The Financier a novel by Theodore Dreiser

 
 

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Chapter XXI 
The vagaries of passion! Subtleties! Risks! What sacrifices are not laid 
willfully upon its altar! In a little while this more than average residence to 
which Cowperwood had referred was prepared solely to effect a satisfactory 
method of concealment. The house was governed by a seemingly recently-
bereaved widow, and it was possible for Aileen to call without seeming 
strangely out of place. In such surroundings, and under such 
circumstances, it was not difficult to persuade her to give herself wholly to 
her lover, governed as she was by her wild and unreasoning affection and 
passion. In a way, there was a saving element of love, for truly, above all 
others, she wanted this man. She had no thought or feeling toward any 
other. All her mind ran toward visions of the future, when, somehow, she 
and he might be together for all time. Mrs. Cowperwood might die, or he 
might run away with her at thirty-five when he had a million. Some 
adjustment would be made, somehow. Nature had given her this man. She 
relied on him implicitly. When he told her that he would take care of her so 
that nothing evil should befall, she believed him fully. Such sins are the 
commonplaces of the confessional. 
It is a curious fact that by some subtlety of logic in the Christian world, it 
has come to be believed that there can be no love outside the conventional 
process of courtship and marriage. One life, one love, is the Christian idea, 
and into this sluice or mold it has been endeavoring to compress the whole 
world. Pagan thought held no such belief. A writing of divorce for trivial 
causes was the theory of the elders; and in the primeval world nature 
apparently holds no scheme for the unity of two beyond the temporary care 
of the young. That the modern home is the most beautiful of schemes, when 
based upon mutual sympathy and understanding between two, need not be 
questioned. And yet this fact should not necessarily carry with it a 
condemnation of all love not so fortunate as to find so happy a denouement. 
Life cannot be put into any mold, and the attempt might as well be 
abandoned at once. Those so fortunate as to find harmonious 
companionship for life should congratulate themselves and strive to be 
worthy of it. Those not so blessed, though they be written down as pariahs, 
have yet some justification. And, besides, whether we will or not, theory or 
no theory, the basic facts of chemistry and physics remain. Like is drawn to 
like. Changes in temperament bring changes in relationship. Dogma may 
bind some minds; fear, others. But there are always those in whom the 
chemistry and physics of life are large, and in whom neither dogma nor fear 
is operative. Society lifts its hands in horror; but from age to age the Helens, 
the Messalinas, the Du Barrys, the Pompadours, the Maintenons, and the 
Nell Gwyns flourish and point a freer basis of relationship than we have yet 
been able to square with our lives. 

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These two felt unutterably bound to each other. Cowperwood, once he came 
to understand her, fancied that he had found the one person with whom he 
could live happily the rest of his life. She was so young, so confident, so 
hopeful, so undismayed. All these months since they had first begun to 
reach out to each other he had been hourly contrasting her with his wife. As 
a matter of fact, his dissatisfaction, though it may be said to have been faint 
up to this time, was now surely tending to become real enough. Still, his 
children were pleasing to him; his home beautiful. Lillian, phlegmatic and 
now thin, was still not homely. All these years he had found her satisfactory 
enough; but now his dissatisfaction with her began to increase. She was not 
like Aileen—not young, not vivid, not as unschooled in the commonplaces of 
life. And while ordinarily, he was not one who was inclined to be querulous, 
still now on occasion, he could be. He began by asking questions concerning 
his wife's appearance—irritating little whys which are so trivial and yet so 
exasperating and discouraging to a woman. Why didn't she get a mauve hat 
nearer the shade of her dress? Why didn't she go out more? Exercise would 
do her good. Why didn't she do this, and why didn't she do that? He scarcely 
noticed that he was doing this; but she did, and she felt the undertone—the 
real significance—and took umbrage. 
"Oh, why—why?" she retorted, one day, curtly. "Why do you ask so many 
questions? You don't care so much for me any more; that's why. I can tell." 
He leaned back startled by the thrust. It had not been based on any 
evidence of anything save his recent remarks; but he was not absolutely 
sure. He was just the least bit sorry that he had irritated her, and he said 
so. 
"Oh, it's all right," she replied. "I don't care. But I notice that you don't pay 
as much attention to me as you used to. It's your business now, first, last, 
and all the time. You can't get your mind off of that." 
He breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't suspect, then. 
But after a little time, as he grew more and more in sympathy with Aileen, 
he was not so disturbed as to whether his wife might suspect or not. He 
began to think on occasion, as his mind followed the various ramifications of 
the situation, that it would be better if she did. She was really not of the 
contentious fighting sort. He now decided because of various calculations in 
regard to her character that she might not offer as much resistance to some 
ultimate rearrangement, as he had originally imagined. She might even 
divorce him. Desire, dreams, even in him were evoking calculations not as 
sound as those which ordinarily generated in his brain. 
No, as he now said to himself, the rub was not nearly so much in his own 
home, as it was in the Butler family. His relations with Edward Malia Butler 

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had become very intimate. He was now advising with him constantly in 
regard to the handling of his securities, which were numerous. Butler held 
stocks in such things as the Pennsylvania Coal Company, the Delaware and 
Hudson Canal, the Morris and Essex Canal, the Reading Railroad. As the 
old gentleman's mind had broadened to the significance of the local street-
railway problem in Philadelphia, he had decided to close out his other 
securities at such advantageous terms as he could, and reinvest the money 
in local lines. He knew that Mollenhauer and Simpson were doing this, and 
they were excellent judges of the significance of local affairs. Like 
Cowperwood, he had the idea that if he controlled sufficient of the local 
situation in this field, he could at last effect a joint relationship with 
Mollenhauer and Simpson. Political legislation, advantageous to the 
combined lines, could then be so easily secured. Franchises and necessary 
extensions to existing franchises could be added. This conversion of his 
outstanding stock in other fields, and the picking up of odd lots in the local 
street-railway, was the business of Cowperwood. Butler, through his sons, 
Owen and Callum, was also busy planning a new line and obtaining a 
franchise, sacrificing, of course, great blocks of stock and actual cash to 
others, in order to obtain sufficient influence to have the necessary 
legislation passed. Yet it was no easy matter, seeing that others knew what 
the general advantages of the situation were, and because of this 
Cowperwood, who saw the great source of profit here, was able, betimes, to 
serve himself—buying blocks, a part of which only went to Butler, 
Mollenhauer or others. In short he was not as eager to serve Butler, or any 
one else, as he was to serve himself if he could. 
In this connection, the scheme which George W. Stener had brought 
forward, representing actually in the background Strobik, Wycroft, and 
Harmon, was an opening wedge for himself. Stener's plan was to loan him 
money out of the city treasury at two per cent., or, if he would waive all 
commissions, for nothing (an agent for self-protective purposes was 
absolutely necessary), and with it take over the North Pennsylvania 
Company's line on Front Street, which, because of the shortness of its 
length, one mile and a half, and the brevity of the duration of its franchise, 
was neither doing very well nor being rated very high. Cowperwood in return 
for his manipulative skill was to have a fair proportion of the stock—twenty 
per cent. Strobik and Wycroft knew the parties from whom the bulk of the 
stock could be secured if engineered properly. Their plan was then, with this 
borrowed treasury money, to extend its franchise and then the line itself, 
and then later again, by issuing a great block of stock and hypothecating it 
with a favored bank, be able to return the principal to the city treasury and 
pocket their profits from the line as earned. There was no trouble in this, in 
so far as Cowperwood was concerned, except that it divided the stock very 

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badly among these various individuals, and left him but a comparatively 
small share—for his thought and pains. 
But Cowperwood was an opportunist. And by this time his financial morality 
had become special and local in its character. He did not think it was wise 
for any one to steal anything from anybody where the act of taking or 
profiting was directly and plainly considered stealing. That was unwise—
dangerous—hence wrong. There were so many situations wherein what one 
might do in the way of taking or profiting was open to discussion and doubt. 
Morality varied, in his mind at least, with conditions, if not climates. Here, 
in Philadelphia, the tradition (politically, mind you—not generally) was that 
the city treasurer might use the money of the city without interest so long as 
he returned the principal intact. The city treasury and the city treasurer 
were like a honey-laden hive and a queen bee around which the drones—the 
politicians—swarmed in the hope of profit. The one disagreeable thing in 
connection with this transaction with Stener was that neither Butler, 
Mollenhauer nor Simpson, who were the actual superiors of Stener and 
Strobik, knew anything about it. Stener and those behind him were, through 
him, acting for themselves. If the larger powers heard of this, it might 
alienate them. He had to think of this. Still, if he refused to make 
advantageous deals with Stener or any other man influential in local affairs, 
he was cutting off his nose to spite his face, for other bankers and brokers 
would, and gladly. And besides it was not at all certain that Butler, 
Mollenhauer, and Simpson would ever hear. 
In this connection, there was another line, which he rode on occasionally, 
the Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street line, which he felt was a much more 
interesting thing for him to think about, if he could raise the money. It had 
been originally capitalized for five hundred thousand dollars; but there had 
been a series of bonds to the value of two hundred and fifty thousand 
dollars added for improvements, and the company was finding great 
difficulty in meeting the interest. The bulk of the stock was scattered about 
among small investors, and it would require all of two hundred and fifty 
thousand dollars to collect it and have himself elected president or chairman 
of the board of directors. Once in, however, he could vote this stock as he 
pleased, hypothecating it meanwhile at his father's bank for as much as he 
could get, and issuing more stocks with which to bribe legislators in the 
matter of extending the line, and in taking up other opportunities to either 
add to it by purchase or supplement it by working agreements. The word 
"bribe" is used here in this matter-of-fact American way, because bribery 
was what was in every one's mind in connection with the State legislature. 
Terrence Relihan—the small, dark-faced Irishman, a dandy in dress and 
manners—who represented the financial interests at Harrisburg, and who 
had come to Cowperwood after the five million bond deal had been printed, 

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had told him that nothing could be done at the capital without money, or its 
equivalent, negotiable securities. Each significant legislator, if he yielded his 
vote or his influence, must be looked after. If he, Cowperwood, had any 
scheme which he wanted handled at any time, Relihan had intimated to him 
that he would be glad to talk with him. Cowperwood had figured on this 
Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street line scheme more than once, but he had 
never felt quite sure that he was willing to undertake it. His obligations in 
other directions were so large. But the lure was there, and he pondered and 
pondered. 
Stener's scheme of loaning him money wherewith to manipulate the North 
Pennsylvania line deal put this Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street dream in 
a more favorable light. As it was he was constantly watching the certificates 
of loan issue, for the city treasury,—buying large quantities when the 
market was falling to protect it and selling heavily, though cautiously, when 
he saw it rising and to do this he had to have a great deal of free money to 
permit him to do it. He was constantly fearful of some break in the market 
which would affect the value of all his securities and result in the calling of 
his loans. There was no storm in sight. He did not see that anything could 
happen in reason; but he did not want to spread himself out too thin. As he 
saw it now, therefore if he took one hundred and fifty thousand dollars of 
this city money and went after this Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street 
matter it would not mean that he was spreading himself out too thin, for 
because of this new proposition could he not call on Stener for more as a 
loan in connection with these other ventures? But if anything should 
happen—well— 
"Frank," said Stener, strolling into his office one afternoon after four o'clock 
when the main rush of the day's work was over—the relationship between 
Cowperwood and Stener had long since reached the "Frank" and "George" 
period—"Strobik thinks he has that North Pennsylvania deal arranged so 
that we can take it up if we want to. The principal stockholder, we find, is a 
man by the name of Coltan—not Ike Colton, but Ferdinand. How's that for a 
name?" Stener beamed fatly and genially. 
Things had changed considerably for him since the days when he had been 
fortuitously and almost indifferently made city treasurer. His method of 
dressing had so much improved since he had been inducted into office, and 
his manner expressed so much more good feeling, confidence, aplomb, that 
he would not have recognized himself if he had been permitted to see 
himself as had those who had known him before. An old, nervous shifting of 
the eyes had almost ceased, and a feeling of restfulness, which had 
previously been restlessness, and had sprung from a sense of necessity, had 
taken its place. His large feet were incased in good, square-toed, soft-leather 
shoes; his stocky chest and fat legs were made somewhat agreeable to the 

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eye by a well-cut suit of brownish-gray cloth; and his neck was now 
surrounded by a low, wing-point white collar and brown-silk tie. His ample 
chest, which spread out a little lower in around and constantly enlarging 
stomach, was ornamented by a heavy-link gold chain, and his white cuffs 
had large gold cuff-buttons set with rubies of a very notable size. He was 
rosy and decidedly well fed. In fact, he was doing very well indeed. 
He had moved his family from a shabby two-story frame house in South 
Ninth Street to a very comfortable brick one three stories in height, and 
three times as large, on Spring Garden Street. His wife had a few 
acquaintances—the wives of other politicians. His children were attending 
the high school, a thing he had hardly hoped for in earlier days. He was now 
the owner of fourteen or fifteen pieces of cheap real estate in different 
portions of the city, which might eventually become very valuable, and he 
was a silent partner in the South Philadelphia Foundry Company and the 
American Beef and Pork Company, two corporations on paper whose 
principal business was subletting contracts secured from the city to the 
humble butchers and foundrymen who would carry out orders as given and 
not talk too much or ask questions. 
"Well, that is an odd name," said Cowperwood, blandly. "So he has it? I 
never thought that road would pay, as it was laid out. It's too short. It ought 
to run about three miles farther out into the Kensington section." 
"You're right," said Stener, dully. 
"Did Strobik say what Colton wants for his shares?" 
"Sixty-eight, I think." 
"The current market rate. He doesn't want much, does he? Well, George, at 
that rate it will take about"—he calculated quickly on the basis of the 
number of shares Cotton was holding—"one hundred and twenty thousand 
to get him out alone. That isn't all. There's Judge Kitchen and Joseph 
Zimmerman and Senator Donovan"—he was referring to the State senator of 
that name. "You'll be paying a pretty fair price for that stud when you get it. 
It will cost considerable more to extend the line. It's too much, I think." 
Cowperwood was thinking how easy it would be to combine this line with his 
dreamed-of Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street line, and after a time and 
with this in view he added: 
"Say, George, why do you work all your schemes through Strobik and 
Harmon and Wycroft? Couldn't you and I manage some of these things for 
ourselves alone instead of for three or four? It seems to me that plan would 
be much more profitable to you." 

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"It would, it would!" exclaimed Stener, his round eyes fixed on Cowperwood 
in a rather helpless, appealing way. He liked Cowperwood and had always 
been hoping that mentally as well as financially he could get close to him. 
"I've thought of that. But these fellows have had more experience in these 
matters than I have had, Frank. They've been longer at the game. I don't 
know as much about these things as they do." 
Cowperwood smiled in his soul, though his face remained passive. 
"Don't worry about them, George," he continued genially and confidentially. 
"You and I together can know and do as much as they ever could and more. 
I'm telling you. Take this railroad deal you're in on now, George; you and I 
could manipulate that just as well and better than it can be done with 
Wycroft, Strobik, and Harmon in on it. They're not adding anything to the 
wisdom of the situation. They're not putting up any money. You're doing 
that. All they're doing is agreeing to see it through the legislature and the 
council, and as far as the legislature is concerned, they can't do any more 
with that than any one else could—than I could, for instance. It's all a 
question of arranging things with Relihan, anyhow, putting up a certain 
amount of money for him to work with. Here in town there are other people 
who can reach the council just as well as Strobik." He was thinking (once he 
controlled a road of his own) of conferring with Butler and getting him to use 
his influence. It would serve to quiet Strobik and his friends. "I'm not asking 
you to change your plans on this North Pennsylvania deal. You couldn't do 
that very well. But there are other things. In the future why not let's see if 
you and I can't work some one thing together? You'll be much better off, and 
so will I. We've done pretty well on the city-loan proposition so far, haven't 
we?" 
The truth was, they had done exceedingly well. Aside from what the higher 
powers had made, Stener's new house, his lots, his bank-account, his good 
clothes, and his changed and comfortable sense of life were largely due to 
Cowperwood's successful manipulation of these city-loan certificates. 
Already there had been four issues of two hundred thousand dollars each. 
Cowperwood had bought and sold nearly three million dollars' worth of 
these certificates, acting one time as a "bull" and another as a "bear." Stener 
was now worth all of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. 
"There's a line that I know of here in the city which could be made into a 
splendidly paying property," continued Cowperwood, meditatively, "if the 
right things could be done with it. Just like this North Pennsylvania line, it 
isn't long enough. The territory it serves isn't big enough. It ought to be 
extended; but if you and I could get it, it might eventually be worked with 
this North Pennsylvania Company or some other as one company. That 

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would save officers and offices and a lot of things. There is always money to 
be made out of a larger purchasing power." 
He paused and looked out the window of his handsome little hardwood 
office, speculating upon the future. The window gave nowhere save into a 
back yard behind another office building which had formerly been a 
residence. Some grass grew feebly there. The red wall and old-fashioned 
brick fence which divided it from the next lot reminded him somehow of his 
old home in New Market Street, to which his Uncle Seneca used to come as 
a Cuban trader followed by his black Portuguese servitor. He could see him 
now as he sat here looking at the yard. 
"Well," asked Stener, ambitiously, taking the bait, "why don't we get hold of 
that—you and me? I suppose I could fix it so far as the money is concerned. 
How much would it take?" 
Cowperwood smiled inwardly again. 
"I don't know exactly," he said, after a time. "I want to look into it more 
carefully. The one trouble is that I'm carrying a good deal of the city's money 
as it is. You see, I have that two hundred thousand dollars against your city-
loan deals. And this new scheme will take two or three hundred thousand 
more. If that were out of the way—" 
He was thinking of one of the inexplicable stock panics—those strange 
American depressions which had so much to do with the temperament of 
the people, and so little to do with the basic conditions of the country. "If 
this North Pennsylvania deal were through and done with—" 
He rubbed his chin and pulled at his handsome silky mustache. 
"Don't ask me any more about it, George," he said, finally, as he saw that 
the latter was beginning to think as to which line it might be. "Don't say 
anything at all about it. I want to get my facts exactly right, and then I'll talk 
to you. I think you and I can do this thing a little later, when we get the 
North Pennsylvania scheme under way. I'm so rushed just now I'm not sure 
that I want to undertake it at once; but you keep quiet and we'll see." He 
turned toward his desk, and Stener got up. 
"I'll make any sized deposit with you that you wish, the moment you think 
you're ready to act, Frank," exclaimed Stener, and with the thought that 
Cowperwood was not nearly as anxious to do this as he should be, since he 
could always rely on him (Stener) when there was anything really profitable 
in the offing. Why should not the able and wonderful Cowperwood be 
allowed to make the two of them rich? "Just notify Stires, and he'll send you 
a check. Strobik thought we ought to act pretty soon." 

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"I'll tend to it, George," replied Cowperwood, confidently. "It will come out all 
right. Leave it to me." 
Stener kicked his stout legs to straighten his trousers, and extended his 
hand. He strolled out in the street thinking of this new scheme. Certainly, if 
he could get in with Cowperwood right he would be a rich man, for 
Cowperwood was so successful and so cautious. His new house, this 
beautiful banking office, his growing fame, and his subtle connections with 
Butler and others put Stener in considerable awe of him. Another line! They 
would control it and the North Pennsylvania! Why, if this went on, he might 
become a magnate—he really might—he, George W. Stener, once a cheap 
real-estate and insurance agent. He strolled up the street thinking, but with 
no more idea of the importance of his civic duties and the nature of the 
social ethics against which he was offending than if they had never existed.