New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [343]
“We belong to the Episcopal Church,” she answered, quietly. Surely Keller must know that people like herself had nothing to do with these growing calls—which had even reached Congress now—for Prohibition. The whole thing was driven by Methodists, Baptists, Congregationalists and other churches that mostly catered to a different class of person.
“The irony,” William said, “is that if Prohibition does get passed, we shall probably have the war to thank for it. The Episcopal and Catholic Churches may not support the idea, but the most effective lobbying against it has always come from the brewing interests, which are mostly owned by families with German names. And as you rightly say, Keller, everything German’s so unpopular now that nobody wants to listen to them. It’s really absurd.”
And what did his hostess think of votes for women? Keller asked.
“Votes for women?” Rose paused. Alva Belmont’s cause had been making some headway, though the suffragists were quieter now, with the war claiming everyone’s attention. Rose hated to be on the same side as Alva Belmont, but she admitted grudgingly: “I think it will come. It should.”
Rose could see that, although William understood her reservations about Keller, her husband still found the historian interesting. What was Keller’s opinion of the situation in Russia? he wanted to know. Rather to her surprise, Edmund Keller seemed pessimistic.
“It’s impossible to predict,” he said, “but if history is anything to go by, then I am fearful. The French Revolution might have been splendid, but it still introduced a reign of terror.”
“The tragedy to my mind,” William Master remarked, “is that despite all Russia’s problems, the economy was growing rapidly until this war began. Russia might have developed into a prosperous and contented nation.”
Here, however, Keller could not agree. “I just don’t think that the tsar’s autocracy could be sustained,” he said. “As a historian, I may foresee bloodshed, but it’s hard to blame the Russians for wanting a change of government.”
“Even by socialists?” Rose asked.
Keller considered. He wanted to be fair. “I dare say if I were a Russian I’d think so.”
Rose said nothing more. It was a clever answer, but it did nothing to change her view of Edmund Keller’s politics. Charlie, however, was eager to explore this dangerous territory further.
“Don’t you think capitalism oppresses the workers?” he wanted to know. “I think it does.”
Keller hesitated. “I suppose,” he said pleasantly, “that any system that gives power to a particular class will tempt that class to exploit the powerless. It seems to be human nature.”
“The capitalist system is a tyranny,” Charlie announced, “based on greed.”
His mother turned her eyes to the sky. His father smiled and murmured: “Remind me to stop your allowance.” But Keller, as teacher, could not help giving every proposition its due consideration.
“You could argue,” he said, “that any strong belief can blind people to other realities. Belief in profit at the expense of other things can be a cruel master. Look at that wretched business at the Triangle Factory, for instance.”
Rose stared at him. Did he really mean to bring up the Triangle strike now? To remind her how he’d tried to embarrass her, at Hetty’s luncheon, seven years ago? To start that argument over the factory girls again, when he was a guest in her own house? Was he being supremely tactless, or outrightly aggressive?
“Those striking girls,” she said very firmly, “were being used by socialists and revolutionaries. And the meeting at Carnegie Hall proved it very clearly.”
Keller looked puzzled for a moment. “Oh,” he said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean the strike, I meant the fire.”
For it was the aftermath of the Triangle fire that most people remembered. It had been a huge scandal when Blanck and Harris, the factory owners, had been taken to court and sued. It had turned out that the exit from the ninth floor, where so many girls had died, had been locked,