Answer as a Man

by Taylor Caldwell

  Instantly Edmund’s face changed and became grave. He glanced at the evening’s newspaper beside his chair. He said, “I’m in trouble.”

  Jason smiled and sighed. “Now what?”

  Edmund did not smile. “It’s my children. Gilbert is eight years old and Jennifer six. My wife teaches them; she is well-educated and disciplines them well. A man, a truant officer, visited her yesterday and insisted that my children be enrolled in the public-school system. Now, my wife visited the public schools several months ago.” Edmund raised his hands and closed his eyes as if confronted with a scene of horror. “Suffice it to say the students are years behind in their learning compared with my children. Gilbert reads the books by Charles Dickens and I teach him French at night. And Jennifer is not far behind.”

  “But the truant officer demanded that you send your intellectuals to the public school?”

  “Yes. I am resisting. After all, my children deserve a good education, as all children do—provided they have minds. I do not believe in compulsory education. Those who do not wish to learn or who cannot learn should not be subjected to an education they can not absorb.”

  “I agree with you, Edmund.”

  Edmund sighed. “The truant officer, whom I visited today, does not agree. I give him credit when he said, ‘If all the congenital ignoramuses were eliminated from the classroom, three-quarters of the schools would be compelled to close and the poor teachers would lose their jobs.’ He was quite the cynic. Nevertheless, he insisted upon my children entering public school the next term.” He hesitated. “I brought out the fact, when protesting, that you yourself, Mr. Garrity, did not send your children to any school, but have a tutor, Mr. Doherty, for them. The officer commented, ‘That’s different.’ How is it different, Mr. Garrity?”

  “Mr. Doherty is an accredited teacher, Edmund.”

  “My wife, unfortunately, is not.”

  “That’s it.”

  “I was under the impression that it was because my wife is a Negro.”

  “The trouble with you, Edmund, is that you are prejudiced.”

  The chef raised his head proudly. “I admit it. I am prejudiced against fools and injustices. The world is full of them, sad to say.”

  “I agree. How do you propose to combat them?”

  “I will not send my children to the public school.”

  “You will be arrested, and if you resist, the children will be taken away from you.” Jason was alarmed. He considered. “What about sending your children to my house, to be taught by Mr. Doherty?” Jason frowned. He was already anticipating Patricia’s screeching objections.

  Edmund’s austere face broke into a smile. “I thought of that, Mr. Garrity.” He cleared his throat. “Pardon me, but I’ve already been in communication, by telephone this morning, with Mr. Doherty.”

  “You have? What did he say?”

  “He is willing, if you are. For the same stipend you pay him for teaching your own children. I consented, eagerly.”

  Jason was amused. “Well, then, there is no trouble.”

  Solemnly Edmund rose and extended his hand to Jason. Jason said, with hesitation, “There’s my son Nicholas. He’s … not well. Your children could be disturbed by him.”

  “I’ve heard of his affliction, Mr. Garrity. My children are mature in their outlook.”

  “Not prejudiced like you, Edmund?”

  “I try to be tolerant, even of fools, sir.”

  Jason said, smiling, “Alas, you’re not succeeding, Edmund. By the way, my little daughter, Nicole, is quite a martinet. She’s as prejudiced as you are, Edmund, in her way. Your children will come under her rule.”

  “I know of your children, Mr. Garrity.”

  Jason’s face became somber. He seemed about to speak, then was silent. Edmund said with compassion, “People will talk, sir. Primates chatter all the time, humans as well as monkeys.” He shook his head, deploring. “Little to choose between the species.”

  Jason nodded. “The only difference is that humans have no tails.”

  “Yes, they do, Mr. Garrity. On their souls.”

  He reached down and retrieved his newspaper. He held it in his hands and became heavy with import. “My father,” he said, “fought in the Boer War. On the side of the Boers, not the side of the English. After all, he belonged to the Dutch Reformed Church. He said it was really a war fought for gold and diamonds. He said there was a conspiracy among evil men dating back to the French Commune.”

  Jason was stunned. Edmund misinterpreted his expression and said defensively, “My father was a very intelligent man. He always quoted Matthew, chapter twenty-four, about the end of the world. And the first two chapters of the prophet Joel.”

  “I’ve read them, Edmund.” Jason paused. “It’s becoming clearer. The financiers, the elite, as they call themselves, want to rule the entire human race.”

  Edmund opened his newspaper and handed it to Jason. “It begins,” he said.

  Jason read the big black headlines dated yesterday: “ARCHDUKE OF AUSTRIA AND WIFE SLAIN IN BOSNIA!”

  Jason closed his eyes. “God help us. God help us all.”

  “Amen,” said Edmund.

  A sense of calamity pursued Jason as he drove home, unaware of the bright June evening. He paused a few blocks from his house. An organ-grinder with his monkey stood there, an old man. The music was loud and dolorous, the man fiercely mustached. Jason was caught by the tune, poignant and sorrowful. He leaned from the window of his automobile and called to the man. “What is that you’re playing?”

  The old man smiled broadly; he removed his dusty fedora. “Si, signor! Pretty tune, eh? Called ‘The Children’s Prayer.’ Big War! Napoleon’s War. Eighteen-twelve? My wife always cries when she hears it.”

  Jason found a silver dollar and gave it to the delighted man. “Play it again, please.”

  The old Italian complied, and the silent street echoed the music. Jason drove on. The serene large houses seemed unreal to him, like facades hiding untold soundless violence.

  The falling sun, to Jason, was falling on his world, all mankind.

  The little monkey let out a wild and piercing scream. Jason heard it and shivered. “The Children’s Prayer.” Much good it would do them!

  29

  On July 28, 1914, Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia. On August 1 Germany declared war on Russia; on August 3, France declared war on Germany; and the next day Great Britain joined her allies.

  In America newspapers announced the news with big black headlines, but few Americans felt concerned. It was “exciting.” War had nothing to do with the average American. It merely served to enliven conversation over teacups and pastries. A patriotic madness, however, filled the capitals of Europe, with parades, martial music, and student demonstrations.

  The people were delivered from the boredom of daily work and the petty frustrations of their private lives, and for that they were fervently grateful. Men exploded from their prosaic cocoons thirsting for adventure. The romance of war colored millions of drab existences. At first the people did not know who the “enemy” was. It was sufficient to be gloriously threatened. Danger was unreal to the mobs. Confusion added to the exhilaration. Those who dared to express trepidation were howled down or accused of lack of patriotism, or worse, of treason.

  The conspirators smiled. They were very intelligent and knew the psychology of the masses. Robbed of adventure by the industrial revolution, they understood that men found the sword preferable to monotony. Later mankind would weep and claim to be victims, but by then it would be too late.

  The German kaiser and the Russian czar invoked God as their ally. They, too, were innocent. Max Wolfe, in Der Berliner, protested desperately. He was jailed as a subversive. The German ambassador to the United States wrote many letters to the kaiser. They were ignored. The ambassador wrote to the newspapers, warning Americans not to visit Europe, but Americans ignored them, smilingly, and continued to sail, looking for excitement. They did
not care that the ships were loaded with contraband for England.

  On August 12, Daniel Dugan paid a surprise visit to Jason’s office. Daniel was not a frequent visitor, and because of Molly, Jason felt embarrassment and guilt whenever he saw the man.

  Daniel seated himself and stared at Jason for long moments without speaking. “You have trouble,” he said finally.

  “When have I not?” Jason braced himself.

  Daniel waved his hand. “The shortages for our kitchens and furnaces are over—temporarily. This has nothing to do with you personally. The government has been declaring ‘shortages’ for some years—coal, oil, grains, gas, and other essentials.”

  “Preparing for war?” Jason said with grimness.

  Daniel nodded. “Preparing for war. You were right. It began in 1908 or earlier. Teddy Roosevelt knew of it and planned for it, gloriously. He implied it was time for America to move ‘imperially.’ You knew that; I’ve listened to you talk. But I have the facts; I know politicians and bankers throughout the world; I’ve spent half my life traveling, and have access to them all, because of my international investments.”

  Jason interrupted. “Da knew all this, too; he used to talk to me when I was in knickers! He not only had the ‘intuition of the Irish,’ to quote you, but he read books and newspapers and periodicals and listened to the mouthings of politicians. He didn’t have the ‘friends’ you had and have. But he was wise, and distrusted all governments, with good reason.”

  Daniel smiled a small smile. “I can quote your own quotation from George Washington: ‘Governments are not reason; they are not eloquence. Like fire, they are a dangerous servant and a fearful master.’ True. And politicians are ambitious; Julius Caesar knew that; he was the consummate politician. You were right when you said it all goes back to the French Revolution—the enslavement of nations under the self-called elite.” He yawned. “I am well prepared. You’re not, Jason.”

  “I know. All these debts, and the new hotel is not even built yet.”

  “The delays have been deliberate.”

  Jason sat up. “I suspected that! But who?”

  Daniel shrugged. “You have made enemies. I have too, but I invested in power for myself and am reasonably invulnerable. And I know when to keep my mouth shut. You don’t. You also don’t know how to adjust to the inevitable. I keep my warnings to myself; I know when I’m powerless. You don’t.”

  “Stop this mumbo jumbo, Dan! Who?”

  Daniel deliberately lit a cigarette and stared at the wall beyond Jason. The steamy August day caused Jason to sweat, but Daniel remained cool and calm. He said, “You are too damned emotional for your own good. You give the impression of being impassive and objective, but you boil inside. You have to guard against your own impulsiveness. You are all for honesty and honor, but they don’t exist except in the feverish minds of romantics.”

  Jason raised his voice. “I don’t need you to analyze me!” His face was red with mortification. “Make your point!”

  “I will. You’ve come to the attention of Washington. The Greeks had an old saying: ‘The wise man does not evoke the notice of gods, or governments.’”

  Jason was incredulous. “An obscure man in an obscure little city! Go on, Dan!”

  “You underestimate yourself, Jason. An honest man provides a great danger to governments, no matter how ‘obscure’ he is. And you are not that unknown. Six weeks ago, you spoke before an audience of German-Americans urging American neutrality. The papers quoted you in full. ‘Prominent businessman and hotelier warns against involvement in the war! He asserts there is an international financial conspiracy promoting this conflict.’”

  “Well?” challenged Jason. “It’s true.”

  Daniel sighed. “Pontius Pilate said, ‘What is truth?’ That is the question. Imitating Pontius, I wash my hands. I can’t do anything. Nor can you. Well, your speech appeared in the Washington newspapers. I’ve brought clippings. ‘HOTELIER AGREES WITH PRESIDENT WILSON!’ My dear young friend, you don’t agree with Colonel House and Company, though they assert their complete agreement with the president. And they’re watching you closely.”

  “Ridiculous. The American people are vehement against being involved in Europe’s war.”

  Daniel raised his brows; he looked amused. Then he was sober. “I will advise you; no more public lectures. It’s dangerous—for you. Keep your mouth shut.” When Jason was speechless with temper, Daniel said, “Despite your cynicism, you believe in Judeo-Christian goodwill. It’s a delusion. The world’s not made that way, and never was and never will be. You’re a good man. Therefore you will be always confused and outraged, and a victim. Get along with your government; that way is survival.”

  Jason said, “The price is too high for a man with honor. Survival is not the point. I believe the Bible says ‘Resistance to tyrants is obedience to God.’”

  “In whom you do not believe!” Daniel gave an abrupt laugh, and Jason reluctantly laughed with him. Daniel said, “Well, anyway, compromise, for your own safety. Compromise is the mark of a civilized man.”

  “Then I’m not civilized. I don’t compromise with evil.”

  Daniel made a restrained if eloquent gesture and regarded Jason with a little compassion. “By the way, Molly met Patty downtown. Patty says she is going to Lourdes, with Nicholas, the twenty-eighth.”

  Jason gaped, amazed and with disbelief. “I thought she had a little intelligence! She knows there is a war … she reads the newspapers …”

  “Does she?” Daniel spoke with a quiet brutality. “I’ve known my cousin all her life. She reads only letters to the lovelorn, the fashion news, and gossip. Forgive me. If the war penetrated her consciousness, she has lightly brushed it off. As she brushes off anything which inconveniences her or threatens to inconvenience her. Didn’t you and Uncle Pat ever discuss the news in front of her?”

  “I don’t remember. She … avoids me.” Jason spoke with difficulty. “But she must know her trip must be canceled.”

  “I doubt it. She spoke to Molly about attending the Paris ‘showings.’ ‘Then off to London,’ she said gaily, ‘after Nicholas is cured at Lourdes.’ The world revolves about Patty and her concerns. Didn’t you know that?”

  “I thought that she realized the situation,” muttered Jason.

  “Not with Patty. I don’t want to offend you …”

  “No offense taken.” Jason was alarmed and freshly incredulous about his wife. I knew she was a fool, but I never thought she was an idiot! I overestimated her.

  On reaching home, Jason heard Patricia’s voice in the library, screaming hysterically, and Patrick’s weak protests. Patrick apparently was trying to soothe her and not succeeding. Now what? Jason thought resignedly. He entered the library, and Patricia pounced upon him.

  “You! Agreeing to have little niggers in my house, attending school with my children! My children! Mr. Doherty told me. You must be mad! It’s all right for your pet, but not for Nicholas and Nicole! Niggers! I wouldn’t have them in my house even as servants!”

  Jason was seized with a powerful urge to choke the life out of her. Hatred swept over him like a scarlet tide. Her sweet effluvium suffocated him.

  Patrick got up, holding on to his chair. “Now, mavourneen. Now, be calm.” He swayed. “Now, Jason. Don’t—”

  Patricia turned on him. “You! Consent to this! Have you no pride? Niggers! Sitting down with your grandchildren! The whole town will laugh! ‘Good enough for the Irish!’ they’ll say.” She screamed again. “Children of hired help, kitchen scum!”

  “The Irish,” said Patrick, “were treated like scum in their own sacred country, and starved to death in their own fields, their women and children raped in the streets, their sons and daughters hanged in public … Mavourneen, all people are God’s children—”

  “The Irish are not apes!”

  Jason seized her by the arms and shook her savagely. “Listen to me, you drunken slut! Edmund Patterson is an educated man. He’s
a renowned chef, in demand in London and New York. I’m lucky to have him. He’s a gentleman, and his wife is a lady. His children are superior. If anything, I’m afraid for Edmund’s children. Afraid of them associating with Nick, who is … dangerous. You know it, damn you, except you want to hide, as you have always hidden from the truth!”

  “Dada, help me!” Patricia shrieked. “He’s going to kill me!”

  “Jase …” Patrick tried to loosen Jason’s arms. “Oh, God …”

  Jason hurled his wife from him, and she tottered backward and fell with a thump in a chair. She screamed over and over, and the servants listened avidly in the kitchen, and giggled. Jason put his shaking hands over his face and groaned.

  “The drunken … I wish to God I’d died before I married her!”

  Patrick said, “There, now, you don’t mean it, I’m thinking. Stop, my darling”—this to Patricia. He staggered, and Jason gripped his arm. Patricia, diverted, stopped her screaming and looked at her father. Patrick leaned on Jason’s shoulder, and gasped. “Marriage … is … a … sacrament. Quarrels—that’s nothing. Man and wife often disagree. That’s normal. Jase …”

  Jason was alarmed by Patrick’s appearance. “All right, Dad,” he said. He never had used the word to Patrick before, and the older man’s eyes shone with pleasure. “I’m sorry. I’ve had a bad day. But Patricia must learn—Edmund’s children are going to study in this house. He has taken an objection to the public schools, and I don’t blame him!” He turned to Patricia and said, with a terrible face, “And I warn you, don’t insult his children. Or I’ll remove my own kids from this house, and you won’t ever see them again. I mean it.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!” cried Patricia. “Dada?”

  Patrick recovered himself. “Children belong to a father, mavourneen—when their mother is … unfit.”

  Patricia sat up. “Unfit?” she cried. “Dada.”

  Patrick walked slowly and painfully to his daughter and laid his hand on her head. She saw his tears, and gaped with shock and disbelief. He nodded sluggishly, as though his strength was exhausted. “Jase and I know all about the … drinking. Known it a long time. Pity you. I wanted … Jase said you are a sick girl; it’s a sickness. That’s what he said. Pleading for you. I wanted to … punish you.”