Separating from a woman whom he had once married and by whom he had received children—even if not divorcing her—was not only heresy and against all ethics, but it struck at the very roots of society and nominated him for the seventh strata of the bottomless pit.
All marriages were made in heaven. That was the Alpha and Omega of the whole business. The Bible says a man shall cleave unto his wife and they shall be one flesh, though they fight openly from New Year’s to Christmas and make the home life of growing children a nerve-racking hell. You can’t get back of the Bible. There it is in black and white. And you know what it says in the ending of Revelations about daring to change one jot or tittle of Holy Writ.
If there were unpleasantness in his home, it was the woman’s fault. She rebelled against the hypothesis that he was the head of his house, the arbiter of its destinies, the party responsible for its souls and bodies to God and State. She spat upon the verdict of St. Paul: “Wives, submit yourselves unto your husbands as unto the law of God.” She was responsible for everything wrong. She was “undermining Church and State.” She was a sinner from wayback.
The man totally lacked the capacity to see himself in any other rôle than that of model father, husband, citizen and church member.
He was one of those men of whom it may truthfully be said that he took life seriously. To say nothing of himself. To associate, disport or enjoy himself with family or neighbors was something he did not know how to do. He couldn’t have taken enjoyment from life even if he had wanted. It was rather pathetic.
He was a finished product of his own philosophy and never saw it. His father had succeeded in doing in him exactly what he was trying to do in Nathan. Only there were leavening and countering chromosomes in Nathan’s make-up ultimately working for the boy’s salvation which had not been Johnathan’s heritage.
He rarely attended any church or village function unless admittance was free, and on rare occasions when the circus came to Paris and he consented to take his children, he bought no admittance to performance or side shows. He taught them to be content with standing off in the background and “watching people make fools of themselves.”
When by unavoidable circumstance he was forced to participate in any social function where people looked on, he either did so with an awkward, clumsy, painful, red-faced self-consciousness, or he “tried to be funny.” But in both cases he withdrew into innocuous desuetude as quickly as he was permitted. Thereupon, unless the affair had been directly connected with religion, he carried away the impression that he had been a “cut-up” and a “card.”
Once, just once, when Edith had been ten, the Forge home had been opened for a party. But on that occasion he had not been content to let the youngsters work out their own social salvation. It had devolved upon him as “master of his house” and “protector of his children’s morals” to place himself in the best chair in the front room and preside over the progress of the affair. It was his business to see that no kissing games were played, suggest when the children had applied themselves to each pastime long enough, inject witty criticisms of juvenile deportment, indicate when it was time for the refreshments to be served and when the hour had come for adjournment. All this he did in slippered feet, with hair a bit rumpled and vest unbuttoned. On the whole, it was quite a responsibility.
Vainly his wife had tried to spirit him out and away so the children might act naturally and enjoy themselves. Johnathan was indignant. He guessed it was his house. His carpets were being scuffed out. His money was paying for the ice cream and cake. He stayed.