Ceremony of the Innocent (55 page)

Maude thought of the frightful war exploding all over Europe, and the men in trenches and dying in the scarlet lightning of guns. God have mercy, she thought, dear God, if You exist, have mercy.

Gay carols were ringing through the cold black night from the churches, and church doors were opening and streaming with the candlelight within and people were already beginning to drive up in automobiles for the midnight services, and the street was noisy with honkings and distant laughter.

God have mercy, thought Maude. That is all we can ask of You now. Mercy. We do not deserve it—but have mercy.

A group of carolers had gathered in the street, speckled with snow.

“Tis the season to be jolly,

Tra la la—”

C H A P T E R   29

ON A PARTICULARLY WILD DAY of blizzards and gales Francis Porter visited Charles Godfrey in the latter’s offices. There was a natural antipathy between the two men, an alienation of personalities. Charles greeted his visitor with cool courtesy and shook hands briefly with him, while his probing gray eyes expressed their curiosity at what Charles could only call “a visitation.” It seemed incredible to Charles that this man was the cousin of Jeremy Porter, who had had tremendous vitality and convictions and profound realism.

It was a January afternoon of storm; snow was plastered everywhere on the sides of buildings and on doors, and windows trembled under the assault of the wind. “A very nasty day,” remarked Charles, as the two men sat down before the fire in the office. “Brandy? Or a scotch, Francis?”

“I do not drink,” said Francis with an offensive formality which implied that Charles was a drunkard. Amused, Charles went to a cabinet and helped himself to a whiskey and soda. He sat down again, slowly, and wondered again why Francis had come to see him. Francis sat straight and stiff in his chair, his thin white hands clenched on the arms, his manner unbending and severe. His spectacles glittered in the mingled firelight and lamplight, and his mouth was a pale and ascetic slash in his lean face. His expression, as usual, was severe and condemning. I wonder if he ever had a mistress, Charles thought. I doubt it. No woman could lie easily in a bed with this man. He has no blood, no real life, for all he is an hysteric.

“I will not take up much of your time, Charles,” said Francis in his toneless voice, which, however, always threatened an impending violence. Charles inclined his head politely, and waited. “I know what it is to be a busy lawyer.”

He paused. He looked about the large warm office, his face expressing his disapproval of the luxury of it, paneled walls and Aubusson rug, walnut and mahogany and framed pictures, and rich draperies. Then he said, “You are the guardian of my late cousin’s children. You and your office are the executors of his estate.”

“True,” said Charles with a quickening of interest. ‘Tour late father was also an executor, and would be now if he had lived.”

“Jeremy should have named me also,” said Francis, glancing at Charles as if the latter were to blame. Charles said nothing; he waited.

“I am not here to question your administration of Jeremy’s estate,” said Francis. “I am here to consult you about it, however. With the exception of their grandfather, Edgar Porter, I am their sole remaining male relative. Naturally, their welfare is of importance to me. Their mother, of course, is incompetent to judge what is best for them, their future, and their inheritance on her death. You have, no doubt, discovered that for yourself.”

“Ellen is an inexperienced lady, I admit,” said Charles. “Few ladies understand law and the administration of estates, and that is unfortunate—for them. But we are doing our best for Ellen, and her children. We have become heavily invested in munitions—though it was a little against my conscience”

Francis’ rigid face quickened. “Then you know we will soon be at war with Germany?”

“I hope not. That would be a calamity for America, and for all the world, for that matter Without our interference these past two years, such as sending munitions to England against ethical international law, and violating all the laws of neutrality, the war in Europe would have been over months ago Was it not Wilson who practically forbade the King of England and the Kaiser to meet and settle on peace terms? Yes And did he not say openly that it would be himself who would conclude the war? Yes. Extraordinary, for a neutral American President One wonders who directed him.” He studied Francis keenly.

Francis stared at the fire and his spectacles glittered fiercely He said, “You are forgetting the
Lusitania
.”

“No, I do not forget Who induced those hundreds of American tourists to sail on a British ship loaded with contraband, despite the pleas of the German Embassy? Yes, military contraband, for England. Against all the laws of neutrality It is just a conjecture, of course, but who wants America to engage in foreign entanglements, despite our traditions; and for what nation’s benefit? I do not think, as Jerry did not think, that it was for the benefit of either England or Germany.”

Francis smiled superbly “I am sorry, Charles, but your thoughts are as fantastic as were those of my late cousin I myself know the President well. I have often dined at the White House. He is all for peace—”

“Such as practically forbidding the King and the Kaiser to meet openly and define terms for peace?”

“He has excellent advisers. They certainly know what they are doing.”

“Oh, I am sure of that!” said Charles.

“They know all about the ambitions of the Kaiser and the bestiality of the Germans—”

“And no doubt the bestiality of the Allies, too, who have committed their own atrocities, and worse. As for ambitions—there is something not yet shown which has its own terrible ambitions.”

Again Francis quickened. He turned partly in his chair to face Charles, who was looking at him with a formidable expression. “Mysteries!” he said. “Who could possibly gain—from all this?”

“I have an idea,” Charles said, and rose to fill his glass again. His usually steady heart was beating with rage and hate. He said, as he poured the whiskey, “Millions of us are doing our best to keep America out of war. Whether we shall succeed or not, I do not know. I am afraid we don’t have much influence.” He turned back and sat down. “We were speaking of Jeremy’s estate?”

“Yes.” There was a stain of sharp scarlet on Francis’ cheekbones. “There are certain extravagances which I think should be overcome, for the sake of the children’s inheritance.”

“Such as what?”

“The big house on Long Island. The number of servants in the house in New York: a houseman, Cuthbert, a cook, three maids, and a handyman. This is all a waste of money. Ostentation. It is necessary for Ellen to have some supervision, but why a registered nurse? One of the housemaids could do as well. It is not as if Ellen were bedridden. And there is Groton—very expensive and class-conscious—for the boy. He would do as well in one of our New York public schools, as would Gabrielle, the girl. There is also a permanent staff at the Long Island house. And a chauffeur. This is now no era for a vulgar display of riches, and the heedless spending of money. It antagonizes—”

“Who?”

“The American people. These are new days—”

“Ah.”

“I do not understand you, Charles. You are supposed to be a prudent administrator.”

“Let me put this clearly, Francis. Jeremy was a rich man. His estate is very large. His family is living as he desired them to live. The people in the employ of his houses are paid well. What if they were thrown out of work?”

“They could be more valuable, as workers, in other fields.”

“Such as factories, no doubt. And on the land. They might object to that.”

“Not if they were educated to believe that their labor is more worthy in other occupations. Besides, their present work is demeaning, degrading, without social significance.”

Charles gave a short laugh. “No honest work is either demeaning or degrading.”

“Certainly some work is. A woman who washes a rich man’s dinner dishes would have more dignity in a factory.”

“Why don’t you ask Ellen’s servants for themselves?”

Francis flushed again. “The people do not know what is best for them! They must be guided, taught, for their own best interests, and to serve their country.”

“What country?” asked Charles. “Or what system of government?”

Francis clenched his hands on the arms of his chair. “You speak in riddles.”

“Now, Francis, you and I know we do not speak in riddles, so don’t try to diddle me. By the way, what do you mean by ‘social significance’?”

“Working for the welfare of all, of course.”

“That is against human nature, and against sanity. When a man works well for himself he benefits everybody. But to force him to work for others is an insult to his human integrity, his individuality, and his innate drive for excellence. It is also involuntary servitude, and I believe there is a constitutional prohibition against that. We have become a great and prosperous and free nation because the multitudes have worked for themselves, competing in all fields. Competition is the machinery for prosperity for all. Surely you don’t want to abrogate prosperity?” Charles smiled.

When Francis did not reply, Charles asked, “What do you mean when you say the people do not know what is best for them?”

“History has proved that.”

“On the contrary, history has proved, by way of America, for example, that the people well know what is best for them, and that is why they suspect politicians—and others. I hope to God they will continue to suspect.”

A sudden flash of vindictiveness passed over Francis’ thin features. Charles said, “You think that you, for instance, know what is best for the American people?”

“I am an educated man and a sociologist and a student of government. The masses are ignorant and debased and stupid.”

Charles laughed. “You tell your constituents that! I know.”

“My constituents,” said Francis with a flush of cold anger, “are not the masses.”

“I know,” said Charles. “And that is the danger. We are getting nowhere, however, though I see we understand each other. As the executor of Jeremy’s estate I will not consent to eliminate what you call ‘extravagances.’”

“I must protest. These are the days for prudent humility, not display”

“In short, the days for drab equality and pretense of moral concern.” Charles glanced at his watch. “I’m sorry, but I have a client almost immediately. When do you return to Washington?”

Francis said, “Soon. I have been invited to hold a prominent position during Mr. Wilson’s next inauguration in March.”

They shook hands formally, and parted. Charles puffed at his pipe for a few moments, frowning. Then he went to his desk. He glanced at his calendar. January 22, 1917. He put in a call to Washington, for a certain Senator, not of New York. While he waited he leaned back in his chair and thought.

Eventually the Senator answered, and very cautiously. “The gentleman,” he said, referring to the President, “addressed the Senate today in a mood of belligerency, directed not exactly to the Senate but to other—certain—nations, if you understand me. Yes. He arrogantly demanded a ‘peace without victory.’ He intimated American force if the—antagonists—did not comply at once with his orders. He said it was not to be a ‘private peace.’ America must participate and lay down the terms.”

“Good God,” said Charles.

“Indeed, Charles. There’s worse to come. He spoke in imperial terms, almost like a conqueror. He spoke of a pet idea of his, ‘the League to Enforce Peace,’ his own invention. He seemed to believe that both the British Empire and the German Empire were naughty territories of the United States, small fiefdoms who must not question the King’s edicts. You can imagine how this will be received by the two empires. He implied that he was to be the super-peacemaker, the enforcer, all by himself. If not—The threat was there—directed mainly to Germany—that if his terms were not met he would sever diplomatic relations with Germany, which will delight England, of course, and cause the war to continue.”

“Which is the general program,” said Charles. “What was the reaction of the Senate?”

“High approval from those we both know of, and anger from those who are beginning to get a vague idea of whom is behind all this, the many whoms. But the gentleman, naturally, has no suspicion of them; he is only their mouthpiece.”

“So, despite the true sentiment of the American people, we will be in the war.”

“As you said, Charles, that is the program. By the way, I have some more news for you. Lenin is very active in Switzerland now, feverishly active, consolidating his Marxist forces. His next plan is to go to Germany, almost immediately, where, as an aristocrat and an intellectual and a linguist, he will be most welcome by certain—‘groups.’ If I were the Kaiser I’d order his assassination. But the Kaiser, too, is an innocent, as is Franz Joseph. It is sufficient for the Kaiser that Lenin has denounced the war as ‘a trade war.’ It is amazing how these intellectuals can combine truth with lies, and make the lies effective. Your New York bankers, as you know, are financing Lenin; he moves with a rich entourage.”

“And the bankers are financed by others infinitely more powerful.”

The Senator sighed. “There is nothing we can do except oppose our entrance into the war—which will be futile. ‘There is a tide in the affairs of men,’ and nations. I wouldn’t be a day younger, Charles.”

“Nor I.” Charles brooded. “Well, it seems we are to have a series of Genghis Khans and proletariat imperialists and powerful ‘elite’ planners. God help the people of America. Yet, perhaps we deserve it with our complacency and our optimism and our belief that this is the best of all possible worlds. If I had any power I’d force the optimists to face reality in its bleakest aspects, but that is something the optimists refuse to do. They shrink from it.”

After the conclusion of his call he thought with gratitude that he had no sons. He considered Francis Porter, who was now very influential in Congress and who had delivered many speeches, placed in the Congressional Record, concerning the “monstrous imperialism” of the German Empire, and America’s lack of “courage and fortitude” in not “confronting the dragon at once.’” He had many supporters.