Theodore Dreiser Jennie Gerhardt; a novel

 
 

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CHAPTER XLI 
But worse was to follow. The American public likes gossip about well-known 
people, and the Kanes were wealthy and socially prominent. The report was 
that Lester, one of its principal heirs, had married a servant girl. He, an heir 
to millions! Could it be possible? What a piquant morsel for the newspapers! 
Very soon the paragraphs began to appear. A small society paper, called the 
South Side Budget, referred to him anonymously as "the son of a famous 
and wealthy carriage manufacturer of Cincinnati," and outlined briefly what 
it knew of the story. "Of Mrs. ——" it went on, sagely, "not so much is 
known, except that she once worked in a well-known Cleveland society 
family as a maid and was, before that, a working-girl in Columbus, Ohio. 
After such a picturesque love-affair in high society, who shall say that 
romance is dead?" 
Lester saw this item. He did not take the paper, but some kind soul took 
good care to see that a copy was marked and mailed to him. It irritated him 
greatly, for he suspected at once that it was a scheme to blackmail him. But 
he did not know exactly what to do about it. He preferred, of course, that 
such comments should cease, but he also thought that if he made any effort 
to have them stopped he might make matters worse. So he did nothing. 
Naturally, the paragraph in the Budget attracted the attention of other 
newspapers. It sounded like a good story, and one Sunday editor, more 
enterprising than the others, conceived the notion of having this romance 
written up. A full-page Sunday story with a scare-head such as "Sacrifices 
Millions for His Servant Girl Love," pictures of Lester, Jennie, the house at 
Hyde Park, the Kane manufactory at Cincinnati, the warehouse on Michigan 
Avenue—certainly, such a display would make a sensation. The Kane 
Company was not an advertiser in any daily or Sunday paper. The 
newspaper owed him nothing. If Lester had been forewarned he might have 
put a stop to the whole business by putting an advertisement in the paper 
or appealing to the publisher. He did not know, however, and so was 
without power to prevent the publication. The editor made a thorough job of 
the business. Local newspaper men in Cincinnati, Cleveland, and Columbus 
were instructed to report by wire whether anything of Jennie's history was 
known in their city. The Bracebridge family in Cleveland was asked whether 
Jennie had ever worked there. A garbled history of the Gerhardts was 
obtained from Columbus. Jennie's residence on the North Side, for several 
years prior to her supposed marriage, was discovered and so the whole story 
was nicely pieced together. It was not the idea of the newspaper editor to be 
cruel or critical, but rather complimentary. All the bitter things, such as the 
probable illegitimacy of Vesta, the suspected immorality of Lester and Jennie 
in residing together as man and wife, the real grounds of the well-known 
objections of his family to the match, were ignored. The idea was to frame 

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up a Romeo and Juliet story in which Lester should appear as an ardent, 
self-sacrificing lover, and Jennie as a poor and lovely working-girl, lifted to 
great financial and social heights by the devotion of her millionaire lover. An 
exceptional newspaper artist was engaged to make scenes depicting the 
various steps of the romance and the whole thing was handled in the most 
approved yellow-journal style. There was a picture of Lester obtained from 
his Cincinnati photographer for a consideration; Jennie had been 
surreptitiously "snapped" by a staff artist while she was out walking. 
And so, apparently out of a clear sky, the story appeared—highly 
complimentary, running over with sugary phrases, but with all the dark, sad 
facts looming up in the background. Jennie did not see it at first. Lester 
came across the page accidentally, and tore it out. He was stunned and 
chagrined beyond words. "To think the damned newspaper would do that to 
a private citizen who was quietly minding his own business!" he thought. He 
went out of the house, the better to conceal his deep inward mortification. 
He avoided the more populous parts of the town, particularly the down-town 
section, and rode far out on Cottage Grove Avenue to the open prairie. He 
wondered, as the trolley-car rumbled along, what his friends were thinking—
Dodge, and Burnham Moore, and Henry Aldrich, and the others. This was a 
smash, indeed. The best he could do was to put a brave face on it and say 
nothing, or else wave it off with an indifferent motion of the hand. One thing 
was sure—he would prevent further comment. He returned to the house 
calmer, his self-poise restored, but he was eager for Monday to come in 
order that he might get in touch with his lawyer, Mr. Watson. But when he 
did see Mr. Watson it was soon agreed between the two men that it would be 
foolish to take any legal action. It was the part of wisdom to let the matter 
drop. "But I won't stand for anything more," concluded Lester. 
"I'll attend to that," said the lawyer, consolingly. 
Lester got up. "It's amazing—this damned country of ours!" he exclaimed. "A 
man with a little money hasn't any more privacy than a public monument." 
"A man with a little money," said Mr. Watson, "is just like a cat with a bell 
around its neck. Every rat knows exactly where it is and what it is doing." 
"That's an apt simile," assented Lester, bitterly. 
Jennie knew nothing of this newspaper story for several days. Lester felt 
that he could not talk it over, and Gerhardt never read the wicked Sunday 
newspapers. Finally, one of Jennie's neighborhood friends, less tactful than 
the others, called her attention to the fact of its appearance by announcing 
that she had seen it. Jennie did not understand at first. "A story about me?" 
she exclaimed. 
"You and Mr. Kane, yes," replied her guest. "Your love romance." 

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Jennie colored swiftly. "Why, I hadn't seen it," she said. "Are you sure it was 
about us?" 
"Why, of course," laughed Mrs. Stendahl. "How could I be mistaken? I have 
the paper over at the house. I'll send Marie over with it when I get back. You 
look very sweet in your picture." 
Jennie winced. 
"I wish you would," she said, weakly. 
She was wondering where they had secured her picture, what the article 
said. Above all, she was dismayed to think of its effect upon Lester. Had he 
seen the article? Why had he not spoken to her about it? 
The neighbor's daughter brought over the paper, and Jennie's heart stood 
still as she glanced at the title-page. There it all was—uncompromising and 
direct. How dreadfully conspicuous the headline—"This Millionaire Fell in 
Love With This Lady's Maid," which ran between a picture of Lester on the 
left and Jennie on the right. There was an additional caption which 
explained how Lester, son of the famous carriage family of Cincinnati, had 
sacrificed great social opportunity and distinction to marry his heart's 
desire. Below were scattered a number of other pictures—Lester addressing 
Jennie in the mansion of Mrs. Bracebridge, Lester standing with her before 
an imposing and conventional-looking parson, Lester driving with her in a 
handsome victoria, Jennie standing beside the window of an imposing 
mansion (the fact that it was a mansion being indicated by most 
sumptuous-looking hangings) and gazing out on a very modest working-
man's cottage pictured in the distance. Jennie felt as though she must die 
for very shame. She did not so much mind what it meant to her, but Lester, 
Lester, how must he feel? And his family? Now they would have another 
club with which to strike him and her. She tried to keep calm about it, to 
exert emotional control, but again the tears would rise, only this time they 
were tears of opposition to defeat. She did not want to be hounded this way. 
She wanted to be let alone. She was trying to do right now. Why couldn't the 
world help her, instead of seeking to push her down?