The Journals of Ayn Rand (34 page)

He now has two centers in his existence—Dominique as a joy he wished and obtained, Roark as a suffering he chose and accepted. He loses both at the same blow.

How he takes Roark’s love for Dominique is another great point to be considered at length separately.

Another important second-hander:
The kind that does not form opinions because others hold them, but because they know instinctively this is what others will hold (e.g., Toohey, the editor). Toohey approves of a book, not because it is already popular, but because he
knows
unerringly that it will be popular. The barometers of the mob. The deadliest kind of second-handers.

Roark blows up the housing project.

His arrest. Wynand offers help immediately. (“I know. I understand. I admire. My entire resources at your service in your coming fight. G. W.”) Old lawyer comes out of retirement to take the case. Wynand supplies Roark’s bail.

Fury of indignation in the press all over the country. Roark maintains complete silence—no explanations given. Wynand papers come out alone to defend Roark. (Incident of woman who wants house by Roark.)

Toohey urges his union to strike against the “Ford” building. He does not hope or intend to win. Just a gesture to “finish” Roark. Wynand’s greatest crusade. His insane determination. The editor’s fight with him. Dominique’s threat-promise. (“I will love you if you stand by him. You don’t know what you’ll lose—if you don’t.”)

Utter failure of the Wynand papers. Boycott against them on a grand, general scale. His board of directors and the editor deliver an ultimatum. Wynand surrenders. His papers come out against Roark.

Wynand’s own, silent tragedy. He sees his second-hand power for what it is, fully, clearly and completely. He knows now the failure of his whole life. (Incident with housewife buying newspaper.)

Wynand-Roark. Wynand begs him to escape and jump bail. Roark refuses.

Dominique’s decision to escape with Roark the day before the trial. She tells him that she loves him. Begs him to escape and to continue his work abroad. She will pay Wynand his bail. She is “buying him from the State of New York.” Roark agrees.

Their escape [the night before the trial] to her country home (which he built). Old servants who see them there. Their first night together after many years.

Day of trial. Wynand is in Washington trying to use “pull” to save Roark. Roark does not appear. Alarm sent out for him.

That night. Dominique has arranged for private plane. Drives with Roark to the airfield. Mails letters to Wynand on the way. Fire in the “Ford” building—set by the strikers. Roark sees it on the way [to the airfield], rushes to building in spite of her protests. The situation of the unconnected water tank. Roark rushes up through the flames to save the building. Dominique tries to stop him. She falls down after trying to hold the elevator. Looks up into a battery of cameras.

Roark’s fight against the fire on his way up. He connects the tank and saves the building. Does not even care or notice when he is arrested.
[Note the similarity here to her earlier story,
The Skyscraper.]

Next morning. Wynand flies back to Washington in private plane. He knows nothing of the events of the night before. Drives to office from landing field. Sees extras in street, pays no attention. Peculiar reception of his office staff. He bawls them out for “missing a scoop.” They run away from him. The editor rushes into his office. “I told you so!” If he means Roark’s escape, Wynand laughs, why, he is delighted. The editor hands him a copy of a rival paper with the picture of Dominique in the mud, on the front page. The whole story of the fire is there, plus the information already gathered by the police about Roark and Dominique spending the night together at her country home. The editor is frantic as to their policy in this crisis. Wynand doesn’t even hear him. Wynand is quiet, gentle, the gentleness of a man who is not alive any more. He asks only where Dominique is, and hearing that she is at home, leaves the office, ignoring the editor’s hysterical questions.

Wynand-Dominique. When he comes home, he learns that she has just returned from the jail hospital (where Roark is) and that she is waiting to see him, Wynand. Their scene. He tries desperately to prevent her from saying one thing which he dreads. He starts by telling her that if she says the story isn’t true, it
won’t be true;
his great power will make it untrue. He begs her, in other words, to deny it. It’s true, she tells him. She laughs: his great power, what did it do for
Roark?
Wynand then talks hysterically, as if putting words into her mouth, telling himself what he has not heard from her, but wants to hear: that it is only an affair, he doesn’t mind, he was expecting it sooner or later, they will go abroad and forget it all. There are not reproaches from him, no anger, no thought of giving her up. Only a desperate plea for her not to leave him.

She tells him that she loves Roark. When she says it, she realizes that that is what he had been dreading. She expects an explosion. She defies him. She tells him everything and how much Roark really is to her. There is no explosion from him. No reaction. No words, after his recent outburst of them. He only mutters dully that if she wants a divorce, he’ll let her divorce him. He leaves the room. Her letter and check of the day before arrive.... The editor phones, begging frantically for instructions on their policy. Wynand tells him to do anything he pleases. The editor holds him to that, makes him repeat it. Wynand does not care.

Next morning. After a sleepless night, the full force of the blow has come to Wynand. It is his last outburst of emotion. He goes to Dominique’s room, begs her, threatens her, offers her anything to remain with him; she can have all the lovers she wants, but not
that one!
She can even leave him, Wynand, if she insists, and go with any other man, but
not Roark.
Anything, but not Roark! She is kind to Wynand this time; she understands, she is sorry for him. She lets him see that it is hopeless; that she will live or die for Roark. She knows that she and Wynand have both found the same thing in Roark; only it is too late for Wynand....

She is now leaving to go to the trial. (She can’t do that! he objects.
He
can‘t, she answers, but she can. She is not the Wynand papers.) And before leaving she tells him that there is not much that he can do now, anyway, about their marriage: she hands him a copy of his own paper, where, on the front page, is a statement signed “Gail Wynand,” denouncing Dominique, insulting her, putting all blame on her, announcing to the world that he is going to divorce her. Wynand is unable to speak. Dominique can now feel pity for him. “Don’t, Gail. I understand. I know who wrote it. Don’t blame him too much. He had to. You had to.” She leaves for the trial.

The trial. Roark enters, his head bandaged, his left arm in a sling. He is greeted by cheers, applause and hisses. The public sentiment is now divided about him. The judge threatens to clear the court, “if they don’t remember that it is a courtroom, not a news-reel theater.” The photographers have a swell time photographing Dominique as she enters. She pays no attention. She sees no one but Roark.

The progress of the trial. The prosecution has an army of witnesses. (Perhaps even Dominique—to supply the motive as Roark’s hatred for Peter.) The defense tactics—“no questions.” No cross-examination whatever, not even of Peter, who has some terrible moments on the stand and behaves like a piece of pulp. Peter, however, does not confess the truth and is not asked to.

Wynand does appear in the courtroom—once. Thereafter, the editor prevents it. When the defense’s turn comes, the old lawyer has but one witness to call—Howard Roark. After the first formalities of name, profession, etc., the lawyer asks: “Mr. Roark, what connection did you have with the project known as [Cortlandt Homes]?” Roark answers, very quietly: “I designed it.” [Then comes] the whole story of the contract with Peter. The contract is introduced in evidence. Before Peter can be warned by the prosecution or collect his wits, he has admitted his signature and the truth of the story. The defense rests.

The old lawyer’s closing speech—summation of what Roark is, of his standards, of his value to mankind. No plea for pity. No apology. A quiet defiance. A “This-is-what-he-is-now-dare-to-convict-him,-if you-can” feeling. The jury retires to deliberate.

Jury out all evening and night. Possible scene of Roark, Dominique, old lawyer, some others waiting together for verdict. Roark talks—of everything but the jury and trial. The only time he can be poetic, almost tender(?).

Next morning. The verdict:
“Not guilty.
” The judge furious. It comes out that the first ballot was eleven ... guilty to one ... not guilty. The one swung the eleven. (Plant this one man earlier, his reasons, his psychology.) Dominique leaves courtroom as soon as verdict is rendered. She does not approach Roark. “Home and to bed!” the old lawyer orders him. “To the Ford building!” orders Roark.

Ovation of workers at the Ford building. (They have been listening on the radio to the verdict.) Then at Roark’s office: The one “capitalist” on the housing project has announced that he is buying it from the state and will have Roark do it as it was intended. Other commissions—from sensation seekers....

Then Roark comes home. Dominique is waiting for him there. Their one real, complete love scene. She will go away, not to disturb him now when his work needs him; also to “find herself”—adjust herself to her new life. Then she will come back. They will be together forever.

The Wynand papers have been doing beautifully during the trial. Circulation is boosted by a “succes de scandale.” Everyone reads the Wynand papers to see how they “take it.” The editor takes advantage of it. He prints hints, double-meanings, “between-the-lines” allusions, things that will be quoted and discussed and gloated over; he builds up Wynand as a moral, outraged man. He is delighted with and boasts to Wynand (without noticing Wynand’s horror) about the tons of fan mail arriving for Wynand, letters of sympathy and advice from good housewives, proposals of marriage from spinsters who promise not to “treat him that way” and to “make him forget.” And Dominique, whom Wynand had tried so desperately to keep from the mob, whose pictures were never allowed in the press, is now splashed across every front page in the country, including the Wynand papers. (Incident with paper in the gutter.) When a political event occurs that is in line with the Wynand papers’ policy and throws a great deal of sympathy to them, when a noted gossip columnist decides to join the Wynand papers, the editor’s victory is complete. The Wynand papers are back. The editor even goes so far as to say before Wynand that the whole affair was a swell stunt for them, after all.

Wynand takes it all as in a daze, with the greatest indifference possible. He lets it be done. He does not even wince often. Dominique leaves for Europe. Wynand divorces her—in a short, horrible scene in which he repudiates her publicly. It is Wynand’s greatest agony. He goes through it like an automaton. He is led by the editor completely. He has not gathered the pieces of his spirit enough to act for himself.