Gear, W Michael - Novel 05 (7 page)

 
          
 
Will held up a hand in warning. "Beware,
my friend, that you yourself do not fall victim to the primitives."

 
          
 
"I shall be a fortress!" Richard
clenched his gloved fist. "Give me your barbarian masses, Will. Let's see
what they can do to a man of character and education."

 
          
 
"Bravo!" Will applauded. "Here
I sit—with a warrior! Hail, conqueror of ignorance, savagery, and darkness! But
ho, we have arrived at our destination."

 
          
 
Will tossed a coin up to the driver before
slapping Richard on the back.

 
          
 
The Templeton house was a huge three-story
affair, built of brick, with a high-pitched slate roof. Elaborate white lintels
graced the windows, each charmingly illuminated by a candle on the sill. The
steps were of
Vermont
granite, the giant front door imported from
Paris
.

 
          
 
Once inside, a black servant took Richard's
hat, coat, and scarf. The hallway was warm, lit by glowing lamps. A stairway of
polished walnut rose to the upper stories. To the right, voices carried from
the parlor. Will placed a hand on Richard's shoulder and gestured for him to
proceed.

 
          
 
The parlor was tastefully done, white walls
with maple wainscoting, and a broad-planked floor covered with thick Persian
rugs. A warm fire crackled in the hearth, and above it, small porcelain
sculptures and silver knickknacks were displayed on the mantel. The couches and
chairs were French, upholstered in white with blue flower patterns. A polished
harpsichord stood in one corner, and an ornately carved buffet in the other.

 
          
 
Richard nerved himself and walked forward to
greet his friends. It was a small gathering, but then, he'd never really had
many friends. They looked up as he entered, questions in their eyes.

 
          
 
Professor Ames nodded and lifted a cup of tea.
He was short of stature, barely five feet tall, thin-boned, and white-haired.
He weighed little more than one hundred pounds— even after Christmas dinner.
Age had lined the pensive face. Those gentle blue eyes belied his vigor when at
the lectern, but outside of the classroom, he was a mild man, fatherly in his
actions.
Ames
always dressed conservatively in black.

 
          
 
"Richard! How grand that you finally made
it!" George Peterson said.

 
          
 
Richard shook his hand while the others,
Thomas Hanson and James Sonnet, patted him on the back.

 
          
 
''Richard!'' Professor Ames clasped his hands.
''We have heard from your father that you shall be going to the interior. As a
result, we have gathered here to pay you our respects and wish you well."

 
          
 
"I, for one, am happy that you
have." Richard accepted the goblet Sonnet handed him, and toasted them.
The brandy ran warmly down his throat and he savored the mellow flavor.

 
          
 
Will gestured for attention. "Most of you
don't know what Richard is about to endure. He is headed to
Saint Louis
, on the far frontier. He enters a land of
darkness and ignorance. Richard's father has offered him a challenge of
philosophy, and Richard has courageously accepted. Mr. Hamilton believes that
the real world is different from that perceived by the mentors we study.
Richard disagrees, and will prove by his venture into the unknown that his
convictions are stronger than ignorance and brutality."

 
          
 
Tom could barely suppress a smirk.

 
          
 
"Further," Will cried, "he will
take the opportunity to make observations on man in his natural state of
savagery—which we all know cannot be done in
Boston
, center of light and knowledge. Let us all
raise our glasses in the hopes that the real is the rational!"

 
          
 
Cheers burst out.

 
          
 
Professor Ames rubbed the side of his cup with
a delicate thumb. "What will you do if Hobbes is correct and life is
little more than conflict? Where shall you go to find defense? The state, with
its laws and institutions, will not be there to protect your liberties."

 
          
 
Richard swirled his brandy. "I sincerely
believe that the mind of the individual, when strong enough, can overcome the
lack of social contract, Professor. I believe in perception and moral strength.
As a free man, no one can force me to become that which I am not. What I
perceive, will be."

 
          
 
"You seem very sure of that."
Ames
raised an eyebrow. "This will not be a
lecture, Richard, but life."

 
          
 
"When I return, I'll be the same man who
leaves
Boston
on Monday. That I assure you, for I have
found truth by noting that the real is spiritual and not material—a grievous
fault my father has fallen heir to."

 
          
 
"And his son never will?" Tom asked
as he studied Richard through half-lidded eyes. Thomas Hanson had settled into
one of the chairs. For some reason beyond Richard's understanding, God had
given Tom a ruggedly attractive face, bold and blocky, with a mobile mouth and
dancing blue eyes that hinted of deviltry. He walked with an athletic grace,
broad-shouldered and sure of himself. Even Tom's sandy hair curled insolently.
Worse yet, Tom attracted women the way a lodestone drew iron filings.

 
          
 
You've already scratched me from your ledger
of associates, haven t you, Tom? You wouldn't be here if
Ames
hadn't come. Look at the derision in your
eyes. God's plague upon you. "I believe that logic functions in the world.
If I believe and act rationally, what I desire will occur. If I can understand
what happens to me, I can overcome. Let's call it a rational extension of perception."

 
          
 
"And if your assumption is flawed?"
Tom shifted. "After all, you would have perceived yourself to be attending
classes next week, wouldn't you?"

 
          
 
Richard's gut churned with humiliation.
"We agree, don't we, that the human mind is endowed with certain
qualities: logic, reason, and spirituality, among others? Would it not follow,
then, that even a brute can be prevailed upon by reason? If this be the case,
any man's behavior can be modified by a superior mind which points out
advantages to be gained by reasonable action."

 
          
 
Tom raised an eyebrow. "If you really
think creatures like Indians are human. Are they, Richard?"

 
          
 
Ames
shot a sympathetic glance at Richard and
asked, "Tom, do you disregard every aspect of Rousseau's argument? Aren't
the Iroquois and
Shawnee
already tainted by our civilization?"

 
          
 
Tom said flatly, "Rousseau was an idiot.
Indians—and all the primitive races, for that matter—are beasts. They can't be
tamed. Just like wolves and foxes can't be domesticated into dogs. They can only
make way for civilization with its nobler institutions."

 
          
 
"We're getting away from the
argument," Will interrupted uneasily. "Go on, Richard. You were
making a point."

 
          
 
"Ah, I know what Richard is getting
at," George Peterson said as he wiped his mouth. "A synthesis of
enlightenment and romanticism with just a dash of rationalism. Exquisite,
Richard! I shall be impatiently waiting to hear how your wild frontiersmen
receive that."

 
          
 
"On the end of an Indian war lance, no
doubt," Tom gave Richard a dour look.

 
          
 
Richard waved them all down. "I shall be
in no danger. I should be more than well enough prepared for any eventuality of
the frontier. As I perceive it, my greatest problem will be communicating with
men who have no understanding of proper English. I'm not sure I can translate
the concepts while speaking in grunts and moans."

 
          
 
Chuckles erupted.

 
          
 
"That could be a problem," Peterson
agreed. "How do you attempt to elevate an ignorant clod to the finer
things in life? I doubt that they can pronounce metaphysics, let alone
comprehend it."

 
          
 
"Richard will probably be eaten by a
bear," Tom said.

 
          
 
"I've heard they feast on people without
regard to education or social standing."

 
          
 
"Is it true that bears prefer to treat
their palates with men who read Greek?'' Sonnet asked. "Or is it Latin
speakers they cherish?"

 
          
 
"He won't be eaten by a bear!" Will
insisted. "It's the human beasts I'd worry about."

 
          
 
"Consider me a beast trainer,"
Richard said with mock seriousness. "Like Caesar of old, I shall no doubt
return to
Boston
with several frontiersmen snarling at the
ends of their chains."

 
          
 
Ames
leaned over. "Keep in mind, Richard,
that moral frameworks vary among different peoples. Logic is wonderful, and
rational action provides a basis from which we can understand and interact with
others, but you must always realize that not everyone shares your perspective.
If morality were perceived universally, we should all embrace the same
ethics."

 
          
 
Richard shrugged. "Sir, I cannot help but
believe that there is a supreme morality based upon rational action. Truth is
either absolute, or it is nothing. The result is that anyone can be trained to
accept a rational morality if they are indeed human. Do you see a flaw in
that?"

 
          
 
"In the grand sense of the human
condition, no, I do not,"
Ames
said with a slight smile. "That is
exactly what I have attempted to teach you in my lectures. But the grand sense
of the human condition, and the perceptions of the individual, are two
different things." He paused, a kindly look in his eyes. "Be careful
out there, Richard. Not all of the world is
Boston
."

 
          
 
At that moment, Laura Templeton entered the
room with a swish of her long dress. She smiled radiantly, a delicate girl with
long blond hair, the curls gathered within a turtle-shell hair clasp.

 
          
 
Richard stood, transfixed. She had to be the
most beautiful girl in the world. The first thing a man noticed about Laura was
her large blue eyes. Set in her alabaster face, they never failed to betray her
animation and enjoyment of life. Now they sparkled in the lamplight. From her
smooth forehead to her delicate nose and high cheeks, she looked regal. Full
red lips made for smiling, and a pert chin, were framed by her heart-shaped
face. A ruffled blue taffeta dress accented her slim waist and full bosom. The
pleated lace on her cuffs almost obscured her slender hands and thin fingers.
As she walked forward, her grace took Richard's breath away.

 
          
 
Tom immediately stepped forward and bowed.
"What have we here? Can it be? Has an angel truly blessed us with her
company?"