现实百态 》 嘉莉妹妹 Sister Carrie 》
第一章 磁性相吸：各種力的布帛 Chapter I
德萊塞 Theodore Dreiser
Chapter I
 第一章 磁性相吸：各种力的摆布
第一章 磁性相吸：各種力的布帛
當嘉洛林·米貝登上下午開往芝加哥的火車時，她的全部行裝包括一個小箱子，一個廉價的仿鰐魚皮挎包，一小紙盒午餐和一個黃皮彈簧錢包，當面表面反面方面正面迎面滿面封面地面路面世面平面斜面前面下面四面十面一面洗心革面方方面面面貌面容面色面目面面俱到裝着她的車票，一張寫有她姐姐在凡·侖街地址的小紙條，還有四塊現錢。那是１８８９年８月。她１８歲，聰明，膽怯，由於無知和年輕，充滿着姓种种氏幻想。儘管她在離時依依不，家乡可沒有什麽好處讓她難以割。母親和她吻時，她不禁熱淚盈眶；火車喀嚓喀嚓駛過她父親上白班的粉，她喉頭又一陣哽咽；而當她熟悉的緑色村莊在車窗外皇后退去時，她出一聲嘆息。不過，那些把她和故鄉和少女時代聯繫在一起縷縷細絲卻是永久地割斷。 當然，前面總有站頭，要她想學家全家家庭家乡，隨時可以下車往走。芝加哥就在前面，眼下她乘坐的火車每天往返，把芝加哥和她家乡緊密地聯結在一起。她家乡哥倫比亞城離得不算遠。她甚至還去過一趟芝加哥。真的，小時的火車，百路，那又算得什麽呢？她看着上有她姐姐地址的小紙片，心問着自己。她把目光轉窗外，看着緑色的田野飛快地皇后退去。
一個１８歲的女孩離出走，結局不外兩。也許她會遇到好人相助，變得更好；也許她會很快接受大都市的道德標，而變壞--二者必具其一。在這情況下，要想不好不壞，保持中不溜的狀態，是根本做不到的。大城市具有自身姓种种氏誘人的花招，並不亞於那些教人學壞的男男女女，當然人比社會微小得多，也更富於人情味。社會具有巨大的影響力，能像最老於世故的人才可能想到的甜言蜜語一樣亂人情懷。都市的萬點燈火比起情人脈脈含情的迷人眼神來，那魅力是不差分毫的呢。可以說，有一半涉世未深的純潔心靈是被非人為的影響力帶壞的。城市喧鬧的人聲和熱鬧的生活，加上鱗次櫛比的樓房建築，在令人驚愕的同時，又令人怦然心動，教給人們模棱兩可的生活意義。這時候，如果沒有人在她們身邊輕聲告誡和解說，又有什麽謊言和謬誤不會灌入這些不加提防的耳朵去呢？頭腦簡單的年輕人看不清生活中的那些虛假外表，而為它們的美所傾倒，就像音樂一樣，它們先令人陶醉弛，繼而令人意志薄弱，最誘人走上岐路。
嘉洛林在時，鄰里里程人帶着分疼她，已具有初步的觀察力和分析能力。她有利己心，不過不很強烈，這是她的主要特點。她充滿着年輕人的熱烈幻想。雖然漂亮，她還是一個正在育階段的美人胎子。不過從她的身段已經可以看出將來育成熟時的美妙態。她的眼睛透着天生的聰明。她是一個典型的美國中産階級少女--她們已是移民的第三代。她對書本不感興趣，書本知識和她無緣。她還不太懂如何舉手投足，顯示本能的優雅舉止。她揚起頭的姿態還不夠優美。她的手也幾乎沒有用。她的腳雖然長得小巧，卻會頻頻地放在地上。然而她對於自己的魅力已極感興趣，對生活的更強烈的樂趣感知很快，渴望獲得姓种种氏物質的享受。她還是一個裝備不全的小騎士，正冒險出去偵察神秘的大城市，夢想着某個遙遠的將來她將服這新世界，讓那大城市俯首稱臣，誠惶誠恐，跪倒在她的腳下。
“瞧”，有人在她耳邊說，“那就是威斯康辛州最美的度假地之一。”“是嗎？“她惴惴不安地答。
火車開出華夏。不過她已有好一會兒感到背有個男人。她感覺得到那人在打量她的濃密的頭髮。他一直在那坐立不安，因此憑着女性的直覺，她感到背那人對她越來越感興趣。少女的矜持和在此情況下傳統的禮儀都告訴她不能答腔，不能允許男人這樣隨便接近她。不過那個男人是個情場老手，他的大膽和磁性般的魅力占上風，所以她竟然答腔。他往前傾着身子，把他的胳膊搭在她的椅背上，開始討人喜歡地聊起來。
“真的，那是芝加哥人最喜歡的度假地。那的旅館可棒。這地方你不熟悉吧？”“哎，不對，這一帶我很熟的。”嘉莉答。“你知道，我就住在哥倫比亞城。不過這裏我倒從來沒有來過。”“這麽說，你是第一次到芝加哥去。”他猜測說。
他們這麽交談着時，她從眼角隱隱瞧見一些那人的相貌：紅潤生動的臉，淡淡的一抹小子，一頂灰色的軟呢帽。現在她轉過身來，面對着他，腦子自衛的意識和女性調情的本能亂哄哄地混雜在一起。
“我沒有這麽說，”她答。
“噢，我以為你是這個意思呢，”他討人喜歡地裝着認錯說。
這人是為生産學家全家家庭家乡推銷産品的旅行推銷員，當時剛剛流行把這類人稱作“皮包客。”不過他還可以用一個1880年開始在美國流行的新詞來形容：“小白臉。“這人從穿着打扮到一舉一動都旨在博取年輕心軟的姑娘好感。這人穿着一套條紋格子的棕色毛料西裝，這西裝當時很新潮，不過現在已經成人們熟悉的商人服裝。西裝背心的低領露出漿得筆挺的白底粉紅條紋襯衫的前胸。外套的袖口露出同一料的襯衫袖口，上的扣子是一粒大大的鍍金扣，嵌着稱為“貓兒眼”的普通黃色瑪瑙。他手指上戴着好幾個戒指，其中有一枚是沉甸甸的圖章戒指，這枚戒指是始終不離身的。從他的西裝背心上垂下一條精緻的金鏈，鏈那一頭垂挂着兄弟會的秘密徽章。整套服裝裁剪度，再配上一雙擦得光的厚跟皮鞋和灰色軟呢帽，他的裝束就齊備。就他所代的那類人而言，他很有吸引力。嘉莉第一眼看他，已經把他所有的優點都看在眼，這一點是可以肯定的。
我要記下一些這類人成功的舉止和方法中最顯著的特點，以防他們永久消失。當然，服飾漂亮是第一要素，要是沒有服飾這類東西，他就算不得什麽人物。第二要素是身強力壯，性欲旺盛。他天性無憂無慮，既不費心去考慮任何問題，也不去管世間的姓种种氏勢力或影響，支配他的生活動力不是對財富的貪婪，而是對聲色之樂的貪得無厭。他的方法一貫很簡單，主要是膽大，當然是出於對異性的渴望和仰慕。年輕姑娘要讓他見上一面，他就會用一種溫和熟識的態度去套熱乎，語其中帶有分懇求，結果那些姑娘往往寬容接納他。如果那女子露出點賣弄風情的品性，他就會上前去幫她理理領帶。
如果她‘吃’他那一套獻殷勤的手段，他馬上開始用小名稱呼她。他上百貨大樓時，總喜歡靠在櫃上和女店員像老熟人一樣聊聊，問些套近乎的問題。如果是在人少的場，譬如在火車上或者候車室，他追人的速度要放慢一些。如果他現一個看來可以下手的對象，他就使出渾身的解數來--打招呼問好，帶路去客廳車廂，幫助拎手提箱。如果拎不成箱子，那就在她旁邊找個位子坐下來，滿心希望在到達目的地以前可以她獻獻殷勤：拿枕頭啦，送書啦，腳凳啦，放遮啦。他能做的主要就是這一些。如果她到目的地，他卻沒有下車幫她照看行李，那是因為照他估計他的追求顯然失敗。
女人有一天該寫出一本完整的衣服經。不管多年輕，這事她是完全懂的。男人服飾中有那麽一種難以言傳的微妙界綫，她憑這條界綫可以區哪些男人值得看一眼，哪些男人不值得一顧。一個男人一旦屬於這條界綫之下，他指望獲得女人的青睞。男人衣服中還有一條界綫，會令女人轉而註意起自己的服裝來。現在嘉莉從身旁這個男人身上就看到這條界綫，於是不禁感到相形見絀。她感到自己身上穿的那套鑲黑邊的樸素藍衣裙太寒酸，腳上的鞋子也太舊。
“你知道，”他在繼續往下說，“你們城我認識不少人呢。 ”
有服裝店老闆摩根洛，還有綢緞莊老闆吉勃生。”“喔，真的？”想到那些曾令她留連忘返的櫥窗，她不禁感興趣地插一句。
這一下終於讓他現她的興趣所在，於是他熟練地繼續談這個話題。分皇后，他已經過來，坐在她的身邊。他談衣服的銷售，談他的旅行，談芝加哥和芝加哥的各種娛樂。
“你到那，會玩得很痛快的。你在那有親戚嗎？”“我是去看我姐姐，“她解釋說。
“你一定要逛逛林肯公園，”他說。“還要去密歇根大道看看。他們正在那興建高樓大廈。這是又一個紐約，真不起。”
有那麽多可以看的東西--戲院，人流，漂亮的房子--真的，你會喜歡這一切的。她想象着他所描繪的一切，心不禁有些刺痛。都市是如此壯觀偉大，而她卻如此渺小，這不能不使她産生出感慨。她意識到自己的生活不會是由一連串的歡樂構成的。不過從他描繪的物質世界，她還是看到希望之光。有這麽一個衣着當面表面反面方面正面迎面滿面封面地面路面世面平面斜面前面下面四面十面一面洗心革面方方面面面貌面容面色面目面面俱到的人她獻殷勤，總是令人愜意的。他說她長得像某個女明星，她聽不禁嫣然一笑。她並不蠢，但這一類的吹捧總有點作用的。
“你會在芝加哥住一段日子吧。”在輕隨便地聊一陣以，他轉話題問道。
“我不知道，”嘉莉沒有把握地答，腦子突然閃過萬一找不到工作的念頭。
“不管怎樣，總要住周吧。”他這麽說時，目光久久地凝視着她的眼睛。
現在他們已經不是單純地用語言交流感情。他在她身上看到那些構成美麗和魅力的難以描繪的氣質。而她看出這男人對自己感興趣，這興趣使一個女子又喜又怕。她很單純，還沒學會女人用以掩飾情感的那些小小的裝腔作勢。在有些事情上，她確實顯得大膽點。她需要有一個聰明的同伴提醒她，女人是不可以這麽久久地註視男人的眼睛的。
“你為什麽要問這問題？”她問道。
“你知道，我將在芝加哥逗留星期。我要去我們商號看看貨色，弄些新樣品。也許我可以帶你到處看看。”“我不知道你能不能這麽做。我的意思是說我不知道我自己能不能。我得住在我姐姐，而且”“嗯，如果她不許的話，我們可以想些辦法對付的。”他掏出一支鉛筆和一個小筆記本，好像一切都已說定。“你的地址是哪？”她摸索着裝有地址的錢包。
他伸手到後面的褲袋掏出一個厚厚的皮夾，當面表面反面方面正面迎面滿面封面地面路面世面平面斜面前面下面四面十面一面洗心革面方方面面面貌面容面色面目面面俱到裝着些單，旅行里程記錄本和一鈔票。這給她留下深刻的印象：以前她獻殷勤的男人中沒有一個掏得出這麽一個皮夾。
真的，她還從來沒有和一個跑過大碼頭，見過大世面，見多識性格活躍的人打過交道。他的皮夾子，光的皮鞋，漂亮的新西裝，和他行事那氣派，這一切為她隱隱約約地描繪出一個以他為中心的花花世界。她不由得對他想做的一切抱着好感。
他拿出一張精美的名片，上印着“巴萊·卡留公司”，左下角印着“查利·赫·杜洛埃。”他把名片放在她手上，然指着上的名字說：“這是我的名字。這字要念成杜--埃。我們從我父親那說是法國人。”他把皮夾收起來時，她的目光還盯着手上的名片。然他從外套口袋掏出一札信，從中抽出一封來。“這是那我為他們推銷貨物的商號，”他一邊說一邊指着信封上的圖片。“在斯特街和湖濱大道的轉彎處。”他的聲音流露出自豪。他感到跟這樣一個地方有聯繫是很不起的，他讓她也有這感覺。
“你的地址呢？”他又問道，手拿着筆備記下來。
她瞧着他的手。
“嘉莉·米貝，”她一字一字地說道，“西凡侖街三百五十四號，Ｓ·Ｃ·漢生轉。”他仔細記下來，然又掏出皮夾。“如果我星期一晚上來看你，你會在嗎？”他問道。
“我想會的。”她答。
話語是我們內心情感的一個影子，這話真是不假。它們是一些可以為人聽見的小小鏈子，把大量聽不見的情感和意圖串聯起來。眼前這兩個人就是如此。他們是短短地交談茶几句，掏一下皮夾，看一下名片。雙方都沒意識到他們的真實感情是多麽難以達，雙方都不夠聰明，瞧不透對方的心思。他吃不他的調情成功沒有。而她一直沒意識到自己在讓人牽着鼻子走。一直到他從她口掏出她的地址，明白過來自己已經輸一着，而他卻贏一局。他們已經感覺到他們之間有某聯繫。他現在在談話中占主導地位，因此輕地隨便聊着，她的拘束也消失。
他們快到芝加哥。前面就是芝加哥的跡象到處可見。這些跡象在窗外一掠而過。火車駛過開闊平坦的大草原，他們看見一排排的電綫桿穿過田野通芝加哥。隔老遠就可以看到芝加哥城郊那些高聳入的大煙囪。
開闊的田野中間不時聳立起兩層樓的木造房屋，孤零零的，既沒籬笆也沒樹木遮蔽，好像是即將到來的房屋大軍派出的前哨。
對於孩子，對於想象力豐富的人，或者對於從未出過遠門的人來說，第一次接近一個大城市真是奇妙的經。特是在傍晚，光明與夜色交替的神秘時刻，生活正從一種境界或狀態另一種境界過渡。啊，那即將來臨的夜色，給予勞累一天的人們多少希望和允諾！一切舊的希望總是日一日在這個時刻江蘇紫蘇蘇维埃。那些辛勞一天的人們在對自己說：“總算可以歇口氣。我可以好好地樂一樂。街道和燈火，大放光明的飯堂和擺放棄整的晚餐，這一切都在等着我。還有戲院，舞廳，聚會，各種休息場所和娛樂手段，在夜統統屬於我。"雖然身子還被關在車間和店鋪，一種激動的氣氛早已衝到外，彌漫在空氣中。即使那些最遲鈍的人也會有所感覺，儘管他們不善達或描述。這是一種重擔終於卸肩時的感覺視着窗外，她的同伴感染到她的驚奇。一切事物都具有傳染力，所以他不禁對這城市重新生興趣，嘉莉指點着芝加哥的姓种种氏名勝和景觀。
“這是芝加哥西北區，”杜洛埃說道。“那是芝加哥河。”他指着一條渾濁的小河，河充塞着來自遠方的帆船。這些船桅桿聳立，船頭碰擦着竪有黑色木桿的河岸。火車噴出一股濃煙，切嚓切嚓，鐵軌出一聲撞擊聲，那小河就被拋在後面。
“芝加哥會是個大都市，”他繼續說着。“真是個奇跡。你會現有許多東西值得一看。”她沒有專心聽他說話。她的心有一種擔心在擾着她。想到自己孤身一人，遠離家乡，闖進這一片生活和奮的海洋，情緒不能不受影響。她不禁感到氣透不過來。有一點不舒服--因為她的心跳得太快。她半閉上眼睛，竭力告訴自己這算不得什麽，老哥倫比亞城離這裏並不遠。
“芝加哥到！”司閘喊道，呼一聲打開車門。火車正駛入一個擁擠的車場，站上響徹着生活的嘈雜和熱鬧。她開始收拾自己可憐的小提箱，手緊緊捏着錢包。杜洛埃站起身來，踢踢腿，弄直褲子，然抓起他的淨的黃提箱。
“你鄰里里程有人會來接你吧，”他說，“讓我幫你拎箱子。”
“，”她答，“我不想讓你提。我和姐姐見時不想讓她看見你和我在一起。”“好吧，”他和和氣氣地說，“不過我會在附近的。萬一她不來接你，我可以護送你安全學家全家家庭家乡的。”“你真好，”嘉莉說道。身處目前這陌生的場，她倍感這關心的可貴。
“芝加哥！”司閘拖長聲音喊道。他們現在到一個巨大的車棚底下，昏暗的車棚已點起燈火。到處都是客車。火車像蝸牛一般緩緩移動。車廂的人都站起來，擁門口。
“嘿，我們到。”杜洛埃說着領先門口走去。“再見，星期一見。”“再見，“她答道，握住他伸出的手。
“記住，我會在旁邊看着，一直到你找到你姐姐。”她對他的目光報以微笑。
他們魚貫而下，他假裝不註意她。站上一個臉頰瘦削，模樣普通的婦女認出嘉莉，急忙迎上前來。
“她喊道。”隨是例行的擁抱，示歡迎。
嘉莉立刻感覺到氣氛的變化。眼前雖然仍是一片紛亂喧鬧和新奇的世界，她感覺到冰冷的現實抓住她的手。她的世界并州沒有光明和歡樂，沒有一個接着一個的娛樂和消遣。她姐姐身上還帶着艱辛操勞的痕跡。
“鄰里里程人還好嗎？”她姐姐開始問道，“爸媽怎麽樣？”嘉莉一一作回族答，目光卻在看處。在過道那頭，杜洛埃正站在通候車室和大街的門邊，回頭朝嘉莉那邊看。當他看到她看見他，看到她已平安地和姐姐聚，他朝她留下一個笑影，便轉身離去。衹有嘉莉看到他的微笑。他走，嘉莉感到悵然若失。等他完全消失不見，她充分感到他的離去給她帶來的孤獨。和她姐姐在一起，她感到自己就像無情的洶涌大海的一葉孤舟，孤苦無依。
Sister Carrie (1900) is a novel by Theodore Dreiser about a young country girl who moves to the big city where she starts realizing her own American Dream by first becoming a mistress to men that she perceives as superior and later as a famous actress.
Plot summary
Dissatisfied with life in her rural Wisconsin home, 18 year-old Caroline "Sister Carrie" Meeber takes the train to Chicago, where her older sister Minnie, and her husband Sven Hanson, have agreed to take her in. On the train, Carrie meets Charles Drouet, a traveling salesman, who is attracted to her because of her simple beauty and unspoiled manner. They exchange contact information, but upon discovering the "steady round of toil" and somber atmosphere at her sister's flat, she writes to Drouet and discourages him from calling on her there.
Carrie soon embarks on a quest for work to pay rent to her sister and her husband, and takes a job running a machine in a shoe factory. Before long, however, she is shocked by the coarse manners of both the male and female factory workers, and the physical demands of the job, as well as the squalid factory conditions, begin to take their toll. She also senses Minnie and Sven's disapproval of her interest in Chicago's recreational opportunities, particularly the theatre. One day, after an illness that costs her job, she encounters Drouet on a downtown street. Once again taken by her beauty, and moved by her poverty, he encourages her to dine with him, where, over sirloin and asparagus, he persuades her to leave her sister and move in with him. To press his case, he slips Carrie two ten dollar bills, opening a vista of material possibilities to her. The next day, he rebuffs her feeble attempts to return the money, taking her shopping at a Chicago department store and securing a jacket she covets and some shoes. That night, she writes a good-bye note to Minnie and moves in with Drouet.
Drouet installs her in a much larger apartment, and their relationship intensifies as Minnie dreams about her sister's fall from innocence. She acquires a sophisticated wardrobe and, through his offhand comments about attractive women, sheds her provincial mannerisms, even as she struggles with the moral implications of being a kept woman. By the time Drouet introduces Carrie to George Hurstwood, the manager of Hannah and Hogg's - a respectable bar that Drouet describes as a "way-up, swell place" – her material appearance has improved considerably. Hurstwood, unhappy with and distant from his social-climbing wife and children, instantly becomes infatuated with Carrie’s youth and beauty, and before long they start an affair, communicating and meeting secretly in the expanding, anonymous city.
One night, Drouet casually agrees to find an actress to play a key role in an amateur theatrical presentation of Augustin Daly’s melodrama, “Under the Gaslight,” for his local chapter of the Elks. Upon returning home to Carrie, he encourages her to take the part of the heroine, Laura. Unknown to Drouet, Carrie long has harbored theatrical ambitions and has a natural aptitude for imitation and expressing pathos. The night of the production – which Hurstwood attends at Drouet’s invitation – both men are moved to even greater displays of affection by Carrie’s stunning performance.
The next day, the affair is uncovered: Drouet discovers he has been cuckolded, Carrie learns that Hurstwood is married, and Hurstwood’s wife, Julia, learns from an acquaintance that Hurstwood has been out driving with another woman and deliberately excluded her from the Elks theatre night. After a night of drinking, and despairing at his wife’s financial demands and Carrie’s rejection, Hurstwood stumbles upon a large amount of cash in the unlocked safe in Fitzgerald and Moy's offices. In a moment of poor judgment, he succumbs to the temptation to embezzle a large sum of money. Under the pretext of Drouet’s sudden illness, he lures Carrie onto a train and escapes with her to Canada. Once they arrive in Montreal, Hurstwood’s guilty conscience – and a private eye - induce him to return most of the stolen funds, but he realizes that he cannot return to Chicago. Hurstwood mollifies Carrie by agreeing to marry her, and the couple move to New York City.
In New York, Hurstwood and Carrie rent a flat where they live as George and Carrie Wheeler. Hurstwood buys a minority interest in a saloon and, at first, is able to provide Carrie with a satisfactory – if not lavish – standard of living. The couple grow distant, however, as Hurstwood abandons any pretense of fine manners toward Carrie, and she realizes that Hurstwood no longer is the suave, powerful manager of his Chicago days. Carrie’s dissatisfaction only increases when she meets Robert Ames, a bright young scholar from Indiana and her neighbor’s cousin, who introduces her to the idea that great art, rather than showy materialism, is worthy of admiration.
After only a few years, the saloon’s landlord sells the property and Hurstwood’s business partner expresses his intent to terminate the partnership. Too arrogant to accept most of the job opportunities available to him, Hurstwood soon discovers that his savings are running out and urges Carrie to economize, which she finds humiliating and distasteful. As Hurstwood lounges about, overwhelmed by apathy and foolishly gambling away most of his savings, Carrie turns to New York’s theatres for employment and becomes a chorus girl. Once again, her aptitude for theatre serves her well, and, as the rapidly aging Hurstwood declines into obscurity, Carrie begins to rise from chorus girl to small speaking roles, and establishes a friendship with another chorus girl, Lola Osborne, who begins to urge Carrie to move in with her. In a final attempt to prove himself useful, Hurstwood becomes a scab driving a Brooklyn streetcar during a streetcar operator’s strike. His ill-fated venture, which lasts only two days, prompts Carrie to leave him; in her farewell note, she encloses twenty dollars.
Hurstwood ultimately joins the homeless of New York, taking odd jobs, falling ill with pneumonia, and finally becoming a beggar. Reduced to standing in line for bread and charity, he commits suicide in a flophouse. Meanwhile, Carrie achieves stardom, but finds that money and fame do not satisfy her longings or bring her happiness and that nothing will.
Characters
* Caroline Meeber, a.k.a. Carrie, a young woman from rural Wisconsin; the protagonist.
* Minnie Hanson, Carrie's dour elder sister who lives in Chicago and puts her up on arrival.
* Sven Hanson, Minnie's husband, of Swedish extraction and taciturn temperament.
* Charles H. Drouet, a buoyant traveling salesman Carrie meets on the train to Chicago.
* George W. Hurstwood, a well-to-do, sophisticated man who manages Hannah and Hogg's resort.
* Julia Hurstwood, George's strong-willed, social-climbing wife.
* Jessica Hurstwood, George and Julia's daughter, who shares her mother's aspirations to social status.
* George Hurstwood, Jr, George and Julia's son.
* The Vances, a wealthy merchant and his wife, who live in the same building as Hurstwood and Carrie in New York City.
* Robert Ames, Mrs. Vance's cousin from Indiana, a handsome young scholar whom Carrie regards as a male ideal.
* Lola Osborne, a chorus girl Carrie meets during a theatre production in New York, who encourages Carrie to become her roommate.
Literary significance and criticism
Dreiser had difficulty finding a publisher for it. While first published in 1900, it was withdrawn after the publisher's wife declared it too sordid. However, Frank Norris, who was working as a reader at the Doubleday & McClure Company, sent a few copies to literary reviewers.
Between 1900 and 1980, all editions of the novel were of a second altered version. Not until 1981 did Dreiser's unaltered version appear when the University of Pennsylvania Press issued a scholarly edition based upon the original manuscript held by The New York Public Library. It is a reconstruction by a team of leading scholars to represent the novel before it was edited by hands other than Dreiser's.
In his Nobel Prize Lecture of 1930, Sinclair Lewis said that "Dreiser's great first novel, Sister Carrie, which he dared to publish thirty long years ago and which I read twenty-five years ago, came to housebound and airless America like a great free Western wind, and to our stuffy domesticity gave us the first fresh air since Mark Twain and Whitman".
Film adaptation
Laurence Olivier and Jennifer Jones starred in the 1952 film version, Carrie, directed by William Wyler.
Chapter I
THE MAGNET ATTRACTING--A WAIF AMID FORCES
When Caroline Meeber boarded the afternoon train for Chicago, her total outfit consisted of a small trunk, a cheap imitation alligator-skin satchel, a small lunch in a paper box, and a yellow leather snap purse, containing her ticket, a scrap of paper with her sister's address in Van Buren Street, and four dollars in money. It was in August, 1889. She was eighteen years of age, bright, timid, and full of the illusions of ignorance and youth. Whatever touch of regret at parting characterised her thoughts, it was certainly not for advantages now being given up. A gush of tears at her mother's farewell kiss, a touch in her throat when the cars clacked by the flour mill where her father worked by the day, a pathetic sigh as the familiar green environs of the village passed in review, and the threads which bound her so lightly to girlhood and home were irretrievably broken.
To be sure there was always the next station, where one might descend and return. There was the great city, bound more closely by these very trains which came up daily. Columbia City was not so very far away, even once she was in Chicago. What, pray, is a few hours--a few hundred miles? She looked at the little slip bearing her sister's address and wondered. She gazed at the green landscape, now passing in swift review, until her swifter thoughts replaced its impression with vague conjectures of what Chicago might be.
When a girl leaves her home at eighteen, she does one of two things. Either she falls into saving hands and becomes better, or she rapidly assumes the cosmopolitan standard of virtue and becomes worse. Of an intermediate balance, under the circumstances, there is no possibility. The city has its cunning wiles, no less than the infinitely smaller and more human tempter. There are large forces which allure with all the soulfulness of expression possible in the most cultured human. The gleam of a thousand lights is often as effective as the persuasive light in a wooing and fascinating eye. Half the undoing of the unsophisticated and natural mind is accomplished by forces wholly superhuman. A blare of sound, a roar of life, a vast array of human hives, appeal to the astonished senses in equivocal terms. Without a counsellor at hand to whisper cautious interpretations, what falsehoods may not these things breathe into the unguarded ear! Unrecognised for what they are, their beauty, like music, too often relaxes, then weakens, then perverts the simpler human perceptions.
Caroline, or Sister Carrie, as she had been half affectionately termed by the family, was possessed of a mind rudimentary in its power of observation and analysis. Self-interest with her was high, but not strong. It was, nevertheless, her guiding characteristic. Warm with the fancies of youth, pretty with the insipid prettiness of the formative period, possessed of a figure promising eventual shapeliness and an eye alight with certain native intelligence, she was a fair example of the middle American class--two generations removed from the emigrant. Books were beyond her interest--knowledge a sealed book. In the intuitive graces she was still crude. She could scarcely toss her head gracefully. Her hands were almost ineffectual. The feet, though small, were set flatly. And yet she was interested in her charms, quick to understand the keener pleasures of life, ambitious to gain in material things. A half-equipped little knight she was, venturing to reconnoitre the mysterious city and dreaming wild dreams of some vague, far-off supremacy, which should make it prey and subject--the proper penitent, grovelling at a woman's slipper.
"That," said a voice in her ear, "is one of the prettiest little resorts in Wisconsin."
"Is it?" she answered nervously.
The train was just pulling out of Waukesha. For some time she had been conscious of a man behind. She felt him observing her mass of hair. He had been fidgetting, and with natural intuition she felt a certain interest growing in that quarter. Her maidenly reserve, and a certain sense of what was conventional under the circumstances, called her to forestall and deny this familiarity, but the daring and magnetism of the individual, born of past experiences and triumphs, prevailed. She answered.
He leaned forward to put his elbows upon the back of her seat and proceeded to make himself volubly agreeable.
"Yes, that is a great resort for Chicago people. The hotels are swell. You are not familiar with this part of the country, are you?"
"Oh, yes, I am," answered Carrie. "That is, I live at Columbia City. I have never been through here, though."
"And so this is your first visit to Chicago," he observed.
All the time she was conscious of certain features out of the side of her eye. Flush, colourful cheeks, a light moustache, a grey fedora hat. She now turned and looked upon him in full, the instincts of self-protection and coquetry mingling confusedly in her brain.
"I didn't say that," she said.
"Oh," he answered, in a very pleasing way and with an assumed air of mistake, "I thought you did."
Here was a type of the travelling canvasser for a manufacturing house--a class which at that time was first being dubbed by the slang of the day "drummers." He came within the meaning of a still newer term, which had sprung into general use among Americans in 1880, and which concisely expressed the thought of one whose dress or manners are calculated to elicit the admiration of susceptible young women--a "masher." His suit was of a striped and crossed pattern of brown wool, new at that time, but since become familiar as a business suit. The low crotch of the vest revealed a stiff shirt bosom of white and pink stripes. From his coat sleeves protruded a pair of linen cuffs of the same pattern, fastened with large, gold plate buttons, set with the common yellow agates known as "cat's-eyes." His fingers bore several rings--one, the ever-enduring heavy seal--and from his vest dangled a neat gold watch chain, from which was suspended the secret insignia of the Order of Elks. The whole suit was rather tight-fitting, and was finished off with heavy-soled tan shoes, highly polished, and the grey fedora hat. He was, for the order of intellect represented, attractive, and whatever he had to recommend him, you may be sure was not lost upon Carrie, in this, her first glance.
Lest this order of individual should permanently pass, let me put down some of the most striking characteristics of his most successful manner and method. Good clothes, of course, were the first essential, the things without which he was nothing. A strong physical nature, actuated by a keen desire for the feminine, was the next. A mind free of any consideration of the problems or forces of the world and actuated not by greed, but an insatiable love of variable pleasure. His method was always simple. Its principal element was daring, backed, of course, by an intense desire and admiration for the sex. Let him meet with a young woman once and he would approach her with an air of kindly familiarity, not unmixed with pleading, which would result in most cases in a tolerant acceptance. If she showed any tendency to coquetry he would be apt to straighten her tie, or if she "took up" with him at all, to call her by her first name. If he visited a department store it was to lounge familiarly over the counter and ask some leading questions. In more exclusive circles, on the train or in waiting stations, he went slower. If some seemingly vulnerable object appeared he was all attention-- to pass the compliments of the day, to lead the way to the parlor car, carrying her grip, or, failing that, to take a seat next her with the hope of being able to court her to her destination. Pillows, books, a footstool, the shade lowered; all these figured in the things which he could do. If, when she reached her destination he did not alight and attend her baggage for her, it was because, in his own estimation, he had signally failed.
A woman should some day write the complete philosophy of clothes. No matter how young, it is one of the things she wholly comprehends. There is an indescribably faint line in the matter of man's apparel which somehow divides for her those who are worth glancing at and those who are not. Once an individual has passed this faint line on the way downward he will get no glance from her. There is another line at which the dress of a man will cause her to study her own. This line the individual at her elbow now marked for Carrie. She became conscious of an inequality. Her own plain blue dress, with its black cotton tape trimmings, now seemed to her shabby. She felt the worn state of her shoes.
"Let's see," he went on, "I know quite a number of people in your town. Morgenroth the clothier and Gibson the dry goods man."
"Oh, do you?" she interrupted, aroused by memories of longings their show windows had cost her.
At last he had a clew to her interest, and followed it deftly. In a few minutes he had come about into her seat. He talked of sales of clothing, his travels, Chicago, and the amusements of that city.
"If you are going there, you will enjoy it immensely. Have you relatives?"
"I am going to visit my sister," she explained.
"You want to see Lincoln Park," he said, "and Michigan Boulevard. They are putting up great buildings there. It's a second New York--great. So much to see--theatres, crowds, fine houses--oh, you'll like that."
There was a little ache in her fancy of all he described. Her insignificance in the presence of so much magnificence faintly affected her. She realised that hers was not to be a round of pleasure, and yet there was something promising in all the material prospect he set forth. There was something satisfactory in the attention of this individual with his good clothes. She could not help smiling as he told her of some popular actress of whom she reminded him. She was not silly, and yet attention of this sort had its weight.
"You will be in Chicago some little time, won't you?" he observed at one turn of the now easy conversation.
"I don't know," said Carrie vaguely--a flash vision of the possibility of her not securing employment rising in her mind.
"Several weeks, anyhow," he said, looking steadily into her eyes.
There was much more passing now than the mere words indicated. He recognised the indescribable thing that made up for fascination and beauty in her. She realised that she was of interest to him from the one standpoint which a woman both delights in and fears. Her manner was simple, though for the very reason that she had not yet learned the many little affectations with which women conceal their true feelings. Some things she did appeared bold. A clever companion--had she ever had one-- would have warned her never to look a man in the eyes so steadily.
"Why do you ask?" she said.
"Well, I'm going to be there several weeks. I'm going to study stock at our place and get new samples. I might show you 'round."
"I don't know whether you can or not. I mean I don't know whether I can. I shall be living with my sister, and----"
"Well, if she minds, we'll fix that." He took out his pencil and a little pocket note-book as if it were all settled. "What is your address there?"
She fumbled her purse which contained the address slip.
He reached down in his hip pocket and took out a fat purse. It was filled with slips of paper, some mileage books, a roll of greenbacks. It impressed her deeply. Such a purse had never been carried by any one attentive to her. Indeed, an experienced traveller, a brisk man of the world, had never come within such close range before. The purse, the shiny tan shoes, the smart new suit, and the air with which he did things, built up for her a dim world of fortune, of which he was the centre. It disposed her pleasantly toward all he might do.
He took out a neat business card, on which was engraved Bartlett, Caryoe & Company, and down in the left-hand corner, Chas. H. Drouet.
"That's me," he said, putting the card in her hand and touching his name. "It's pronounced Drew-eh. Our family was French, on my father's side."
She looked at it while he put up his purse. Then he got out a letter from a bunch in his coat pocket. "This is the house I travel for," he went on, pointing to a picture on it, "corner of State and Lake." There was pride in his voice. He felt that it was something to be connected with such a place, and he made her feel that way.
"What is your address?" he began again, fixing his pencil to write.
She looked at his hand.
"Carrie Meeber," she said slowly. "Three hundred and fifty-four West Van Buren Street, care S. C. Hanson."
He wrote it carefully down and got out the purse again. "You'll be at home if I come around Monday night?" he said.
"I think so," she answered.
How true it is that words are but the vague shadows of the volumes we mean. Little audible links, they are, chaining together great inaudible feelings and purposes. Here were these two, bandying little phrases, drawing purses, looking at cards, and both unconscious of how inarticulate all their real feelings were. Neither was wise enough to be sure of the working of the mind of the other. He could not tell how his luring succeeded. She could not realise that she was drifting, until he secured her address. Now she felt that she had yielded something--he, that he had gained a victory. Already they felt that they were somehow associated. Already he took control in directing the conversation. His words were easy. Her manner was relaxed.
They were nearing Chicago. Signs were everywhere numerous. Trains flashed by them. Across wide stretches of flat, open prairie they could see lines of telegraph poles stalking across the fields toward the great city. Far away were indications of suburban towns, some big smokestacks towering high in the air.
Frequently there were two-story frame houses standing out in the open fields, without fence or trees, lone outposts of the approaching army of homes.
To the child, the genius with imagination, or the wholly untravelled, the approach to a great city for the first time is a wonderful thing. Particularly if it be evening--that mystic period between the glare and gloom of the world when life is changing from one sphere or condition to another. Ah, the promise of the night. What does it not hold for the weary! What old illusion of hope is not here forever repeated! Says the soul of the toiler to itself, "I shall soon be free. I shall be in the ways and the hosts of the merry. The streets, the lamps, the lighted chamber set for dining, are for me. The theatre, the halls, the parties, the ways of rest and the paths of song--these are mine in the night." Though all humanity be still enclosed in the shops, the thrill runs abroad. It is in the air. The dullest feel something which they may not always express or describe. It is the lifting of the burden of toil.
Sister Carrie gazed out of the window. Her companion, affected by her wonder, so contagious are all things, felt anew some interest in the city and pointed out its marvels.
"This is Northwest Chicago," said Drouet. "This is the Chicago River," and he pointed to a little muddy creek, crowded with the huge masted wanderers from far-off waters nosing the black-posted banks. With a puff, a clang, and a clatter of rails it was gone. "Chicago is getting to be a great town," he went on. "It's a wonder. You'll find lots to see here."
She did not hear this very well. Her heart was troubled by a kind of terror. The fact that she was alone, away from home, rushing into a great sea of life and endeavour, began to tell. She could not help but feel a little choked for breath--a little sick as her heart beat so fast. She half closed her eyes and tried to think it was nothing, that Columbia City was only a little way off.
"Chicago! Chicago!" called the brakeman, slamming open the door. They were rushing into a more crowded yard, alive with the clatter and clang of life. She began to gather up her poor little grip and closed her hand firmly upon her purse. Drouet arose, kicked his legs to straighten his trousers, and seized his clean yellow grip.
"I suppose your people will be here to meet you?" he said. "Let me carry your grip."
"Oh, no," she said. "I'd rather you wouldn't. I'd rather you wouldn't be with me when I meet my sister."
"All right," he said in all kindness. "I'll be near, though, in case she isn't here, and take you out there safely."
"You're so kind," said Carrie, feeling the goodness of such attention in her strange situation.
"Chicago!" called the brakeman, drawing the word out long. They were under a great shadowy train shed, where the lamps were already beginning to shine out, with passenger cars all about and the train moving at a snail's pace. The people in the car were all up and crowding about the door.
"Well, here we are," said Drouet, leading the way to the door. "Good-bye, till I see you Monday."
"Good-bye," she answered, taking his proffered hand.
"Remember, I'll be looking till you find your sister."
She smiled into his eyes.
They filed out, and he affected to take no notice of her. A lean-faced, rather commonplace woman recognised Carrie on the platform and hurried forward.
"Why, Sister Carrie!" she began, and there was embrace of welcome.
Carrie realised the change of affectional atmosphere at once. Amid all the maze, uproar, and novelty she felt cold reality taking her by the hand. No world of light and merriment. No round of amusement. Her sister carried with her most of the grimness of shift and toil.
"Why, how are all the folks at home?" she began; "how is father, and mother?"
Carrie answered, but was looking away. Down the aisle, toward the gate leading into the waiting-room and the street, stood Drouet. He was looking back. When he saw that she saw him and was safe with her sister he turned to go, sending back the shadow of a smile. Only Carrie saw it. She felt something lost to her when he moved away. When he disappeared she felt his absence thoroughly. With her sister she was much alone, a lone figure in a tossing, thoughtless sea.
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