An American Tragedy - Theodore Dreiser [429]
Finally many small and dangerous and difficult points having been bridged or buttressed or fended against as well as each side could, it became Belknap’s duty to say his last word for Clyde. And to this he gave an entire day, most carefully, and in the spirit of his opening address, retracing and emphasizing every point which tended to show how almost unconsciously, if not quite innocently, Clyde had fallen into the relationship with Roberta which had ended so disastrously for both. Mental and moral cowardice, as he now reiterated, inflamed or at least operated on by various lacks in Clyde’s early life, plus new opportunities such as previously had never appeared to be within his grasp, had affected his “perhaps too pliable and sensual and impractical and dreamy mind.” No doubt he had not been fair to Miss Alden. No question as to that. He had not. But on the other hand—and as had been most clearly shown by the confession which the defense had elicited—he had not proved ultimately so cruel or vile as the prosecution would have the public and this honorable jury believe. Many men were far more cruel in their love life than this young boy had ever dreamed of being, and of course they were not necessarily hung for that. And in passing technically on whether this boy had actually committed the crime charged, it was incumbent upon this jury to see that no generous impulse relating to what this poor girl might have suffered in her love-relations with this youth be permitted to sway them to the belief or decision that for that this youth had committed the crime specifically stated in the indictment. Who among both sexes were not cruel at times in their love life, the one to the other?
And then a long and detailed indictment of the purely circumstantial nature of the evidence—no single person having seen or heard anything of the alleged crime itself, whereas Clyde himself had explained most clearly how he came to find himself in the peculiar situation in which he did find himself. And after that, a brushing aside of the incident of the folder, as well as Clyde’s not remembering the price of the boat at Big Bittern, his stopping to bury the tripod and his being so near Roberta and not aiding her, as either being mere accidents of chance, or memory, or, in the case of his failing to go to her rescue, of his being dazed, confused, frightened—”hesitating fatally but not criminally at the one time in his life when he should not have hesitated”—a really strong if jesuitical plea which was not without its merits and its weight.
And then Mason, blazing with his conviction that Clyde was a murderer of the coldest and blackest type, and spending an entire day in riddling the “spider’s tissue of lies and unsupported statements” with which the defense was hoping to divert the minds of the jury from the unbroken and unbreakable chain of amply substantiated evidence wherewith the prosecution had proved this “bearded man” to be the “red-handed murderer” that he was. And with hours spent in retracing the statements of the various witnesses. And other hours in denouncing Clyde, or re-telling the bitter miseries of Roberta—so much so that the jury, as well as the audience, was once more on the verge of tears. And with Clyde deciding in his own mind as he sat between Belknap and Jephson, that no jury such as this was likely to acquit him in the face of evidence so artfully and movingly recapitulated.
And then Oberwaltzer from his high seat finally instructing the jury: “Gentlemen—all evidence is, in a strict sense, more or less circumstantial, whether consisting of facts which permit the inference of guilt or whether given by