The Voice of the Millions - Production & Contact Info (original) (raw)

There were misery and poverty in those homes of the strikers, there were sickness and death. Happiness was not the issue of the strike, it was bread; not contentment, but life. It was the ancient struggle of the weak many, against the ...See moreThere were misery and poverty in those homes of the strikers, there were sickness and death. Happiness was not the issue of the strike, it was bread; not contentment, but life. It was the ancient struggle of the weak many, against the mighty few, the inefficient millions against the invincible one. It is true that they had committed the unpardonable error of being born poor, but life was strong in them and sweet to them, though it was only existence. Their mouths were hungry, their hearts were red with rage and wrong, and their hands might have become that hue, too, but for a girl. A girl who knew sorrow's misery and pain's distress, a girl who knew the meaning of love of life and fear of death, and the torture of the destitution that exaggerates the one and aggravates the other. Like a Daniel of another sex, she championed their cause. She cautioned, encouraged, guided and guarded them. She taught them patience, forbearance and fortitude. She fought with a fierce, fiery devotion. She organized meeting after meeting, and from the platform she cried their truth to the world, and emphasized the neglected fact that they had as much right to live as he who took the work of their hands and gave them hunger for reward. But the mill-owner was obdurate. It did not occur to him that these were human beings asking only the right to avoid death. At last she went to him, with the pathetic human evidence of the wrong, and pleaded for redress. The mill-owner's son saw and heard her, and something in the passionate, pleading, pleasing voice, and something in the sympathetic face, and something in the tender, thoughtful eyes arrested and interested him. He dressed in the clothes of the workman and attended the meetings. He listened to her, he was carried away by the bitter truth of her eloquence, and he saw the light and the right. He enlisted in the fight, and she learned to depend upon him as an able lieutenant and a devoted sympathizer. You know, she thought he was one of the men. The gods have a mill of their own; "they grind slow, but they grind exceeding fine." And it was decreed that the master of men meet the Master of Men. The thing that conquers conquerors, the enemy that vanquishes kings, that respects the mansion no more than the manger, entered the chamber of velvet and gilt, and summoned the mill-owner to a tribune greater than all the millions who had judged him. His son inherited the millions and their power, and he told and offered the girl all. She had almost learned to love him, but his justice and generosity completed the teaching. She gave herself to him, and he gave the millions to the millions. Written by Moving Picture World synopsis See less