An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

a great pain, not hate. Her mother—no doubt of it. Oh, what

a situation was this! How unthinkably miserable! His heart

fluttered. His hands trembled.

So now to stay himself, he looked down, first at the hands

of Belknap and Jephson on the table before him, since

each was toying with a pencil poised above the pad of

paper before them, as they gazed at Mason and whoever

was in the jury box before him—a foolish-looking fat man

now. What a difference between Jephson’s and Belknap’s

hands—the latter so short and soft and white, the former’s

so long and brown and knotty and bony. And Belknap’s

pleasant and agreeable manner here in court—his voice—“I

think I will ask the juror to step down”—as opposed to

Mason’s revolver-like “Excused!” or Jephson’s slow and yet

powerful, though whispered, “Better let him go, Alvin.

Nothing in him for us.” And then all at once Jephson saying

to him: “Sit up! Sit up! Look around! Don’t sag down like

that. Look people in the eye. Smile naturally, Clyde, if you’re

going to smile at all. Just look ’em in the eye. They’re not

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936

going to hurt you. They’re just a lot of farmers out

sightseeing.”

But Clyde, noting at once that several reporters and artists

were studying and then sketching or writing of him, now

flushed hotly and weakly, for he could feel their eager eyes

and their eager words as clearly as he could hear their

scratching pens. And all for the papers—his blanching face

and trembling hands—they would have that down—and his

mother in Denver and everybody else there in Lycurgus

would see and read—how he had looked at the Aldens and

they had looked at him and then he had looked away again.

Still—still—he must get himself better in hand—sit up once

more and look about—or Jephson would be disgusted with

him. And so once more he did his best to crush down his

fear, to raise his eyes and then turn slightly and look about.

But in doing so, there next to the wall, and to one side of

that tall window, and just as he had feared, was Tracy

Trumbull, who evidently because of the law interest or his

curiosity and what not—no pity or sympathy for him, surely

—had come up for this day anyhow, and was looking, not at

him for the moment, thank goodness, but at Mason, who

was asking the fat man some questions. And next to him

Eddie Sells, with nearsighted eyes equipped with thick

lenses of great distance-power, and looking in Clyde’s

direction, yet without seeing him apparently, for he gave no

sign. Oh, how trying all this!

And five rows from them again, in another direction, Mr.

and Mrs. Gilpin, whom Mason had found, of course. And

what would they testify to now? His calling on Roberta in

her room there? And how secret it had all been? That

would be bad, of course. And of all people, Mr. and Mrs.

George Newton! What were they going to put them on the

stand for? To tell about Roberta’s life before she got to

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937

going with him, maybe? And that Grace Marr, whom he had

seen often but met only once out there on Crum Lake, and

whom Roberta had not liked any more. What would she

have to say? She could tell how he had met Roberta, of

course, but what else? And then—but, no, it could not be—

and yet—yet, it was, too—surely—that Orrin Short, of whom

he had asked concerning Glenn. Gee!—he was going to tell

about that now, maybe—no doubt of it. How people

seemed to remember things—more than ever he would

have dreamed they would have.

And again, this side of that third window from the front, but

beyond that dreaded group of the Aldens, that very large

and whiskered man who looked something like an old-time

Quaker turned bandit—Heit was his name. He had met him

at Three Mile Bay, and again on that day on which he had

been taken up to Big Bittern against his will. Oh, yes, the

coroner he was. And beside him, that innkeeper up there

who had made him sign the register that day. And next to

him the boathouse-keeper who had rented him the boat.

And next to him, that tall, lank guide who had driven him

and Roberta over from Gun Lodge, a brown and wiry and

loutish man who seemed to pierce him now with small,

deep-set, animal-like eyes, and who most certainly was

going to testify to all the details of that ride from Gun Lodge.

Would his nervousness on that day, and his foolish qualms,

be as clearly remembered by him as they were now by

himself, And if so, how would that affect his plea of a

change of heart? Would he not better talk all that over

again with Jephson?

But this man Mason! How hard he was! How energetic! And

how he must have worked to get all of these people here to

testify against him! And now here he was, exclaiming as he

chanced to look at him, and as he had in at least the last

dozen cases (yet with no perceptible result in so far as the

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938

jury box was concerned), “Acceptable to the People!” But,

invariably, whenever he had done so, Jephson had merely

turned slightly, but without looking, and had said: “Nothing

in him for us, Alvin. As set as a bone.” And then Belknap,

courteous and bland, had challenged for cause and usually

succeeded in having his challenge sustained.

But then at last, and oh, how agreeably, the clerk of the

court announcing in a clear, thin, rasping and aged voice, a

recess until two P. M. And Jephson smilingly turning to

Clyde with: “Well, Clyde, that’s the first round—not so very

much to it, do you think? And not very hard either, is it?

Better go over there and get a good meal, though. It’ll be

just as long and dull this afternoon.”

And in the meantime, Kraut and Sissel, together with the

extra deputies, pushing close and surrounding him. And

then the crowding and swarming and exclaiming: “There he

is! There he is! Here he comes! Here Here!” And a large

and meaty female pushing as close as possible and staring

directly into his face, exclaiming as she did so: “Let me see

him! I just want to get a good look at you, young man. I

have two daughters of my own.” But without one of all those

of Lycurgus or Twelfth Lake whom he had ecognized in the

public benches, coming near him. And no glimpse of

Sondra anywhere, of course. For as both Belknap and

Jephson had repeatedly assured him, she would not

appear. Her name was not even to be mentioned, if

possible. The Griffiths, as well as the Finchleys, were

opposed.

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Chapter 20

AND then five entire days consumed by Mason and Belknap

in selecting a jury. But at last the twelve men who were to

try Clyde, sworn and seated. And such men—odd and

grizzled, or tanned and wrinkled, farmers and country

storekeepers, with here and there a Ford agent, a keeper of

an inn at Tom Dixon’s Lake, a salesman in Hamburger’s dry

goods store at Bridgeburg, and a peripatetic insurance

agent residing in Pur-day just north of Grass Lake. And with

but one exception, all married. And with but one exception,

all religious, if not moral, and all convinced of Clyde’s guilt

before ever they sat down, but still because of their almost

unanimous conception of themselves as fair and open-

minded men, and because they were so interested to sit as

jurors in this exciting case, convinced that they could pass

fairly and impartially on the facts presented to them.

And so, all rising and being sworn in.

And at once Mason rising and beginning: “Gentlemen of the

jury.”

And Clyde, as well as Belknap and Jephson, now gazing at

them and wondering what the impression of Mason’s

opening charge was likely to be. For a more dynamic and

electric prosecutor under these particular circumstances

was not to be found. This was his opportunity. Were not the

eyes of all the citizens of the United States upon him? He

believed so. It was as if some one had suddenly exclaimed:

“Lights! Camera!”

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940

“No doubt many of you have been wearied, as well as

puzzled, at times during the past week,” he began, “by the

exceeding care with which the lawyers in this case have

passed upon the panels from which you twelve men have

been chosen. It has been no light matter to find twelve men

to whom all the marshaled facts in this astonishing cause

could be submitted and by them weighed with all the

fairness and understanding which the law commands. For

my part, the care which I have exercised, gentlemen, has