Book 2. The Struggle - Chapter 4

________________________________________________
_ BOOK II. THE STRUGGLE
CHAPTER IV

Almost the first persons at the theatre on whom Selma's eyes rested were the Gregory Williamses. They were in a box with two other people, and both Flossy and her husband were talking with the festive air peculiar to those who are willing to be noticed and conscious that their wish is being gratified. Flossy wore a gay bonnet and a stylish frock, supplemented by a huge bunch of violets, and her husband's evening dress betrayed a slight exaggeration of the prevailing fashion in respect to his standing collar and necktie. Selma had never had a thorough look at him before, and she reflected that he was decidedly impressive and handsome. His face was full and pleasant, his mustache large and gracefully curved, and his figure manly. His most distinguishing characteristic was a dignity of bearing uncommon in so young a man, suggesting that he carried, if not the destiny of republics on his shoulders, at least, important financial secrets in his brain. The man and woman with them were almost elderly and gave the effect of being strangers to the city. They were Mr. and Mrs. Silas S. Parsons. Mr. Parsons was a prosperous Western business man, who now and then visited New York, and who had recently become a customer of Williams's. He had dealt in the office where Williams was a clerk, and, having taken a fancy to him, was disposed to help the new firm. Gregory had invited them to dinner and to the theatre, by way of being attentive, and had taken a box instead of stalls, in order to make his civility as magnificent as the occasion would permit. A box, besides being a delicate testimonial to his guest, would cause the audience to notice him and his wife and to ask who they were.

In the gradual development of the social appetite in this country a certain class has been evolved whose drawing-room is the floor of the leading theatres. Society consists for them chiefly in being present often at theatrical performances in sumptuous dress, not merely to witness the play, but to be participants in a social function which enhances their self-esteem. To be looked at and to look on these occasions takes the place with them of balls and dinner parties. They are not theatregoers in the proper sense, but social aspirants, and the boxes and stalls are for them an arena in which for a price they can show themselves in their finery and attractions, for lack of other opportunities.

Our theatres are now in the full blaze of this harmless appropriation for quasi-ballroom uses. At the time when Selma was a New York bride the movement was in its infancy. The people who went to the theatre for spectacular purposes no less than to see the actors on the stage were comparatively few in number. Still the device was practised, and from the very fact that it was not freely employed, was apt to dazzle the eyes of the uninitiated public more unreservedly than to-day. The sight of Mrs. Williams in a box, in the glory of her becoming frock and her violets, caused even so stern a patriot and admirer of simplicity as Selma to seize her husband's arm and whisper:

"Look." What is more she caught herself a moment later blushing with satisfaction on account of the friendly bow which was bestowed on her.

Wilbur Littleton's ambitions were so definite and congenial that the sight of his neighbors' splendor neither offended nor irritated him. He did not feel obliged to pass judgment on them while deriving amusement from their display, nor did he experience any qualms of regret that he was not able to imitate them. He regarded Flossy and her husband with the tolerant gaze of one content to allow other people to work out their salvation, without officious criticism, provided he were allowed the same privilege, and ready to enjoy any features of the situation which appealed to his sense of humor or to his human sympathy. Flossy's frank, open nod and ingenuous face won his favor at once, especially as he appreciated that she and Selma had found each other attractive, and though he tabooed luxury and fashionable paraphernalia where he was immediately concerned, it occurred to him that this evidently wide-awake, vivacious-looking couple might, as friends, introduce just the right element of variety into their lives. He had no wish to be a banker himself, nor to hire boxes at the theatre, but he was disposed to meet half-way these entertaining and gorgeous neighbors.

Selma, in spite of her wish to watch the play, found her glance returning again and again to the occupants of the box, though she endeavored to dispose of the matter by remarking presently that she could not understand why people should care to make themselves so conspicuous, particularly as the seats in the boxes were less desirable for seeing the stage than their own.

"We wouldn't care for it, but probably it's just what they like," said Wilbur. "Some society reporter may notice them; in which case we shall see in the Sunday newspaper that Mr. Gregory Williams and party occupied a private box at the Empire Theatre last Tuesday evening, which will be another straw toward helping them to carry out their project of attracting attention. I like the face of your new friend, my dear. I mean to say that she looks unaffected and honest, and as if she had a sense of humor. With those three virtues a woman can afford to have some faults. I suppose she has hers."

Littleton felt that Selma was disposed to fancy her neighbor, but was restrained by conscientious scruples due to her dislike for society concerns. He had fallen in love with and married his wife because he believed her to be free from and superior to the petty weaknesses of the feminine social creed; but though extremely proud of her uncompromising standards, he had begun to fear lest she might indulge her point of view so far as to be unjust. Her scornful references from time to time to those who had made money and occupied fine houses had wounded his own sense of justice. He had endeavored to explain that virtue was not the exclusive prerogative of the noble-minded poor, and now he welcomed an opportunity of letting her realize from personal experience that society was not so bad as it was painted.

Selma returned Mrs. Williams's call during the week, but did not find her at home. A few days later arrived a note stamped with a purple and gold monogram inviting them to dinner. When the evening arrived they found only a party of four. A third couple had given out at the last minute, so they were alone with their hosts. The Williams house in its decoration and upholstery was very different from their own. The drawing-room was bright with color. The furniture was covered with light blue plush; there were blue and yellow curtains, gay cushions, and a profusion of gilt ornamentation. A bear-skin, a show picture on an easel, and a variety of florid bric-a-brac completed the brilliant aspect of the apartment. Selma reflected at once that that this was the sort of drawing-room which would have pleased her had she been given her head and a full purse. It suggested her home at Benham refurnished by the light of her later experience undimmed by the shadow of economy. On the way down to dinner she noticed in the corner of the hall a suit of old armor, and she was able to perceive that the little room on one side of the front door, which they learned subsequently was Mr. Williams's den, contained Japanese curiosities. The dinner-table shone with glass and silver ware, and was lighted by four candles screened by small pink shades. By the side of Flossy's plate and her own was a small bunch of violets, and there was a rosebud for each of the men. The dinner, which was elaborate, was served by two trig maids. There were champagne and frozen pudding. Selma felt almost as if she were in fairy-land. She had never experienced anything just like this before; but her exacting conscience was kept at bay by the reflection that this must be a further manifestation of the New York manner, and her self-respect was propitiated by the cordiality of her entertainers. The conversation was bubbling and light-hearted on the part of both Mr. and Mrs. Williams. They kept up a running prattle on the current fads of the day, the theatre, the doings of well-known social personages, and their own household possessions, which they naively called to the attention of their guests, that they might be admired. But Selma enjoyed more than the general conversation her talk with the master of the house, who possessed all the friendly suavity of his wife and also the valuable masculine trait of seeming to be utterly absorbed in any woman to whom he was talking. Gregory had a great deal of manner and a confidential fluency of style, which gave distinction even to commonplace remarks. His method did not condescend to nudging when he wished to note a point, but it fell only so far short of it as he thought social elegance required. His conversation presently drifted, or more properly speaking, flowed into a graphic and frank account of his own progress as a banker. He referred to past successful undertakings, descanted on his present roseate responsibilities, and hinted sagely at impending operations which would eclipse in importance any in which he had hitherto been engaged. In answer to Selma's questions he discoursed alluringly concerning the methods of the Stock Exchange, and gave her to understand that for an intelligent and enterprising man speculation was the high road to fortune. No doubt for fools and for people of mediocre or torpid abilities it was a dangerous trade; but for keen and bold intellects what pursuit offered such dazzling opportunities?

Selma listened, abhorrent yet fascinated. It worried her to be told that what she had been accustomed to regard as gambling should be so quickly and richly rewarded. Yet the fairy scene around her manifestly confirmed the prosperous language of her host and left no room for doubt that her neighbors were making brilliant progress. Apparently, too, this business of speculation and of vast combinations of railroad and other capital, the details of which were very vague to her, was, in his opinion, the most desirable and profitable of callings.

"Do you know," she said, "that I have been taught to believe that to speculate in stocks is rather dreadful, and that the people of the country don't approve of it." She spoke smilingly, for the leaven of the New York manner was working, but she could not refrain from testifying on behalf of righteousness.

"The people of the country!" exclaimed Gregory, with a smile of complacent amusement. "My dear Mrs. Littleton, you must not let yourself be deceived by the Sunday school, Fourth of July, legislative or other public utterances of the American people. It isn't necessary to shout it on the house-tops, but I will confide to you that, whatever they may declaim or publish to the contrary, the American people are at heart a nation of gamblers. They don't play little horses and other games in public for francs, like the French, for the law forbids it, but I don't believe that any one, except we bankers and brokers, realizes how widely exists the habit of playing the stock-market. Thousands of people, big and little, sanctimonious and highly respectable, put up their margins and reap their profits or their losses. Oh no, the country doesn't approve of it, especially those who lose. I assure you that the letters which pass through the post-office from the godly, freeborn voters in the rural districts would tell an eloquent story concerning the wishes of the people of the country in regard to speculation."

Flossy was rising from table as he finished, so he accompanied the close of his statement with a sweeping bow which comported with his jaunty dignity.

"I am afraid you are a wicked man. You ought not to slander the American people like that," Selma answered, pleased as she spoke at the light touch which she was able to impart to her speech.

"It's true. Every word of it is true," he said as she passed him. He added in a low tone--"I would almost even venture to wager a pair of gloves that at some time or other your husband has had a finger in the pie."

"Never," retorted Selma.

"What is that Gregory is saying?" interrupted Flossy, putting her arm inside Selma's. "I can see by his look that he has been plaguing you."

"Yes, he has been trying to shatter my ideals, and now he is trying to induce me to make an odious bet with him."

"Don't, for you would be certain to lose. Gregory is in great luck nowadays."

"That is evident, for he has had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of Mrs. Littleton," said Williams gallantly.

The two men were left alone with their cigars. After these were lighted, as if he were carrying out his previous train of thought, Gregory remarked, oracularly, at the end of a puff: "Louisville and Nashville is certain to sell higher."

Littleton looked blank for a moment. He knew so little of stocks that at first he did not understand what was meant. Then he said, politely: "Indeed!"

"It is good for a ten-point rise in my opinion," Williams continued after another puff. He was of a liberal nature, and was making a present of this tip to his guest in the same spirit of hospitality as he had proffered the dinner and the champagne. He was willing to take for granted that Littleton, as a gentleman, would give him the order in case he decided to buy, which would add another customer to his list. But his suggestion was chiefly disinterested.

"I'm afraid I know very little about such matters," Littleton responded with a smile. "I never owned but ten shares of stock in my life." Then, by way, perhaps, of showing that he was not indifferent to all the good things which the occasion afforded, he said, indicating a picture on the opposite wall: "That is a fine piece of color."

Williams, having discharged his obligations as a host, was willing to exchange the stock-market as a topic for his own capacity as a lightning appreciator and purchaser of objects of art.

"Yes," he said, urbanely, "that is a good thing. I saw it in the shop-window, asked the price and bought it. I bought two other pictures at the same time. 'I'll take that, and that, and that,' I said, pointing with my cane. The dealer looked astonished. He was used, I suppose, to having people come in and look at a picture every day for a fortnight before deciding. When I like a thing I know it. The three cost me eighteen hundred dollars, and I paid for them within a week by a turn in the market."

"You were very fortunate," said Littleton, who wished to seem sympathetic.

Meanwhile the two wives had returned to the drawing-room arm in arm, and established themselves on one of those small sofas for two, constructed so that the sitters are face to face. They had taken a strong fancy to each other, especially Flossy to Selma, and in the half hour which followed they made rapid progress toward intimacy. Before they parted each had agreed to call the other by her Christian name, and Selma had confided the story of her divorce. Flossy listened with absorbed interest and murmured at the close:

"Who would have thought it? You look so pure and gentle and refined that a man must have been a brute to treat you like that. But you are happy now, thank goodness. You have a husband worthy of you."

Each had a host of things still unsaid when Littleton and Williams joined them.

"Well, my dear," said Wilbur as they left the house, "that was a sort of Arabian Nights entertainment for us, wasn't it? A little barbaric, but handsome and well intentioned. I hope it didn't shock you too much."

"It struck me as very pleasant, Wilbur. I think I am beginning to understand New York a little better. Every thing costs so much here that it seems necessary to make money, doesn't it? I don't see exactly how poor people get along. Do you know, Mr. Williams wished to bet me a pair of gloves that you buy stocks sometimes."

"He would have lost his bet."

"So I told him at once. But he didn't seem to believe me. I was sure you never did. He appears to be very successful; but I let him see that I knew it was gambling. You consider it gambling, don't you?"

"Not quite so bad as that. Some stock-brokers are gamblers; but the occupation of buying and selling stocks for a commission is a well recognized and fashionable business."

"Mr. Williams thinks that a great many Americans make money in stocks--that we are gamblers as a nation."

"I am, in my heart, of the same opinion."

"Oh, Wilbur. I find you are not so good a patriot as I supposed."

"I hate bunkum."

"What is that?"

"Saying things for effect, and professing virtue which we do not possess."

Selma was silent a moment. "What does champagne cost a bottle?"

"About three dollars and a half."

"Do you really think their house barbaric?"

"It certainly suggests to me heterogeneous barbaric splendor. They bought their upholstery as they did their pictures, with free-handed self-confidence. Occasionally they made a brilliant shot, but oftener they never hit the target at all."

"I think I like brighter colors than you do, Wilbur," mused Selma. "I used to consider things like that as wrong; but I suppose that was because our fathers wished Europe to understand that we disapproved of the luxury of courts and the empty lives of the nobility. But if people here with purpose have money, it would seem sensible to furnish their houses prettily."

"Subject always to the crucifying canons of art," laughed Littleton. "I'm glad you're coming round to my view, Selma. Only I deny the ability of the free-born American, with the overflowing purse, to indulge his newly acquired taste for gorgeous effects without professional assistance."

"I suppose so. I can see that their house is crude, though I do think that they have some handsome things. It must be interesting to walk through shops and say: 'I'll take that,' just because it pleases you."

During her first marriage Selma had found the problem of dollars and cents a simple one. The income of Lewis Babcock was always larger than the demands made upon it, and though she kept house and was familiar with the domestic disbursements, questions of expenditure solved themselves readily. She had never been obliged to ask herself whether they could afford this or that outlay. Her husband had been only too eager to give her anything she desired. Consideration of the cost of things had seemed to her beneath her notice, and as the concern of the providing man rather than the thoughtful American wife and mother. After she had been divorced the difficulty in supplying herself readily with money had been a dismaying incident of her single life. Dismaying because it had seemed to her a limitation unworthy of her aspirations and abilities. She had married Littleton because she believed him her ideal of what a man should be, but she had been glad that he would be able to support her and exempt her from the necessity of asking what things cost.

By the end of their first year and a half of marriage, Selma realized that this necessity still stood, almost like a wolf at the door, between her and the free development of her desires and aspirations. New York prices were appalling; the demands of life in New York still more so. They had started house-keeping on a more elaborate scale than she had been used to in Benham. As Mrs. Babcock she had kept one hired girl; but in her new kitchen there were two servants, in deference to the desire of Littleton, who did not wish her to perform the manual work of the establishment. Men rarely appreciate in advance to the full extent the extra cost of married life, and Littleton, though intending to be prudent, found his bills larger than he had expected. He was able to pay them promptly and without worry, but he was obliged to make evident to Selma that the margin over and above their carefully considered expenses was very small. The task of watching the butcher's book and the provision list, and thinking twice before making any new outlay, was something she had not bargained for. All through her early life as a girl, the question of money had been kept in the background by the simplicity of her surroundings. In her country town at home they had kept no servants. A woman relative had done the work, and she had been free to pursue her mental interests and devote herself to her father. She had thought then that the existence of domestic servants was an act of treason against the institutions of the country by those who kept them. Yet she had accepted, with glee, the hired-girl whom Babcock had provided, satisfying her own democratic scruples by dubbing her "help," and by occasionally offering her a book to read or catechising her as to her moral needs. There is probably no one in the civilized world more proud of the possession of a domestic servant than the American woman who has never had one, and no one more prompt to consign her to the obscurity of the kitchen after a feeble pretence at making her feel at home. Selma was delighted to have two instead of one, and, after beholding Mrs. Williams's trig maids, was eager to see her own arrayed in white caps and black alpaca dresses. Yet, though she had become keen to cultivate the New York manner, and had succeeded in reconciling her conscience to the possession of beautiful things by people with a purpose, it irked her to feel that she was hampered in living up to her new-found faith by the bugbear of a lean purse. She had expected, as Wilbur's wife, to figure quickly and gracefully in the van of New York intellectual and social progress. Instead, she was one among thousands, living in a new and undeveloped locality, unrecognized by the people of whom she read in the newspapers, and without opportunities for displaying her own individuality and talents. It depressed her to see the long lines of houses, street after street, and to think that she was merely a unit, unknown by name, in this great sea of humanity--she, Selma Littleton, free-born American, conscious of virtue and power. This must not be; and she divined clearer and clearer every day that it need not be if she had more money.

It began to be annoying to her that Wilbur's professional progress was not more rapid. To be sure he had warned her that he could not hope to reach the front rank at once; that recognition must be gradual; and that he must needs work slowly in order to do himself justice. She had accepted this chiefly as a manifestation of modesty, not doubting that many orders would be forthcoming, especially now that he had the new stimulus of her love and inspiration. Instead there had been no marked increase in the number of his commissions; moreover he had been unsuccessful in two out of three competitions for minor public buildings for which he had submitted designs. From both the pecuniary and professional point of view these failures had been a disappointment. He was in good spirits and obviously happy, and declared that he was doing as well as he could reasonably expect; yet on his discouraged days he admitted that the cost of retaining his draughtsmen was a drain on the profit side of his ledger.

In contrast with this the prosperity of her neighbors the Williamses was a little hard to bear. The sudden friendship developed into neighborly intimacy, and she and Flossy saw much of each other, dropping in familiarly, and often walking and shopping together. The two men were on sufficiently cordial terms, each being tolerant of the other's limitations, and seeking to recognize his good points for the sake of the bond between their wives. The return dinner was duly given, and Selma, hopeless of imitating the barbaric splendor, sought refuge in the reflection that the aesthetic and intellectual atmosphere of her table would atone for the lack of material magnificence, and limited her efforts to a few minor details such as providing candles with colored shades and some bonbon dishes. It was plain that Flossy admired her because she recognized her to be a fine and superior soul, and the appreciation of this served to make it more easy not to repine at the difference between their entertainments. Still the constant acquisition of pretty things by her frank and engaging friend was an ordeal which only a soul endowed with high, stern democratic faith and purpose could hope to endure with equanimity. Flossy bought new adornments for her house and her person with an amiable lavishness which required no confession to demonstrate that her husband was making money. She made the confession, though, from time to time with a bubbling pride, never suspecting that it could harass or tempt her spiritual looking friend. She prattled artlessly of theatre parties followed by a supper at one of the fashionable restaurants, and of new acquaintances whom she entertained, and through whom her social circle was enlarged, without divining that the sprightly narration was a thorn in the flesh of her hearer. Selma was capricious in her reception of these reports of progress. At times she listened to them with grave, cold eyes, which Flossy took for signals of noble disdain and sought to deprecate by wooing promises to be less worldly. At others she asked questions with a feverish, searching curiosity, which stimulated Mrs. Williams's free and independent style into running commentaries on the current course of social events and the doings and idiosyncracies of contemporary leaders of fashion whom she had viewed from afar. One afternoon Selma saw from her window Flossy and her husband drive jubilantly away in a high cart with yellow wheels drawn by a sleek cob, and at the same moment she became definitely aware that her draught from the cup of life had a bitter taste. Why should these people drive in their own vehicle rather than she? It seemed clear to her that Wilbur could not be making the best use of his talents, and that she had both a grievance against him and a sacred duty to perform in his and her own behalf. Justice and self-respect demanded that their mutual light should no longer be hid under a bushel. _

Read next: Book 2. The Struggle: Chapter 5

Read previous: Book 2. The Struggle: Chapter 3

Table of content of Unleavened Bread


GO TO TOP OF SCREEN

Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book