How The Most Trusted Advisors To Concentrated Wealth can Now Capitalize on the Utter Failure of their Professional Actions and Worldview
Tutor and Master Jack are both Morals Tutors to the world's wealthiest, and at times have been Privy Counselors handling the Confidential Dirty Work, and noted procurers, for the King's pleasure. Neither judges those served. What happens in Wealth Bondage stays in Wealth Bondage. Both are as loyal to their Master or Mistress as a dog sleeping on the foot of the bed. Jack says it is his Fiduciary Responsibility. For Tutor, it is a noble tradition as old as fealty, and deference to "degree." The question now is how best to serve dynastic wealth in troubled times. Tess has noticed "the help" on their spare time following Ferguson, Dallas, Brexit, Trump, Sanders, Black Lives Matter, White Genocide, Le Pen, the Alt-Right. She sees Seal Team Seven, armed, trained as insurgents and assassins, and wonders in her paranoid moments if any would betray her. She has read in The Economist that the old globalist game is effectively over. "We," the global managerial class, whose science of justice is economic equations have over played our hand. Few have prospered. Many have suffered. Ecosystems are dying. Water is rising. Things are getting out of control. There seems to be no way to fix it. And we brought it on ourselves. Tess confers behind closed doors with Master Jack. Surely, there must yet be some way to quell discontent, while creating a Dynasty that will last at least one hundred years, like a great flourishing silver beech, rooted in soil, tended by the peasants, the loyal servants, the dispossessed, the roots among the fertile bones?
Tutor's views are very different. Not "Shirtsleeves to shirtsleeves" as Jack speaks it sadly, shaking his head, and treating it as business opportunity to position his practice as the solution, but as an eternal moral admonition, like, "Ashes to ashes; dust to dust." Or, "Remember, Caesar thou art mortal." Tutor has seen Rome rise and fall, the Tudors come and go, the Bourbons rise and fall. He saw the Magna Carta signed after (as Master Jack ruefully notes) a failed regency. He saw Washington's and Jefferson's slaves freed. He saw the Confederacy fall, and the highest flower of Southern chivalry slain. (Yes, he served in the Big House with Tom and Mammy, and fled on foot with them when it burned.)
With the sorrowful wisdom of failed states, Kingdoms, and Empires destroyed, he is Preparing the Heir, Audrey. He instructs her in Catholic Social Doctrine. (Find the face of God in those who are broken and have least). In Stoicism: there is no happiness or suffering but thinking makes it so. In the riffs of naked Diogenes from his Dumpster, accosting Alexander the Great. In the historical realities of evolution and revolution. In her toybox, as the one valuable present from him to her is a Russian Doll, with mommas stacked inside mommas, down the tiny smallest one. It is his treasure. It was a gift to him from the Tsar's youngest daughter, who died in the pit, with her whole dynastic family, her vest and petticoats sewn with diamonds, the bullets ricocheting, until at last one found her heart. Yes, Rasputin, the most trusted advisor and Secular Priest had more influence with the Tsar, and had more lovers among the ladies of the court, a fuller beard, and a better claim to a divine call (with his degree in Divinity), but then as now Tutor, a child in spirit himself, was best with the little ones.
Audrey is being prepared as an heir to own, rule and save us all, if history's wheel next pauses on tyranny. If we are to be ruled by persons, with laws flexible to the will of those in charge, those with most, let that person be a good person, wise and virtuous, bred to the task. For that Tutor prepares her. Yet, as Frost noted about foliage, "Nothing gold can stay." If Fortune's wheel must turn, as it ever will, and the highest fall and the lowest rise, as always has been, Audrey to be prepared must be able to fend for herself. Waiting on tables, walking dogs, serving as crew on a sailing ship, hiding out in the woods eating berries and bugs. For those roles, too, he prepares her. "Naked we come into the world; naked we shall leave it." "Life," he tells her at bedtime, whispering secrets, "is like the sparrow who flies from one end of the lighted warm fellowship hall, and out the other. Here for a moment, from darkness to darkness." Audrey knows the difference when she hears Tutor talk like this, as when he reads dark fairy tales, about children abandoned in the woods, or strangled in a castle, so different from the preaching in Chapel, or Master Jack encouraging her to be a good little girl and work on her "four capitals," and not stick out her tongue.
Will Tess, too, know the difference?