Chapter XXXIII

by Theodore Dreiser

　　WITHOUT THE WALLED CITY--THE SLOPE OF THE YEARSThe immediate result of this was nothing. Results from suchthings are usually long in growing. Morning brings a change offeeling. The existent condition invariably pleads for itself.It is only at odd moments that we get glimpses of the misery ofthings. The heart understands when it is confronted withcontrasts. Take them away and the ache subsides.Carrie went on, leading much this same life for six monthsthereafter or more. She did not see Ames any more. He calledonce upon the Vances, but she only heard about it through theyoung wife. Then he went West, and there was a gradualsubsidence of whatever personal attraction had existed. Themental effect of the thing had not gone, however, and never wouldentirely. She had an ideal to contrast men by--particularly menclose to her.During all this time--a period rapidly approaching three years--Hurstwood had been moving along in an even path. There was noapparent slope downward, and distinctly none upward, so far asthe casual observer might have seen. But psychologically therewas a change, which was marked enough to suggest the future verydistinctly indeed. This was in the mere matter of the halt hiscareer had received when he departed from Chicago. A man'sfortune or material progress is very much the same as his bodilygrowth. Either he is growing stronger, healthier, wiser, as theyouth approaching manhood, or he is growing weaker, older, lessincisive mentally, as the man approaching old age. There are noother states. Frequently there is a period between the cessationof youthful accretion and the setting in, in the case of themiddle-aged man, of the tendency toward decay when the twoprocesses are almost perfectly balanced and there is little doingin either direction. Given time enough, however, the balancebecomes a sagging to the grave side. Slowly at first, then witha modest momentum, and at last the graveward process is in thefull swing. So it is frequently with man's fortune. If itsprocess of accretion is never halted, if the balancing stage isnever reached, there will be no toppling. Rich men are,frequently, in these days, saved from this dissolution of theirfortune by their ability to hire younger brains. These youngerbrains look upon the interests of the fortune as their own, andso steady and direct its progress. If each individual were leftabsolutely to the care of his own interests, and were given timeenough in which to grow exceedingly old, his fortune would passas his strength and will. He and his would be utterly dissolvedand scattered unto the four winds of the heavens.But now see wherein the parallel changes. A fortune, like a man,is an organism which draws to itself other minds and otherstrength than that inherent in the founder. Beside the youngminds drawn to it by salaries, it becomes allied with youngforces, which make for its existence even when the strength andwisdom of the founder are fading. It may be conserved by thegrowth of a community or of a state. It may be involved inproviding something for which there is a growing demand. Thisremoves it at once beyond the special care of the founder. Itneeds not so much foresight now as direction. The man wanes, theneed continues or grows, and the fortune, fallen into whose handsit may, continues. Hence, some men never recognise the turningin the tide of their abilities. It is only in chance cases,where a fortune or a state of success is wrested from them, thatthe lack of ability to do as they did formerly becomes apparent.Hurstwood, set down under new conditions, was in a position tosee that he was no longer young. If he did not, it was duewholly to the fact that his state was so well balanced that anabsolute change for the worse did not show.Not trained to reason or introspect himself, he could not analysethe change that was taking place in his mind, and hence his body,but he felt the depression of it. Constant comparison betweenhis old state and his new showed a balance for the worse, whichproduced a constant state of gloom or, at least, depression.Now, it has been shown experimentally that a constantly subduedframe of mind produces certain poisons in the blood, calledkatastates, just as virtuous feelings of pleasure and delightproduce helpful chemicals called anastates. The poisonsgenerated by remorse inveigh against the system, and eventuallyproduce marked physical deterioration. To these Hurstwood wassubject.In the course of time it told upon his temper. His eye no longerpossessed that buoyant, searching shrewdness which hadcharacterised it in Adams Street. His step was not as sharp andfirm. He was given to thinking, thinking, thinking. The newfriends he made were not celebrities. They were of a cheaper, aslightly more sensual and cruder, grade. He could not possiblytake the pleasure in this company that he had in that of thosefine frequenters of the Chicago resort. He was left to brood.Slowly, exceedingly slowly, his desire to greet, conciliate, andmake at home these people who visited the Warren Street placepassed from him. More and more slowly the significance of therealm he had left began to be clear. It did not seem sowonderful to be in it when he was in it. It had seemed very easyfor any one to get up there and have ample raiment and money tospend, but now that he was out of it, how far off it became. Hebegan to see as one sees a city with a wall about it. Men wereposted at the gates. You could not get in. Those inside did notcare to come out to see who you were. They were so merry insidethere that all those outside were forgotten, and he was on theoutside.Each day he could read in the evening papers of the doings withinthis walled city. In the notices of passengers for Europe heread the names of eminent frequenters of his old resort. In thetheatrical column appeared, from time to time, announcements ofthe latest successes of men he had known. He knew that they wereat their old gayeties. Pullmans were hauling them to and froabout the land, papers were greeting them with interestingmentions, the elegant lobbies of hotels and the glow of polisheddining-rooms were keeping them close within the walled city. Menwhom he had known, men whom he had tipped glasses with--rich men,and he was forgotten! Who was Mr. Wheeler? What was the WarrenStreet resort? Bah!If one thinks that such thoughts do not come to so common a typeof mind--that such feelings require a higher mental development--I would urge for their consideration the fact that it is thehigher mental development that does away with such thoughts. Itis the higher mental development which induces philosophy andthat fortitude which refuses to dwell upon such things--refusesto be made to suffer by their consideration. The common type ofmind is exceedingly keen on all matters which relate to itsphysical welfare--exceedingly keen. It is the unintellectualmiser who sweats blood at the loss of a hundred dollars. It isthe Epictetus who smiles when the last vestige of physicalwelfare is removed.The time came, in the third year, when this thinking began toproduce results in the Warren Street place. The tide ofpatronage dropped a little below what it had been at its bestsince he had been there. This irritated and worried him.There came a night when he confessed to Carrie that the businesswas not doing as well this month as it had the month before.This was in lieu of certain suggestions she had made concerninglittle things she wanted to buy. She had not failed to noticethat he did not seem to consult her about buying clothes forhimself. For the first time, it struck her as a ruse, or that hesaid it so that she would not think of asking for things. Herreply was mild enough, but her thoughts were rebellious. He wasnot looking after her at all. She was depending for herenjoyment upon the Vances.And now the latter announced that they were going away. It wasapproaching spring, and they were going North."Oh, yes," said Mrs. Vance to Carrie, "we think we might as wellgive up the flat and store our things. We'll be gone for thesummer, and it would be a useless expense. I think we'll settlea little farther down town when we come back."Carrie heard this with genuine sorrow. She had enjoyed Mrs.Vance's companionship so much. There was no one else in thehouse whom she knew. Again she would be all alone.Hurstwood's gloom over the slight decrease in profits and thedeparture of the Vances came together. So Carrie had lonelinessand this mood of her husband to enjoy at the same time. It was agrievous thing. She became restless and dissatisfied, notexactly, as she thought, with Hurstwood, but with life. What wasit? A very dull round indeed. What did she have? Nothing butthis narrow, little flat. The Vances could travel, they could dothe things worth doing, and here she was. For what was she made,anyhow? More thought followed, and then tears--tears seemedjustified, and the only relief in the world.For another period this state continued, the twain leading arather monotonous life, and then there was a slight change forthe worse. One evening, Hurstwood, after thinking about a way tomodify Carrie's desire for clothes and the general strain uponhis ability to provide, said:"I don't think I'll ever be able to do much with Shaughnessy.""What's the matter?" said Carrie."Oh, he's a slow, greedy 'mick'! He won't agree to anything toimprove the place, and it won't ever pay without it.""Can't you make him?" said Carrie."No; I've tried. The only thing I can see, if I want to improve,is to get hold of a place of my own.""Why don't you?" said Carrie."Well, all I have is tied up in there just now. If I had achance to save a while I think I could open a place that wouldgive us plenty of money.""Can't we save?" said Carrie."We might try it," he suggested. "I've been thinking that ifwe'd take a smaller flat down town and live economically for ayear, I would have enough, with what I have invested, to open agood place. Then we could arrange to live as you want to.""It would suit me all right," said Carrie, who, nevertheless,felt badly to think it had come to this. Talk of a smaller flatsounded like poverty."There are lots of nice little flats down around Sixth Avenue,below Fourteenth Street. We might get one down there.""I'll look at them if you say so," said Carrie."I think I could break away from this fellow inside of a year,"said Hurstwood. "Nothing will ever come of this arrangement asit's going on now.""I'll look around," said Carrie, observing that the proposedchange seemed to be a serious thing with him.The upshot of this was that the change was eventually effected;not without great gloom on the part of Carrie. It reallyaffected her more seriously than anything that had yet happened.She began to look upon Hurstwood wholly as a man, and not as alover or husband. She felt thoroughly bound to him as a wife,and that her lot was cast with his, whatever it might be; but shebegan to see that he was gloomy and taciturn, not a young,strong, and buoyant man. He looked a little bit old to her aboutthe eyes and mouth now, and there were other things which placedhim in his true rank, so far as her estimation was concerned.She began to feel that she had made a mistake. Incidentally, shealso began to recall the fact that he had practically forced herto flee with him.The new flat was located in Thirteenth Street, a half block westof Sixth Avenue, and contained only four rooms. The newneighbourhood did not appeal to Carrie as much. There were notrees here, no west view of the river. The street was solidlybuilt up. There were twelve families here, respectable enough,but nothing like the Vances. Richer people required more space.Being left alone in this little place, Carrie did without a girl.She made it charming enough, but could not make it delight her.Hurstwood was not inwardly pleased to think that they should haveto modify their state, but he argued that he could do nothing.He must put the best face on it, and let it go at that.He tried to show Carrie that there was no cause for financialalarm, but only congratulation over the chance he would have atthe end of the year by taking her rather more frequently to thetheatre and by providing a liberal table. This was for the timeonly. He was getting in the frame of mind where he wantedprincipally to be alone and to be allowed to think. The diseaseof brooding was beginning to claim him as a victim. Only thenewspapers and his own thoughts were worth while. The delight oflove had again slipped away. It was a case of live, now, makingthe best you can out of a very commonplace station in life.The road downward has but few landings and level places. Thevery state of his mind, superinduced by his condition, caused thebreach to widen between him and his partner. At last thatindividual began to wish that Hurstwood was out of it. It sohappened, however, that a real estate deal on the part of theowner of the land arranged things even more effectually than ill-will could have schemed."Did you see that?" said Shaughnessy one morning to Hurstwood,pointing to the real estate column in a copy of the "Herald,"which he held."No, what is it?" said Hurstwood, looking down the items of news."The man who owns this ground has sold it.""You don't say so?" said Hurstwood.He looked, and there was the notice. Mr. August Viele hadyesterday registered the transfer of the lot, 25 x 75 feet, atthe corner of Warren and Hudson Streets, to J. F. Slawson for thesum of $57,000."Our lease expires when?" asked Hurstwood, thinking. "NextFebruary, isn't it?""That's right," said Shaughnessy."It doesn't say what the new man's going to do with it," remarkedHurstwood, looking back to the paper."We'll hear, I guess, soon enough," said Shaughnessy.Sure enough, it did develop. Mr. Slawson owned the propertyadjoining, and was going to put up a modern office building. Thepresent one was to be torn down. It would take probably a yearand a half to complete the other one.All these things developed by degrees, and Hurstwood began toponder over what would become of the saloon. One day he spokeabout it to his partner."Do you think it would be worth while to open up somewhere elsein the neighbourhood?""What would be the use?" said Shaughnessy. "We couldn't getanother corner around here.""It wouldn't pay anywhere else, do you think?""I wouldn't try it," said the other.The approaching change now took on a most serious aspect toHurstwood. Dissolution meant the loss of his thousand dollars,and he could not save another thousand in the time. Heunderstood that Shaughnessy was merely tired of the arrangement,and would probably lease the new corner, when completed, alone.He began to worry about the necessity of a new connection and tosee impending serious financial straits unless something turnedup. This left him in no mood to enjoy his flat or Carrie, andconsequently the depression invaded that quarter.Meanwhile, he took such time as he could to look about, butopportunities were not numerous. More, he had not the sameimpressive personality which he had when he first came to NewYork. Bad thoughts had put a shade into his eyes which did notimpress others favourably. Neither had he thirteen hundreddollars in hand to talk with. About a month later, finding thathe had not made any progress, Shaughnessy reported definitelythat Slawson would not extend the lease."I guess this thing's got to come to an end," he said, affectingan air of concern."Well, if it has, it has," answered Hurstwood, grimly. He wouldnot give the other a key to his opinions, whatever they were. Heshould not have the satisfaction.A day or two later he saw that he must say something to Carrie."You know," he said, "I think I'm going to get the worst of mydeal down there.""How is that?" asked Carrie in astonishment."Well, the man who owns the ground has sold it. and the newowner won't release it to us. The business may come to an end.""Can't you start somewhere else?""There doesn't seem to be any place. Shaughnessy doesn't wantto.""Do you lose what you put in?""Yes," said Hurstwood, whose face was a study."Oh, isn't that too bad?" said Carrie."It's a trick," said Hurstwood. "That's all. They'll startanother place there all right."Carrie looked at him, and gathered from his whole demeanour whatit meant. It was serious, very serious."Do you think you can get something else?" she ventured, timidly.Hurstwood thought a while. It was all up with the bluff aboutmoney and investment. She could see now that he was "broke.""I don't know," he said solemnly; "I can try."