Fall of Giants

“He’s pleased with you for being reasonable,” Gus said tactfully. “I see you joined the army.”

“I volunteered,” Lev said. “I’m doing officer training.”

“How are you finding it?”

Suddenly Gus was aware that he and Lev had an audience around them in a ring: the Vyalovs, the Dewars, and the Dixons. Since the engagement had been broken off, the two men had not been seen together in public. Everyone was curious.

“I’ll get accustomed to the army,” Lev said. “How about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you going to volunteer? After all, you and your president got us into the war.”

Gus said nothing, but he felt ashamed. Lev was right.

“You can always wait and see whether you get drafted,” Lev said, turning the knife. “You never know, you could get lucky. Anyway, if you go back to Washington I guess the president can get you exempted.” He laughed.

Gus shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about this. You’re right, I’m part of the government that brought in the draft. I could hardly evade it.”

He saw his father nod, as if he had anticipated this; but his mother said: “But, Gus, you work for the president! What better way could there be for you to help the war effort?”

Lev said: “I guess it would seem kind of cowardly.”

“Exactly,” said Gus. “So I won’t be going back to Washington. That part of my life is over for now.”

He heard his mother say: “Gus, no!”

“I’ve already spoken to General Clarence of the Buffalo Division,” he said. “I’m joining the National Army.”

His mother began to cry.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX – Mid-June 1917

Ethel had never thought about women’s rights until she stood in the library at Tŷ Gwyn, unmarried and pregnant, while the slimy lawyer Solman told her the facts of life. She was to spend her best years struggling to feed and care for Fitz’s child, but there was no obligation upon the father to help in any way. The unfairness of it had made her want to murder Solman.

Her rage had been further inflamed by looking for work in London. A job would be open to her only if no man wanted it, and then she would be offered half a man’s wages or less.

But her angry feminism had set as hard as concrete during years of living alongside the tough, hardworking, dirt-poor women of London’s East End. Men often told a fairy tale in which there was a division of labor in families, the man going out to earn money, the woman looking after home and children. Reality was different. Most of the women Ethel knew worked twelve hours a day and looked after home and children as well. Underfed, overworked, living in hovels, and dressed in rags, they could still sing songs and laugh and love their children. In Ethel’s view one of those women had more right to vote than any ten men.

She had been arguing this for so long that she felt quite strange when votes for women became a real possibility in the middle of 1917. As a little girl she had asked: “What will it be like in heaven?” and had never got a satisfactory answer.

Parliament agreed to a debate in mid-June. “It’s the result of two compromises,” Ethel said excitedly to Bernie when she read the report in The Times. “The Speaker’s Conference, which Asquith called to sidestep the issue, was desperate to avoid a row.”

Bernie was giving Lloyd his breakfast, feeding him toast dipped in sweet tea. “I assume the government is afraid that women will start chaining themselves to railings again.”

Ethel nodded. “And if the politicians get caught up in that kind of fuss, people will say they’re not concentrating on winning the war. So the committee recommended giving the vote only to women over thirty who are householders or the wives of householders. Which means I’m too young.”

“That was the first compromise,” said Bernie. “And the second?”

“According to Maud, the cabinet was split.” The War Cabinet consisted of four men plus the prime minister, Lloyd George. “Curzon is against us, obviously.” Earl Curzon, the leader of the House of Lords, was proudly misogynist. He was president of the League for Opposing Woman Suffrage. “So is Milner. But Henderson supports us.” Arthur Henderson was the leader of the Labour Party, whose M.P.s supported the women, even though many Labour Party men did not. “Bonar Law is with us, though lukewarm.”

“Two in favor, two against, and Lloyd George as usual wanting to keep everyone happy.”

“The compromise is that there will be a free vote.” That meant the government would not order its supporters to vote one way or the other.

“So that whatever happens it won’t be the government’s fault.”

“No one ever said Lloyd George was ingenuous.”

“But he’s given you a chance.”

“A chance is all it is. We’ve got some campaigning work to do.”