A Visit to the Temple

 

Alternative Version

(This is an excerpt from the novel ‘The Fountainhead’ (1943) by Ayn Rand. It features the hero Howard Roark and the villain Ellsworth Toohey. Roark is an innovative and brilliant architect; Toohey is a critic of art and architecture who deliberately promotes the mundane and mediocre. Roark recently built a magnificent "temple to the human spirit" which Toohey helped dismember. Toohey has spent many years trying to ruin the career and life of Roark. The two have never met.)

He had never seen the reconstructed Stoddard Temple. On an evening in November he went to see it. He did not know whether it was surrender to pain or victory over the fear of seeing it.

It was late and the garden of the Stoddard Home was deserted. The building was dark, a single light showed in a back window upstairs. Roark stood looking at the building for a long time.

He contemplated the burning of the Temple of Athena by the Persians in 480 B.C. and the demolition of the Temple of Serapis by the Christians in 391 A.D. The thought occurred to Roark: "That’s enough."

The door under the Greek portico opened and a slight masculine figure came out. It hurried casually down the steps -- and then stopped.

"Hello, Mr. Roark," said Ellsworth Toohey quietly.

Roark looked at him without curiosity. "Hello," said Roark.

"Please don't run away." The voice was not mocking, but earnest.

"I wasn't going to."

"I think I knew that you’d come here some day and I think I wanted to be here when you came. I've kept inventing excuses for myself to hang about this place." There was no gloating in the voice; it sounded drained and simple.

"Well?"

"You shouldn't mind speaking to me. You see, I understand your work. What I do about it is another matter."

"You are free to do what you wish about it."

"I understand your work better than any living person -- with the possible exception of Dominique Francon. And, perhaps, better than she does. That's a great deal, isn't it, Mr. Roark? You haven't many people around you who can say that. It's a greater bond than if I were your devoted, but blind supporter."

"I knew you understood."

"Then you won't mind talking to me."

"About what?"

In the darkness it sounded almost as if Toohey had sighed. After a while he pointed to the building and asked:

"Do you understand this?"

Roark did not answer.

Toohey went on softly: "What does it look like to you? Like a senseless mess? Like a chance collection of driftwood? Like an imbecile chaos? But is it, Mr. Roark? Do you see no method? You who know the language of structure and the meaning of form. Do you see no purpose here?"

"I see none in discussing it."

"Mr. Roark, we're alone here. Why don't you tell me what you think of me? In any words you wish. No one will hear us."

Roark paused. "If you insist."

Without warning, Roark hit his enemy with more power and fury than he knew he had. The destroyer flashed a look of surprise and fell to the ground awkwardly. His head smacked the concrete with unusual force.

Almost instantly Roark's rage subsided. But the pool of blood around the villain’s head grew. Toohey looked at his striker with understanding and even approval. Roark returned the gaze with contempt and indifference.

"I didn’t think you had it in you."

"Neither did I."

"Is this how you deal with your critics?"

"You’re more of a universal destroyer. That’s not a proper way to live."

Toohey's strength was fading. His eyes sought sympathy in Roark's face but found none.

"Maybe I should have chosen a different path."

"You should have. Raw evil isn't the way to go."

Toohey minutely bowed. He made a last ferocious effort. "I want to apol—" But his voice and heart failed him.

"Too late."

Roark looked at him coldly. After a moment, he lifted his head. He glanced around but saw and heard no-one. Roark spent a long moment looking at his mangled temple. Then he slowly walked away.

Toohey died without a sound and Roark never looked back.

The next morning the body was found by a passer-by. Word of Toohey's demise spread quickly. There was a tremendous criminal investigation.

But Roark and Toohey had virtually no connection, so Roark was never a suspect. A few days after Toohey's demise, a single police officer questioned Roark.

"I have nothing to add to your investigation. Mr. Toohey and I weren't acquaintances."

"But what were you doing the night he was killed?"

"I was out walking. I met no-one of any account."

Thus ended Roark’s interrogation. 

So too most of his persecution by the artistic and architectural community. Public opposition to, and outrage at, Roark’s particular approach to building subsided. Roark was allowed to work and live in relative peace.

Later on, Roark wondered what would have been the fate of the world if someone had struck down Berkeley, Hume, Kant, and Hegel in their intellectual prime. He figured someone cruder would have risen up to take their place – but perhaps not done as much damage. He speculated the good people of the Earth would have lost an opportunity to sharpen and strengthen their thinking and arguments in favor of intellectual liberalism.

But Roark didn't entirely know. He merely thought violence wasn't the answer. So what had roused him to fury in that special moment?

Roark didn't entirely know that either. But he thought it unwise for evil to directly confront and provoke good.

Still later, Roark was asked by Dominique: "What do you think really happened to Ellsworth Toohey? In many ways he was your worst enemy." 

Roark looked her directly in the eye: "I guess his mouth finally got him in trouble. He ran into the wrong guy at the wrong moment."

Dominique stared at Roark, her eyes becoming impossibly wide. Neither spoke for a minute.

"I guess he did."

"Funny how life works out, isn’t it?"

"Very."

The two never spoke of it again.

*  *  *

[first 71 words by Rand; next 36 by Zantonavitch; next 310 by Rand; next 525 by Zantonavitch; final 99 by Rand omitted; scene slightly expanded 2-27-24]