The Genius (57 page)

Colfax, who had been watching Eugene's determined air, the
energy with which he went about his work and the manner in which he
freely accepted responsibility, came to admire him even more than
he had before. He liked him socially—his companionship after
business hours—and began to invite him up to the house to dinner.
Unlike Kalvin, on most of these occasions he did not take Angela
into consideration, for having met her he was not so very much
impressed with her. She was nice, but not of the same coruscating
quality as her husband. Mrs. Colfax expressed a derogatory opinion,
and this also made it difficult. He sincerely wished that Eugene
were single.

Time passed. As Eugene worked more and more with the various
propositions which this situation involved, he became more and more
at his ease. Those who have ever held an executive position of any
importance know how easy it is, given a certain degree of talent,
to attract men and women of ability and force according to that
talent. Like seeks like and those who are looking for advancement
in their world according to their talents naturally drift to those
who are more highly placed and who are much like themselves.
Advertising men, artists, circulation men, editors, book critics,
authors and all those who were sufficiently in his vein to
understand or appreciate him sought him out, and by degrees he was
compelled to learn to refer all applicants to the heads of
departments. He was compelled to learn to rely to a certain degree
on his men, and having learned this he was inclined to go to the
other extreme and rely too much. In the case of Carter Hayes, in
the advertising department, he was particularly impressed with the
man's efficiency, and rested on him heavily for all the details of
that work, merely inspecting his programs of procedure and advising
him in difficult situations. The latter appreciated this, for he
was egotistic to the roots, but it did not develop a sense of
loyalty in him. He saw in Eugene a man who had risen by some fluke
of fortune, and who was really not an advertising man at heart. He
hoped some day that circumstances would bring it about that he
could be advertising manager in fact, dealing directly with Colfax
and White, whom, because of their greater financial interest in the
business, he considered Eugene's superiors, and whom he proposed to
court. There were others in the other departments who felt the same
way.

The one great difficulty with Eugene was that he had no great
power of commanding the loyalty of his assistants. He had the power
of inspiring them—of giving them ideas which would be helpful to
themselves—but these they used, as a rule, merely to further their
own interests, to cause them to advance to a point where they
deemed themselves beyond him. Because in his manner he was not
hard, distant, bitter, he was considered, as a rule, rather easy.
The men whom he employed, and he had talent for picking men of very
exceptional ability, sometimes much greater than his own in their
particular specialties, looked upon him not so much as a superior
after a time, as someone who was in their path and to whose shoes
they might properly aspire. He seemed so good natured about the
whole work—so easy going. Now and then he took the trouble to tell
a man that he was getting too officious, but in the main he did not
care much. Things were going smoothly, the magazines were
improving, the advertising and circulation departments were showing
marked gains, and altogether his life seemed to have blossomed out
into comparative perfection. There were storms and daily
difficulties, but they were not serious. Colfax advised with him
genially when he was in doubt, and White pretended a friendship
which he did not feel.

The trouble with this situation was that it involved more power,
comfort, ease and luxury than Eugene had ever experienced before,
and made him a sort of oriental potentate not only among his large
company of assistants but in his own home. Angela, who had been
watching his career all these years with curiosity, began to
conceive of him at last as a genius in every respect—destined to
some great pre-eminence, in art or finance or the publishing world
or all three. She did not relax her attitude in regard to his
conduct, being more convinced than ever that to achieve the dizzy
eminence to which he was now so rapidly ascending, he must be more
circumspect than ever. People were watching him so closely now.
They were so obsequious to him, but still so dangerous. A man in
his position must be so careful how he dressed, talked, walked.

"Don't make so much fuss," he used to say to her. "For heaven's
sake, let me alone!" This merely produced more quarrels, for Angela
was determined to regulate him in spite of his wishes and in his
best interests.

Grave men and women in various walks of life—art, literature,
philanthropy, trade, began to seek him out, because in the first
place he had an understanding mind and because in the next place,
which was much more important, he had something to give. There are
always those in all walks of life who are seeking something through
those avenues which a successful person represents, whatever they
may be, and these together with those others who are always
intensely eager to bask in the reflected glory of a rising
luminary, make a retinue for every successful man. Eugene had his
retinue, men and women of his own station or beneath it, who would
eagerly shake his hand with an "Oh, yes, indeed. Managing Publisher
of the United Magazines Corporation! Oh, yes, yes!" Women
particularly were prone to smile, showing him even white teeth and
regretting that all good looking and successful men were
married.

In July following his coming from Philadelphia the United
Magazines Corporation moved into its new building, and then he was
installed into the most imposing office of his career. A subtle
assistant, wishing to ingratiate the staff in Eugene's good graces,
suggested that a collection be taken up for flowers. His room,
which was done in white, blue and gold with rose wood furniture, to
set it apart from the prevailing decorative scheme and so make it
more impressive, was scattered with great bouquets of roses, sweet
peas and pinks, in beautiful and ornate vases of different colors,
countries and schools. His great rosewood flat-topped desk, covered
with a thick, plate glass through which the polished wood shone
brightly, was decorated with flowers. On the morning of his entry
he held an impromptu reception, on which occasion he was visited by
Colfax and White, who after going to look at their new rooms, came
to his. A general reception which followed some three weeks later,
and in which the successful representatives of various walks of
life in the metropolis took part, drew to the building a great
crowd, artists, writers, editors, publishers, authors and
advertising men who saw him in all his glory. On this occasion,
Eugene, with White and Colfax did the receiving. He was admired at
a distance by striplings who wondered how he had ever accomplished
such great results. His rise had been so meteoric. It seemed so
impossible that a man who had started as an artist should change
and become a dominant factor in literature and art from a
publishing point of view.

In his own home his surroundings were equally showy; he was as
much a figure as he was in his office. When he was alone with
Angela, which was not so often, for naturally they did a great deal
of entertaining, he was a figure even to her. Long ago she had come
to think of him as someone who would some day dominate in the art
world; but to see him an imposing factor in the city's commercial
life, its principal publishers' representative, having a valet and
an automobile, riding freely in cabs, lunching at the most
exclusive restaurants and clubs, and associating constantly with
someone who was of importance, was a different matter.

She was no longer so sure of herself with him, not so certain of
her power to control him. They quarreled over little things, but
she was not so ready to begin these quarrels. He seemed changed now
and deeper still. She was afraid, even yet, that he might make a
mistake and lose it all, that the forces of ill will, envy and
jealousy which were everywhere apparent in life, and which blow
about so easily like gusts of wind, would work him harm. Eugene was
apparently at ease, though he was troubled at times for his own
safety, when he thought of it, for he had no stock in the company,
and was as beholden to Colfax as any hall boy, but he did not see
how he could easily be dispensed with. He was
making
good
.

Colfax was friendly to him. He was surprised at times to see how
badly the manufacturing arrangements could go awry, affecting his
dates of issue, but White invariably had a good excuse. Colfax took
him to his house in the country, his lodge in the mountains, on
short yachting and fishing trips, for he liked to talk to him, but
he rarely if ever invited Angela. He did not seem to think it was
necessary to do this, and Eugene was afraid to impress the slight
upon his attention, much as he dreaded the thoughts which Angela
must be thinking. It was Eugene here and Eugene there, with
constant calls of "where are you, old man?" from Colfax, who
appeared not to want to be away from him.

"Well, old man," he would say, looking him over much as one
might a blood horse or a pedigree dog, "you're getting on. This new
job agrees with you. You didn't look like that when you came to
me," and he would feel the latest suit Eugene might be wearing, or
comment on some pin or tie he had on, or tell him that his shoes
were not as good as he could really get, if he wanted to be perfect
in dress. Colfax was for grooming his new prize much as one might
groom a blood horse, and he was always telling Eugene little
details of social life, the right things to do, the right places to
be seen, the right places to go, as though Eugene knew little or
nothing.

"Now when we go down to Mrs. Savage's Friday afternoon, you get
a Truxton Portmanteau. Have you seen them? Well, there's the thing.
Got a London coat? Well, you ought to have one. Those servants down
there go through your things and they size you up accordingly.
Nothing less than two dollars each goes, and five dollars to the
butler, remember that."

He assumed and insisted after a fashion which Eugene resented
quite as much as he did his persistent ignoring of Angela, but he
did not dare comment on it. He could see that Colfax was variable,
that he could hate as well as love, and that he rarely took any
intermediate ground. Eugene was his favorite now.

"I'll send my car around for you at two Friday," he would say,
as though Eugene did not keep a car, when he was planning one of
his week-end excursions. "You be ready."

At two, on that day, Colfax's big blue touring car would come
speeding up to the entrance of the apartment house and Eugene's
valet would carry down his bags, golf sticks, tennis racket and the
various paraphernalia that go with a week-end's entertainment, and
off the car would roll. At times Angela would be left behind, at
times taken, when Eugene could arrange it; but he found that he had
to be tactful and accede to Colfax's indifference mostly. Eugene
would always explain to her how it was. He was sorry for her in a
way, and yet he felt there was some justice in the distinction. She
was not exactly suited to that topmost world in which he was now
beginning to move. These people were colder, sharper, shrewder,
than Angela. They had more of that intense sophistication of manner
and experience than she could achieve. As a matter of fact, Angela
had as much grace and more than many of the four hundred, but she
did lack that quickness of wit or that shallow self-sufficiency and
assurance which are the almost invariable traits of those who shine
as members of the smart set. Eugene was able to assume this manner
whether he felt it or not.

"Oh, that's all right," she would say, "as long as you're doing
it for business reasons."

She resented it nevertheless, bitterly, for it seemed such an
uncalled for slur. Colfax had no compunctions in adjusting his
companionship to suit his moods. He thought Eugene was well suited
to this high life. He thought Angela was not. He made the
distinction roughly and went his way.

It was in this manner that Eugene learned a curious fact about
the social world, and that was that frequently in these highest
circles a man would be received where his wife would not and vice
versa, and that nothing very much was thought of it, if it could be
managed.

"Oh, is that Birkwood," he heard a young swell once remark,
concerning an individual in Philadelphia. "Why do they let him in?
His wife is charming, but he won't do," and once in New York he
heard a daughter ask her mother, of a certain wife who was
announced—her husband being at the same table—"who invited
her?"

"I'm sure I don't know," replied her mother; "I didn't. She must
have come of her own accord."

"She certainly has her nerve with her," replied the daughter—and
when the wife entered Eugene could see why. She was not good
looking and not harmoniously and tastefully dressed. It gave Eugene
a shock, but in a way he could understand. There were no such
grounds of complaint against Angela. She was attractive and
shapely. Her one weakness was that she lacked the blasé social air.
It was too bad, he thought.

In his own home and circle, however, he thought to make up for
this by a series of entertainments which grew more and more
elaborate as time went on. At first when he came back from
Philadelphia it consisted of a few people in to dinner, old
friends, for he was not quite sure of himself and did not know how
many would come to share his new honors with him. Eugene had never
got over his love for those he had known in his youth. He was not
snobbish. It was true that now he was taking naturally to
prosperous people, but the little ones, the old-time ones, he liked
for old lang syne's sake as well as for themselves. Many came to
borrow money, for he had associated with many ne'er do wells in his
time, but many more were attracted by his fame.

Eugene knew intimately and pleasantly most of the artistic and
intellectual figures of his day. In his home and at his table there
appeared artists, publishers, grand opera stars, actors and
playwrights. His large salary, for one thing, his beautiful
apartment and its location, his magnificent office and his friendly
manner all conspired to assist him. It was his self-conscious boast
that he had not changed. He liked nice people, simple people,
natural people he said, for these were the really great ones, but
he could not see how far he had come in class selection. Now he
naturally gravitated to the wealthy, the reputed, the beautiful,
the strong and able, for no others interested him. He hardly saw
them. If he did it was to pity or give alms.

It is difficult to indicate to those who have never come out of
poverty into luxury, or out of comparative uncouthness into
refinement, the veil or spell which the latter comes eventually to
cast over the inexperienced mind, coloring the world anew. Life is
apparently striving, constantly, to perfect its illusions and to
create spells. There are, as a matter of fact, nothing but these
outside that ultimate substance or principle which underlies it
all. To those who have come out of inharmony, harmony is a spell,
and to those who have come out of poverty, luxury is a dream of
delight. Eugene, being primarily a lover of beauty, keenly
responsive to all those subtleties of perfection and arrangement
which ingenuity can devise, was taken vastly by the nature of this
greater world into which, step by step apparently, he was almost
insensibly passing. Each new fact which met his eye or soothed his
sensibilities was quickly adjusted to all that had gone before. It
seemed to him as though all his life he had naturally belonged to
this perfect world of which country houses, city mansions, city and
country clubs, expensive hotels and inns, cars, resorts, beautiful
women, affected manners, subtlety of appreciation and perfection of
appointment generally were the inherent concomitants. This was the
true heaven—that material and spiritual perfection on earth, of
which the world was dreaming and to which, out of toil, disorder,
shabby ideas, mixed opinions, non-understanding and all the ill to
which the flesh is heir, it was constantly aspiring.

Here was no sickness, no weariness apparently, no ill health or
untoward circumstances. All the troubles, disorders and
imperfections of existence were here carefully swept aside and one
saw only the niceness, the health and strength of being. He was
more and more impressed as he came farther and farther along in the
scale of comfort, with the force and eagerness with which life
seems to minister to the luxury-love of the human mind. He learned
of so many, to him, lovely things, large, wellkept, magnificent
country places, scenes of exquisite beauty where country clubs,
hotels, seaside resorts of all descriptions had been placed. He
found sport, amusement, exercise, to be tremendously well organized
and that there were thousands of people who were practically
devoting their lives to this. Such a state of social ease was not
for him yet, but he could sit at the pleasures, so amply spread,
between his hours of work and dream of the time to come when
possibly he might do nothing at all. Yachting, motoring, golfing,
fishing, hunting, riding, playing tennis and polo, there were
experts in all these fields he found. Card playing, dancing,
dining, lounging, these seemed to occupy many people's days
constantly. He could only look in upon it all as upon a passing
show, but that was better than nothing. It was more than he had
ever done before. He was beginning to see clearly how the world was
organized, how far were its reaches of wealth, its depths of
poverty. From the lowest beggar to the topmost scene—what a
distance!