An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser (i can read book club .TXT) 📕

by Belknap and Jephson. But on what grounds could he⁠—David Waltham, and without any new or varying data of any kind⁠—just a reinterpretation of the evidence as already passed upon⁠—venture to change Clyde’s death sentence to life imprisonment? Had not a jury, as well as the Court of Appeals, already said he should die?

In consequence, as Mrs. Griffiths began her plea, her voice shaky⁠—retracing as best she could the story of Clyde’s life, his virtues, the fact that at no time ever had he been a bad or cruel boy⁠—that Roberta, if not Miss X, was not entirely guiltless in the matter⁠—he merely gazed at her deeply moved. The love and devotion of such a mother! Her agony in this hour; her faith that her son could not be as evil as the proven facts seemed to indicate to him and everyone else. “Oh, my dear Governor, how can the sacrifice of my son’s life now, and when spiritually he has purged his soul of sin and is ready to devote himself to the work of God, repay the state for the loss of that poor, dear girl’s life, whether it was accidentally or otherwise taken⁠—how can it? Can not the millions of people of the state of New York be merciful? Cannot you as their representative exercise the mercy that they may feel?”

Her voice broke⁠—she could not go on. Instead she turned her back and began to cry silently, while Waltham, shaken by an emotion he could not master, merely stood there. This poor woman! So obviously honest and sincere. Then the Reverend McMillan, seeing his opportunity, now entering his plea. Clyde had changed. He could not speak as to his life before⁠—but since his incarceration⁠—or for the last year, at least, he had come into a new understanding of life, duty, his obligations to man and God. If but the death sentence could be commuted to life imprisonment⁠—

And the Governor, who was a very earnest and conscientious man, listened with all attention to McMillan, whom, as he saw and concluded was decidedly an intense and vital and highly idealistic person. No question in his own mind but what the words of this man⁠—whatever they were, would be true⁠—in so far as his own understanding would permit the conception of a truth.

“But you, personally, Mr. McMillan,” the Governor at last found voice to say, “because of your long contact with him in the prison there⁠—do you know of any material fact not introduced at the trial which would in any way tend to invalidate or weaken any phase of the testimony offered at the trial? As you must know this is a legal proceeding. I cannot act upon sentiment alone⁠—and especially in the face of the unanimous decision of two separate courts.”

He looked directly at McMillan, who, pale and dumb, now gazed at him in return. For now upon his word⁠—upon his shoulders apparently was being placed the burden of deciding as to Clyde’s guilt or innocence. But could he do that? Had he not decided, after due meditation as to Clyde’s confessions, that he was guilty before God and the law? And could he now⁠—for mercy’s sake⁠—and in the face of his deepest spiritual conviction, alter his report of his conviction? Would that be true⁠—white, valuable before the Lord? And as instantly deciding that he, Clyde’s spiritual adviser, must not in any way be invalidated in his spiritual worth to Clyde. “Ye are the salt of the earth; but if the salt have lost his savor, wherewith shall it be salted?” And forthwith he declared: “As his spiritual advisor I have entered only upon the spiritual, not the legal aspect of his life.” And thereupon Waltham at once deciding, from something in McMillan’s manner that he, like all others, apparently, was satisfied as to Clyde’s guilt. And so, finally finding courage to say to Mrs. Griffiths: “Unless some definite evidence such as I have not yet seen and which will affect the legality of these two findings can be brought me, I have no alternative, Mrs. Griffiths, but to allow the verdict as written to stand. I am very sorry⁠—oh, more than I can tell you. But if the law is to be respected its decisions can never be altered except for reasons that in themselves are full of legal merit. I wish I could decide differently. I do indeed. My heart and my prayers go with you.”

He pressed a button. His secretary entered. It was plain that the interview was ended. Mrs. Griffiths, violently shaken and deeply depressed by the peculiar silence and evasion of McMillan at the crucial moment of this interview when the Governor had asked such an all important and direct question as to the guilt of her son, was still unable to say a word more. But now what? Which way? To whom to turn? God, and God only. She and Clyde must find in their Creator the solace for his failure and death in this world. And as she was thinking and still weeping, the Reverend McMillan approached and gently led her from the room.

When she was gone the Governor finally turned to his secretary:

“Never in my life have I faced a sadder duty. It will always be with me.” He turned and gazed out upon a snowy February landscape.

And after this but two more weeks of life for Clyde, during which time, and because of his ultimate decision conveyed to him first by McMillan, but in company with his mother, from whose face Clyde could read all, even before McMillan spoke, and from whom he heard all once more as to his need of refuge and peace in God, his Savior, he now walked up and down his cell, unable to rest for any length of time anywhere. For, because of this final completely convincing sensation, that very soon he was to die, he felt the need, even now of retracing his unhappy life. His youth. Kansas City. Chicago. Lycurgus. Roberta and Sondra. How swiftly they