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]