An American Tragedy Copyright © 1925 by Theodore Dreiser
Contents:
Book 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Book 2
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Book 3
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 1
DUSK—of a summer night
And the tall walls of the commercial heart of an American
city of perhaps 400,000 inhabitants—such walls as in time
may linger as a mere fable.
And up the broad street, now comparatively hushed, a little
band of six,—a man of about fifty, short, stout, with bushy
hair protruding from under a round black felt hat, a most
unimportant-looking person, who carried a small portable
organ such as is customarily used by street preachers and
singers. And with him a woman perhaps five years his
junior, taller, not so broad, but solid of frame and vigorous,
very plain in face and dress, and yet not homely, leading
with one hand a small boy of seven and in the other
carrying a Bible and several hymn books. With these three,
but walking independently behind, was a girl of fifteen, a
boy of twelve and another girl of nine, all following
obediently, but not too enthusiastically, in the wake of the
others.
It was hot, yet with a sweet languor about it all.
Crossing at right angles the great thoroughfare on which
they walked, was a second canyon-like way, threaded by
throngs and vehicles and various lines of cars which
clanged their bells and made such progress as they might
amid swiftly moving streams of traffic. Yet the little group
seemed unconscious of anything save a set purpose to
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12
make its way between the contending lines of traffic and
pedestrians which flowed by them.
Having reached an intersection this side of the second
principal thoroughfare—really just an alley between two tall
structures—now quite bare of life of any kind, the man put
down the organ, which the woman immediately opened,
setting up a music rack upon which she placed a wide flat
hymn book. Then handing the Bible to the man, she fell
back in line with him, while the twelve-year-old boy put
down a small camp-stool in front of the organ. The man—
the father, as he chanced to be—looked about him with
seeming wide-eyed assurance, and announced, without
appearing to care whether he had any auditors or not:
“We will first sing a hymn of praise, so that any who may
wish to acknowledge the Lord may join us. Will you oblige,
Hester?”
At this the eldest girl, who until now had attempted to
appear as unconscious and unaffected as possible,
bestowed her rather slim and as yet undeveloped figure
upon the camp chair and turned the leaves of the hymn
book, pumping the organ while her mother observed:
“I should think it might be nice to sing twenty-seven tonight
—‘How Sweet the Balm of Jesus’ Love.’”
By this time various homeward-bound individuals of diverse
grades and walks of life, noticing the small group disposing
itself in this fashion, hesitated for a moment to eye them
askance or paused to ascertain the character of their work.
This hesitancy, construed by the man apparently to
constitute attention, however mobile, was seized upon by
him and he began addressing them as though they were
specifically here to hear him.
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13
“Let us all sing twenty-seven, then—‘How Sweet the Balm
of Jesus’ Love.’”
At this the young girl began to interpret the melody upon the
organ, emitting a thin though correct strain, at the same
time joining her rather high soprano with that of her mother,
together with the rather dubious baritone of the father. The
other children piped weakly along, the boy and girl having
taken hymn books from the small pile stacked upon the
organ. As they sang, this nondescript and indifferent street
audience gazed, held by the peculiarity of such an
unimportant-looking family publicly raising its collective
voice against the vast skepticism and apathy of life. Some
were interested or moved sympathetically by the rather
tame and inadequate figure of the girl at the organ, others
by the impractical and materially inefficient texture of the
father, whose weak blue eyes and rather flabby but poorly-
clothed figure bespoke more of failure than anything else.
Of the group the mother alone stood out as having that
force and determination which, however blind or erroneous,
makes for self-preservation, if not success in life. She, more
than any of the others, stood up with an ignorant, yet
somehow respectable air of conviction. If you had watched
her, her hymn book dropped to her side, her glance
directed straight before her into space, you would have
said: “Well, here is one who, whatever her defects,
probably does what she believes as nearly as possible.” A
kind of hard, fighting faith in the wisdom and mercy of that
definite overruling and watchful power which she
proclaimed, was written in her every feature and gesture.
The love of Jesus saves me whole,
The love of God my steps control,
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14
she sang resonantly, if slightly nasally, between the
towering walls of the adjacent buildings.
The boy moved restlessly from one foot to the other,
keeping his eyes down, and for the most part only half
singing. A tall and as yet slight figure, surmounted by an
interesting head and face—white skin, dark hair—he
seemed more keenly observant and decidedly more
sensitive than most of the others—appeared indeed to
resent and even to suffer from the position in which he
found himself. Plainly pagan rather than religious, life
interested him, although as yet he was not fully aware of
this. All that could be truly said of him now was that there
was no definite appeal in all this for him. He was too young,
his mind much too responsive to phases of beauty and
pleasure which had little, if anything, to do with the remote
and cloudy romance which swayed the minds of his mother
and father.
Indeed the home life of which this boy found himself a part
and the various contacts, material and psychic, which thus
far had been his, did not tend to convince him of the reality
and force of all that his mother and father seemed so
certainly to believe and say. Rather, they seemed more or
less troubled in their lives, at least materially. His father was
always reading the Bible and speaking in meeting at
different places, especially in the “mission,” which he and
his mother conducted not so far from this corner. At the
same time, as he understood it, they collected money from
various interested or charitably inclined business men here
and there who appeared to believe in such philanthropic
work. Yet the family was always “hard up,” never very well
clothed, and deprived of many comforts and pleasures
which seemed common enough to others. And his father
and mother were constantly proclaiming the love and mercy
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15
and care of God for him and for all. Plainly there was
something wrong somewhere. He could not get it all
straight, but still he could not help respecting his mother, a
woman whose force and earnestness, as well as her
sweetness, appealed to him. Despite much mission work
and family cares, she managed to be fairly cheerful, or at
least sustaining, often declaring most emphatically “God will
provide” or “God will show the way,” especially in times of
too great stress about food or clothes. Yet apparently, in
spite of this, as he and all the other children could see, God
did not show any very clear way, even though there was
always an extreme necessity for His favorable intervention
in their affairs.
To-night, walking up the great street with his sisters and
brother, he wished that they need not do this any more, or
at least that he need not be a part of it. Other boys did not