TEN: “THE BEST PLEASURE IS TO GIVE PLEASURE”
The circle altered as the great depression was stabilized and modified. The idleness which had been beyond reproach because no one was successful, because most were frustrated, because the parents’ generation had lost so much of its grip and pride, ended, for now there were jobs for everyone, although not the jobs each one wanted. Some had gone to Washington to take the new Federal jobs made necessary by the New Deal, and in New York too it was no longer difficult to get a job. Rudyard refused to be employed in the Federal project for playwrights, authors, musicians, and other artists, and he defended his refusal, as from the first, by speaking of his principles. Laura was angry at this refusal, but after a time she declared once again that Rudyard was a genius and he ought not to have to earn a living.
Soon all who belonged to the circle except Rudyard and Jacob had jobs which enabled them to pay for the modest round of luxuries upon which Ferdinand insisted. The theatre began to be for Ferdinand a kind of ritual. No matter how poor the play was, the ceremonial of going to the first night of a Broadway play had for Ferdinand the rigorous and expensive qualities he had desired since he put aside his desire to be an author. His marriage became by imperceptible degrees of which no one dared to speak, a recognized union, but this did not change in the least Ferdinand’s participation in the circle or his mode of life. Irene was accepted by the circle as being just like Marcus, and the circle’s judgment of her was formulated by Rudyard when he said: “Personally, I like her,” a statement which meant that he understood very well all the reasons for not liking Irene, and which was understood by all to mean that Irene was detestable.
Marcus went to Bermuda for the Christmas holidays, and at Easter he went to Cuba, trips paid for by his labors in the public school system. After his trip to Cuba, he spoke of the Weltanschauung of the cabin cruise and of the nature of time and duration on a luxury liner. Rudyard declared that Marcus had become a beachcomber and an idler. When Marcus replied that Rudyard was in no position to accuse anyone of being an idler, Rudyard told him that he was being ridiculous. “Don’t be too obvious,” said Rudyard to Marcus, “it is expected that you will be obvious, but please draw the line somewhere.” Roaring, Marcus answered: “Obvious, obvious! what do you mean, obvious? If I say that the sun is shining, I suppose you will say that I am being obvious.” “Yes!” said Rudyard in triumph and joy. “Who discusses the weather? Who discusses sunlight? We are not peasants. The weather is an old story, it is old hat.”
Soon after this exchange, Rudyard was asked if he wanted to teach the drama in a girl’s school in Cleveland, Ohio. The job was excellent and Rudyard was extremely pleased. “Such is the mystery of this life,” he said. “The secret missions and visits of Milady Fortune, a well-known lady of the evening, are invariably surprises. Had I sought this job, I would not have received it. Just because I did not strive for it, it was given to me. All good things are given, not gained by the effort of the will.”
No one paid attention to this comment and interpretation, because more interesting by far was the topic of the effect of Rudyard’s departure on the circle as such. Edmund declared that Rudyard ought not to become a teacher, since he had dedicated himself to the writing of plays. Edmund quoted some of Rudyard’s best past arguments in defense of his mode of life, and concluded with the statement that Rudyard would feel unhappy and estranged when he was so far from the circle. Laura was affected the most. She was excited and pleased for a moment, and then she was terrified. She said to Rudyard repeatedly that she might well ask to be sent to Cleveland by the department store which employed her. But Rudyard felt that he had had enough of life with Laura. He told her that he did not consider such a move a wise one for her, and he suggested that she secure a smaller apartment, for he did not intend to return to the city in the summer, he was going to be in the country. Ferdinand agreed with both Rudyard and Edmund. They were both his friends and whatever they said or did was right.
Edmund and Jacob discussed the fate of the circle after Rudyard’s departure. Jacob felt that the circle would continue certainly and some of the others, overshadowed by Rudyard’s energy, might now realize new possibilities in themselves. He observed how year by year Rudyard’s authority had diminished so that now Ferdinand truly dictated the circle’s mode of life more and more, as he earned more and more money. When he said this, Jacob explained as before that he himself did not truly belong to the circle. This was a necessity to each of them, to maintain that he himself was but a visitor or stranger, although the others truly belonged to the circle.
As Rudyard prepared to depart, he said again to his sister that she surely ought to move to a smaller apartment, since it was unlikely that they were ever going to live with each other again. The other boys said nothing, but they felt it cruel and unnecessary for Rudyard to dictate to Laura. Edmund suggested to Ferdinand in private that perhaps Rudyard did not want the circle to exist when he was absent. Hearing Rudyard say petulantly to Laura for the fourth time that it was senseless for her not to move elsewhere, Lloyd said with naiveté that then they would all be deprived of their community. “Yes, that’s just it,” said Rudyard, his face full of annoyance and distaste, “I don’t want Laura to provide a clubhouse anymore.” Laura became furious. “You were willing enough for me to do that until now,” she said. “Never,” Rudyard replied, “I never wanted you to provide a second home for the boys.” He spoke with a self-righteous tone because he was sensitive now about the fact that he had been dependent upon Laura.
The week-end before Rudyard was to depart for Cleveland, Ohio, it was decided that a farewell party ought to be given for him. Ferdinand immediately declared that as a matter of fact he was going to contribute a case of champagne to this party. As his prosperity mounted, his gestures became more and more of a systematic extravagance. Laura wanted to make dinner for the whole circle, but Edmund dissuaded her. The question of who was to be invited to this party among those on the edge of the circle, the visiting strangers and the accepted newcomers, became the subject of intensive discussion.
The whole circle dined at the best restaurant in the neighborhood and Ferdinand insisted upon paying the check. “He is beside himself,” said Edmund to Jacob, “this departure means more to him than he knows.”
By the time everyone had returned to the Bell household, Laura was drunk. This was no less than was expected, for Laura had been drinking every night for weeks. But no one expected the speech she began to make as soon as the champagne was opened.
“Five years ago, just about the time when we all began to see each other,” said Laura, rocking and gaining the attention of all by the loudness and shrillness of her voice, “I read a story by Rilke. I think it was Rilke. It was just a very short story. It was just a page and a half, and it may have been less. It was very good. I don’t remember all of it, but what I remember was very good. The story is about wandering Siberians. They are hunters and they hunt wild cows on the Siberian steppes or tundras, or something. Anyway, they hunt for wild cows.”
Rudyard, annoyed, said: “Laura has established the fact that they were hunters. She has made that clear.” He was obviously impatient with Laura.
“Never mind,” said Laura, “the main thing is that the Siberians spear the wild cows like cowboys on horseback. And when the poor cow is bleeding to death, the hunter lays down on one side of the cow and chews big pieces of meat from the side of the cow. This is just like many other stories so far. The different part is that on the other side of the cow, the horse also lays down and chews out big pieces of meat.”