Финансист / The Financier

Chapter XI

Frank's chance came, when a call for a loan of twenty-three million dollars was authorized by the legislature and issued. There was great talk as to who was to handle it. Cowperwood pondered over this. If he could handle a fraction of this great loan now—he could not possibly handle the whole of it, for he had not the necessary connections—he could add considerably to his reputation as a broker. How much could he handle? That was the question. Who would take portions of it? His father's bank? Probably. Waterman & Co.? A little. Judge Kitchen? A small fraction. The Mills-David Company? Yes. He thought of different individuals and concerns. He totaled up his possibilities, and discovered that he could dispose of one million dollars if personal influence, through local political figures, could bring this much of the loan his way.

One man in particular had grown strong in his estimation as having some political connection not visible on the surface, and this was Edward Malia Butler^[43]. Butler was a contractor, undertaking the construction of sewers, water-mains, foundations for buildings, street-paving, and so on. Edward Butler had begun by collecting and hauling away the garbage free of charge, and feeding it to his pigs and cattle. Later he discovered that some people were willing to pay a small charge for this service. Then a local political character saw a new point in the whole thing. Butler could be made official garbage-collector.

Butler hired a young man, a smart Irish boy of his neighborhood, Jimmy Sheehan^[44], to be his assistant, superintendent, stableman, and bookkeeper. Since he soon began to make between four and five thousand a year.

Curiously Butler had developed a strange political wisdom. He knew a successful man when he saw one. So many of his bookkeepers, superintendents, time-keepers had graduated into councilmen and state legislators. Mysterious forces worked for him in council. He was awarded significant contracts. The garbage business was now a thing of the past. His eldest boy, Owen, was a member of the State legislature and a partner in his business affairs. His second son, Callum, was a clerk in the city water department and an assistant to his father also. Aileen, his eldest daughter, fifteen years of age, was still studying at school. Norah, his second daughter and youngest child, thirteen years old, was in attendance at a local private school.

He had been one of the first to become interested in the development of the street-car system and had come to the conclusion, as had Cowperwood and many others, that it was going to be a great thing. So he was looking for some reliable young man, honest and capable, who would work under his direction and do what he said. Then he learned of Cowperwood, and one day sent for him and asked him to call at his house.

Cowperwood responded quickly, for he knew of Butler, his rise, his connections, his force. A trim Irish maid came to the door and Cowperwood gave her his card and was invited into the house.

In a little while he was asked to come upstairs, where he found Butler in a commercial-looking room. It had a desk, an office chair, some leather furnishings, and a bookcase.

“Mr. Cowperwood?” inquired Butler. He was a slow-moving man, solemn and deliberate.

“I'm that man.”

“I have a little matter of stocks to talk over with you, and I thought you'd better come here rather than that I should come down to your office. We can be more private-like, and, besides, I'm not as young as I used to be.”

Cowperwood smiled.

“Well, I hope I can be of service to you,” he said, genially.

“I happen to be interested just at present in picking up certain street-railway stocks on 'change. Won't you have something to drink? It's a cold morning.”

“No, thanks; I never drink.”

“Never? That's a hard word when it comes to whisky. Well, it's a good rule. To tell you the truth, I'm more interested in finding some clever young fellow like yourself through whom I can work. One thing leads to another, you know, in this world.” And he looked at his visitor.

“Quite so,” replied Cowperwood, with a friendly gleam in return.

“Well,” Butler meditated, half to himself, half to Cowperwood, “there are a number of things that a bright young man could do for me. I have two bright boys of my own, but I don't want them to become stock-gamblers, and I don't know that they would or could if I wanted them to. But this isn't a matter of stock-gambling. That young man might handle a number of little things—investments and loans—which might bring us each some money.”

He paused and looked tantalizingly out of the window, knowing well Cowperwood was greatly interested.

“Well, if you have been looking into my record^[45],” observed Cowperwood, with his own elusive smile, leaving the thought suspended.

Butler felt the force of the temperament. He liked the young man's poise and balance. A number of people had spoken of Cowperwood to him. He asked how the market was running; what he knew about street-railways. Finally he outlined his plan of buying all he could of the stock of two given lines—the Ninth and Tenth and the Fifteenth and Sixteenth—without attracting any attention, if possible. It was to be done slowly, part on 'change, part from individual holders.

“I'll be delighted to work with you, Mr. Butler, in any way that you may suggest,” observed Cowperwood. “My connections are good. I am now a member of the New York and Philadelphia exchanges. Those who have dealt with me seem to like the results I get.”

“I know a little something about your work already,” reiterated Butler, wisely. “Well, in a few days I'll have something for you.”

He got up and looked out into the street, and Cowperwood also arose.

“It's a fine day now, isn't it?”

“It surely is.”

“Well, we'll get to know each other better, I'm sure.”

“I hope so.”

Cowperwood went out, Butler accompanying him to the door. As he did so, a young girl bounded in from the street, red-cheeked, blue-eyed, wearing a scarlet cape with the peaked hood.

“Oh, daddy, I almost knocked you down.”

She gave her father, and incidentally Cowperwood, a gleaming, radiant, inclusive smile. Her teeth were bright and small, and her lips red.

She passed on in, swinging her arms.

Cowperwood went down the steps. What a bright, healthy, bounding girl! Her voice had the subtle, vigorous ring of fifteen or sixteen. She was all vitality. What a fine bride for some young fellow some day, and her father would make him rich, no doubt, or help to.

Chapter XII

Butler liked Cowperwood very much, and Cowperwood liked this great solid Irishman. He liked his history. He had met Mrs. Butler, a rather fat and phlegmatic Irish woman, who still liked to go into the kitchen and superintend the cooking. He had met Owen and Callum Butler, the boys, and Aileen and Norah, the girls. Aileen was the one who had bounded up the steps the first day he had called at the Butler house.

There was a cozy fire burning in Butler's office when Cowperwood called. Spring was coming on, but the evenings were cool. The older man invited Cowperwood to make himself comfortable in one of the large leather chairs before the fire and then proceeded to listen.

“How much of the loan do you want?”

“Five million.”

“Five million!” Butler sat up. “Man, what are you talking about? That's a good deal of money. Where are you going to sell all that?”

“I want to bid for five million,” assuaged Cowperwood, softly. “I only want one million but I want the prestige for five million. It will do me good on the street.”

Butler sank back somewhat relieved.

“Five million! Prestige! You want one million. Well, now, that's different. That's not such a bad idea.”

He rubbed his chin some more and stared into the fire.

A few days later Frank was introduced to City Treasurer Julian Bode^[46], who promised to introduce him to State Treasurer Van Nostrand.^[47]

“Of course, you know,” he said to Cowperwood, in the presence of Butler, “this banking crowd is very powerful. You know who they are. You may have trouble right here in Philadelphia—they're pretty powerful, you know. Are you sure just where you can place the money?”

“Yes, I'm sure,” replied Cowperwood.

“Well, the best thing in my judgment is not to say anything at all. We can fix the governor, I think. After you get it they may talk to you personally, but that's your business.”

Cowperwood smiled his inscrutable smile. This financial life was an endless network of underground holes, along which all sorts of influences were moving. A little wit, a little nimbleness, a little luck-time and opportunity—these sometimes availed.

He figured to make twenty thousand dollars. If he did, he was going to buy a house on Girard Avenue beyond the Butlers', or, better yet, buy a piece of ground and erect one. His father was prospering nicely. He might want to build a house next to him, and they could live side by side. His street-car investments were paying six per cent. His wife's property, represented by this house, some government bonds, and some real estate in West Philadelphia amounted to forty thousand more. They were rich; but he expected to be much richer. All he needed now was to keep cool. If he succeeded in this bond-issue matter, he could do it again and on a larger scale. There would be more issues.

He went into his wife's boudoir, where she was sleeping. The nurse and the children were in a room beyond.

“Well, Lillian,” he observed, when she awoke, “I think I have that bond matter that I was telling you about arranged at last. I think I'll get a million of it, anyhow. That'll mean twenty thousand. If I do we'll build out on Girard Avenue.”

“That'll be fine, Frank!” she observed, and rubbed his arm as he sat on the side of the bed.

“We'll have to show the Butlers some attention. He's been very nice to me and he's going to be useful—I can see that. He asked me to bring you over some time. We must go. Be nice to his wife. He can do a lot for me if he wants to. He has two daughters, too. We'll have to have them over here.”

“I'll have them to dinner sometime,” she agreed cheerfully and helpfully.

“Butler himself is a very presentable man,” Cowperwood remarked, “but Mrs. Butler—well, she's all right, but… Anyway, she's a fine woman, though, I think, good-natured and good-hearted.”

He cautioned her not to overlook Aileen and Norah, because the Butlers, mother and father, were very proud of them.

Mrs. Cowperwood at this time was thirty-two years old; Cowperwood twenty-seven. The birth and care of two children had made some difference in her looks. She was no longer as softly pleasing, more angular. Her face was hollow-cheeked. Her health was really not as good as it had been—the care of two children and a late undiagnosed tendency toward gastritis having reduced her. In short she was nervous and suffered from depression. Cowperwood had noticed this. He tried to be gentle and considerate, but he was too much of a utilitarian and practical-minded observer not to realize that he was likely to have a sickly wife on his hands later. Sympathy and affection were great things, but desire and charm must endure. So often now he saw young girls who were exceedingly robust and joyous. It was fine, advisable, practical, to adhere to the virtues, but if you had a sickly wife—And anyhow, was a man entitled to only one wife? Must he never look at another woman? Supposing he found someone? He pondered those things between hours of labor, and concluded that it did not make so much difference. If a man could, and not be exposed, it was all right. He had to be careful, though. Tonight, as he sat on the side of his wife's bed, he was thinking somewhat of this, for he had seen Aileen Butler again, playing and singing at her piano as he passed the parlor door. She was like a bright bird radiating health and enthusiasm.

“It's a strange world,” he thought.

The bond issue, when it came, was curious; for, although he got his twenty thousand dollars and more and served to introduce him to the financial notice of Philadelphia and the State of Pennsylvania, it did not permit him to manipulate the subscriptions as he had planned. The State treasurer was gracious to Cowperwood and explained to him just how things were regulated. The big men might constitute a corporation, which in itself was unfair; but, after all, they were the legitimate sponsors for big money loans of this kind. Seeing that Mr. Cowperwood was able to dispose of the million he expected to get, it would be all right to award it to him; but Van Nostrand had a counter-proposition to make. Would Cowperwood turn over his award to them for a consideration? Certain financiers desired this. It was dangerous to oppose them. They desired to handle the twenty-three million dollars in an unbroken lot. It looked better.

Cowperwood acquiesced. They were quite well aware of him! He would take the award and twenty thousand and withdraw. The State treasurer was delighted.

“I'm glad to have seen you,” he said. “I'm glad we've met. We'll have lunch together some time.”

The State treasurer felt that Mr. Cowperwood was a man who could make him some money. He told the governor and some other about Frank.

So the award was finally made. Cowperwood was introduced to the governor one day at lunch. His name was mentioned in the papers, and his prestige grew rapidly.

Immediately he began working on plans with young Ellsworth for his new house. He was going to build something exceptional, he told Lillian. Frank consulted with his father and found that he also was willing to move. The directors of the bank were becoming much more friendly to the old man. Next year President Kugel was going to retire. So he was going to be made president. Frank was a large borrower from his father's bank. And he was a large depositor. His connection with Edward Butler was significant. The two families were now on the best of terms. Anna, now twenty-one, and Edward and Joseph frequently spent the night at Frank's house. It was thought well to build side by side. So Cowperwood, Sr., bought fifty feet of ground next to his son's thirty-five, and together they commenced the erection of two charming, commodious homes.

Frank planned at the same time to remove his office farther south on Third Street and occupy a building of his own. He was to be rich, very, very rich.

Chapter XIII

The months proceeded apace. The Butlers and the Cowperwoods had become quite friendly. Mrs. Butler rather liked Lillian, though they were of different religious beliefs; and they went driving or shopping together, the younger woman a little critical and ashamed of the elder because of her poor grammar, her Irish accent, her plebeian tastes—as though the Wiggins had not been as plebeian as any. On the other hand the old lady, as she was compelled to admit, was good-natured and good-hearted. She loved to sent presents here and there to Lillian, the children, and others.

But Aileen, her airs, her aggressive disposition, her love of attention, her vanity, irritated and at times disgusted Mrs. Cowperwood. She was eighteen now, with a figure which was subtly provocative. Her manner was boyish, hoydenish at times. But there was a softness lurking in her blue eyes that was most sympathetic and human.

Catholic school had been the choice of her parents for her education—what they called a good Catholic education. She had learned the theory and forms of the Catholic ritual, but she could not understand them. The church, with its tall, dimly radiant windows, its high, white altar, its figure of St. Joseph on one side and the Virgin Mary on the other, had impressed her greatly.

It would scarcely be fair to describe Aileen's nature as being definitely sensual at this time. It was too rudimentary. Hell did not frighten her.

“That Miss Butler,” once observed Sister Constantia, “is a very spirited girl, you may have a great deal of trouble with her.”

Cowperwood met Aileen at various times, shopping with her mother, out driving with her father, and he was always interested and amused at the tone she assumed before him—the “Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” She was a girl with a high sense of life. She was romantic, full of the thought of love and its possibilities. The thought came to him that some lucky young fellow would marry her pretty soon and carry her away.

“The little snip thinks the sun rises and sets in her father's pocket,” Lillian observed one day to her husband. “To hear her talk, you'd think they were descended from Irish kings. Her pretended interest in art and music amuses me.”

“Oh, don't be too hard on her,” coaxed Cowperwood diplomatically. He already liked Aileen very much. “She plays very well, and she has a good voice.”

“Yes, I know; but she has no real refinement. How could she have? Look at her father and mother.”

“She's bright and good-looking,” insisted Cowperwood. “Of course, she's only a girl. She isn't without sense and force.”

Aileen, as he knew, was most friendly to him. She liked him. She would play the piano and sing for him in his home, and she sang only when he was there. In spite of her vanity and egotism, she felt a little overawed before him at times. She seemed to grow gayer and more brilliant in his presence.

Aileen Butler was decidedly attractive, from the point of view of Frank Cowperwood. Vitality and vivacity. No other woman or girl whom he had ever known had possessed so much innate force as she. She had a beautiful nose, and eyes that were big and sensuous. Healthy and vigorous, she was interested in men—what they would think of her—and how she compared with other women.

Wealth and advantage gripped her; and when she sat at the piano and played or rode in her carriage or walked or stood before her mirror, she was conscious of her figure, her charms, what they meant to men, how women envied her. Sometimes she looked at poor girls and felt sorry for them. She wanted a man. Now and then there was one “something like,” but not entirely, who appealed to her, but most of them were politicians or legislators, acquaintances of her father, and socially nothing at all—and so they wearied and disappointed her. Her father did not know the truly elite. But Mr. Cowperwood—he seemed so refined, so forceful, and so reserved. She often looked at Mrs. Cowperwood and thought how fortunate she was.