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Antonia, by Willa Sibert Cather
Book II: The Hired Girls
CUTTER WAS the money-lender who had fleeced poor Russian Peter. When a
farmer once got into the habit of going to Cutter, it was like gambling or
the lottery; in an hour of discouragement he went back.
first name was Wycliffe, and he liked to talk about his pious bringing-up.
He contributed regularly to the Protestant churches, `for sentiment's
sake,' as he said with a flourish of the hand. He came from a town in Iowa
where there were a great many Swedes, and could speak a little Swedish,
which gave him a great advantage with the early Scandinavian settlers.
every frontier settlement there are men who have come there to escape
restraint. Cutter was one of
the `fast set' of Black Hawk business men.
He was an inveterate gambler, though a poor loser.
When we saw a light burning in his office late at night, we knew
that a game of poker was going on. Cutter boasted that he never drank
anything stronger than sherry, and he said he got his start in life by
saving the money that other young men spent for cigars.
He was full of moral maxims for boys.
When he came to our house on business, he quoted `Poor Richard's
Almanack' to me, and told me he was delighted to find a town boy who could
milk a cow. He was particularly affable to grandmother, and whenever they
met he would begin at once to talk about `the good old times' and simple
living. I detested his pink,
bald head, and his yellow whiskers, always soft and glistening. It was
said he brushed them every night, as a woman does her hair. His white
teeth looked factory-made. His skin was red and rough, as if from
perpetual sunburn; he often went away to hot springs to take mud baths. He was notoriously dissolute with women. Two Swedish girls
who had lived in his house were the worse for the experience.
One of them he had taken to Omaha and established in the business
for which he had fitted her. He still visited her.
lived in a state of perpetual warfare with his wife, and yet, apparently,
they never thought of separating. They dwelt in a fussy, scroll-work house,
painted white and buried in thick evergreens, with a fussy white fence and
barn. Cutter thought he knew a great deal about horses, and usually had a
colt which he was training for the track. On Sunday mornings one could see
him out at the fair grounds, speeding around the race-course in his
trotting-buggy, wearing yellow gloves and a black-and-white-check travelling
cap, his whiskers blowing back in the breeze. If there were any boys about,
Cutter would offer one of them a quarter to hold the stop-watch, and then
drive off, saying he had no change and would `fix it up next time.' No one
could cut his lawn or wash his buggy to suit him. He was so fastidious and
prim about his place that a boy would go to a good deal of trouble to throw
a dead cat into his back yard, or to dump a sackful of tin cans in his
alley. It was a peculiar combination of old-maidishness and licentiousness
that made Cutter seem so despicable.
had certainly met his match when he married Mrs. Cutter. She was a
terrifying-looking person; almost a giantess in height, raw-boned, with
iron-grey hair, a face always flushed, and prominent, hysterical eyes.
When she meant to be entertaining and agreeable, she nodded her head
incessantly and snapped her eyes at one. Her teeth were long and curved,
like a horse's; people said babies always cried if she smiled at them.
Her face had a kind of fascination for me:
it was the very colour and shape of anger. There was a gleam of
something akin to insanity in her full, intense eyes.
She was formal in manner, and made calls in rustling, steel-grey
brocades and a tall bonnet with bristling aigrettes.
Cutter painted china so assiduously that even her wash-bowls and pitchers,
and her husband's shaving-mug, were covered with violets and lilies.
Once, when Cutter was exhibiting some of his wife's china to a
caller, he dropped a piece. Mrs. Cutter put her handkerchief to her lips as
if she were going to faint and said grandly:
`Mr. Cutter, you have broken all the Commandments--spare the
quarrelled from the moment Cutter came into the house until they went to bed
at night, and their hired girls reported these scenes to the town at large. Mrs.
Cutter had several times cut paragraphs about unfaithful husbands out of the
newspapers and mailed them to Cutter in a disguised handwriting.
Cutter would come home at noon, find the mutilated journal in the
paper-rack, and triumphantly fit the clipping into the space from which it
had been cut. Those two could quarrel all morning about whether he ought to
put on his heavy or his light underwear, and all evening about whether he
had taken cold or not.
Cutters had major as well as minor subjects for dispute. The chief of these
was the question of inheritance: Mrs. Cutter told her husband it was plainly his fault they
had no children. He insisted that Mrs. Cutter had purposely remained
childless, with the determination to outlive him and to share his property
with her `people,' whom he detested. To
this she would reply that unless he changed his mode of life, she would
certainly outlive him. After listening to her insinuations about his
physical soundness, Cutter would resume his dumb-bell practice for a month,
or rise daily at the hour when his wife most liked to sleep, dress noisily,
and drive out to the track with his trotting-horse.
when they had quarrelled about household expenses, Mrs. Cutter put on her
brocade and went among their friends soliciting orders for painted china,
saying that Mr. Cutter had compelled her `to live by her brush.' Cutter
wasn't shamed as she had expected; he was delighted!
often threatened to chop down the cedar trees which half-buried the house.
His wife declared she would leave him if she were stripped of the I
privacy' which she felt these trees afforded her. That was his opportunity,
surely; but he never cut down the trees. The Cutters seemed to find their
relations to each other interesting and stimulating, and certainly the rest
of us found them so. Wick Cutter was different from any other rascal I have
ever known, but I have found Mrs. Cutters all over the world; sometimes
founding new religions, sometimes being forcibly fed--easily recognizable,
even when superficially tamed.
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