DONALD MARSH, President of Lincoln College, walked home with Mr.
Maxwell.
"I have reached one conclusion, Maxwell," said Marsh, speaking
slowly. "I have found my cross and it is a heavy one, but I shall
never be satisfied until I take it up and carry it." Maxwell was
silent and the President went on.
"Your sermon today made clear to me what I have long been feeling I
ought to do. 'What would Jesus do in my place?' I have asked the
question repeatedly since I made my promise. I have tried to satisfy
myself that He would simply go on as I have done, attending to the
duties of my college work, teaching the classes in Ethics and
Philosophy. But I have not been able to avoid the feeling that He
would do something more. That something is what I do not want to do.
It will cause me genuine suffering to do it. I dread it with all my
soul. You may be able to guess what it is."
"Yes, I think I know. It is my cross too. I would almost rather do
any thing else."
Donald Marsh looked surprised, then relieved. Then he spoke sadly
but with great conviction: "Maxwell, you and I belong to a class of
professional men who have always avoided the duties of citizenship.
We have lived in a little world of literature and scholarly
seclusion, doing work we have enjoyed and shrinking from the
disagreeable duties that belong to the life of the citizen. I
confess with shame that I have purposely avoided the responsibility
that I owe to this city personally. I understand that our city
officials are a corrupt, unprincipled set of men, controlled in
large part by the whiskey element and thoroughly selfish so far as
the affairs of city government are concerned. Yet all these years I,
with nearly every teacher in the college, have been satisfied to let
other men run the municipality and have lived in a little world of
my own, out of touch and sympathy with the real world of the people.
'What would Jesus do?' I have even tried to avoid an honest answer.
I can no longer do so. My plain duty is to take a personal part in
this coming election, go to the primaries, throw the weight of my
influence, whatever it is, toward the nomination and election of
good men, and plunge into the very depths of the entire horrible
whirlpool of deceit, bribery, political trickery and saloonism as it
exists in Raymond today. I would sooner walk up to the mouth of a
cannon any time than do this. I dread it because I hate the touch of
the whole matter. I would give almost any thing to be able to say,
'I do not believe Jesus would do anything of the sort.' But I am
more and more persuaded that He would. This is where the suffering
comes for me. It would not hurt me half so much to lose my position
or my home. I loathe the contact with this municipal problem. I
would so much prefer to remain quietly in my scholastic life with my
classes in Ethics and Philosophy. But the call has come to me so
plainly that I cannot escape. 'Donald Marsh, follow me. Do your duty
as a citizen of Raymond at the point where your citizenship will
cost you something. Help to cleanse this municipal stable, even if
you do have to soil your aristocratic feelings a little.' Maxwell,
this is my cross, I must take it up or deny my Lord."
"You have spoken for me also," replied Maxwell with a sad smile.
"Why should I, simply because I am a minister, shelter myself behind
my refined, sensitive feelings, and like a coward refuse to touch,
except in a sermon possibly, the duty of citizenship? I am unused to
the ways of the political life of the city. I have never taken an
active part in any nomination of good men. There are hundreds of
ministers like me. As a class we do not practice in the municipal
life the duties and privileges we preach from the pulpit. 'What
would Jesus do?' I am now at a point where, like you, I am driven to
answer the question one way. My duty is plain. I must suffer. All my
parish work, all my little trials or self-sacrifices are as nothing
to me compared with the breaking into my scholarly, intellectual,
self-contained habits, of this open, coarse, public fight for a
clean city life. I could go and live at the Rectangle the rest of my
life and work in the slums for a bare living, and I could enjoy it
more than the thought of plunging into a fight for the reform of
this whiskey-ridden city. It would cost me less. But, like you, I
have been unable to shake off my responsibility. The answer to the
question 'What would Jesus do?' in this case leaves me no peace
except when I say, Jesus would have me act the part of a Christian
citizen. Marsh, as you say, we professional men, ministers,
professors, artists, literary men, scholars, have almost invariably
been political cowards. We have avoided the sacred duties of
citizenship either ignorantly or selfishly. Certainly Jesus in our
age would not do that. We can do no less than take up this cross,
and follow Him."
The two men walked on in silence for a while. Finally President
Marsh said: "We do not need to act alone in this matter. With all
the men who have made the promise we certainly can have
companionship, and strength even, of numbers. Let us organize the
Christian forces of Raymond for the battle against rum and
corruption. We certainly ought to enter the primaries with a force
that will be able to do more than enter a protest. It is a fact that
the saloon element is cowardly and easily frightened in spite of its
lawlessness and corruption. Let us plan a campaign that will mean
something because it is organized righteousness. Jesus would use
great wisdom in this matter. He would employ means. He would make
large plans. Let us do so. If we bear this cross let us do it
bravely, like men."
They talked over the matter a long time and met again the next day
in Maxwell's study to develop plans. The city primaries were called
for Friday. Rumors of strange and unknown events to the average
citizen were current that week in political circles throughout
Raymond. The Crawford system of balloting for nominations was not in
use in the state, and the primary was called for a public meeting at
the court house.
The citizens of Raymond will never forget that meeting. It was so
unlike any political meeting ever held in Raymond before, that there
was no attempt at comparison. The special officers to be nominated
were mayor, city council, chief of police, city clerk and city
treasurer.
The evening NEWS in its Saturday edition gave a full account of the
primaries, and in the editorial columns Edward Norman spoke with a
directness and conviction that the Christian people of Raymond were
learning to respect deeply, because it was so evidently sincere and
unselfish. A part of that editorial is also a part of this history.
We quote the following:
"It is safe to say that never before in the history of Raymond was
there a primary like the one in the court house last night. It was,
first of all, a complete surprise to the city politicians who have
been in the habit of carrying on the affairs of the city as if they
owned them, and every one else was simply a tool or a cipher. The
overwhelming surprise of the wire pullers last night consisted in
the fact that a large number of the citizens of Raymond who have
heretofore taken no part in the city's affairs, entered the primary
and controlled it, nominating some of the best men for all the
offices to be filled at the coming election.
"It was a tremendous lesson in good citizenship. President Marsh of
Lincoln College, who never before entered a city primary, and whose
face was not even known to the ward politicians, made one of the
best speeches ever made in Raymond. It was almost ludicrous to see
the faces of the men who for years have done as they pleased, when
President Marsh rose to speak. Many of them asked, 'Who is he?' The
consternation deepened as the primary proceeded and it became
evident that the oldtime ring of city rulers was outnumbered. Rev.
Henry Maxwell of the First Church, Milton Wright, Alexander Powers,
Professors Brown, Willard and Park of Lincoln College, Dr. West,
Rev. George Main of the Pilgrim Church, Dean Ward of the Holy
Trinity, and scores of well-known business men and professional men,
most of them church members, were present, and it did not take long
to see that they had all come with the one direct and definite
purpose of nominating the best men possible. Most of those men had
never before been seen in a primary. They were complete strangers to
the politicians. But they had evidently profited by the politician's
methods and were able by organized and united effort to nominate the
entire ticket.
"As soon as it became plain that the primary was out of their
control the regular ring withdrew in disgust and nominated another
ticket. The NEWS simply calls the attention of all decent citizens
to the fact that this last ticket contains the names of whiskey men,
and the line is sharply and distinctly drawn between the saloon and
corrupt management such as we have known for years, and a clean,
honest, capable, business-like city administration, such as every
good citizen ought to want. It is not necessary to remind the people
of Raymond that the question of local option comes up at the
election. That will be the most important question on the ticket.
The crisis of our city affairs has been reached. The issue is
squarely before us. Shall we continue the rule of rum and boodle and
shameless incompetency, or shall we, as President Marsh said in his
noble speech, rise as good citizens and begin a new order of things,
cleansing our city of the worst enemy known to municipal honesty,
and doing what lies in our power to do with the ballot to purify our
civic life?
"The NEWS is positively and without reservation on the side of the
new movement. We shall henceforth do all in our power to drive out
the saloon and destroy its political strength. We shall advocate the
election of the men nominated by the majority of citizens met in the
first primary and we call upon all Christians, church members,
lovers of right, purity, temperance, and the home, to stand by
President Marsh and the rest of the citizens who have thus begun a
long-needed reform in our city."
President Marsh read this editorial and thanked God for Edward
Norman. At the same time he understood well enough that every other
paper in Raymond was on the other side. He did not underestimate the
importance and seriousness of the fight which was only just begun.
It was no secret that the NEWS had lost enormously since it had been
governed by the standard of "What would Jesus do?" And the question
was, Would the Christian people of Raymond stand by it? Would they
make it possible for Norman to conduct a daily Christian paper? Or
would the desire for what is called news in the way of crime,
scandal, political partisanship of the regular sort, and a dislike
to champion so remarkable a reform in journalism, influence them to
drop the paper and refuse to give it their financial support? That
was, in fact, the question Edward Norman was asking even while he
wrote that Saturday editorial. He knew well enough that his actions
expressed in that editorial would cost him very heavily from the
hands of many business men in Raymond. And still, as he drove his
pen over the paper, he asked another question, "What would Jesus
do?" That question had become a part of this whole life now. It was
greater than any other.
But for the first time in its history Raymond had seen the
professional men, the teachers, the college professors, the doctors,
the ministers, take political action and put themselves definitely
and sharply in public antagonism to the evil forces that had so long
controlled the machine of municipal government. The fact itself was
astounding. President Marsh acknowledged to himself with a feeling
of humiliation, that never before had he known what civic
righteousness could accomplish. From that Friday night's work he
dated for himself and his college a new definition of the worn
phrase "the scholar in politics." Education for him and those who
were under his influence ever after meant some element of suffering.
Sacrifice must now enter into the factor of development.
At the Rectangle that week the tide of spiritual life rose high, and
as yet showed no signs of flowing back. Rachel and Virginia went
every night. Virginia was rapidly reaching a conclusion with respect
to a large part of her money. She had talked it over with Rachel and
they had been able to agree that if Jesus had a vast amount of money
at His disposal He might do with some of it as Virginia planned. At
any rate they felt that whatever He might do in such case would have
as large an element of variety in it as the differences in persons
and circumstances. There could be no one fixed Christian way of
using money. The rule that regulated its use was unselfish utility.
But meanwhile the glory of the Spirit's power possessed all their
best thought. Night after night that week witnessed miracles as
great as walking on the sea or feeding the multitude with a few
loaves and fishes. For what greater miracle is there than a
regenerate humanity? The transformation of these coarse, brutal,
sottish lives into praying, rapturous lovers of Christ, struck
Rachel and Virginia every time with the feeling that people may have
had when they saw Lazarus walk out of the tomb. It was an experience
full of profound excitement for them.
Rollin Page came to all the meetings. There was no doubt of the
change that had come over him. Rachel had not yet spoken much with
him. He was wonderfully quiet. It seemed as if he was thinking all
the time. Certainly he was not the same person. He talked more with
Gray than with any one else. He did not avoid Rachel, but he seemed
to shrink from any appearance of seeming to renew the acquaintance
with her. Rachel found it even difficult to express to him her
pleasure at the new life he had begun to know. He seemed to be
waiting to adjust himself to his previous relations before this new
life began. He had not forgotten those relations. But he was not yet
able to fit his consciousness into new ones.
The end of the week found the Rectangle struggling hard between two
mighty opposing forces. The Holy Spirit was battling with all His
supernatural strength against the saloon devil which had so long
held a jealous grasp on its slaves. If the Christian people of
Raymond once could realize what the contest meant to the souls newly
awakened to a purer life it did not seem possible that the election
could result in the old system of license. But that remained yet to
be seen. The horror of the daily surroundings of many of the
converts was slowly burning its way into the knowledge of Virginia
and Rachel, and every night as they went uptown to their luxurious
homes they carried heavy hearts.
"A good many of these poor creatures will go back again," Gray would
say with sadness too deep for tears. "The environment does have a
good deal to do with the character. It does not stand to reason that
these people can always resist the sight and smell of the devilish
drink about them. O Lord, how long shall Christian people continue
to support by their silence and their ballots the greatest form of
slavery known in America?"
He asked the question, and did not have much hope of an immediate
answer. There was a ray of hope in the action of Friday night's
primary, but what the result would be he did not dare to anticipate.
The whiskey forces were organized, alert, aggressive, roused into
unusual hatred by the events of the last week at the tent and in the
city. Would the Christian forces act as a unit against the saloon?
Or would they be divided on account of their business interests or
because they were not in the habit of acting all together as the
whiskey power always did? That remained to be seen. Meanwhile the
saloon reared itself about the Rectangle like some deadly viper
hissing and coiling, ready to strike its poison into any unguarded
part.
Saturday afternoon as Virginia was just stepping out of her house to
go and see Rachel to talk over her new plans, a carriage drove up
containing three of her fashionable friends. Virginia went out to
the drive-way and stood there talking with them. They had not come
to make a formal call but wanted Virginia to go driving with them up
on the boulevard. There was a band concert in the park. The day was
too pleasant to be spent indoors.
"Where have you been all this time, Virginia?" asked one of the
girls, tapping her playfully on the shoulder with a red silk
parasol. "We hear that you have gone into the show business. Tell us
about it."
Virginia colored, but after a moment's hesitation she frankly told
something of her experience at the Rectangle. The girls in the
carriage began to be really interested.
"I tell you, girls, let's go 'slumming' with Virginia this afternoon
instead of going to the band concert. I've never been down to the
Rectangle. I've heard it's an awful wicked place and lots to see.
Virginia will act as guide, and it would be"--"real fun" she was
going to say, but Virginia's look made her substitute the word
"interesting."
Virginia was angry. At first thought she said to herself she would
never go under such circumstances. The other girls seemed to be of
the same mind with the speaker. They chimed in with earnestness and
asked Virginia to take them down there.
Suddenly she saw in the idle curiosity of the girls an opportunity.
They had never seen the sin and misery of Raymond. Why should they
not see it, even if their motive in going down there was simply to
pass away an afternoon.
"Very well, I'll go with you. You must obey my orders and let me take
you where you can see the most," she said, as she entered the carriage
and took the seat beside the girl who had first suggested the trip to
the Rectangle.