An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

do when she got there. How to get the courage—the faith—

to endure it. Yet again, neither Asa nor Frank nor Julia must

know. Asa, with his protesting and yet somehow careworn

faith, his weak eyes and weakening body. And must Frank

and Julia, now just starting out in life, be saddled with this?

Marked thus?

Merciful God! Would her troubles never end?

She turned, her big, work-worn hands trembling slightly,

shaking the paper she held, while Esta, who sympathized

greatly with her mother these days because of all she had

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been compelled to endure, stood by. She looked so tired at

times, and now to be racked by this! Yet, as she knew, her

mother was the strongest in the family—so erect, so square-

shouldered, defiant—a veritable soul pilot in her cross-

grained, uniformed way.

“Mamma, I just can’t believe it can be Clyde,” was all Esta

could say now. “It just can’t be, can it?”

But Mrs. Griffiths merely continued to stare at that ominous

headline, then swiftly ran her gray-blue eyes over the room.

Her broad face was blanched and dignified by an enormous

strain and an enormous pain. Her erring, misguided, no

doubt unfortunate, son, with all his wild dreams of getting

on and up, was in danger of death, of being electrocuted for

a crime—for murder! He had killed some one—a poor

working-girl, the paper said.

“Ssh!” she whispered, putting one finger to her own lips as

a sign. “He” (indicating Asa) “must not know yet, anyhow.

We must wire first, or write. You can have the answers

come to you, maybe. I will give you the money. But I must

sit down somewhere now for a minute. I feel a little weak.

I’ll sit here. Let me have the Bible.”

On the small dresser was a Gideon Bible, which, sitting on

the edge of the commonplace iron bed, she now opened

instinctively at Psalms 3 and 4.

“Lord, how are they increased that trouble.”

“Hear me, when I call, O God of my righteousness.”

And then reading on silently, even placidly apparently,

through 6, 8, 10, 13, 23, 91, while Esta stood by in silent

amazement and misery.

“Oh, Mamma, I just can’t believe it. Oh, this is too terrible!”

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But Mrs. Griffiths read on. It was as if, and in spite of all

this, she had been able to retreat into some still, silent

place, where, for the time being at least, no evil human ill

could reach her. Then at last, quite calmly closing the book,

and rising, she went on:

“Now, we must think out what to say and who to send that

telegram to—I mean to Clyde, of course—at that place,

wherever it is—Bridgeburg,” she added, looking at the

paper, and then interpolating from the Bible—“By terrible

things in righteousness wilt thou answer us, O God!”“Or,

maybe, those two lawyers—their names are there. I’m

afraid to wire Asa’s brother for fear he’ll wire back to

him.” (Then: Thou art my bulwark and my strength. In Thee

will I trust.’) “But I suppose they would give it to him if we

sent it care of that judge or those lawyers, don’t you think?

But it would be better if we could send it to him direct, I

suppose. (‘He leadeth me by the still waters.’) Just say that

I have read about him and still have faith and love for him,

but he is to tell me the truth and what to do. If he needs

money we will have to see what we can do, I suppose. (‘He

restoreth my soul.’)”

And then, despite her sudden peace of the moment, she

once more began wringing her large, rough hands. “Oh, it

can’t be true. Oh, dear, no! After all, he is my son. We all

love him and have faith. We must say that. God will deliver

him. Watch and pray. Have faith. Under his wings shall thou

trust.”

She was so beside herself that she scarcely knew what she

was saying. And Esta, at her side, was saying: “Yes,

Mamma! Oh, of course! Yes, I will! I know he’ll get it all

right.” But she, too, was saying to herself: “My God! My

God! What could be worse than this—to be accused of

murder! But, of course, it can’t be true. It can’t be true. If he

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should hear!” (She was thinking of her husband.) “And after

Russell, too. And Clyde’s trouble there in Kansas City. Poor

Mamma. She has so much trouble.”

Together, after a time, and avoiding Asa who was in an

adjoining room helping with the cleaning, the two made

their way to the general mission room below, where was

silence and many placards which proclaimed the charity,

the wisdom, and the sustaining righteousness of God.

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Chapter 18

THE telegram, worded in the spirit just described, was

forthwith despatched care of Belknap and Jephson, who

immediately counseled Clyde what to reply—that all was

well with him; that he had the best of advice and would

need no financial aid. Also that until his lawyers advised it, it

would be best if no member of the family troubled to

appear, since everything that could possibly be done to aid

him was already being done. At the same time they wrote

Mrs. Griffiths, assuring her of their interest in Clyde and

advising her to let matters rest as they were for the present.

Despite the fact that the Griffiths were thus restrained from

appearing in the east, neither Belknap nor Jephson were

averse to some news of the existence, whereabouts, faith

and sympathy of Clyde’s most immediate relatives creeping

into the newspapers, since the latter were so persistent in

referring to his isolation. And in this connection they were

aided by the fact that his mother’s telegram on being

received in Bridgeburg was at once read by individuals who

were particularly interested in the case and by them

whispered to the public and the press, with the result that in

Denver the family was at once sought out and interviewed.

And shortly after, there was circulated in all the papers east

and west a more or less complete account of the present

state of Clyde’s family, the nature of the mission conducted

by them, as well as their narrow and highly individualistic

religious beliefs and actions, even the statement that often

in his early youth Clyde had been taken into the streets to

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sing and pray—a revelation which shocked Lycurgus and

Twelfth Lake society about as much as it did him.

At the same time, Mrs. Griffiths, being an honest woman

and whole-heartedly sincere in her faith and in the good of

her work, did not hesitate to relate to reporter after reporter

who called, all the details of the missionary work of her

husband and herself in Denver and elsewhere. Also that

neither Clyde nor any of the other children had ever

enjoyed the opportunities that come to most. However, her

boy, whatever the present charge might be, was not

innately bad, and she could not believe that he was guilty of

any such crime. It was all an unfortunate and accidental

combination of circumstances which he would explain at

the trial. However, whatever foolish thing he might have

done, it was all to be attributed to an unfortunate accident

which broke up the mission work in Kansas City a few years

before and compelled the removal of the family from there

to Denver, leaving Clyde to make his way alone. And it was

because of advice from her that he had written her

husband’s rich brother in Lycurgus, which led to his going

there—a series of statements which caused Clyde in his

cell to tingle with a kind of prideful misery and resentment

and forced him to write his mother and complain. Why need

she always talk so much about the past and the work that

she and his father were connected with, when she knew

that he had never liked it and resented going on the

streets? Many people didn’t see it as she and his father did,

particularly his uncle and cousin and all those rich people

he had come to know, and who were able to make their

way in so different and much more brilliant fashion. And

now, as he said to himself, Sondra would most certainly

read this—all that he had hoped to conceal.

Yet even in the face of all this, because of so much sincerity

and force in his mother, he could not help but think of her

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with affection and respect, and because of her sure and

unfailing love for him, with emotion. For in answer to his

letter she wrote that she was sorry if she had hurt his

feelings or injured him in any way. But must not the truth be

shown always? The ways of God were for the best and