George Cutter, no longer known as “young George” since the death of his father, received much credit for the growth and development of the town. It was Mr. Cutter who had induced[111] certain Eastern capitalists to locate these factories near Shannon. He was more than a prominent citizen at home. He was somebody in New York. He had “influence” in Washington. Otherwise Shannon would never have obtained her hundred-thousand-dollar post office. He carried Shannon County in his pocket, politically speaking, and he kept his congressman6 in the other pocket, in the same figurative manner.
Five years after he entered the bank, he was occupying the chair and desk on the left side of the door where his father sat when George began his career on the adding machine in the cage. Mr. Cutter, Senior, was still the nominal7 president, but he had a finer desk and more comfortable, less businesslike chair in the rear of his son. He was now a fat old man, drooling down to a heavy old age. He was merely president from force of habit. He did nothing but watch, with slumberous8 pride, his son paw the markets, reach out, speculate, risk and win, make a name for himself in the financial world.
But in 1913 all this was ancient history. The young wolf had been just beginning then to get a toothhold. Now he had arrived. He had “interests” in the big corporations. When he became president, after the death of his father, the first[112] thing he did was to sell this small building to a local trust company and build a finer, larger place for his bank. Here he had an office, off the directors’ room in the rear, as magnificent and grave as a sanctuary9. And it was so proudly private that there was no spangled glass door leading to it visible to the vulgar public eye. Capitalists and promoters visited him here, but the regular customers of the bank rarely saw him except by accident when he issued from this office, hatted, spatted10, coated, carrying a cane11 hooked over his arm, and stepping briskly across the lobby through the door to where his car stood and shone against the curb12. In that case their eyes followed him. And if these eyes belonged to women, of whatever age, they were likely to exclaim, breathe or think, “What a handsome man!”
He was more than handsome, a “presence,” almost a perfect imitation of elegance13. He was the kind of man who kept his years under foot. He trod them down with so much swiftness and power in this business of getting on that they had not marked him. His face was smooth, his red hair still opulent, his eyes brilliant, masterful. When he came in or went out or passed by, they were always fixed14 on something straight ahead, as[113] if you were not there, anxious to catch his glance and have the honor of speaking to him. Probably you wanted to remind him of how well you remembered when he started to work in the old bank. And you were a friend of his father, and had always kept your account in this bank and would continue to do so. But you must be a wheedling15, forward old man to get the chance to say such things to him, because your account means nothing to him now, and your good memory only annoys him.
The reason so many men, after they become distinguished16 or successful, get this habit of looking straight ahead when we are standing17 ingratiatingly near, wishing to claim acquaintanceship with them in their humbler past, is because they wish to forget this past, and especially you who retain the speaking tongue of it.
George Cutter had outgrown18 Shannon. Shannon might be proud of him, but it could not be intimate with him. He did not belong there. He was a big town man. You could almost smell Wall Street as he passed you, Williams Street, anyhow, which is only one of the elbows of Wall Street—a notable perfume, I can tell you, of pop-eyed dollars and busy bonds that never rested, but were always being sold again.
[114]Seeing George thus, enhanced by ten additional years, you naturally want to know what changes have taken place in Helen.
Sometimes a slender, fair woman might be seen in Cutter’s limousine19, waiting at the curb before the bank. But if you saw her, you scarcely noticed her, because there was nothing distinguishing in her appearance. She always sat very still with her hands folded, her lips closed so tightly that they appeared to be primped, and with her eyes wide open, very blue like curtains drawn20 before windows, concealing21 every thought and feeling within. When Cutter came through the door of the bank, stepped quickly forward and swung himself into this car with the air of a man who has not a moment to spare, she always drew a trifle closer into her corner of the seat. Then they slid away noiselessly across the square and out Wiggs Street. Even the chauffeur22 knew that Mr. Cutter never had a moment to spare and invariably exceeded the speed limit.
No word of greeting was exchanged between this husband and wife—not even a look. She did not so much as unpurse her lips to smile. His arrogant23 silence implied that he was alone in this car. Yet we must know that it was his wish she should come for him, since she so often did[115] come and wait for him with this look of dutiful patience.
The married relation is not vocative. It tends toward silence and a sort of dreary24 neutrality, arrived at by years of mutual25 defeats. It is easier for a man to be agreeable to another woman who is not his wife for the simple reason that he is innocent of this stranger. She knows none of his faults and she has not failed him in anything. And every woman knows that she is instinctively26 more entertaining to a man who is not her husband, even if she despises this man and truly, patiently loves her husband, because she is under no bond to agree with him nor to avoid his prejudices. There is nothing accusative or immoral27 in this fact, any more than there is in a momentary28 change of thought. It is perfectly29 natural, when you consider how many years they must dwell upon the same common sense of each other.
If the weather was fine, Cutter only stopped long enough to drop Helen at the house. He might tell her he would be late for dinner or he might be late without telling her. Then he was driven at the same spanking30, glittering speed to the golf and country club for a foursome previously31 arranged.
Cutter had imported the idea of this club. As[116] Cadmus introduced letters into Greece, so had he brought golf to the business men of Shannon. Until then middle-aged32 citizens accepted the sedentary habits of their years and went down to their graves corpulent and muscleless, developing only a little miserliness toward the last or a few crapulous vices33. But now these men, grown bald and gray, who had never spent a surplus nickel nor taken more exercise than healthy invalids35, hired caddies for fifty cents an hour, and spent recklessly for golf sticks and especially golf stockings and breeches. And they were to be seen any afternoon stepping springily over these links, whacking36 balls—for the ninth hole at least—with all the reared-back, straddle-legged, arm-swinging genuflections of enthusiastic youth. Missionaries37 have spent twenty years in the heart of Africa without accomplishing so much healthful good for the savages39 there. But in that case the idea of course is not to prolong the life of a savage38, but to save his soul. Still, Cutter was a successful missionary40 in this matter of golf, because the souls of the men in Shannon had long been sufficiently41 enured to the gospel to be saved, if they could be.
As for the women, that was a different matter.[117] Very few people ever worry seriously about the salvation42 of these milder creatures. Until quite recently they have been so securely preserved, sheltered and possessed43 that it was actually difficult for a woman to lose her soul by any obvious overt44 transgression45. Even then you could not be sure she had lost it, since she suffered such overwhelming martyrdom for her offense46. And we do not know what kind balances may be arranged in the Book of Life for these poor victims of life in the flesh.
There was also a different standard for women in the matter of outdoor exercise, even at so recent a date as this of which I write. They might caper47 adventuresomely in the open as girls, but the idea of a married woman spreading her feet and swinging her club at a ball on the golf links at Shannon was unthinkable. If they wanted the air, let them go out-of-doors; if they wanted exercise, let them go back indoors and do something.
So Helen never accompanied her husband to the golf links. She always went in the house and did things that would please him, or at least satisfy him when he came home.
They were still living in the house at the end of Wiggs Street. No changes had been made in[118] it, not a stitch had been added to it. It was simply laundered48, so to speak, once in so often with a fresh coat of white paint.
Two years after Helen’s marriage Mrs. Adams had passed away with no to-do about going at all. She was ill three days, very quietly and comfortably unconscious. Then she had gone to join that highly respectable class of saints in paradise to which no doubt her carpenter husband already belonged. Helen inherited her mother’s estate, which consisted of a few thousand dollars’ worth of securities in her safety box at the bank, the cottage on Wiggs Street and the contents of this cottage. The cottage was promptly50 sold and, together with the sale of the securities, furnished George with the money for his first successful speculation51.
But Helen would not part with the furniture. She had it brought to her own house. When she had distributed it in the rooms, the hall, all available spaces were filled with it. Her father’s portrait, done in crayon, hung above the parlor52 mantel. Her mother’s portrait, also a crayon, hung on the opposite wall. For years to come these two Adams parents were to stare at each[119] other in a grim silence, as much as to say, “There will be a reckoning in this house some day!” which was due, of course, to the crudely veracious53 expression the amateur artist always gets with a crayon pencil. For at that time there was nothing but love and happiness and hope in this house. George was really planning then to build a mansion54 where this house stood. For a while they amused themselves drawing plans for this mansion. Then George became more and more absorbed in his business. He had less time for fanciful conversation with Helen. In any case the subject of the new house was dropped. It had not been mentioned for years.
I suppose if there had been children the new house would have been built. But nothing had “happened.” Helen kept a cat, a canary bird and two servants. The cat was a sort of serial55 cat, exchanged once in so often for a kitten. The bird was the same one. She did not really care for cats, nor much for canaries, but they served the purpose of furnishing some sort of sound and motion in this silent house. She did not want the servants, either. She preferred to do her own work. She would have made an excellent wife for a poor man. She was a marvelously good one to George, who was rapidly becoming a rich man.
[120]She might have been a wonderful caretaker of a great man; she had exactly the right spirit of service and self-effacement. She developed a serene56 silence which was restful, never irritating. But George was not and never would be a great man. He needed a brilliant woman, and Helen was only a beautiful woman. He needed a charming hostess for his home, with social gifts. And Helen was only an excellent housekeeper57. He knew that this house was atrociously furnished, but he did not know how it should be furnished. You may be highly appreciative58 of music without being a musician. He felt the need of fine, quiet things and neutral tones in his home, but he had neither the time nor the ability to achieve these effects.
Once, indeed, shortly after Helen had rearranged the parlor with the old Adams whatnot and the Adams sofa with a golden-oak spindle back, he had sent out two handsome mahogany armchairs, his idea being to overcome the monotonous59 color and cheapness of this room. These chairs looked like two bishops60 at a populist meeting. Helen was pleased, but he had sense enough to know that he had blundered.
I am merely giving you his side of this affair, frankly61 admitting that she was by nature disqualified[121] to fill the position of wife to such a man. In the last analysis, of course, it would depend upon which of these two people such a man as George Cutter or such a woman and wife as Helen is the worthier62 type, or the more serviceable to his day and generation. It is not the reaping of what we sow ourselves—sometimes it is the reaping of what the other fellow sowed, the way we bear the burden of that—which determines our quality and courage.
As for Helen, the elder Mrs. Cutter said it all shortly before her death.
One summer evening she lay propped63 high in bed, her thin knees sticking up, her thin face stingingly vivid, her eyes spiteful with pain and discontent. Helen had just gone home after her daily visit, during which she ministered with exasperating64 patience to this invalid34. Mr. Cutter sat beside his wife’s bed concerned for her, anxious to comfort her, but secretly wondering where she would strike. For he perceived by the spitting spark in her eye that she was about to strike.
“Helen is hopeless,” she exclaimed.
He was relieved not to be the target. Still he said something in reply about Helen’s being a “good girl.”
“Yes, and that is all she is. She is not the wife[122] for George. I knew it from the first,” she keyed off irritably65.
Mr. Cutter ventured timidly that she had made George a “good wife.”
“Good, good, good,” she repeated. “I wish somebody could think of some other word for her. But they can’t. Good’s the adjective she’s been known by all her life.”
“Well, it is a very good way to be known, my dear,” he returned mildly.
“There you go again. Lower my pillow, Mr. Cutter. I can’t keep my head up and think about her. She weighs on me like a load of commonest virtues66.”
No! and she was not to be diverted, if that was what he was trying to do. “Do you know what a merely good woman can be?” she demanded.
The word good occurred to him again. He wanted to say that there was nothing better than a good woman, but he refrained. He must not irritate Maggie; if only she would not work herself up.
“She can be the least intelligent creature alive, obsessed69 with the practice of her duties. Her[123] mind inside her, never in touch with what is bigger and more important outside. She can be the stone around her husband’s neck. That is what Helen is.”
Mr. Cutter sighed. He was fond of Helen.
“What has she ever done for George? I ask you that.” She waited for his answer as if she defied him to name one thing Helen had done to help her husband.
“There you go again,” she exclaimed. “I’ve been a good wife to you, too, haven’t I?”
“Indeed you have, my dear,” he answered gratefully.
“But was I contented71 with being just that? When we came to this town as poor as church mice and you got the position in the bank, I made up my mind that you should be president of that bank some day, and you are, aren’t you?”
“Yes, my dear, and I owe everything to you—”
“Not everything, Mr. Cutter,” she interrupted with a sniff72; “but I helped you; I made friends for you; I showed off before people to let them know you were prosperous and a coming man. I had some pride.”
“You did, my dear. You were game and[124] looked it,” he answered with a watery73 smile of memory in his eye.
“And I bore a son for you.”
“You ought not to blame Helen; you can’t—” he began.
“Yes, I can,” she interrupted; “if she isn’t to have children, if poor George’s name is to die with him, she might at least help him enjoy his own career. But she doesn’t; she is becalmed. She hasn’t got it in her, I tell you, to do what I have done to show my pride and appreciation74 of the position you have made for us.”
“But, Maggie, you are one woman in ten thousand. You have not only been the best of wives, you have been everything to me a man needs.”
This reduced her to proud tears, and ended the scene, he holding one hand, she pressing a scented75 handkerchief to her eyes with the other. She was really quite happy in a sort of fiercely indignant fashion.
I suppose every husband tells his wife some such yarn76 as this. And he usually gets away with it. He may even believe it for all I know, although there are some millions of other husbands controverting77 his testimony78 by the same flattery to their respective wives.
[125]We have biographies of great women, even if they are bad ones. But I doubt if there is a single biography to be found of a merely good woman, because for some reason goodness does not distinguish women, and for another reason, while it may make them useful, dependable and absolutely essential to others, it does not make them sufficiently interesting to hold the reader’s attention or the world’s attention. You never heard of one being knighted for virtue67. It is not done. You never saw a monument raised to just one woman who was invincibly79 good and faithful in the discharge of her intimate private duties as a wife or a mother. She must do something publicly, like leading a reform or creating a disturbance80.
And the only feminine autobiographies81 I have read were written by women who should not have done so. They have been without exception written by some ignobly82 good woman, with every mean and detestable use of her virtues at the expense of other people, or they were indecent exposures of moral degeneracy and neurasthenic disorders83. Good women cannot write their autobiographies. The poor things are inarticulate. They lack the egocentricity essential for such a[126] performance. This statement stands, even if the author eventually publishes some such looking-glass of herself.
I would not discourage any woman who is preparing to make of herself a sacrifice wholly acceptable to her husband and family, but it is my honest conviction that it will not pay her in this present world. And that she will wind up like the sundown saint of herself, respected, held in affectionate regard, maybe, but unhonored and unsung. So go ahead with your sacrifice, but do not complain about it. Men, as well as gods, accept sacrifices, but they rarely ever return the compliment.
Helen Cutter belonged to this class. The first years of her marriage passed happily enough. She was not too good. She was often exacting84 in her pretty, soft, white way. But she always produced this impression of whiteness and simplicity85. She was in the confidence of her husband to this extent, she knew how rapidly he was forging ahead in business. She marveled at the swiftness with which he turned over money and doubled it. And she never questioned his methods.
Then the time came when business engrossed86 him to the exclusion87 of every other interest. He[127] was obliged to make frequent trips to money markets in the East and the West. He began to be hurried, preoccupied88, irritable89.
This is the history of many successful men in the married relation. It usually results in the wife’s finding another life of her own, in her children, in social diversions or some other activity. Cutter wished for this solution for his wife. He provided her amply with funds. But it seemed that she did not know how to spend money foolishly. She was invincibly moral about everything. She performed her tea-party duties at regular intervals90 without any distinction as a hostess, paid a few calls and remained a “home body.”
She perceived the change in her husband. He was not now the man she had married. He was no longer even of her class. She could not keep up with him. She knew that she was not even within speaking distance of him, because she could not talk of the things he talked about. Finances, big enterprises, the plays in New York, life in New York. The one bond which might have held them did not exist. She had no children.
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outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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pretentious
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| adj.自命不凡的，自负的，炫耀的 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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conservatories
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| n.（培植植物的）温室，暖房( conservatory的名词复数 ) | |
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cedars
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| 雪松，西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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Congressman
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| n.（美）国会议员 | |
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nominal
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| adj.名义上的；(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
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slumberous
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| a.昏昏欲睡的 | |
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sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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spatted
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| adj.穿着鞋罩的v.猜疑（是）( suspect的过去式和过去分词 )( spat的过去式和过去分词 )；发出呼噜呼噜声；咝咝地冒油；下小雨 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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wheedling
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distinguished
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standing
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outgrown
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| 长[发展] 得超过（某物）的范围( outgrow的过去分词 )； 长[发展]得不能再要（某物）； 长得比…快； 生长速度超过 | |
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limousine
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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concealing
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chauffeur
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arrogant
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dreary
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mutual
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instinctively
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immoral
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momentary
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perfectly
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spanking
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previously
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middle-aged
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vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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invalid
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invalids
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| 病人，残疾者( invalid的名词复数 ) | |
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whacking
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| adj.（用于强调）巨大的v.重击，使劲打( whack的现在分词 ) | |
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missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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sufficiently
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salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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overt
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| adj.公开的，明显的，公然的 | |
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transgression
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| n.违背；犯规；罪过 | |
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offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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caper
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| v.雀跃，欢蹦；n.雀跃，跳跃；续随子，刺山柑花蕾；嬉戏 | |
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laundered
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| v.洗（衣服等），洗烫（衣服等）( launder的过去式和过去分词 )；洗（黑钱）（把非法收入改头换面，变为貌似合法的收入） | |
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sparsely
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| adv.稀疏地；稀少地；不足地；贫乏地 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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veracious
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| adj.诚实可靠的 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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serial
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| n.连本影片，连本电视节目；adj.连续的 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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worthier
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| 应得某事物( worthy的比较级 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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obsessed
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| adj.心神不宁的,鬼迷心窍的,沉迷的 | |
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futilely
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| futile（无用的）的变形； 干 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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controverting
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| v.争论，反驳，否定( controvert的现在分词 ) | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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invincibly
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| adv.难战胜地，无敌地 | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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autobiographies
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| n.自传( autobiography的名词复数 )；自传文学 | |
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ignobly
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| 卑贱地，下流地 | |
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disorders
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| n.混乱( disorder的名词复数 )；凌乱；骚乱；（身心、机能）失调 | |
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exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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