The moral or rather the immoral gist of the whole argument was: There
is a God who feeds and clothes all children born in wedlock; a God in
His heaven, probably, but what about the earth? Certainly, it was said
that He came to earth once and allowed himself to be crucified, after
vainly trying to establish something like order in the confused
affairs of mankind; He did not succeed.
The philosopher wound up by screaming himself hoarse in trying to
convince his audience that the abundant supply of wheat was an
irrefutable proof that the problem of over-population did not exist;
that the doctrine of Malthus was not only false, but criminal,
socially as well as morally.
And the poor father of a family who had not tasted wheaten bread for
years, laid down the manuscript and urged his little ones to fill
themselves with gruel made of rye flour and bluish milk, a dish which
satisfied their craving, but contained no nourishment.
He was wretched, not because he considered water gruel objectionable,
but because he had lost his precious sense of humour, that magician
who can transform the dark rye into golden wheat; almighty love,
emptying his horn of plenty over his poor home, had vanished. The
children had become burdens, and the once beloved wife a secret enemy
despised and despising him.
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