, and drove to my room and changed my + clothes, and hurried in my own car to the dance. + </p> + <p> + You would not be interested in the fact that when I arrived I was treated + as an unwelcome guest, and Miss Betty even went so far as to remind me + that I had not been invited. But after I had pleaded, she consented to + dance with me; and so for an hour or two I tried to forget there were any + people in the world who had anything to do but be happy. Just as I was + succeeding, the butler came, calling me to the telephone, and I answered, + and who should it be but Old Joe! + </p> + <p> + My surprise became consternation at his first words: “Billy, your friend + Carpenter is in peril!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “They are going to get him tonight.” + </p> + <p> + “Good God! How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a long story, and no time to tell it. Somebody's tipped me off. + Where can I meet you? Every minute is precious.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you?” I asked, and learned that he was at his home, not far + away. I said I would come there, and I hurried to Betty and had another + scene with her, and left her weeping, vowing that she would never see me + again. I ran out and jumped into my car—and I would hate to tell + what I did to the speed laws of Western City. Suffice it to say that a few + minutes later I was in Old Joe's den, and he was telling me his story. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART"> Part of it I got then, and part of it later, but I + might as well </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_APPE"> APPENDIX </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Part of it I got then, and part of it later, but I might as well + </h2> + <p> + tell it all at once and be done with it. It happened that at the + restaurant where Old Joe and I had dined before we went to the + mass-meeting, he had met a girl whom he knew too well, after the fashion + of young men about town. In greeting her on the way out, he had told her + he was going to hear the new prophet and had laughingly suggested that the + meeting was free. The girl, out of idle curiosity, had come, and had been + touched by Carpenter's physical, if not by his moral charms. It chanced + that this girl was living with a man who stood high in the secret service + department of “big business” in our city; so she had got the full story of + what was being planned against Carpenter. That afternoon, it appeared, + there had been a meeting between Algernon de Wiggs, president of our + Chamber of Commerce, and Westerly, secretary of our “M. and M.,” and + Gerald Carson, organizer of our “Boosters' League.” These three had put up + six thousand dollars, and turned it over to their secret service agents, + with instructions that Carpenter's agitations in Western City were to be + ended inside of twenty-four hours. + </p> + <p> + A plan had been worked out, every detail of which had been phoned to Old + Joe. A group of ex-service men, members of the Brigade, had been hired to + seize the prophet and treat him to a tar and feathering. It had not taken + much to move them to action, for the afternoon papers were full of + accounts of Carpenter's speech on Main Street, his denunciation of war, + and of soldiers as “murderers” and “wolves.” + </p> + <p> + But that was not all, said Old Joe; and I saw that his hand was trembling + as he spoke. It appeared that there was an “operative” named Hamby, who + was one of Carpenter's followers. + </p> + <p> + “By God!” I burst out, in sudden fury. “I was sure that fellow was a + crook!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the other. “He's been telephoning in regular reports as to + Carpenter's doings. And now it's been arranged that he is to put an + infernal machine in the Socialist headquarters where Carpenter has been + staying!” + </p> + <p> + I was almost speechless. “You mean—to blow them up?” + </p> + <p> + “No, to blow up their reputations. Hamby is to lure Carpenter out to the + street, and when the gang grabs him, Hamby will fire a shot, and there + will be three or four secret agents in the crowd, who will incite the + others, and see to it that Carpenter is lynched instead of being tarred + and feathered!” + </p> + <h3> + LIV + </h3> + <p> + So there was the layout; and now, what was to be done? The first thing was + to call Abell on the phone, and see if anything had happened. I picked up + the receiver; but alas, the report was, “No answer.” I urged “central” to + try several times, but all I could get was, “I am ringing them.” + Carpenter, no doubt, was praying. What were the others doing? I kept on + trying, but finally gave up. + </p> + <p> + Could the mob have taken them away? But Old Joe answered, no, a definite + hour had been set. The ex-service men were to gather on the stroke of + midnight. We had nearly an hour yet. + </p> + <p> + My first thought was that we should hurry to the Socialist headquarters + and get Carpenter out of the way. But my friend pointed out that the place + was certain to be watched, and we might find ourselves held up by the + armed detectives; they would hardly take a chance of letting their prey + escape at this hour. Also, I realized there was no use figuring on any + plan that involved spiriting Carpenter away quietly, by the roof, or a + rear entrance, or anything of that sort. He would insist on staying and + facing his enemies. + </p> + <p> + I put my wits to work. We needed a good-sized crowd; we needed, in fact, a + mob of our own. And suddenly the word brought to me an inspiration; that + mob which T-S had drilled at Eternal City! I recalled that a year or so + ago I had been lured to sit through a very dull feature picture which the + magnate had made, showing the salvation of our country by the Ku Klux + Klan; and I knew enough about studio methods to be sure they had not + thrown away the costumes, but would have them stored. Here was the way to + save our prophet! Here was the way to get what one wanted in Mobland! + </p> + <p> + I picked up the receiver and called Eternal City. Yes, Mr. T-S was there, + but he was “on the lot” and could not be disturbed. I gave my name, and + stated that it was a matter of life and death; Mr. T-S must come to the + phone instantly. A couple of minutes later I heard his voice, and told him + the situation, and also my scheme. He must come himself, to make sure that + his orders were obeyed; he must bring several bus-loads of men, clad in + the full regalia of Mobland's great Secret Society; and they must arrive + at Abell's place precisely on the stroke of midnight. The men must be paid + five dollars apiece, and be told that if they succeeded in bringing away + the prophet unharmed, they would each get ten dollars extra. “I will put + up that money,” I said to T-S; but to my surprise he cried: “You ain't + gonna put up nuttin'! God damn dem fellers, I'll beat 'em if it costs me a + million!” So I realized that the prophet had made one more convert! + </p> + <p> + “Have you got that bus with the siren?” I asked; and when he answered, + yes, I said, “Let that be the signal. When we hear it, Joe and I will + bring Carpenter down to the street, and if the Brigade is there, it's up + to you to persuade them you're the bigger mob!” + </p> + <p> + Then Old Joe and I ran down to my car, and drove at full speed to the + Socialist headquarters; and on the way we worked out our own plan of + campaign. The real danger-point was Hamby, the secret agent, and we must + manage to put him out of the way. Despite his pose of “pacifism,” he was + certain to be armed, said Old Joe; yet we must take a chance, and do the + job unarmed. If we should get into a shooting-scrape, they would certainly + put it onto us; and they would make it a hanging matter, too. + </p> + <p> + I named over the members of Carpenter's party who had stayed with him. + Andy Lynch, the ex-soldier, was probably a useful man, and we would get + his help. We would get rid of Hamby, and then we would wait for T-S and + his siren. By the time these plans were thoroughly talked out, we had + reached the building in which the headquarters were located. There were + lights in the main room upstairs, and the door which led up to them was + open. The street was apparently deserted, and we did not stop to look for + any “operatives,” but left our machine and stole quietly upstairs and into + the room. + </p> + <h3> + LV + </h3> + <p> + Comrade Abell sat at the table, with his head bowed in his arms, sound + asleep. Lynch, the ex-soldier, and Tom Moneta, the Mexican, were lying on + the floor snoring. And on a chair near the doorway, watching the scene, + sat Hamby, wide awake. We knew he was awake, because he leaped to his feet + the instant we entered the door. “Oh, it's you!” he said, recognizing me; + I noted the alarm in his voice. + </p> + <p> + I beckoned to him, softly. “Come here a moment;” and he came out into the + ante-room. At the same time Old Joe stepped across the big room, and + stooped down and waked up Lynch. We had agreed that Joe was to give Lynch + a whispered explanation of the situation, while I kept Hamby busy. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Mr. Carpenter?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “He's in the private office, praying.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said I, “there's a sick woman who needs help very badly. I wonder + if we'd better disturb him.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Hamby. “I've been here an hour, and haven't heard a + sound. Maybe he's asleep.” + </p> + <p> + I was uncertain what I should do, and I elaborately explained my + uncertainty. Of course, praying was an important and useful occupation, + and I knew that the prophet laid great stress upon it, and all of us who + loved him so dearly must respect his wishes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course,” said Hamby. + </p> + <p> + Yet at the same time, I continued, this woman was very ill, a case of + ptomaine poisoning— + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he can cure that?” asked Hamby guilelessly; and at that + moment Old Joe and Lynch came from the big room. Hamby started to turn, + but he was too late. Old Joe's arms went around him, and Hamby's two + elbows were clamped to his sides, in a grip which more than one + professional wrestler in our part of the world has found it impossible to + break. At the same time I stooped on my knees and grasped the man's two + wrists; because we were taking no chances of his gun. Lynch, the + ex-soldier, had a cloth, taken from the big table, and he flung this over + the head of the “pacifist” and stifled his cries. + </p> + <p> + I took a revolver from his hip-pocket, but Joe was not satisfied. “Search + him carefully,” said he, and so I discovered another weapon in a + side-pocket. Then I made hasty search in a big closet of the room, and + found a lot of bundles of books and magazines tied with stout cords. I + took the cords, and we bound the “pacifist's” wrists and ankles, and put a + gag in his mouth, and then we felt sure he was really a pacifist. We + carried him to the closet and laid him on the floor, where a humorous idea + came to us. These bundles of magazines and books were no doubt the ones + which the mob had confiscated from Comrade Abell. Since they were no + longer saleable, they might as well be put to some use, so I gathered + armfuls of them and distributed them over the form of Hamby, until there + was no longer a trace of him visible. + </p> + <p> + And while I was doing this, I noticed in one corner of the closet, under + the bundles, a wooden box about a foot square. Upon trying to lift it, I + discovered that it weighed several times as much as it should have weighed + if it had contained printed matter. “Here's our infernal machine,” I + whispered, and I picked it up gingerly, and tiptoed out of the room, and + back to the kitchen, and down a rear stairway of the building. I unlocked + the door and opened it—and there, crouching in the shadows alongside + the door, just as I expected, I saw a man. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” I whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” said he, badly startled. + </p> + <p> + “Here's something belonging to Hamby. He wants me to give it to you. Be + careful, it's heavy.” I deposited the box in his hands, and shut the door, + and turned the lock again, and groped my way upstairs, chuckling to myself + as I imagined the man's plight. He would not know what to make of this + incident, and I had an idea he would not be able to find out, because he + could not leave his post. Nor would he have much time to figure over the + matter; for when I got back to the light, I looked at my watch, and it + lacked just three minutes to twelve. + </p> + <p> + I found that Lynch and Old Joe had shut the pacifist in the closet, and + were in the ante-room waiting for me. I whispered that everything was all + right. A moment later we heard a sound in the big room, and peered in, and + saw a door at the far end open—and there was Carpenter, standing + with his white robes gleaming in the light. After a moment I realized that + they gleamed even more than was natural; I perceived once more that + strange “aura” which had been noticed at the mass-meeting; and by means of + it I noticed an even more startling thing. There were drops of sweat on + Carpenter's forehead, as always when he had labored intensely in his soul. + This time I saw that the drops were large, and they were drops of blood! + </p> + <p> + A trembling seized me. I was awe-stricken before this man—afraid to + go on with what I was doing, and equally afraid to back out. I remained + staring helplessly, and saw him approach the sleeping figures, and stand + looking at them. “Could you not watch with me one hour?” he said, in his + gentle, sad voice; and he put his hand on Comrade Abell's shoulder, with + the words: “The time has come.” + </p> + <p> + Abell started to his feet, and began to apologize. The other said nothing, + but stooped and waked Moneta. And at that moment I heard the shrill blast + of a whistle outside on the street! “There's the Brigade!” whispered Old + Joe. + </p> + <h3> + LVI + </h3> + <p> + I ran down the stairs, and peered through the doorway, and sure enough, + there were four or five automobiles stopped before the headquarters, + having approached from opposite direction. I stood just long enough to see + a crowd of men in khaki uniforms jumping out; then I ran back, and leaving + Old Joe and Lynch to keep guard at the top of the stairs, I walked in and + greeted Carpenter. + </p> + <p> + He expressed no surprise at seeing me. Evidently his thoughts were on + other things. For my part, I was trembling with excitement, so that my + knees would barely hold me. How long would it be before T-S and his crowd + appeared? I could figure the time it should take them to drive from + Eternal City; but suppose something held them up? How long would the + ex-service men stay out on the street, waiting for Hamby to answer their + signal? Surely not many minutes! They would storm the place, and hunt out + their victim for themselves. And suppose they should carry him off before + the others arrived? + </p> + <p> + I had Hamby's two revolvers in my pocket. Should we use them, or not? The + thought hit me all of a sudden; and apparently it hit Old Joe at the same + moment. “Give me those guns, Billy,” he whispered, and I put them + obediently into his hands, and he went quickly into the rear rooms. At the + end of a minute, he returned, saying, “I unloaded them and threw them out + of the back window.” And even as he spoke, the silence of the night + outside was shattered by the scream of that siren, which served to warn + people out of the way when T-S was moving his companies about “on + location.” + </p> + <p> + I went up to Carpenter. I didn't enjoy telling him a lie; in fact, I had + an idea that one couldn't lie to him successfully. But I tried it. “Mr. + Carpenter, Hamby left a message; he had to go downstairs, and said he + wanted to see you. Would you come down and meet him?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes!” said Carpenter. And he walked to the door and down the stairs + without another word. The rest of us followed him; Abell and Moneta first, + they being innocent and unsuspicious; and then Lynch, and then Joe and I. + </p> + <p> + The prophet stepped out to the street, and was instantly surrounded by a + group of a dozen ex-service men, two of whom grasped him by the arms. He + did not lift a hand, nor even make a sound. Comrade Abell, of course, + started to cry out in protest; Moneta, the Mexican, reverted to his + ancestors. His hand flashed to an inside pocket, and a knife leaped out. A + soldier had hold of him, and Moneta shouted, “Stand back, or I cut off + your ears.” At which Carpenter turned, and in a stern, commanding voice + proclaimed: “Let no man use force in my behalf! They who use force shall + perish by force.” Moneta stood still; and of course Lynch and Old Joe and + I stood still; and the dozen men about Carpenter started to lead him away + to their automobiles. + </p> + <p> + But they did not get very far. Upon the silence of the street a voice rang + out. Ordinarily, one would have known it was the voice of a woman; but in + this place, under these exciting circumstances, it seemed the voice of a + supernatural being. It almost sang the words; it was like a silver bugle + calling across a battle-field—glorious, thrilling, hypnotic. “Make + way-y-y-y for the Grand Imperial Kle-e-e-agle of the Ku-u Klux Klan!” + Every one was startled; but I think I was startled more that the rest, for + I knew the voice! Mary Magna had taken another speaking part! + </p> + <p> + I was on the steps of the building, so I could see over the heads of the + crowd. There were four of the big busses from Eternal City, two having + approached from each direction. Some fifty figures had descended from + them, and others were still descending, each one clad in a voluminous + white robe, with a white hood over the head, and two black holes for eyes, + and another for the nose. These figures had spread out in a half moon, + entirely surrounding the little mob of ex-service men, and penning them + against the wall of the building. In the center of the half moon, standing + a few feet in advance, was the figure of the “Grand Imperial Kleagle,” + with a red star upon the forehead of the white hood, and shrouded white + arms stretched out, and in one hand a magic wand with a red light on the + end. This wand was waving over the Brigade members, and had apparently its + full supernatural effect, for one and all they stood rooted to the spot, + staring with wide-open eyes. + </p> + <h3> + LVII + </h3> + <p> + The grand-opera voice raised again its silver chant: “Give way, all mobs! + Yield! Retire! Abdicate!—Bow down-n-n-n-n! Make way for the Mob of + Mobs, the irresistible, imperial, superior super-mob! Hearken to the Lord + High Chief Commanding Dragon of the Esoteric Cohorts, the Exalted Immortal + Grand Imperial Kleagle of the Ku Klux Klan!” + </p> + <p> + Then the Grand Imperial Kleagle turned and addressed the white-robed + throng in a voice of sharp command: “Klansmen! Remember your oath! The + hour of Judgment is here! The guilty wretch cowers! The grand insuperable + sentence has been spoken! Coelum animum imperiabilis senescat! Similia + similibus per quantum imperator. Inexorabilis ingenium parasimilibua + esperantur! Saeva itnparatus ignotum indignatio! Salvo! Suppositio! + Indurato! Klansmen, kneel!” + </p> + <p> + As one man, the host fell upon its knees. + </p> + <p> + “Klansmen, swear! Si fractus illibatur orbis, impavidum ferient ruinae! + You have heard the sentence. What is the penalty? Is it death?” + </p> + <p> + And a voice in the crowd cried “Death!” And the others took it up; there + was a roar: “Death! Death!” + </p> + <p> + Said the Grand Imperial Kleagle: “Arma virumque cano, tou poluphlesboiou + thalasses!” Then, facing the staring ex-servicemen: “Tetlathi mater erne + kai anaskeo ko-omeneper!” + </p> + <p> + Finally the Grand Imperial Kleagle pointed her shrouded white arm at + Carpenter, who stood, as pale as death, but unflinchingly. “Death to all + traitors!” she cried. “Death to all agitators! Death to all enemies of the + Ku Klux Klan! Condemnatus! Incomparabilis! Ingenientis exequatur! Let the + Loyal High Inexorable Guardians and the Grand Holy Seneschals of the Klan + advance!” + </p> + <p> + Six shrouded figures stepped out from the crowd. Said the Grand Imperial + Kleagle: “Possess yourselves of the body of this guilty wretch!” And to + the ex-servicemen: “Yield up this varlet to the High Secret Court-martial + of the Klan, which alone has power to punish such as he.” + </p> + <p> + What the bewildered members of the Brigade made of all this hocus-pocus I + had no idea. Afterwards, when the adventure was over, I asked Mary, “Where + in the world did you get that stuff?” And she told me how she had once + acted in a children's comedy, in which there was an old magician who spent + his time putting spells on people. She had had to witness his incantations + eight or ten times a week for nearly a year, so of course the phrases had + got fixed in her memory, and they had served just as well to impress these + grown-up children. + </p> + <p> + Or perhaps the ex-servicemen thought this might be a further plan of those + who had employed them. Whatever they thought, it was obvious that they + were hopelessly outnumbered. There could be nothing for a mob to do but + yield to a Super-mob; and they yielded. Those who were in front of + Carpenter stepped back, and the Loyal High Inexorable Guardians and the + Grand Holy Seneschals took Carpenter by the arms and led him away. + Apparently they were going to overlook the rest of us; but Old Joe and + Lynch and myself took Abell and Moneta by the shoulders and shoved them + along, past the ex-service men and into the midst of the “Klansmen.” + </p> + <p> + There was no need to consider dignity after that. We hustled Carpenter to + the nearest of the busses, and put him in; the Grand Imperial Kleagle + followed, and the rest of us clambered in after her. Sitting up beside the + driver, watching the scene, was T-S, beaming with delight; he got me by + the hand and wrung it. I could not speak, my teeth were literally + chattering with excitement. Carpenter, sitting in the seat behind us, must + have realized by now the meaning of this scandalous adventure; but he said + not a word, and the white-gowned Klansmen piled in behind him, and the + siren shrieked out into the night, and the bus backed to the corner, and + turned and sped off; and all the way to Eternal City, T-S and I and Old + Joe slapped one another on the back and roared with laughter, and the rest + of the Klansmen roared with laughter—all save the Grand Imperial + Kleagle, who sat by Carpenter's side, and was discovered to be weeping. + </p> + <h3> + LVIII + </h3> + <p> + T-S and I had exchanged a few whispered words, and decided that we would + take Carpenter to his place, which was a few miles in the country from + Eternal City. He would be as safe there as anywhere I could think of. When + we had got to the studios, we discharged our Klansmen, and arranged to + send Old Joe to his home, and the three disciples to a hotel for the + night; then I invited Carpenter to step into T-S's car. He had not spoken + a word, and all he said now was, “I wish to be alone.” + </p> + <p> + I answered: “I am taking you to a place where you may be alone as long as + you choose.” So he entered the car, and a few minutes later T-S and I were + escorting him into the latter's showy mansion. + </p> + <p> + We were getting to be rather scared now, for Carpenter's silence was + forbidding. But again he said: “I wish to be alone.” We took him upstairs + to a bed-room, and shut him in and left him—but taking the + precaution to lock the door. + </p> + <p> + Downstairs, we stood and looked at each other, feeling like two + school-boys who had been playing truant, and would soon have to face the + teacher. “You stay here, Billy!” insisted the magnate. “You gotta see him + in de mornin'! I von't!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll stay,” I said, and looked at my watch. It was after one o'clock. + “Give me an alarm-clock,” I said, “because Carpenter wakes with the birds, + and we don't want him escaping by the window.” + </p> + <p> + So it came about that at daybreak I tapped on Carpenter's door, softly, so + as not to waken him if he were asleep. But he answered, “Come in;” and I + entered, and found him sitting by the window, watching the dawn. + </p> + <p> + I stood timidly in the middle of the room, and began: “I realize, of + course, Mr. Carpenter, that I have taken a very great liberty with you—” + </p> + <p> + “You have said it,” he replied; and his eyes were awful. + </p> + <p> + “But,” I persisted, “if you knew what danger you were in—” + </p> + <p> + Said he: “Do you think that I came to Mobland to look for a comfortable + life?” + </p> + <p> + “But,” I pleaded, “if you only knew that particular gang! Do you realize + that they had planted an infernal machine, a dynamite bomb, in that room? + And all the world was to read in the newspapers this morning that you had + been conspiring to blow up somebody!” + </p> + <p> + Said Carpenter: “Would it have been the first time that I have been lied + about?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” I argued, “I know what I have done—” + </p> + <p> + “You can have no idea what you have done. You are too ignorant.” + </p> + <p> + I bowed my head, prepared to take my punishment. But at once Carpenter's + voice softened. “You are a part of Mobland,” he said; “you cannot help + yourself. In Mobland it is not possible for even a martyrdom to proceed in + an orderly way.” + </p> + <p> + I gazed at him a moment, bewildered. “What's the good of a martyrdom?” I + cried. + </p> + <p> + “The good is, that men can be moved in no other way; they are in that + childish stage of being, where they require blood sacrifice.” + </p> + <p> + “But what kind of martyrdom!” I argued. “So undignified and unimpressive! + To have hot tar smeared over your body, and be hanged by the neck like a + common criminal!” + </p> + <p> + I realized that this last phrase was unfortunate. Said Carpenter: “I am + used to being treated as a common criminal.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said I, in a voice of despair, “of course, if you're absolutely + bent on being hanged—if you can't think of anything you would prefer—” + </p> + <p> + I stopped, for I saw that he had covered his face with his hands. In the + silence I heard him whisper: “I prayed last night that this cup might pass + from me; and apparently my prayer has been answered.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I said, deciding to cheer up, “you see, I have only been playing + the part of Providence. Let me play it just a few days longer, until this + mob of crazy soldier-boys has got out of town again. I am truly ashamed + for them, but I am one of them myself, so I understand them. They really + fought and won a war, you see, and they are full of the madness of it, the + blind, intense passions—” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter was on his feet. “I know!” he exclaimed. “I know! You need not + tell me about that! I do not blame your soldier-boys. I blame the men who + incite them—the old men, the soft-handed men, who sit back in + office-chairs and plan madness for the world! What shall be the punishment + of these men?” + </p> + <p> + “They're a hard crowd—” I admitted. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen them! They are stone-faced men! They are wolves with + machinery! They are savages with polished fingernails! And they have made + of the land a place of fools! They have made it Mobland!” + </p> + <p> + I did not try to answer him, but waited until the storm of his emotion + passed. “You are right, Mr. Carpenter. But that is the fact about our + world, and you cannot change it—” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter flung out his arm at me. “Let no man utter in my presence the + supreme blasphemy against life!” + </p> + <p> + So, of course, I was silent; and Carpenter went and sat at the window + again, and watched the dawn. + </p> + <p> + At last I ventured: “All that your friends ask, Mr. Carpenter, is that you + will wait until this convention of the ex-soldiers has got out of town. + After that, it may be possible to get people to listen to you. But while + the Brigade is here, it is impossible. They are rough, and they are wild; + they are taking possession of the city, and will do what they please. If + they see you on the streets, they will inflict indignities upon you, they + will mishandle you—” + </p> + <p> + Said Carpenter: “Do not fear those who kill the body, but fear those who + kill the soul.” + </p> + <p> + So again I fell silent; and presently he remarked: “My brother, I wish to + be alone.” + </p> + <p> + Said I: “Won't you please promise, Mr. Carpenter—” + </p> + <p> + He answered: “I make promises only to my Father. Let me be.” + </p> + <h3> + LIX + </h3> + <p> + I went downstairs, and there was T-S, wandering around like a big fat monk + in a purple dressing gown. And there was Maw, also—only her dressing + gown was rose-pink, with white chrysanthemums on it. It took a lot to get + those two awake at six o'clock in the morning, you may be sure; but there + they were, very much worried. “Vot does he say?” cried the magnate. + </p> + <p> + “He won't say what he is going to do.” + </p> + <p> + “He von't promise to stay?” + </p> + <p> + “He won't promise anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Vell, did you lock de door?” + </p> + <p> + I answered that I had, and then Maw put in, in a hurry: “Billy, you gotta + stay here and take care of him! If he vas to gome downstairs and tell me + to do someting, I vould got to do it!” + </p> + <p> + I promised; and a little later they got ready a cup of coffee and a glass + of milk and some rolls and butter and fruit, and I had the job of taking + up the tray and setting it in the prophet's room. When I came in, I tried + to say cheerfully, “Here's your breakfast,” and not to show any trace of + my uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + Carpenter looked at me, and said: “You had the door locked?” + </p> + <p> + I summoned my nerve, and answered, “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Said he: “What is the difference to me between being your prisoner and + being the prisoner of your rulers?” + </p> + <p> + Said I: “Mr. Carpenter, the difference is that we don't intend to hang + you.” + </p> + <p> + “And how long do you propose to keep me here?” + </p> + <p> + “For about four days,” I said; “until the convention disbands. If you will + only give me your word to wait that time, you may have the freedom of this + beautiful place, and when the period is over, I pledge you every help I + can give to make known your message to the people.” + </p> + <p> + I waited for an answer, but none came, so I set down the tray and went + out, locking the door again. And downstairs was one of T-S's secretaries, + with copies of the morning newspapers, and I picked up a “Times,” and + there was a headline, all the way across the page: + </p> + <p> + KU KLUX KLAN KIDNAPS KARPENTER RANTING RED PROPHET DISAPPEARS IN TOOTING + AUTOS + </p> + <p> + I understood, of course, that the secret agency which had engineered the + mobbing of the prophet would have had their stories all ready for our + morning newspapers—stories which played up to the full the finding + of an infernal machine, and an unprovoked attack upon ex-service men by + the armed followers of the “Red Prophet.” But now all this was gone, and + instead was a story glorifying the Klansmen as the saviors of the city's + good name. It was evident that up to the hour of going to press, neither + of the two newspapers had any idea but that the white robed figures were + genuine followers of the “Grand Imperial Kleagle.” The “Times” carried at + the top of its editorial page a brief comment in large type, + congratulating the people of Western City upon the promptness with which + they had demonstrated their devotion to the cause of law and order. + </p> + <p> + But of course the truth about our made-to-order mob could not be kept very + long. When you have hired a hundred moving-picture actors to share in the + greatest mystery of the age, it will not be many hours before your secret + has got to the newspaper offices. As a matter of fact, it wasn't two hours + before the “Evening Blare” was calling the home of the movie magnate to + inquire where he had taken the kidnapped prophet; there was no use trying + to deny anything, said the editor, diplomatically, because too many people + had seen the prophet transferred to Mr. T-S's automobile. Of course T-S's + secretary, who answered the phone, lied valiantly; but here again, we knew + the truth would leak. There were servants and chauffeurs and gardeners, + and all of them knew that the white robed mystery was somewhere on the + place. They would be offered endless bribes—and some of them would + accept! + </p> + <p> + In the course of the next hour or two there were a dozen newspaper + reporters besieging the mansion, and camera men taking pictures of it, and + even spying with opera glasses from a distance. Before my mind's eye + flashed new headlines: + </p> + <h3> + MOVIE MAGNATE HIDES MOB PROPHET FROM LAW + </h3> + <p> + This was an aspect of the matter which we had at first overlooked. + Carpenter was due at Judge Ponty's police-court at nine o'clock that + morning. Was he going? demanded the reporters, and if not, why not? Mary + Magna no doubt would be willing to sacrifice the two hundred dollars bail + that she had put up; but the judge had a right to issue a bench warrant + and send a deputy for the prisoner. Would he do it? + </p> + <p> + Behind the scenes of Western City's government there began forthwith a + tremendous diplomatic duel. Who it was that wanted Carpenter dragged out + of his hiding-place, we could not be sure, but we knew who it was that + wanted him to stay hidden! I called up my uncle Timothy, and explained the + situation. It wasn't worth while for him to waste his breath scolding, I + was going to stand by my prophet. If he wanted to put an end to the + scandal, let him do what he could to see that the prophet was let alone. + </p> + <p> + “But, Billy, what can I do?” he cried. “It's a matter of the law.” + </p> + <p> + I answered: “Fudge! You know perfectly well there's no magistrate or judge + in this city that won't do what he's told, if the right people tell him. + What I want you to do is to get busy with de Wiggs and Westerly and + Carson, and the rest of the big gang, and persuade them that there's + nothing to be gained by dragging Carpenter out of his hiding-place.” + </p> + <p> + What did they want anyway? I argued. They wanted the agitation stopped. + Well, we had stopped it, and without any bloodshed. If they dragged the + prophet out from concealment, and into a police court, they would only + have more excitement, more tumult, ending nobody could tell how. + </p> + <p> + I called up several other people who might have influence; and meanwhile + T-S was over at his office in Eternal City, pleading over the telephone + with the editors of afternoon papers. They had got the Red Prophet out of + the way during the convention, and why couldn't they let well enough + alone? Wasn't there news enough, with five or ten thousand war-heroes + coming to town, without bothering about one poor religious freak? + </p> + <p> + When you shoot a load of shot at a duck, and the bird comes tumbling down, + you do not bother to ask which particular shot it was that hit the target. + And so it was with these frantic efforts of ours. One shot must have hit, + for at eleven o'clock that morning, when the case of John Doe Carpenter + versus the Commonwealth of Western City was reached in Judge Ponty's + court, and the bailiff called the name of the defendant and there was no + answer, the magistrate in a single sentence declared the bail forfeited, + and passed on to the next case without a word. And all three of our + afternoon newspapers reported this incident in an obscure corner on an + inside page. The Red Prophet was dead and buried! + </p> + <h3> + IX + </h3> + <p> + I took up Carpenter's lunch at one o'clock, and discovered, to my dismay, + that he had not tasted his breakfast. I ventured to speak to him; but he + sat on a chair, gazing ahead of him and paying no attention to me, so I + left him alone. At six o'clock in the evening I took up his dinner, and + discovered that he had not touched either breakfast or lunch; but still he + had nothing to say, so I took back the dinner, and went downstairs, and + said to T-S: “We've got ourselves in for a hunger strike!” + </p> + <p> + Needless to say, under the circumstances we did not very heartily enjoy + our own dinner. And T-S, neglecting his important business, stayed around; + getting up out of one chair and walking nowhere, and then sitting down in + another chair. I did the same, and after we had exchanged chairs a dozen + times—it being then about eight o'clock in the evening—I said: + “By the way, hadn't you better call up the morning papers and persuade + them to be decent.” So T-S seated himself at the telephone, and asked for + the managing editor of the Western City “Times,” and I sat and listened to + the conversation. + </p> + <p> + It began with a reminder of the amount of advertising space which Eternal + City consumed in the “Times” in the course of a year, and also the amount + of its payroll in the community. It wasn't often that T-S asked favors, + but he wanted to ask one now; he wanted the “Times” to let up on this + prophet business, and especially about the prophet's connection with the + moving picture industry. Everything was quiet now, the prophet wasn't + bothering anybody— + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, at the height of his eloquence, T-S stopped; and it seemed to me + as if he jumped a foot out of his chair. “VOT!” And then, “Vy man, you're + crazy!” He turned upon me, his eyes wide with dismay. “Billy! Dey got a + report—Carpenter is shoost now speakin' to a mob on de steps of de + City Hall!” + </p> + <p> + The magnate did not wait to see me jump out of my chair or to hear my + exclamations, but turned again to the telephone. “My Gawd, man! Vot do I + know about it? De feller vas up in his room two hours ago ven we took him + his dinner! He vouldn't eat it, he vouldn't speak—” + </p> + <p> + That was the last I heard, having bolted out of the room, and upstairs. I + found Carpenter's door locked; I opened it, and rushed in. The place was + empty! The bird had flown! + </p> + <p> + How had he got out? Had he climbed through the window and slid down a + rain-spout in his prophetic robes? Had he won the heart of some servant? + Had some newspaper reporter or agent of our enemies used bribery? I rushed + downstairs, and got my car from the garage; and all the way to the city I + spent my time in such futile speculations. How Carpenter, having escaped + from the house, had managed to get into town so quickly—that was + much easier to figure out; for our highways are full of motor traffic, and + almost any driver will take in a stranger. + </p> + <p> + I came to the city. Even outside the crowded district, the traffic was + held up for a minute or two at every corner; so I found time to look + about, and to realize that the Brigade had got to town. All day special + trains had been pouring into the city, literally dozens of them by every + road; and now the streets were thronged with men in uniform, marching arm + in arm, shouting, chanting war-cries, roaming in search of adventure. + Tomorrow was the first day of the convention, the day of the big parade: + tonight was a night of riot. Everything in town was free to ex-service men—and + to all others who could borrow or buy a uniform. The spirit of the + occasion was set forth in a notice published on the editorial page of the + “Times”: + </p> + <p> + “Hello, bo! Have a cigarette. Take another one. Take anything you see + around the place. + </p> + <p> + “The town is yours. Take it into camp with you. Scruff it up to your + heart's content. Order it about. Let it carry grub to you. Have it shine + your shoes. Hand it your coat and tell it to hold it until the show is + over. + </p> + <p> + “We are all waiting your orders. Shove us back if we crowd. Push us off + the street. Give us your grip and tell us where to deliver it. Any + errands? Call us. If you want to go anywhere, don't ask for directions. + Just jump into the car and tell us where you're bound for. + </p> + <p> + “Let's have another one before we part. Put up your money; it's no good + here. This one's on Western City.” + </p> + <p> + I saw that it was not going to be possible to drive through the jam, so I + put my car in a parking place, and set out for the City Hall on foot. On + the way I observed that the invitation of the “Times” had been accepted; + the Brigade had taken possession of the town. It was just about possible + to walk on the down-town streets; there were solid masses of noisy, + pushing people, every other man in uniform. Evidently there had been a + tacit agreement to repeal the Eighteenth amendment to the Constitution for + the next three days; bootleggers had drawn up their trucks and automobiles + along the curbs, and corn-whiskey, otherwise known as “white lightnin',” + was freely sold. You would meet a man with a bottle in his hand, and the + effects of other bottles in his face, who would embrace you and offer you + a drink; in the same block you would meet another man who would invite you + to buy drinks for everybody in sight. The town had apparently agreed that + no invitation should be declined. If the great Republic of Mobland had + been unable to make for its returned war-heroes the new world which it had + promised them—if it could not even give them back the jobs they had + had before they left—surely the least it could do was to get them + drunk! + </p> + <p> + And several times in each block you would have to get off the sidewalk for + a group of ten or twenty flushed, dishevelled men, playing the great + national game of craps. “Roll the bones!” they would shout, completely + ignoring the throngs which surged about them. Each had his pile of bills + and silver laid out on the pavement, and his bottle of “white lightnin';” + now and then one would take a swig, and now and then one would start + singing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + All we do is sign the pay-roll— + And we don't get a goddam cent. +</pre> + <p> + You would go a little farther, and find a couple of automobiles trying to + get past, and a merry crowd amusing itself throwing large waste cans in + front of them. Some one would shout: “Who won the war?” And the answer + would come booming: “The goddam slackers;” or maybe it would be, “The + goddam officers.” The crowd would move along, starting to chant the + favorite refrain: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You're in the army now, + You're not behind the plow—; + You son-of-a—-, + You'll never get rich— + You're in the army now! +</pre> + <p> + And from farther down the street would come a chorus from another crowd of + marchers: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I got a girl in Baltimore, + The street-car runs right by her door. +</pre> + <p> + Every now and then you would come on a fist-fight, or maybe a fight with + bottles, and a crowd, laughing and whooping, engaged in pulling the + warriors apart and sitting on them. Through a mile or two of this kind of + thing I made my way, my heart sinking deeper with misgiving. I got within + a couple of blocks of the City Hall, and then suddenly I came upon the + thing I dreaded—my friend Carpenter in the hands of the mob! + </p> + <h3> + LXI + </h3> + <p> + They had got hold of a canvas-covered wagon, of the type of the old + “prairie-schooner.” You still find these camped by our roadsides now and + then, with nomad families in them; and evidently one of these families had + been so ill advised as to come to town for the convention. The rioters had + hoisted their victim on top of the wagon, having first dumped a gallon of + red paint over his head, so that everyone might know him for the Red + Prophet they had been reading about in the papers. They had tied a long + rope to the shaft of the wagon, and one or two hundred men had hold of it, + and were hauling it through the streets, dancing and singing, shouting + murder-threats against the “reds.” Some ran ahead, to clear the traffic; + and then came the wagon, lumbering and rocking, so that the prophet was + thrown from side to side. Fortunately there was a hole in the canvas, and + he could hold to one of the wooden ribs. + </p> + <p> + The cortege came opposite to me. On each side was a guard of honor, a line + of men walking in lock-step, each with his hands on the shoulders of the + one in front; they had got up a sort of chant: “Hi! Hi! The Bolsheviki + prophet! Hi! Hi! The Bolsheviki prophet!” And others would yell, “I won't + work! I won't work!”—this being our Mobland nickname for the I.W.W. + Some one had daubed the letters on the sides of the wagon, using the red + paint; and a drunken fellow standing near me shook his clenched fist at + the wretch on top and bellowed in a fog-horn voice: “Hey, there, you + goddam Arnychist, if you're a prophet, come down from that there wagon and + cure my venereal disease!” There was a roar of laughter from the throng, + and the drunken fellow liked the sensation so well that he walked + alongside, shouting his challenge again and again. + </p> + <p> + Then I heard a crash behind me, and a clatter of falling glass; I turned + to see a soldier, inside the Royal Hotel, engaged in chopping out the + plate-glass window of the lobby with a chair. There were twenty or thirty + uniformed men behind him, who wanted to get out and see the fun; but the + door of the hotel was blocked by the crowd, so they were seeking a direct + route to the goal of their desires. + </p> + <p> + I knew, of course, there was nothing I could do; one might as well have + tried to stop a hurricane by blowing one's breath. Carpenter had wanted + martyrdom, and now he was going to get it—of the peculiar kind and + in the peculiar fashion of our free and independent and happy-go-lucky + land. We have had many agitators and disturbers of our self-satisfaction, + and they have all “got theirs,” in one form or another; but there had + never been one who had done quite so much to make himself odious as this + “Bolsheviki prophet,” who was now “getting his.” “Treat 'em rough!” runs + the formula of the army; and I fell in step, watching, and thinking that + later I might serve as one of the stretcher-bearers. + </p> + <p> + Half way down the block we came to the Palace Hotel, and uniformed men + came pouring out of that. I heard the shrieks of a woman, and put my foot + on the edge of a store-window, and raised myself up by an awning, to see + over the heads of the crowd. Half a dozen rowdies had got hold of a girl; + I don't know what she had done—maybe her skirts were too short, or + maybe she had been saucy to one of the gang; anyhow, they were tearing her + clothes to shreds, and having done this gaily, they took her on their + shoulders, and ran her out to the wagon, and tossed her up beside the Red + Prophet. “There's a girl for you!” they yelled; and the drunken fellow who + wanted Carpenter to cure him, suddenly thought of a new witticism: “Hey, + you goddam Bolsheviki, why don't you nationalize her?” Men laughed and + whooped over that; some of them were so tickled that they danced about and + waved their arms in the air. For, you see, they knew all the details + concerning the “nationalization of women in Russia,” and also they had + read in the papers about Mary Magna, and Carpenter's fondness for + picture-actresses and other gay ladies. He stretched out his hand to the + girl, to save her from falling off; and at this there went up such a roar + from the mob, that it made me think of wild beasts in the arena. So to my + whirling brain came back the words that Carpenter had spoken: “It is Rome! + It is Rome! Rome that never dies!” + </p> + <p> + The cortege came to the “Hippodrome,” which is our biggest theatre, and + which, like everything else, had declared open house for Brigade members + during the convention. Some one in the crowd evidently knew the building, + and guided the procession down a side street, to the stage-entrance. They + have all kinds of shows in the “Hippodrome,” and have a driveway by which + they bring in automobiles, or war-chariots, or wild animals in cages, or + whatever they will. Now the mob stormed the entrance, and brushed the + door-keepers to one side, and unbolted and swung back the big gates, and a + swarm of yelling maniacs rushed the lumbering prairie-schooner up the + slope into the building. + </p> + <p> + The unlucky girl rolled off at this point, and somebody caught her, and + mercifully carried her to one side. The wagon rolled on; the advance guard + swept everything out of the way, scenery as well as stage-hands and + actors, and to the vast astonishment of an audience of a couple of + thousand people, the long string of rope-pullers marched across the stage, + and after them came the canvas-covered vehicle with the red-painted + letters, and the red-painted victim clinging to the top. The khaki-clad + swarm gathered about him, raising their deafening chant: “Hi! Hi! The + Bolsheviki prophet. Hi! Hi! The Bolsheviki prophet!” + </p> + <p> + I had got near enough so that I could see what happened. I don't know + whether Carpenter fainted; anyhow, he slipped from his perch, and a score + of upraised hands caught him. Some one tore down a hanging from the walls + of the stage set, and twenty or thirty men formed a cirfcle about it, and + put the prophet in the middle of it, and began to toss him ten feet up + into the air and catch him and throw him again. + </p> + <p> + And that was all I could stand—I turned and went out by the rear + entrance of the theatre. The street in back was deserted; I stood there, + with my hands clasped to my head, sick with disgust; I found myself + repeating out loud, over and over again, those words of Carpenter: “It is + Rome! It is Rome! Rome that never dies!” + </p> + <p> + A moment later I heard a crash of glass up above me; I ducked, just in + time to avoid a shower of it. Then I looked up, and to my consternation + saw the red-painted head and the red and white shoulders of Carpenter + suddenly emerging. The shoulders were quickly followed by the rest of him; + but fortunately there was a narrow shed between him and the ground. He + struck the shed, and rolled, and as he fell, I caught him, and let him + down without harm. + </p> + <h3> + LXII + </h3> + <p> + I expected to find my prophet nearly dead; I made ready to get him onto my + shoulders and find some place to hide him. But to my surprise he started + to his feet. I could not see much of him, because of the streams of paint; + but I could see enough to realize that his face was contorted with fury. I + remembered that gentle, compassionate countenance; never had I dreamed to + see it like this! + </p> + <p> + He raised his clenched hands. “I meant to die for this people! But now—let + them die for themselves!” And suddenly he reached out to me in a gesture + of frenzy. “Let me get away from them! Anywhere, anyway! Let me go back + where I was—where I do not see, where I do not hear, where I do not + think! Let me go back to the church!” + </p> + <p> + With these words he started to run down the street; hauling up his long + robes—never would I have dreamed that a prophet's bare legs could + flash so quickly, that he could cover the ground at such amazing speed! I + set out after him; I had stuck to him thus far, and meant to be in at the + finish, whatever it was. We came out on Broadway again, and there were + more crowds of soldier boys; the prophet sped past them, like a dog with a + tin-can tied to its tail. He came to a cross-street, and dodged the + crowded traffic, and I also got through, knocking pedestrians this way and + that. People shouted, automobiles tooted; the soldiers whooped on the + trail. I began to get short of breath, a little dizzy; the buildings + seemed to rock before me, there were mobs everywhere, and hands clutching + at me, nearly upsetting me. But still I followed my prophet with the bare + flying legs; we swept around another corner, and I saw the goal to which + the tormented soul was racing—St. Bartholomew's! + </p> + <p> + He went up the steps three at a time, and I went up four at a time behind + him. He flung open the door and vanished inside; when I got in, he was + half way up the aisle. I saw people in the church start up with cries of + amazement; some grabbed me, but I broke away—and saw my prophet give + three tremendous leaps. The first took him up the altar-steps; the second + took him onto the altar; the third took him up into the stained-glass + window. + </p> + <p> + And there he turned and faced me. His paint-smeared robes fell down about + his bare legs, his convulsed and angry face became as gentle and + compassionate as the paint would permit. With a wave of his hand, he + signalled me to stand back and let him alone. Then the hand sank to his + side, and he stood motionless. Exhausted, dizzy, I fell against one of the + pews, and then into a seat, and bowed my head in my arms. + </p> + <h3> + LXIII + </h3> + <p> + I don't know just how much time passed after that. I felt a hand on my + shoulder, and realized that some one was shaking me. I had a horror of + hands reaching out for me, so I tried to get away from this one; but it + persisted, and there was a voice, saying, “You must get up, my friend. + It's time we closed. Are you ill?” + </p> + <p> + I raised my head; and first I glanced at the figure above the altar. It + was perfectly motionless; and—incredible as it may seem—there + was no trace of red paint upon either the face or the robes! The figure + was dignified and serene, with a halo of light about its head—in + short, it was the regulation stained glass figure that I had gazed at + through all my childhood. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” asked the voice at my side; and I looked up, and + discovered the Reverend Mr. Simpkinson. He recognized me, and cried: “Why, + Billy! For heaven sake, what has happened?” + </p> + <p> + I was dazed, and put my hand to my jaw. I realized that my head was + aching, and that the place I touched was sore. “I—I—-” I + stammered. “Wait a minute.” And then, “I think I was hurt.” I tried to get + my thoughts together. Had I been dreaming; and if so, how much was dream + and how much was reality? “Tell me,” I said, “is there a moving picture + theatre near this church?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” said he. “The Excelsior.” + </p> + <p> + “And—was there some sort of riot?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Some ex-soldiers have been trying to keep people from going in + there. They are still at it. You can hear them.” + </p> + <p> + I listened. Yes, there was a murmur of voices outside. So I realized what + had happened to me. I said: “I was in that mob, and I got beaten up. I was + knocked pretty nearly silly, and fled in here.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” exclaimed the clergyman, his amiable face full of concern. He + took me by my shoulders and helped me to my feet. + </p> + <p> + “I'm all right now,” I said—“except that my jaw is swollen. Tell me, + what time is it?” + </p> + <p> + “About six o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “For goodness sake!” I exclaimed. “I dreamed all that in an hour! I had + the strangest dream—even now I can't make up my mind what was dream + and what really happened.” I thought for a moment. “Tell me, is there a + convention of the Brigade—that is, I mean, of the American Legion in + Western City now?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the other; “at least, not that I've heard of. They've just held + their big convention in Kansas City.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see! I remember—I read about it in the 'Nation.' They were + pretty riotous—made a drunken orgy of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the clergyman. “I've heard that. It seems too bad.” + </p> + <p> + “One thing more. Tell me, is there a picture of Mr. de Wiggs in the + vestry-room?” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious, no!” laughed the other. “Was that one of the things you + dreamed? Maybe you're thinking of the portrait they are showing at the + Academy.” + </p> + <p> + “By George, that's it!” I said. “I patched the thing up out of all the + people I know, and all the things I've read in the papers! I had been + talking to a German critic, Dr. Henner—or wait a moment! Is he real? + Yes, he came before I went to see the picture. He'll be entertained to + hear about it. You see, the picture was supposed to be the delirium of a + madman, and when I got this whack on the jaw, I set to work to have a + delirium of my own, just as I had seen on the screen. It was the most + amazing thing—so real, I mean. Every person I think of, I have to + stop and make sure whether I really know them, or whether I dreamed them. + Even you!” + </p> + <p> + “Was I in it?” laughed Mr. Simpkinson. “What did I do?” + </p> + <p> + But I decided I'd better not tell him. “It wasn't a polite dream,” I said. + “Let me see if I can walk now.” I started down the aisle. “Yes, I'm all + right.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you suppose that crowd will bother you again? Perhaps I'd better go + with you,” said the apostle of muscular Christianity. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” I said. “They're not after me especially. I'll slip away in the + other direction.” + </p> + <p> + So I bade Mr. Simpkinson good-bye, and went out on the steps, and the + fresh air felt good to me. I saw the crowd down the street; the ex-service + men were still pushing and shouting, driving people away from the theatre. + I stopped for one glance, then hurried away and turned the corner. As I + was passing an office building, I saw a big limousine draw up. The door + opened, and a woman stepped out: a bold, dark, vivid beauty, bedecked with + jewels and gorgeous raiment of many sorts; a big black picture hat, with a + flower garden and parts of an aviary on top— + </p> + <p> + Her glance lit on me. “My God! Will you look who's here!” She came to me + with her two hands stretched out. “Billy, wretched creature, I haven't + laid eyes on you for two months! Do you have to desert me entirely, just + because you've fallen in love with a society girl with the face of a + Japanese doll-baby? What's the matter with me, that I lose my lovers + faster than I get them? I just met Edgerton Rosythe; he's got a good + excuse, I admit—I'm almost as much scared of his wife as he is + himself. But still, I'd like a chance to get tired of some man first! Want + to come upstairs with me, and see what Planchet's doing to my old grannie + in her scalping-shop? Say, would you think it would take three days' labor + for half a dozen Sioux squaws to pull the skin off one old lady's back? + And a week to tie up the corners of her mouth and give her a permanent + smile! 'Why, grannie,' I said, 'good God, it would be cheaper to hire + Charlie Chaplin to walk around in front of you all the rest of your life.' + But the old girl was bound to be beautiful, so I said to Planchet, 'Make + her new from the waist up, Madame, for you never can tell how the + fashions'll change, and what she'll need to show.'” + </p> + <p> + And so I knew that I was back in the real world. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPE" id="link2H_APPE"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX + </h2> + <p> + We live in an age, the first in human history, when religion is entirely + excluded from politics and politics from religion. It may happen, + therefore, that millions of men will read this story and think it merely a + joke; not realizing that it is a literal translation of the life of the + world's greatest revolutionary martyr, the founder of the world's first + proletarian party. For the benefit of those whose historical education has + been neglected, I append a series of references. The number to the left + refers to a page of this book. The number to the right is a parallel + reference to a volume of ancient records known as the Bible; specifically + to those portions known as the gospels according to Matthew Everett, Mark + Abell, Luka Korwsky, and John Colver. + </p> + <p> + 11........Matthew 14:27 + </p> + <p> + 14........Matthew 6:21 + </p> + <p> + 16........Isaiah 3:16-26 + </p> + <p> + 17........Mark 12:37 + </p> + <p> + 70........Luke 6:24 + </p> + <p> + 70........John 15:17 + </p> + <p> + 72........Luke 9:38 + </p> + <p> + 73........Luke 4:40 + </p> + <p> + 75........Luke 11:46 + </p> + <p> + 78........Matthew 19:14 + </p> + <p> + 84........John 15:27 + </p> + <p> + 85........Luke 6:25 + </p> + <p> + 90........Matthew 12:39 + </p> + <p> + 95........Matthew 12:34 + </p> + <p> + 99........Matthew 10:9 + </p> + <p> + 102........Luke 4:5-8 + </p> + <p> + 107........Matthew 26:34 + </p> + <p> + 114........Matthew 26:69-75 + </p> + <p> + 117........James 5:1-6 + </p> + <p> + 119........Matthew 7:7 + </p> + <p> + 120........Matthew 7:11 + </p> + <p> + 123........Matthew 10:34 + </p> + <p> + 123........Matthew 10:16-17 + </p> + <p> + 129........Luke 23:23 + </p> + <p> + 131........Matthew 9:9 + </p> + <p> + 135........Acts 17:24 + </p> + <p> + 136........Matthew 21:12 + </p> + <p> + 136........Exodus 20:7 + </p> + <p> + 136........Matthew 21:13 + </p> + <p> + 138........Matthew 5:39-40 + </p> + <p> + 140........Matthew 23:l-33 + </p> + <p> + 143........Mark 6:56 + </p> + <p> + 143........Luke 6:19 + </p> + <p> + 144........Matthew 25:36 + </p> + <p> + 144........Matthew 21:6 + </p> + <p> + 145........Mark 3:20 + </p> + <p> + 145........Luke 5:29 + </p> + <p> + 146........Matthew 9:37 + </p> + <p> + 146........Luke 4:39 + </p> + <p> + 150........John 19:26 + </p> + <p> + 153........Matthew 19:16 + </p> + <p> + 155........Mark 15:14 + </p> + <p> + 162........Matthew 5:9 + </p> + <p> + 164........Luke 4:18 + </p> + <p> + 164........Luke 19:40-44 + </p> + <p> + 164........Matthew 11:5 + </p> + <p> + 167........Matthew 5:44 + </p> + <p> + 171........Matthew 27:14 + </p> + <p> + 171........Matthew 8:20 + </p> + <p> + 175........Matthew 26:7-13 + </p> + <p> + 176........Luke 1:52 + </p> + <p> + 179........Matthew 11:19 + </p> + <p> + 180........Matthew 5:11 + </p> + <p> + 182........Luke 20:20 + </p> + <p> + 182........Matthew 26:22 + </p> + <p> + 183........Matthew 26:36 + </p> + <p> + 185........John 18:3 + </p> + <p> + 186........Luke 22:4 + </p> + <p> + 190........Matthew 26:40 + </p> + <p> + 192........Luke 22:44 + </p> + <p> + 193........Matthew 26:40 + </p> + <p> + 194........Luke 14:43 + </p> + <p> + 195........Matthew 26:52 + </p> + <p> + 202........Mark 14:36 + </p> + <p> + 203........Matthew 10:28 + </p> + <p> + 214........Mark 15:18 + </p> + <p> + 214........Luke 23:38 + </p> + <p> + 214........Matthew 27:40 + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's They Call Me Carpenter, by Upton Sinclair + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THEY CALL ME CARPENTER *** + +***** This file should be named 5774-h.htm or 5774-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/7/5774/ + + +Text file produced by Charles Aldarondo, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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