XLV
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!"
"Vell, vat you expect?" cried Korwsky. "You git de verkin' men into
politics, and den you blame dem fer bein' politicians!"
"Nothing was said about returning the money, I suppose?" remarked
Everett, in a bitter tone.
"Something was said," I replied. "I said it. I don't think the money
will be returned."
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.
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.
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!
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?
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.
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.
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.
"No," said I, "it is Mobland."
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!"
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.
To which he answered, "The soul of one eagle is the same as the soul
of two."
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?"
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.
