Ceremony of the Innocent

by Taylor Caldwell

  After the birth of little Gabrielle, Ellen’s health remained precarious for several months, and she spent those months almost entirely in New York under her doctors’ anxious care. Jeremy was very busy in Washington during the Panic, and Jochan found himself being sent to New York for extended periods to manage Jeremy’s affairs there. Kitty was secretly overjoyed. She knew all about Jeremy. She knew that Jeremy had been faithful to his wife during the years of their marriage, with only one or two lapses, and those transient. She also knew that Jeremy was more than ordinarily attracted to blithe and amusing women, and that his masculinity and sexual urges were greater than in most men, for all his fastidiousness. She knew, too, that he felt obligated to her, and she easily guessed, from what Ellen had timidly confided to her, that marital relations between Ellen and her husband had been forbidden by physicians until Ellen’s health had been restored. Kitty’s elation became almost unbearable. Her passion for Jeremy was now total; as much as she could love anyone she loved Jeremy, and lived for the sound and sight of him.

  The inevitable, of course, happened, five months after Ellen’s last child had been born, and Ellen was confined at home in New York, listless and in pain and suffering long weaknesses, and Jochan himself was in New York on Jeremy’s business. Jeremy, during those austere months, had indulged in some meaningless affairs in Washington, with random women, carefully avoiding any entanglements with the wives or daughters of his colleagues. He did not consider that he was betraying his beloved Ellen, for the women were of no significance to him, and he hardly remembered their names when he was tired of them. He knew he was a full-blooded man, and that he could not do his best work when plagued by powerful urges, and he had never been abstemious even from puberty. He was a man, and women were women, and he enjoyed the pleasurable encounters and never felt guilty, for he was never deeply involved with his women and never felt more than a passing affection for them. He also tired of them regularly, and looked for others and for variety. It never crossed his mind that Ellen would be devastated by his activities, for he loved her more now than ever he had done, and his women were only necessary substitutes for her until she recovered. Besides, he was a man and Ellen was a woman, and she would not understand, he once thought, when he gave the matter any thought at all. As with all lusty men, women were a necessity to him, and were as much a hunger as any other physical hunger, and it must be satisfied. Moreover, he observed that his colleagues, the majority of them, were almost as actively engaged in sexual pursuits as he was, and so long as they were discreet no one was offended.

  So Kitty quite casually became his mistress. He was not very much tempted by her, but he knew her well and was distracted by her, and she was intelligent and diverting and collected all the gossip of the city, and her observations were acute and frolicsome and lively. She did not bore him, as other women bored him even before he was done with them. She was invariably interesting and her sharp wit made him laugh at the very times he was the most disgusted with Washington. Kitty had well learned the art of pleasing, even when she had been a young girl. She had polished it to fine accomplishment, and her love for Jeremy gave it extra luster.

  He began to look forward to the lighthearted and merry dinners she had prepared for him, with all his favorite dishes, for with the sensitivity of love Kitty had long noted what he most preferred, and the wines he enjoyed. After a wretched and frustrated and enraged day in Congress, he felt relaxed and contented in Kitty’s house, and did not feel that he was betraying his friend Jochan. Kitty had delicately made it plain that she and Jochan had “nothing in common any longer. We are just friends—and have been so for a long time. It is a—platonic—relationship, and I am still quite fond of Jochan, in a sisterly way.” So Jeremy, in the most casual way possible, availed himself of Kitty’s unmistakable invitations. When, in her bed, she had been transported and had whispered ardently of her love for him, he thought it only amiability and a momentary ecstasy. He had heard the word “love” too many times from too many other women to give any credence to Kitty’s honest and blissful avowals. Had he actually believed that Kitty did, indeed, love him to despair, and only him, he would never have come to her again for solace and entertainment. He believed that with the exception of Ellen the majority of women used the word “love” as a gay and self-exonerating password to the rompings in a mutual bed. It was just a rapturous complimentary exclamation under the blankets and sheets, and really meant nothing. He was well aware that Kitty felt a most urgent attraction to him, but he was convinced only that she was a light woman of many secret affairs, and had much of his own importunate lusts. The affair would only last until Ellen was well, he would say to himself. Kitty would feel no stronger ties to him than he felt for her, and they would part, grateful for a pleasant interlude but nothing more. He had not robbed Jochan and Kitty had not robbed Ellen. He and Kitty temporarily enjoyed each other, and that was all.

  Kitty, however, was now overwhelmed by her love for Jeremy. She was certain that Jeremy loved her in return, and that the affair would become permanent. Any other alternative would have been unendurable to her. We belong together, she would think in joy and surfeit. We are the same sort of person, my darling Jeremy. Fulfilled, she began to bloom and even acquired a sort of dark prettiness, and her spirits were so elated, and so ardently engaged, that she became more and more fascinating to her friends. She literally gleamed, as she had never gleamed before.

  C H A P T E R 19

  THE SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE rose in pontifical majesty and surveyed the crowded ranks of Congressmen, and his appearance was forbidding and ominous. He looks, thought Jeremy Porter, like a hanging judge about to pass sentence, with sadistic relish half concealed by a menacing piety. Jeremy had never admired the Speaker, whom he considered an old fraud, always mouthing aphorisms tinged with evangelistic fervor, and frequently calling upon “Almighty God.” He usually gave the impression that he had just emerged from a long and secret colloquy with the deity, and he would often cast down his eyes humbly as if listening to a divine prompting audible to no one but himself.

  He was a small thin man but his voice was like that of a bass drum and so he was called, irreverently, the Fart. He invariably wore black, summer and winter, and always of the same dull broadcloth. “If he sweats at all,” Jeremy once said to some of his colleagues, “he does it through his bladder.” His laughing colleagues most naturally and eagerly informed the Speaker of this small witticism and in consequence of this, and other witticisms concerning him from Jeremy, the Speaker hated Jeremy with the venom possible only to a hypocrite who considered himself a man of God, and a lover of his fellow man.

  After calling the House to order the Speaker stood in silence, staring at his lectern. His wrinkled face was very solemn and judicious and expressed a deep sadness tinged with stern resolve.

  He said, and his voice boomed through the Chamber, “We are called here today in a preliminary investigation of allegations made against the Congressman from New York City, Congressman Jeremy Nathaniel Porter. It is our unquestionably terrible duty, imposed on us by the Laws of the Land. We are empowered by conscience as well as by law to conduct this investigation, and to answer the demands that the Congressman be censured, if not impeached.”

  Jeremy sat back on his seat and his expression was grimly amused. He folded his arms across his chest. His colleagues carefully avoided looking at him, even his few friends. It was a hot May day, as only Washington can know such a day, humid and dusty and unbearably heavy. The windows of the Chamber were open; a white hot sky blazed beyond them and everything glittered outside, from the harness of the horses to the pavement itself. Great fans moved sluggishly from the ceiling of the Chamber, which disturbed clouds of flies and moved the dust about in golden whirlpools where the sun struck. The assemblage wiped its collective rows of faces, all of them wet and red, and sometimes there was a discreet fluttering of papers as some fanned themselves. Those inclined to favor Jeremy, the very few, were irritated by the
fact that it was because of him that they were confined here when they longed to be home in cooler places or resting in their gardens, or napping in the shadowed beds of their mistresses.

  The Speaker continued, “Congressman Porter of New York City has been impugning this Congress to the press. It is beneath my dignity as the Speaker of the House to repeat the canards, open accusations, and direct calumnies Congressman Porter has incontinently uttered to the press, without regard for truth or verity or courtesy towards his colleagues, whom he at one time castigated as ‘bought’”—the Speaker cleared his throat, let his voice drop dolorously—“whores or country jackasses who would not recognize a bandit even with guns pressed to their heads, or conspirators against the People of these United States. These are the very least of his accusations, blurted to the yellow press. No newspaper with any sense of decorum or respect would repeat his charges. One would ignore these charges had they not been picked up by various irresponsible journals throughout our country, and had they not caused malcontents to gather in city halls to discuss them.

  “Congressman Porter has also disparaged the President of these United States, implying that he is the creature of what he chooses to call ‘the international conspirators who are determined to subjugate the whole civilized world for their elitist purposes.’ He has actually said that no President of recent times has been elected without the advice and consent of these so-called conspirators, and that none will so be elected in the future without the approval of this nameless body of men. He has denounced the august Body of the Senate, also, which has finally and openly protested.

  “Every responsible gentleman here present has heard of these matters to the point of nausea. Our sense of outrage, therefore, has gone beyond our Christian forbearance, our legislative restraint, our honor as gentlemen chosen by the great people of these United States to represent them in this Chamber. Therefore, before we begin our discussions—there are excerpts of his speeches and rantings on the desks before you—we will permit, in our justice, Congressman Porter to give some slight explanation of his conduct, which has aroused the indignation of sober men throughout our country.”

  Jeremy uttered something obscene, half under his breath, and several Congressmen near him could not suppress their quick smiles though they continued to regard the Speaker with gravity. For several reasons no spectators had been permitted to occupy the gallery.

  Jeremy rose languidly, tall and broad, expressing indifference. He said, “Point of order, if it pleases the Speaker of the House. Is this Congress in solemn session?”

  The Speaker hesitated. A hot silence filled the Chamber. Then the Speaker said, “Not as we usually deem it, Congressman Porter. This is merely a preliminary discussion of the charges brought against you, and to allow you to deny or affirm them.”

  “Oh,” said Jeremy, “there need be no discussion of that. I affirm them, every word. The only trouble is that the press did not quote me in full, and deleted several expletives, no doubt in order to preserve public chastity. I told the press that I had resigned from both the Scardo Society and the Committee for Foreign Studies because I can no longer keep silent. I have learned all I need to know, in this year of Our Lord 1908, and in the midst of the continuing Panic. The electorate will this year vote again for the man they will choose as their President. I believe it is my duty, as a citizen of this country, to inform as many of the people as possible, so that they can judge who are their enemies. Though God knows,” he added, “it is much too late to do anything about it, I fear.”

  The silence in the Chamber became more intense; there was an air of total concentration in it, and stirrings of secret alertness. Jeremy’s voice had been quiet, almost indifferent, almost casual, yet it had carried power and conviction and an undertone of despairing bitterness.

  He continued, “As the eminent Speaker of the House has informed you, gentlemen, you have before you, on your desks, some of the material which I have given the press, and of which you have already heard from me. No doubt you are well aware of what I have broadcast. There is no need at this time to go into every detail, every sentence, every grave accusation I have made. I have put myself in jeopardy not only with this Congress but with the cold but violent and dedicated men who are determined to destroy the existing order of things among nations and then, in the chaos which will result, they will become the Men on Horseback, the monstrous dictators they aspire to be. It is not just their lust for power which impels them. It is also their innate hatred for humanity, and their desire to oppress it, and to bequeath to their sons and their sons’ sons that same rule of death and oppression. They believe they are superior in intelligence to the average man, and that they are of superior birth and talents. While they prate of egalitarianism, to serve their purpose, they detest equality of men even under the law, as promulgated by our Constitution. They talk of social justice and even Populism, and urge a federal income tax ‘to help redistribute the wealth’ in order to ‘abolish poverty’ and bestow benefits on ‘the workingman.’ It is no paradox that they are excessively wealthy men themselves.

  “They know very well, and believe it, too, that as Lord Acton said, ‘the power to tax is the power to destroy.’ That is why they are working for a Sixteenth Amendment to the Constitution, a federal income tax, which repeatedly, in the U. S. Supreme Court, has been declared unconstitutional. Their desire is to eliminate the rising middle class all over the world, for the middle class is their supreme adversary and the frustrater of their desire to subjugate all men to themselves. Once the middle class is taxed out of existence, the masses will have no defender, and they will become the silent and docile slaves of the elitists. It is as simple as that. That is why they are ‘informing’ the working people of the world that it is the bourgeoisie who are their oppressors, and arousing the envy and hatred of the proletariat against their very friends.

  “It is not a very complicated plot. Lucius Sergius Catilina of ancient Rome attempted that, for he detested the common people and more than that the rising middle class of ancient Rome. He wanted power, and the opportunity to rule the people of the Republic with absolute authority, to assuage his malignant detestation of them. Fortunately, Rome had Marcus Tullius Cicero, the Consul of Rome, to preserve law and order and justice and freedom for Romans. At least for a time. Sadly, however, evil is far stronger than good, in spite of what churchmen say, and, sadly, the Roman Republic soon was destroyed and Caesarism rose, and the rights of Romans were abrogated and even free men were enslaved. The middle class of Rome had been eliminated. There is no reason at this time to belabor what happened to the Republic when the middle class was taxed to death and Rome reduced to dictatorship and Caesarism. I am sure all you gentlemen”—and he threw a sardonic look at his fellows—“remember your history.”

  The fans overhead stirred up the heat and increased it. The Congressmen stared at the papers on their desks and some of them mouthed the words, scratched their cheeks, and moistened their lips. Some faces remained obdurately blank; eyes blinked. But now a few of them turned their heads and gazed at Jeremy with mingled admiration and respect and full knowledge. They were but a few. The Speaker piously studied his hands.

  Jeremy resumed in his calm and emphatic voice: “This Panic, which we are still enduring, to the despair of the people, is just one appalling move of the conspirators. Their object is another amendment to the Constitution: the so-called Federal Reserve System, which will put control of the country’s currency into their own hands. In that way they can manipulate the currency and the flow of money. They tell the people that if the amendment is passed that will be the end of national panics. Under it all is their determination to take America off the gold standard—and place the power of gold in their own hands. Once our currency is not backed by gold they will have the absolute power, through their bankers, to control not only our money but the people themselves. Yes, gentlemen, I have heard them say this themselves in their secret conclaves.

  “Only two years ago,
one of the most powerful bankers in America, Jacob Schiff, said that if our monetary system was not reformed, through a Federal Reserve System—mark that—America would ‘get a panic compared with which the three which have preceded would be only child’s play.’ Mr. Schiff is one of the urgent and influential bankers who desire a Federal Reserve System. Need I say more? For months before the Panic, call money on the Stock Exchange had been moving up and down between 10 per cent and 125 per cent. Mr. Schiff has said, ‘This is a disgrace to a civilized community.’ He is correct. But who invented those excessive rates? Mr. Schiff, among many others, knows the answer, and so do I.”

  The Speaker rose and in a loud shrill voice exclaimed, “Mr. Schiff is a great, respected, and patriotic American, concerned with his country!”

  “Indeed,” replied Jeremy. “To quote Shakespeare’s Mark Antony, ‘Are they not all honorable men?’ Yes, indeed.”

  The Speaker spluttered a protest, then sat down. He said, with a gathering glance at the Congressmen, “How did Shakespeare get into this discussion?” No one laughed, but most of the Congress nodded sage heads in amused agreement, though many of them had never heard of Mark Antony.

  Jeremy, after the amusement had subsided, continued, and now his voice was bitter and pejorative again.

  “The conspirators, the holders of tremendous wealth and the savage entrepreneurs, the financial wielders of power all over the world, the enormous industrialists everywhere, have recruited a front army to deceive and delude and arouse the envious people: the so-called intellectuals, feeble men in their own right, weaklings, feckless, men who recognize their own inferiority and hate the robustness and strength of others. They are impelled by a desire for revenge on the more intelligent and effective, and they, too, desire power. They are Fabians, to the man, and express admiration of Karl Marx and his League of Just Men. They are all for the people—whom they secretly loathe and despise. Do not underrate them!