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THE TITAN
«I must give in!» Hosmer Hand had declared to Arneel and
Schryhart, at the close of the Arneel house conference and as they
stood in consultation after the others had departed. «We seem to be
beaten to-night, but I, for one, am not through yet. He has won tonight, but he won’t win always. This is a fi ght to a fi nish between me
and him. The rest of you can stay in or drop out, just as you wish».
«Hear, hear!» exclaimed Schryhart, laying a fervently sympathetic hand on his shoulder. «Every dollar that I have is at your service,
Hosmer. This fellow can’t win eventually. I’m with you to the end».
Arneel, walking with Merrill and the others to the door, was silent and dour. He had been cavalierly affronted by a man who, but
a few short years before, he would have considered a mere underling. Here was Cowperwood bearding the lion in his den, dictating
terms to the principal fi nancial fi gures of the city, standing up trig
and resolute, smiling in their faces and telling them in so many
words to go to the devil. Mr. Arneel glowered under lowering
brows, but what could he do? «We must see», he said to the others, «what time will bring. Just now there is nothing much to do.
This crisis has been too sudden. You say you are not through with
him, Hosmer, and neither am I. But we must wait. We shall have
to break him politically in this city, and I am confi dent that in
the end we can do it». The others were grateful for his courage
even though to-morrow he and they must part with millions to
protect themselves and the banks. For the fi rst time Merrill concluded that he would have to fi ght Cowperwood openly from now
on, though even yet he admired his courage. «But he is too defi ant,
too cavalier! A very lion of a man», he said to himself. «A man with
the heart of a Numidian lion».
It was true.
From this day on for a little while, and because there was no
immediate political contest in sight, there was comparative peace in
Chicago, although it more resembled an armed camp operating under the terms of some agreed neutrality than it did anything else.
Schryhart, Hand, Arneel, and Merrill were quietly watchful. Cow-
451
THEODORE DREISER
perwood’s chief concern was lest his enemies might succeed in their
project of worsting him politically in one or all three of the succeeding elections which were due to occur every two years between
now and 1903, at which time his franchises would have to be renewed. As in the past they had made it necessary for him to work
against them through bribery and perjury, so in ensuing struggles
they might render it more and more diffi cult for him or his agents
to suborn the men elected to offi ce. The subservient and venal councilmen whom he now controlled might be replaced by men who,
if no more honest, would be more loyal to the enemy, thus blocking the extension of his franchises. Yet upon a renewal period of at
least twenty and preferably fi fty years depended the fulfi lment of
all the colossal things he had begun — his art-collection, his new
mansion, his growing prestige as a fi nancier, his rehabilitation socially, and the celebration of his triumph by a union, morganatic or
otherwise, with some one who would be worthy to share his throne.
It is curious how that fi rst and most potent tendency of the human mind, ambition, becomes fi nally dominating. Here was Cowperwood at fi fty-seven, rich beyond the wildest dream of the average
man, celebrated in a local and in some respects in a national way,
who was nevertheless feeling that by no means had his true aims
been achieved. He was not yet all-powerful as were divers Eastern
magnates, or even these four or fi ve magnifi cently moneyed men
here in Chicago who, by plodding thought and labor in many dreary
fi elds such as Cowperwood himself frequently scorned, had reaped
tremendous and uncontended profi ts. How was it, he asked himself,
that his path had almost constantly been strewn with stormy opposition and threatened calamity? Was it due to his private immorality? Other men were immoral; the mass, despite religious dogma and
fol-de-rol theory imposed from the top, was generally so. Was it not
rather due to his inability to control without dominating personally — without standing out fully and clearly in the sight of all men?
Sometimes he thought so. The humdrum conventional world could
not brook his daring, his insouciance, his constant desire to call
452
THE TITAN
a spade a spade. His genial suffi ciency was a taunt and a mockery to
many. The hard implication of his eye was dreaded by the weaker as
fi re is feared by a burnt child. Dissembling enough, he was not suffi ciently oily and make-believe.
Well, come what might, he did not need to be or mean to be so,
and there the game must lie; but he had not by any means attained
the height of his ambition. He was not yet looked upon as a money
prince. He could not rank as yet with the magnates of the East —
the serried Sequoias of Wall Street. Until he could stand with these
men, until he could have a magnifi cent mansion, acknowledged as
such by all, until he could have a world-famous gallery, Berenice,
millions — what did it avail?
The character of Cowperwood’s New York house, which proved
one of the central achievements of his later years, was one of those
fl owerings — out of disposition which eventuate in the case of men
quite as in that of plants. After the passing of the years neither
a modifi ed Gothic (such as his Philadelphia house had been), nor
a conventionalized Norman-French, after the style of his Michigan
Avenue home, seemed suitable to him. Only the Italian palaces of
medieval or Renaissance origin which he had seen abroad now appealed to him as examples of what a stately residence should be.
He was really seeking something which should not only refl ect
his private tastes as to a home, but should have the more enduring qualities of a palace or even a museum, which might stand as
a monument to his memory. After much searching Cowperwood
had found an architect in New York who suited him entirely —
one Raymond Pyne, rake, raconteur, man-about-town — who was
still fi rst and foremost an artist, with an eye for the exceptional and
the perfect. These two spent days and days together meditating on
the details of this home museum. An immense gallery was to occupy
the west wing of the house and be devoted to pictures; a second gallery should occupy the south wing and be given over to sculpture
and large whorls of art; and these two wings were to swing as an L
around the house proper, the latter standing in the angle between
453
THEODORE DREISER
them. The whole structure was to be of a rich brownstone, heavily carved. For its interior decoration the richest woods, silks, tapestries, glass, and marbles were canvassed. The main rooms were
to surround a great central court with a colonnade of pink-veined
alabaster, and in the center there would be an electrically lighted
fountain of alabaster and silver. Occupying the east wall a series of
hanging baskets of orchids, or of other fresh fl owers, were to give
a splendid glow of color, a morning-sun effect, to this richly artifi cial realm. One chamber — a lounge on the second fl oor — was
to be entirely lined with thin-cut transparent marble of a peachblow hue, the lighting coming only through these walls and from
without. Here in a perpetual atmosphere of sunrise were to be racks
for exotic birds, a trellis of vines, stone benches, a central pool of
glistening water, and an echo of music. Pyne assured him that after
his death this room would make an excellent chamber in which to
exhibit porcelains, jades, ivories, and other small objects of value.
Cowperwood was now actually transferring his possessions
to New York, and had persuaded Aileen to accompany him. Fine
compound of tact and chicane that he was, he had the effrontery
to assure her that they could here create a happier social life. His
present plan was to pretend a marital contentment which had no
basis solely in order to make this transition period as undisturbed
as possible. Subsequently he might get a divorce, or he might make
an arrangement whereby his life would be rendered happy outside
the social pale.
Of all this Berenice Fleming knew nothing at all. At the same
time the building of this splendid mansion eventually awakened her
to an understanding of the spirit of art that occupied the center of
Cowperwood’s iron personality and caused her to take a real interest in him. Before this she had looked on him as a kind of Western
interloper coming East and taking advantage of her mother’s good
nature to scrape a little social courtesy. Now, however, all that Mrs.
Carter had been telling her of his personality and achievements was
becoming crystallized into a glittering chain of facts. This house,
454
THE TITAN
the papers were fond of repeating, would be a jewel of rare workmanship. Obviously the Cowperwoods were going to try to enter society. «What a pity it is», Mrs. Carter once said to Berenice, «that he
couldn’t have gotten a divorce from his wife before he began all this.
I am so afraid they will never be received. He would be if he only
had the right woman; but she —» Mrs. Carter, who had once seen
Aileen in Chicago, shook her head doubtfully. «She is not the type»,
was her comment. «She has neither the air nor the understanding».
«If he is so unhappy with her», observed Berenice, thoughtfully,
«why doesn’t he leave her? She can be happy without him. It is so silly — this cat-and-dog existence. Still I suppose she values the position he gives her», she added, «since she isn’t so interesting herself».
«I suppose», said Mrs. Carter, «that he married her twenty years
ago, when he was a very different man from what he is to-day. She is
not exactly coarse, but not clever enough. She cannot do what he
would like to see done. I hate to see mismatings of this kind, and yet
they are so common. I do hope, Bevy, that when you marry it will be
some one with whom you can get along, though I do believe I would
rather see you unhappy than poor».
This was delivered as an early breakfast peroration in Central
Park South, with the morning sun glittering on one of the nearest
park lakes. Bevy, in spring-green and old-gold, was studying the social notes in one of the morning papers.
«I think I should prefer to be unhappy with wealth than to be
without it», she said, idly, without looking up.
Her mother surveyed her admiringly, conscious of her imperious
mood. What was to become of her? Would she marry well? Would
she marry in time? Thus far no breath of the wretched days in Louisville had affected Berenice. Most of those with whom Mrs. Carter
had found herself compelled to deal would be kind enough to keep
her secret. But there were others. How near she had been to drifting on the rocks when Cowperwood had appeared!
455
THEODORE DREISER
«After all», observed Berenice, thoughtfully, «Mr. Cowperwood
isn’t a mere money-grabber, is he? So many of these Western moneyed men are so dull».
«My dear», exclaimed Mrs. Carter, who by now had become
a confi rmed satellite of her secret protector, «you don’t understand
him at all. He is a very astonishing man, I tell you. The world is certain to hear a lot more of Frank Cowperwood before he dies. You
can say what you please, but some one has to make the money in
the fi rst place. It’s little enough that good breeding does for you in
poverty. I know, because I’ve seen plenty of our friends come down».
In the new house, on a scaffold one day, a famous sculptor and
his assistants were at work on a Greek frieze which represented
dancing nymphs linked together by looped wreaths. Berenice and
her mother happened to be passing. They stopped to look, and Cowperwood joined them. He waved his hand at the fi gures of the frieze,
and said to Berenice, with his old, gay air, «If they had copied you
they would have done better».
«How charming of you!» she replied, with her cool, strange, blue
eyes fi xed on him. «They are beautiful». In spite of her earlier prejudices she knew now that he and she had one god in common — Art;
and that his mind was fi xed on things beautiful as on a shrine.
He merely looked at her.
«This house can be little more than a museum to me», he remarked, simply, when her mother was out of hearing; «but I shall
build it as perfectly as I can. Perhaps others may enjoy it if I do not».
She looked at him musingly, understandingly, and he smiled.
She realized, of course, that he was trying to convey to her that he
was lonely.
CHAPTER LI
THE REVIVAL OF HATTIE
STARR
Engrossed in the pleasures and entertainments which Cowperwood’s money was providing, Berenice had until recently given very
little thought to her future. Cowperwood had been most liberal.
«She is young», he once said to Mrs. Carter, with an air of disinterested liberality, when they were talking about Berenice and her future.
«She is an exquisite. Let her have her day. If she marries well she can
pay you back, or me. But give her all she needs now». And he signed
checks with the air of a gardener who is growing a wondrous orchid.
The truth was that Mrs. Carter had become so fond of Berenice
as an object of beauty, a prospective grande dame, that she would
have sold her soul to see her well placed; and as the money to provide the dresses, setting, equipage had to come from somewhere, she
had placed her spirit in subjection to Cowperwood and pretended
not to see the compromising position in which she was placing all
that was near and dear to her.
«Oh, you’re so good», she more than once said to him a mist of
gratitude commingled with joy in her eyes. «I would never have believed it of any one. But Bevy —»
«An esthete is an esthete», Cowperwood replied. «They are rare
enough. I like to see a spirit as fi ne as hers move untroubled. She will
make her way».
Seeing Lieutenant Braxmar in the foreground of Berenice’s
affairs, Mrs. Carter was foolish enough to harp on the matter in
457
THEODORE DREISER
a friendly, ingratiating way. Braxmar was really interesting after
his fashion. He was young, tall, muscular, and handsome, a graceful dancer; but, better yet, he represented in his moods lineage, social position, a number of the things which engaged Berenice most.
He was intelligent, serious, with a kind of social grace which was
gay, courteous, wistful. Berenice met him fi rst at a local dance, where
a new step was being practised —»dancing in the barn», as it was
called — and so airily did he tread it with her in his handsome uniform that she was half smitten for the moment.
«You dance delightfully», she said. «Is this a part of your life on
the ocean wave?»
«Deep-sea-going dancing», he replied, with a heavenly smile.
«All battles are accompanied by balls, don’t you know?»
«Oh, what a wretched jest!» she replied. «It’s unbelievably bad».
«Not for me. I can make much worse ones».
«Not for me», she replied, «I can’t stand them». And they went
prancing on. Afterward he came and sat by her; they walked in
the moonlight, he told her of naval life, his Southern home and connections.
Mrs. Carter, seeing him with Berenice, and having been introduced, observed the next morning, «I like your Lieutenant, Bevy.
I know some of his relatives well. They come from the Carolinas.
He’s sure to come into money. The whole family is wealthy. Do you
think he might be interested in you?»
«Oh, possibly — yes, I presume so», replied Berenice, airily, for
she did not take too kindly to this evidence of parental interest.
She preferred to see life drift on in some nebulous way at present,
and this was bringing matters too close to home. «Still, he has so
much machinery on his mind I doubt whether he could take any
serious interest in a woman. He is almost more of a battle-ship than
he is a man».
She made a mouth, and Mrs. Carter commented gaily: «You
rogue! All the men take an interest in you. You don’t think you
could care for him, then, at all?»
458
THE TITAN
«Why, mother, what a question! Why do you ask? Is it so essential that I should?»
«Oh, not that exactly», replied Mrs. Carter, sweetly, bracing herself for a word which she felt incumbent upon her; «but think of
his position. He comes of such a good family, and he must be heir
to a considerable fortune in his own right. Oh, Bevy, I don’t want to
hurry or spoil your life in any way, but do keep in mind the future.
With your tastes and instincts money is so essential, and unless you
marry it I don’t know where you are to get it. Your father was so
thoughtless, and Rolfe’s was even worse».
She sighed.
Berenice, for almost the fi rst time in her life, took solemn heed of
this thought. She pondered whether she could endure Braxmar as
a life partner, follow him around the world, perhaps retransferring
her abode to the South; but she could not make up her mind. This
suggestion on the part of her mother rather poisoned the cup for her.
To tell the truth, in this hour of doubt her thoughts turned vaguely
to Cowperwood as one who represented in his avid way more of
the things she truly desired. She remembered his wealth, his plaint
that his new house could be only a museum, the manner in which
he approached her with looks and voiceless suggestions. But he was
old and married — out of the question, therefore — and Braxmar
was young and charming. To think her mother should have been
so tactless as to suggest the necessity for consideration in his case!
It almost spoiled him for her. And was their fi nancial state, then, as
uncertain as her mother indicated?
In this crisis some of her previous social experiences became signifi cant. For instance, only a few weeks previous to her meeting with
Braxmar she had been visiting at the country estate of the Corscaden
Batjers, at Redding Hills, Long Island, and had been sitting with her
hostess in the morning room of Hillcrest, which commanded a lovely though distant view of Long Island Sound.
Mrs. Fredericka Batjer was a chestnut blonde, fair, cool, quiescent — a type out of Dutch art. Clad in a morning gown of gray
459
THEODORE DREISER
and silver, her hair piled in a Psyche knot, she had in her lap on
this occasion a Java basket fi lled with some attempt at Norwegian
needlework.
«Bevy», she said, «you remember Kilmer Duelma, don’t you?
Wasn’t he at the Haggertys’ last summer when you were there?»
Berenice, who was seated at a small Chippendale writing-desk
penning letters, glanced up, her mind visioning for the moment
the youth in question. Kilmer Duelma — tall, stocky, swaggering,
his clothes the loose, nonchalant perfection of the season, his walk
ambling, studied, lackadaisical, aimless, his color high, his cheeks
full, his eyes a little vacuous, his mind acquiescing in a sort of genial, inconsequential way to every query and thought that was put
to him. The younger of the two sons of Auguste Duelma, banker,
promoter, multimillionaire, he would come into a fortune estimated
roughly at between six and eight millions. At the Haggertys’ the year
before he had hung about her in an aimless fashion.
Mrs. Batjer studied Berenice curiously for a moment, then returned to her needlework. «I’ve asked him down over this weekend», she suggested.
«Yes?» queried Berenice, sweetly. «Are there others?»
«Of course», assented Mrs. Batjer, remotely. «Kilmer doesn’t interest you, I presume».
Berenice smiled enigmatically.
«You remember Clarissa Faulkner, don’t you, Bevy?» pursued
Mrs. Batjer. «She married Romulus Garrison».
«Perfectly. Where is she now?»
«They have leased the Chateau Brieul at Ars for the winter. Romulus is a fool, but Clarissa is so clever. You know she writes that
she is holding a veritable court there this season. Half the smart
set of Paris and London are dropping in. It is so charming for her to
be able to do those things now. Poor dear! At one time I was quite
troubled over her».
Without giving any outward sign Berenice did not fail to
gather the full import of the analogy. It was all true. One must
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