It was the day after his initiation into the Tribe. Robert had slept
late, the strange ceremony having run incessantly through his mind in a
series of shadowy dreams. Words of the oaths had repeated themselves,
the Tribal hymn, the threat of death to the disloyal: “Remember that
to keep this oath means honor, happiness, and life; but to violate it
means disgrace, dishonor and death. (Then, ironically)--May honor,
happiness and life be yours.”
The ceremony had been impressive. It had impressed with an idea of
primal power--the power of men, freed from all shackles, and united by
a pure, strong, simple faith. Christianity. Racial purity. Patriotism.
Womanhood. Ideals which it was well to raise up, to fight for if
necessary. And Americanism. Through such an organization of men of
common birth, religion and ideals, everything could be accomplished.
Yes, he was proud of being a Tribesman!
Last night the baptism ritual had shocked him, but now the towering
seriousness of the Tribe justified it. Exactly how the Tribe meant to
function Robert did not know. Doubtless it would be explained to him
later. He was eager to know. Griffith had given some hint at Pinkney’s
office. He wished to know and to serve. Someone had said something
about the Knights of Columbus trying to control politics. But that had
been his mother. Yet she had overheard others, Tribesmen, talking about
it. Could that be true? Could so un-American a thing be crushed by the
Tribe?
Robert found Mr. Hamilton walking up and down the porch, chewing the
end of his cigar.
“That was a tremendous thing, governor,” said Robert, “I think the most
tremendous thing in my life.
“I shall never forget it as long as I live. And I want to take an
active interest in it. Now--”
He hesitated. Mr. Hamilton cleared his throat.
“Now,” Robert continued. “I’m ready to start in again. My wound is
practically well, I’ve had a good rest and I mean to pitch in wherever
I’m wanted.”
“I wanted you to have a good rest, Bob, before I told you. Let’s sit
down over here on the bench. We’ve seen this moment coming a long
time--mother and I--and we’ve shrunk from it. I suppose you’ve noticed
a change here?”
Robert had. Little changes. Only Mammy Chloe and George were left of
the five servants. Only one car. Only one horse. Little things like
that. And then, he suddenly remembered, the office had been closed in
New York.
“Oh, I thought,” he was going to say that they were economizing, “I
don’t know what I thought. I guess I didn’t think about it at all.”
“Well, the war has made some men, but it’s broken me. Not completely,
but--” he waved his cigar. “There’s enough for us to live on the rest
of our lives--that is the three of us--although on a slightly reduced
scale. Oh, there’s nothing to worry about. Only, only, it isn’t what I
had planned for you.” His voice broke and he pretended to relight his
cigar.
They had often talked over their plans. Robert was to learn the more
important aspects of the business, eventually succeed his father as
president, leaving the details, however, to a competent staff. His
income would enable him to live according to his own ideas of life--to
ride, to hunt, to fish, to play tennis, to acquire the easy culture
that comes with leisure, to surround himself with a society of men and
women of similar tastes and to patronize, perhaps even essay, the arts.
The older Hamilton had been able, in a measure, to live in accordance
with these ideas.
Now perhaps they would have to take an apartment and cut down their
expenditures. There would be an income ample for all necessities--even
for the best apartment in Corinth, for a reasonable amount of
entertaining.
“But can’t anything be done? Can’t I pitch in--?”
Mr. Hamilton laughed and looked at his son kindly.
“You’ve used that expression twice today, Bob,” he said. “It’s not
like pitching hay or even pitching for a baseball team. I know you’re
willing. But the smashup came while you were still in France--right
after the armistice. It’s not as though anyone can help at this stage
of the game, like a pinch hitter.”
Robert wondered how his father could take the matter so lightly. He
suddenly gripped his father’s hand and stammered:
“It’s great how you can smile through everything like that. It’s--!”
Mr. Hamilton patted his shoulder.
“Wait until you’re my age, son. My loss is really nothing. There
are things tremendously more important than money. Health, love,
friendship. The ability to appreciate this cigar or to tell a good
drink or a good book from a poor one. Money is valuable only in
buying that appreciation. I’ve tried to give you that--to give you an
education and a viewpoint. And we still have enough money left to buy a
few good cigars and drinks and books.”
Mr. Hamilton sketched the decline of the Hamilton corporation. It had
never been as important as Robert had thought--there had always been
heavily mortgaged properties, for instance. During the war, most of
the hardwood lands had been sold and the money used to expand the
cotton mills. In the spring of 1918 it seemed certain that the war
would last at least another year and so a huge plant had been erected
near Charleston. Prices were high, the work lagged, the expense was
enormous. In order to insure a sufficient supply of cotton and to guard
against continued increases in price, Hamilton had bought heavily for
future delivery. The armistice had come. The bottom had fallen out
of the market. The demand for cotton goods had ceased. There was no
foreign market. Well, it was hopeless. Out of the mess there would be
left perhaps $200,000, anyway $100,000. He had disposed of most of his
stock at a small figure. A set of Yankees and Jews were in control.
“Whatever you do,” said Mr. Hamilton, looking at Robert steadily,
“whatever you do, don’t gamble on the exchange. Poker is all right,
within your means. It’s a gentleman’s game. Dice has an honorable
origin and at least you get a chance to hold the dice once in a while.
But on the stock market or exchange you never hold the dice. You’ll
remember, won’t you?
“Now, I suppose this may interfere with your plans about getting
married. You are still young. I was thirty myself when I married
mother. The world is still before you. There’s no hurry. Some day
I know you will want to choose your road. If you care to take up a
profession, there’s plenty to send you through. If you’re interested in
business, I may still have some influence and, perhaps, a little cash,
although all I have is tied up. As for myself, I’m too old to go into a
new business now. I was nearly forty when you were born.”
“Of course I’ll want to do something now,” said Robert.
“You might talk it over with Pinkney. He’s a factor in Corinth today.
He’s talked to me about you several times.”
“He seems to be interested in the Tribe mainly.”
“Yes, Robert, there are many influential Corinthians interested in the
Tribe. It’s their hobby. I--I don’t know. I joined, of course. I think
its objects are splendid, commendable, in fact. But after you’ve seen
ten or twelve initiations the glamor wears off. Perhaps I shouldn’t
talk to you like this. But you’re my son and you’ll understand. The
ceremonial is not for us. It’s to impress others. And I’m a bit of a
skeptic about any organization of human beings. Perhaps this may work
the miracle. I hope it can. If you can prove useful in propagating its
message, so much the better. Patriotism. Regard for laws. Chivalry.
White supremacy. They’re all fine ideals.”
“Yes, they are, governor.”
“If you can prove valuable now to the Tribe, because of your
personality or war experience or whatever it is, you will win the
friendship of the most influential men in Corinth. This work will
simply be a stepping stone. Pinkney’s a young man. He lacks certain
qualities you have. He may not be all that you or I would seek in our
ideal man, but he has brains enough to appreciate you. With the family
name, the slight financial assistance I can give you and the good will
of the best element of Corinth, the future is anything you care to make
it. I don’t want you to be merely a successful man, but success is not
to be despised and it may prove the open sesame to the life that we
planned.”
“Yes, governor, I understand.”
They stood up. Robert had never quite understood his father before, it
seemed. Smiling to the last. Well, he could be like that too.