My article “Some Thoughts About Dreiser: What a Close Acquaintance With His Life and Works Reveals”
posted at
is now available in Russian translation
Both the original English and the Russian transaction are posted at the link above.
— Roger W. Smith
‘Some Thoughts about Dreiser’ RUSSIAN
This article (downloadable Word document above, in both English and Russian translation) is based on a presentation by me to the Comparative Literature Department, Institute for Philology and History, Russian State University for the Humanities on March 19, 2001. It discusses the major features of Theodore Dreiser’s works, his career, and his personal views and relationships from the vantage point of close reading and study over more than three decades. He is shown to have inherited primarily from Balzac facility at mixing narrative and exposition in his novels. And of achieving, in his greatest work, An American Tragedy, great expressive power, creating a narrative that is compelling, despite his chronic weaknesses as a stylist. Some of Dreiser’s characteristic stylistic faults are identified It is shown that he was not a good writer when it came to painting word pictures and creating memorable characters. He tended to portray people as types, representing a social class and economic level than as idiosyncratic, individual characters.
Dreiser’s views of Russia (favorable and often adulatory) are contrasted with his virulent anti-British statements and writings. As well as his views of blacks, his thinly veiled snobbery and tendency to put on airs once he became successful, the ups and downs of his early career (including his brief career as an editor at Ev’ry Month) , his nuclear family, his painstaking research on The Financier, his abandoning and then resuming work on his second novel Jennie Gerhardt, and details of his trip to Russia in 1927-28 and individuals he met. There is also a brief discussion of the film versions of An American Tragedy.
— posted by Roger W. Smith
October 2021
‘Lorenzo A. Hopkins, the real George Hurstwood’
Please note.
This post partially reiterates and also amplifies upon material in a previous post of mine, namely: “Lorenzo A. Hopkins, Emma Wilhelmina Dreiser, and Family”
Roger W. Smith, “Lorenzo A. Hopkins, Emma Wilhelmina Dreiser, and Family”
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Above is a downloadable Word document containing an article about Lorenzo A. Hopkins (1847-1897), who was the real life model for the character of George Hurstwood in Theodore Dreiser’s novel Sister Carrie. The article includes newly discovered factual information about Hopkins, including his death, information about which has not hitherto been found. It is a significant matter to investigate since, in real life, Hopkins, the model for Hurstwood, was left by his lover Emma Wilhelmina Dreiser (Dreiser’s sister), leading to the decline and death of Hurstwood, which concludes the novel.
Also provided here (see below) are images of Hopkins’s death certificate, his gravestone, and the cemetery (Mt. Olivet Cemetery in Maspeth, Queens, NYC) where he is buried.
— posted by Roger W. Smith
February 2017
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See also:
“The Real Julia Hurstwood and the Lutz Murder Case”
Roger W. Smith, “The Real Julia Hurstwood and the Lutz Murder Case”
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Lorenzo A. Hopkins death certificate
Lorenzo A. Hopkins gravestone (photograph by Roger W. Smith)
Mt. Olivet Cemetery, Maspeth, Queens, NYC (photograph by Roger W. Smith)
‘Lorenzo A. Hopkins, Emma Wilhelmina Dreiser & Family’
See downloadable Word document above.
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Lorenzo A. Hopkins (aka L. A. Hopkins; 1847-1897) was the real life counterpart of the character George Hurstwood in Theodore Dreiser’s novel Sister Carrie.
Gertrude Amelia Hopkins (1894-1973), Theodore Dreiser’s niece, was the daughter of Dreiser’s sister Enema Dreiser (1863-1936). Emma was the real life counterpart of, and model for, the lead character in Sister Carrie.
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Abstract/Summary:
Theodore Dreiser’s first novel, Sister Carrie, was based on real people and incidents: Dreiser’s sister Emma; and, Emma’s lover L. A. Hopkins with whom she eloped after Hopkins, a married man, stole money from his employer in Chicago.
In the novel, Carrie Meeber’s lover, George Hurstwood, commits suicide. Very little has been known hitherto about the identity of L. A. Hopkins, the real life model for Hurstwood, or what became of him after he and Dreiser’s sister Emma, the model for Carrie Meeber, settled in New York City.
This article provides information about Hopkins and his death. It also provides information about the life of Dreiser’s sister Emma after Hopkins’s death and about the children of Hopkins and Emma; they had two children whom Dreiser met in 1894 when he first visited New York City: George Nelson and Gertrude Hopkins. The former, George Nelson, did not relate to Dreiser in later life, though in his youth he had some contact with Dreiser’s brother Paul Dresser. The latter, Gertrude Hopkins, was Dreiser’s favorite niece.
— Roger W. Smith
October 2016; updated July 2020
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Also, see below:
photo of Lorenzo A. Hopkins’s grave
photo of Theodore Dreiser’s niece Gertrude A. Hopkins
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See also my posts:
contemporary newspaper accounts about the real life Hurstwood’s theft”
contemporary newspaper accounts about the real life Hurstwood’s theft
Roger W. Smith, “The Real Julia Hurstwood and the Lutz Murder Case”
https://dreiseronlinecom.wordpress.com/2017/03/01/the-real-julia-hurstwood-and-the-lutz-murder-case/
PHOTOS
gravestone of Lorenzo A. Hopkins (1847-1897); Mt. Olivet Cemetery, Maspeth, Queens, NY (photograph by Roger W. Smith)
Gertrude Amelia Hopkins (1894-1973)
Clyde vis-a-vis Roberta and Sondra
Downloadable Word document above.
In Theodore Dreiser’s novel An American Tragedy, which was based on an actual murder case, the protagonist, CLYDE GRIFFITHS, kills his pregnant girlfriend ROBERTA ALDEN. Both Clyde Griffiths and Roberta Alden were based on real life prototypes.
There is a third major character in the novel, SONDRA FINCHLEY, an invented character. She becomes a love interest for Clyde, and the ensuing love affair between Clyde and Sondra – plus the fact that Roberta Alden (who was and still is Clyde’s girlfriend despite his new relationship with Sondra) becomes pregnant – which will perhaps force Clyde to marry her – underlies Clyde’s plot to murder Roberta, which he carries out (accidentally, he says).
Roberta is portrayed sympathetically by Dreiser. She is a winsome farm girl who is now working in the factory where Clyde is a supervisor.
Sondra Finchley, Clyde’s other love interest, is portrayed by Dreiser as being alluring—in fact, beautiful — but Dreiser also makes it plain as day to the reader that she is vain and self centered.
Clyde is attracted to Sondra on many levels, which include her wealth and social position as well as her beauty.
It seems to me that many readers have missed subtle points being made by Dreiser in the novel: for example, about romantic love vis-à-vis sexual desire; about class and privilege as factors underlying romance; about love that is admixed with the desire for wealth or status or with other ulterior motives; about tensions revolving around consummated versus unconsummated passion.
It seems that there are many who claim to be acquainted with — or feel that they are acquainted with — the book who have not actually read it but have seen the film Place in the Sun and, therefore, think they know what the book is about.
A Place in the Sun distorts key elements of the novel, especially the relationship between Clyde and Sondra, and (to a lesser extent, when speaking of distortion) the relationship between Clyde and Roberta. The film seems to ascribe to the Sondra character traits that in the novel she lacks (such as love surpassing or trumping vanity and her own ego), and to deny to the Roberta character traits that in the novel she does have (such as attractiveness, charm, and a certain refinement or delicacy of feeling that she comes by naturally).
In the film, the names of the characters have been changed, so that Clyde becomes George Eastman, Roberta becomes Alice Tripp, and Sondra becomes Angela Vickers.
I have reexamined An American Tragedy closely to see how Dreiser actually portrays these three central characters – in expository and narrative or descriptive passages and through interpolated comment, and through direct and indirect discourse – throughout the novel. What does this say about their fundamental characters and about their desirability as love objects vis-à-vis one another?
–Roger W. Smith
September 2016
Note: The attached Word document (above) contains additional content, namely, extensive excerpts from the novel which illustrate my analysis, as per the discussion above.
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Book One, Chapter I
We get a first glimpse of Clyde as an adolescent with his family, who are engaged in street preaching: “A tall and as yet slight figure …”
Summary and Analysis: Clyde is not stupid (he is “keenly observant”) and is curious about the larger world. He is physically appealing.
Book One, Chapter II
“Casual examination of himself in mirrors….”
Summary and Analysis: Clyde is good looking but vain. And his vanity is offended by his parents’ occupation. which he is ashamed of.
Book Two, Chapter X
Clyde meets Sondra for the first time.
Summary and Analysis: Clyde “flips out” over Sondra upon their first meeting. The attraction is immediate, without her doing anything to foster it.
Book Two, Chapter XII
Clyde meets Roberta when she comes to work at the factory.
Summary and Analysis: Roberta (portrayed by Shelley Winters in A Place in the Sun as dowdy) is attractive, more attractive than the other factory girls in Clyde’s department. Not only does she have good looks and charm, there is a sense of native intelligence and refinement about her.
Book Two, Chapter XIII
“because of a warm, imaginative, sensuous temperament, she [Roberta] was filled … with the world-old dream of all of Eve’s daughters … that her beauty or charm might some day and ere long smite bewitchingly and so irresistibly the soul of a given man or men…. “
Summary and Analysis: Roberta is more than a drudge (unlike the character played by Shelley Winters).
Book Two, Chapter XIV
“… Clyde, on encountering her [Roberta], was greatly stirred.”
Summary and Analysis: The attraction between Clyde and Roberta is real. Meaning that Sondra is not the first beauty he falls in love with and that he did not get involved with Roberta merely because she was easy pickings. Also, we see that Roberta — while she is conscious of rules about relationships in the factory, does not want to be a loose woman, and wonders if she is of a high enough social status to interest Clyde — is not a prude.
Book Two, Chapter XV
“In loneliness and resentment and disappointment, his mind now wandered from the Griffiths and their world, and particularly that beautiful Sondra Finchley, … to Roberta and the world which she as well as he was occupying here.”
Summary and Analysis: Clyde already has aspirations to belong to the “higher world” represented by his Griffiths relatives. Yet, his attraction to Roberta is “chemic” (to use a Dreiserism) – he can’t help it. The attraction is real. By no means does Roberta set out to ensnare him.
Book Two, Chapter XVII
“… the sight of his dark hair blown by the wind, the pale blue outing shirt he wore open at the neck, his sleeves rolled up and the yellow paddle held by him above the handsome blue boat, quite thrilled her.”
Summary and Analysis: Clyde represents to Roberta the fulfillment of all her desires. She is intensely attracted to him, also a “chemic” attraction.
Book Two, Chapter XVIII
“They went about the floor once more, then a third time, before the music stopped and by the time it did, Roberta was lost in a sense of delight such as had never come to her before.”
Summary and Analysis: The attraction between Clyde and Roberta is intense and magnetic on both sides, both sexually and temperamentally. Clyde is already thinking of Sondra vis-à-vis his relationship with Roberta – he already has social climbing aspirations. But this is not at this point in the novel seen by Clyde as a real possibility – as something to pursue — a relationship with Sondra, that is — because she is out of his reach, class wise.
Book Two, Chapter XX
“Pain constricted her heart and whitened her lips. [Roberta] stood there numb and silent–unable to voice anything, even the name Clyde …”
Summary and Analysis: This is the first time that Clyde hurts Roberta, prefiguring his emotional cruelty to her throughout most of the novel. Roberta has refused to consent to having sex with Clyde (for good reasons that do not involve him). Clyde acts totally self centered, is indifferent to Roberta’s legitimate concerns about the consequences.
Book Two, Chapter XXI
“[Roberta] retired to the rest room at about three in the afternoon and there with the aid of a piece of paper found on the floor and a small bit of pencil which she had, she composed a brief note.”
Summary and Analysis: Clyde gets his way.
Book Two, Chapter XXIII
“And then, one November evening as Clyde was walking along Wykeagy Avenue, …”
Clyde meets Sondra accidentally.
Summary and Analysis: The stage is set by Dreiser for a romantic entanglement between Clyde and Sondra. He sets it up as an unlikely occurrence that arises from unforeseen coincidental happenstances. We get a hint of interest from Sondra in Clyde and see at the same time that there are elements of vanity here – she is flattered by Clyde’s diffidence, and is always thinking of ways to even the score with Clyde’s cousin Gilbert Griffiths.
Book Two, Chapter XXIV
“The effect of this so casual contact was really disrupting in more senses than one. For now in spite of his comfort in and satisfaction with Roberta, once more and in this positive and to him entrancing way, was posed the whole question of his social possibilities here.”
Sondra invites Clyde to a dinner dance.
Summary and Analysis: This section of the novel is critical to understanding what subsequently occurs. It establishes that: (1) Clyde does not regard his just established sexual relationship with Roberta as anything sacred or that special; (2) Clyde, we learn, has promised to marry Roberta if sex between them results in her becoming pregnant -– he is confident he knows how to prevent this; (3) Sondra has decided to condescend to being nice to Clyde and “take him up,” mostly for selfish motives that do not have to do with Clyde. The foundation for Clyde’s betrayal of Roberta has been laid.
Book Two, Chapter XXV
“But in the interim, in connection with his relations with Roberta no least reference to Sondra, although, even when near her in the factory or her room, he could not keep his thoughts from wandering away to where Sondra in her imaginary high social world might be.”
Summary and Analysis: We see how confused Clyde is. He does care for Roberta, we are told, yet he is dazzled by the “actinic rays” of Sondra and the allure of her world of luxury and privilege. He is inclined to avoid Roberta henceforth, but he knows that, by conventional moral standards, this will be regarded as wrong, not proper (considering that he has seduced Roberta).
Book Two, Chapter XXVII
“The ensuing December days brought to Clyde some pleasing and yet complicating and disturbing developments. For Sondra Finchley, having found him so agreeable an admirer of hers, was from the first inclined neither to forget nor neglect him. But, occupying the rather prominent social position which she did, she was at first rather dubious as to how to proceed.”
Summary and Analysis: We see how the vain, self centered Sondra’s mind works in deciding how to proceed with Clyde. An interesting thought: just as Clyde’s motives with respect to Roberta turn out to be devious (although he was at first genuinely attracted to her not only physically but also as a person), Sondra’s motives could also be categorized that way.
Book Two, Chapter XXVIII
“And he was thinking to himself as he went what to say now. What to do? How in the face of this suddenly frosted and blanched affection to pretend an interest he did not feel–how, indeed, continue with a relationship which now, as alive and vigorous as it might have been as little as fifteen days before, appeared exceedingly anemic and colorless.”
Summary and Analysis: The relationship with Roberta, “as alive and vigorous as it might have been as little as fifteen days before,” now appears to Clyde “exceedingly anemic and colorless.” He has become completely calculating. (“As contrasted with one of Sondra’s position and beauty, what had Roberta really to offer him?”) The fulcrum of the novel is in place, the “real American tragedy” which Dreiser had wanted for years to write a novel about (lover of poor girl murders her after finding rich girl).
Book Two, Chapter XXXI
” ‘Do you like that Miss Finchley very much?’ she suddenly asked, looking up at him in the shadow, her desire to obtain some slight satisfaction–some little light on all this trouble–still torturing her.”
Summary and Analysis: What is happening to Roberta is cruel. She suffers greatly. She is a central character in the novel, with whom the reader empathizes, and a far more complex and compelling character than the vain, self centered flapper Sondra. Clyde, we are shown, does have feelings, including feelings for Roberta. He is not a complete psychopath devoid of them. But his feelings run only so deep. His pity for Roberta will not last.
Book Two, Chapter XXXII
“… at the sight of her [Sondra] now in her white satin and crystal evening gown, her slippered feet swinging so intimately near, a faint perfume radiating to his nostrils, he was stirred. … And he, noting the wavering something in her own eyes, pulled her closer and kissed her.”
Summary and Analysis: Sondra submits to a kiss from Clyde, but this is not passion. Yes, she finds Clyde handsome, but she is not erotically attracted – he merely excites her vanity. The nature of Clyde’s attraction is curious too: “… his imagination in regard to her was really inflamed. Youth, beauty, wealth such as this–what would it not mean?” These are not words ordinarily used to describe the feelings of someone in the throes of passion.
Book Two, Chapter XXXIII
“But most foolishly anticipating, as he now did, a future more substantial than the general local circumstances warranted, he was more concerned than ever lest his present relationship to Roberta should in any way prove inimical to all this. “
Roberta finds herself pregnant.
Summary and Analysis: Clyde, it has been revealed in an earlier chapter, has given Roberta assurances that, if she becomes pregnant as a result of their liaison, he will marry her. But now Clyde has come to the conclusion that he has to extricate himself from Roberta; he is beginning to feel that there is a real possibility of his being able to marry Sondra. Clyde feels strongly the need for absolute secrecy, especially as regards the possibility of Sondra finding out about his relationship with Roberta. And, Clyde does experience feelings of guilt, as shown in this passage, realizing that he has “taken undue advantage of a girl who, left to herself, would never have troubled with him.”
Book Two, Chapter XXXVIII
“The first effect of the doctor’s decision was to shock and terrify them both. …”
Summary and Analysis: The stark realities of Clyde and Roberta’s predicament are limned. Of course, there is a way out: for Clyde to marry Roberta.
Book Two, Chapter XXXIX
“… in the very teeth of this grave dilemma he continued to pursue the enticing dream in connection with Sondra–the dark situation in connection with Roberta seeming no more at moments than a dark cloud which shadowed this other.”
Summary and Analysis: Sondra and Clyde both are calculating in their “love,” have devised motives grounded upon self-interest. Sondra is acting oppositional towards her parents; exactly what she has in mind regarding her future with Clyde is not clear. Clyde has pinned his hopes on marrying her. His love for Roberta has waned; his connection with her seems “no more at moments than a dark cloud which shadowed this other.”
Book Two, Chapter XLII
“Two letters, which arrived at this time and simultaneously, but accentuated the difficulty of all this.”
Summary and Analysis: The letters have the opposite effect on Clyde (as it seems Dreiser intended) than what one would hope they would have on the reader. Despite the shallow banter in Sondra’s letter and the sincerity and pathos of Roberta’s, all Clyde can see is details about Roberta’s situation and her humble farm family that remind him of what he considers to be her undesirability as a romantic object and, in Sondra’s vapid letter, hints of what to Clyde appear to be her superiority to Roberta based upon indicators of class and privilege.
Book Two, Chapter XLIII
“And so he said: ‘Why couldn’t you run away with me now, Sondra, darling? It’s so long until fall and I want you so much.’ “
Summary and Analysis: Clyde’s suggestion made to Sondra that they elope immediately — a desperate and urgent one on his part, made because of the threat of his being arrested – is considered by Sondra, as is usual for her, from the point of view of herself and her self-interest. She of course does not know of Clyde’s predicament. Clyde’s appeal flatters her vanity. She is amused by the thought of discomfiting her parents in this regard. But then she thinks better of Clyde’s suggestion, out of calculations based upon her own situation. As usual, her love for Clyde is only skin deep; she is not prepared to throw away everything for him.
Book Two, Chapter XLIV
letter from Roberta: ” ‘Can’t you come for me before July third? …’ ”
another letter: ” ‘I am writing to tell you that I am coming back to Lycurgus.’ ”
Summary and Analysis: Roberta’s pregnancy has reached the stage where she will not be able to continue hiding it from her parents. Hence, her urgent appeal to Clyde to come get her at once, and, if he won’t, she plans to return to Lycurgus. She does not say what she will do if that happens, but it’s clear that Clyde must act, because he absolutely does not want Roberta to return.
Book Two, Chapter XLV
“ ‘Dear Clyde: This is to tell you that unless I hear from you either by telephone or letter before noon, Friday, I shall be in Lycurgus that same night, and the world will know how you have treated me.’ ”
“And with this in his hands, he was finally all but numbed by the fact that now decidedly he must act. “
Summary and Analysis: This letter from Roberta is written two weeks after the preceding one. Clyde has managed to stall her for an additional fortnight. Hence, Roberta’s urgent appeal, in which, uncharacteristically, she uses strong language threatening him: “I shall be in Lycurgus that same night, and the world will know how you have treated me.” Upon receiving which letter, Clyde, as Dreiser tells us, has reached the point of no return: he knowns for certain that he must “act.”
Book Three, Chapter VII
“And he, in spite of his troubled thoughts achieving a gay smile,–for once in her presence even the terror of Roberta’s death, his own present danger appeared to dwindle.”
Summary and Analysis: Bedazzled by the prospect of marrying Sondra, Clyde thinks he can pull off and get away with the “perfect crime.”
Book Three, Chapter VIII
“… The joy of this trip if only that other thing were not hanging over him now. This exquisite pleasure of being near Sondra. …”
Summary and Analysis: Clyde is horrified by the realization that he has murdered Roberta. He thinks that he can avoid detection, but he is terrified at the thought that he could instead be caught. Underlying his mortification is one major concern: that he be exposed and humiliated before Sondra and lose all hopes of continued ecstasy with her and of marriage to her. Sondra, needless to say, is clueless, which is not, at this juncture, her fault. In this chapter, in which Clyde gets arrested, we see Clyde and Sondra, ironically, acting in the most loving fashion of their scenes together in the entire novel. We learn that Mrs. Finchley has given Sondra an ultimatum: her relationship with Clyde must go no further. Sondra does not take this seriously. She mentions how handsome and popular Clyde is; this view that others have of him appeals to Sondra’s vanity.
Book Three, Chapter IX
Distinct Attorney Mason reaches Shelter Beach, where Clyde and Sondra and their party have been staying, and encounters Sondra for the first time.
Deputy Kraut arrives at the camp with Clyde, who is questioned aggressively by Mason.
Summary and Analysis: Mason’s impression confirms for the reader and corroborates what has already been made manifest by Dreiser: Sondra’s allure, her beauty. Clyde’s major concern is exposure and humiliation. It outweighs his fear of the consequences of prosecution.
Book Three, Chapter X
Mason reappears at the camp with the news that Clyde is under arrest, having confessed to having been with Roberta at Big Bittern.
Summary and Analysis: How does Sondra react on learning of Clyde’s arrest? With disbelief, which is to be expected. Clyde had never divulged anything to her about other relationships. Besides that, Sondra is concerned mostly about herself, about what her parents will think and about the possibility that because letters of hers to Clyde were found in Clyde’s room they might be made public. She expresses concern for Clyde, but only fleetingly.
Book Three, Chapter XII
“… in the home of the Finchleys on Fourth Lake, Sondra herself, after forty-eight hours of most macerating thoughts spent brooding on the astounding climax which had put a period to all her girlish fancies in regard to Clyde, deciding at last to confess all to her father. …”
Summary and Analysis: Sondra has a vapid personality. Despite her hauteur, she is immature and unsophisticated when it comes to matters worldly. She is terribly afraid of scandal.
Book Three, Chapter XXVI
Clyde is convicted.
“And what would the Griffiths–his uncle and Gilbert–think now? And Sondra! Sondra! Not a word from her. And through all this he had been openly testifying, as Belknap and Jephson had agreed that he must do–to the compelling and directing power of his passion for her. …”
Summary and Analysis: Clyde on the stand had testified to his love for Sondra. He has been hoping that she will become aware of this and that this will somehow be a means of keeping the flame of their romance alive (despite the futility of this). Now, upon his conviction, he is beginning to realize the utter futility of such hopes. A key factor is that Sondra has not communicated with him at all during the trial.
Book Three, Chapter XXXI
Clyde, in his cell on death row, receives a letter of sorts from Sondra.
“But no signature–no trace of her own handwriting. She was afraid to sign her name and she was too remote from him in her mood now to let him know where she was. … His last hope–the last trace of his dream vanished.”
Summary and Analysis: It is a crushing blow to Clyde that when a letter of sorts from Sondra (yes, a letter, but such a formal one that it is almost more akin to a memorandum) finally comes to him, on death row, it is so impersonal, typewritten with no signature, and phrased formally and carefully with no expression of love – the best she can do is to say that she has not forgotten Clyde and wishes him “freedom and happiness.” This is a climactic moment in the novel. Clyde’s delusions have been smashed. He realizes that his dreams have been futile and that all hope (in the Dante-esque sense) is lost. In a sense, he is now ready to die.
Book Three, Chapter XXXII
“… the complications and the fever in connection with his desire for Sondra having subsided somewhat, it was possible on occasion now for him to reason without the desperate sting and tang of the mental state that had characterized him at the time when he was so immediately in touch with her.”
Summary and Analysis: The fire of Clyde’s passion for Sondra, the fulcrum of the novel, is “only smoldering” now. Clyde has achieved a breakthrough, an apotheosis, on death row. He has come face to face with his own delusions and can only now begin to see them for what they were.
Book Three, Chapter XXXIII
“[Clyde] had a feeling in his heart that he was not as guilty as they all seemed to think. … How could they judge him, these people, … even his own mother, when they did not know what his own mental, physical and spiritual suffering had been?”
Summary and Analysis: In his final moments, Clyde is ambivalent about his guilt. Among the extenuating factors, as he sees it, are that Roberta had “tortured him” and ruined his life with her insistence that he marry her; and the “unquenchable passion for the Sondra of his beautiful dream.” In Clyde’s view, he has been misunderstood and persecuted for desires and actions (what Dreiser would undoubtedly call “chemisms”) and entanglements which he could not avoid. In his view, only someone who has experienced them themselves would be qualified to say whether or not he should have been found guilty.
McDonald, ‘Two Letters from An American Tragedy’ – Dreiser Newsletter 7-2 (fall 1976), pp 2-6
roger-w-smith-two-letters-from-theodore-dreisers-an-american-tragedy
(A downloadable Word document — slightly modified, and fully documented — of this post is available above.)
In Book Two, Chapter XLII of Theodore Dreiser’s An American Tragedy, letters from Sondra Finchley and Roberta Alden to Clyde Griffiths, which Clyde receives on the same day, are paired and quoted in full.
The simultaneous reception of the two letters and the contrast between them, as Clyde perceives it, have a decisive impact on his motives.
This is one of the key points in a novel which appears to some readers to be shapeless. The pairing of these letters by Dreiser was a brilliant stroke. They are a focal point of the novel, illustrating the choice between Roberta and Sondra upon which Clyde is impaled. (It is ironic that Boni and Liveright editor T. R. Smith felt the real life letters of murder victim Grace Brown, which Roberta Alden’s letters are either closely or loosely based upon, depending upon the letter, should be excised from the novel.)
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Sondra Finchley’s letter:
Pine Point Landing, June 10th
Clyde Mydie:
How is my pheet phing. All whytie? It’s just glorious up here. Lots of people already here and more coming every day. The Casino and golf course over at Pine Point are open and lots of people about. I can hear Stuart and Grant with their launches going up toward Gray’s Inlet now. You must hurry and come up, dear. It’s too nice for words. Green roads to gallop through, and swimming and dancing at the Casino every afternoon until four. Just back from a wonderful gallop on Dickey and going again after luncheon to mail these letters. Bertine says she’ll write you a letter to-day or to-morrow good for any week-end or any old time, so when Sonda says come, you come, you hear, else Sonda whip hard. You baddie, good boy.
Is he working hard in the baddie old factory? Sonda wishes he was here wiss her instead. We’d ride and drive and swim and dance. Don’t forget your tennis racquet and golf clubs. There’s a dandy course on the Casino grounds.
This morning when I was riding a bird flew right up under Dickey’s heels. It scared him so that he bolted and Sonda got all switched and scwatched. Isn’t Clydie sorry for his Sonda?
She is writing lots of notes to-day. After lunch and the ride to catch the down mail, Sonda and Bertine and Nina going to the Casino. Don’t you wish you were going to be there? We could dance to “Tandy.” Sonda just loves that song. But she has to dress now. More to-morrow, baddie boy. And when Bertine writes, answer right away. See all ‘ose dots? Kisses. Big and little ones. All for baddie boy. And wite Sonda every day and she’ll write ‘oo.
More Kisses.
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Roberta Alden’s letter:
(I have italicized the interpolated authorial comments representing Clyde’s thoughts; Dreiser MUST have intended them to be taken ironically.)
Biltz, June 10th.
Dear Clyde:
I am nearly ready for bed, but I will write you a few lines. I had such a tiresome journey coming up that I was nearly sick. In the first place I don’t want to come much (alone) as you know. I feel too upset and uncertain about everything, although I try not to feel so now that we have our plan and you are going to come for me as you said.
(At this point, while nearly sickened by the thought of the wretched country world in which she lived, still, because of Roberta’s unfortunate and unavoidable relation to it, he now experienced one of his old time twinges of remorse and pity in regard to her. For after all, this was not her fault. She had so little to look forward to — nothing but her work or a commonplace marriage. For the first time in many days, really, and in the absence of both, he was able to think clearly — and to sympathize deeply, if gloomily. For the remainder of the letter read:)
But it’s very nice here now. The trees are so beautifully green and the flowers in bloom. I can hear the bees in the orchard whenever I go to the south windows. On the way up instead of coming straight home, I decided to stop at Homer to see my sister and brother-in-law, since I am not so sure when I shall see them again, if ever, for I am resolved that they shall see me respectable, or never at all any more. You mustn’t think I mean anything hard or mean by this. I am just sad. They have such a cute little home there, Clyde — pretty furniture, a victrola and all, and Agnes is so very happy with Fred. I hope she always will be. I couldn’t help thinking of what a dear place we might have had, if only my dreams had come true. And nearly all the time I was there Fred kept teasing me as to why I don’t get married, until I said, “Oh, well, Fred, you mustn’t be too sure that I won’t one of these days. All good things come to him who waits, you know.” “Yes, unless you just turn out to be a waiter,” was the way he hit me back.
But I was truly glad to see mother again, Clyde. She’s so loving and patient and helpful. The sweetest, dearest mother that ever, ever was. And I just hate to hurt her in any way. And Tom and Emily, too. They have had friends here every evening since I’ve been here — and they want me to join in, but I hardly feel well enough now to do all the things they want me to do — play cards and games — dance.
(At this point Clyde could not help emphasizing in his own mind the shabby home world of which she was a part and which so recently he had seen — and that rickety house! those toppling chimneys! Her uncouth father. And that in contrast to such letter as this other from Sondra.)
Father and mother and Tom and Emily just seem to hang around and try to do things for me. And I feel remorseful when I think how they would feel if they knew, for, of course, I have to pretend that it is work that makes me feel so tired and depressed as I am sometimes. Mothers keeps saying that I must stay a long time or quit entirely and rest and get well again, but she just don’t know, of course — poor dear. If she did! I can’t tell you how that makes me feel sometimes, Clyde. Oh, dear!
But there, I mustn’t put my sad feelings over on you either. I don’t want to, as I told you, if you will only come and get me as we’ve agreed. And I won’t be like that either, Clyde. I’m not that way all the time now. I’ve started to get ready and do all the things it’ll take to do in the three weeks and that’s enough to keep my mind off everything but work. But you will come for me, won’t you, dear? You won’t disappoint me any more and make me suffer this time like you have so far, for, oh, how long it has been now — ever since I was here before at Christmas time, really. But you were truly nice to me. I promise not to be a burden on you, for I know you don’t really care for me any more and so I don’t care much what happens now, so long as I get out of this. But I truly promise not to be a burden on you.
Oh, dear, don’t mind this blot. I just don’t seem to be able to control myself these days like I once could.
But as for what I came for. The family think they are clothes for a party down in Lycurgus and that I must be having a wonderful time. Well, it’s better that way than the other. I may have to come as far as Fonda to get some things, if I don’t send Mrs. Anse, the dressmaker, and if so, and if you wanted to see me again before you come, although I don’t suppose you do, you could. I’d like to see you and talk to you again if you care to, before we start. It all seems so funny to me, Clyde, having these clothes made and wishing to see you so much and yet knowing that you would rather not do this. And yet I hope you are satisfied now that you have succeeded in making me leave Lycurgus and come up here and are having what you call a good time. Are they so much better than the ones we used to have last summer when we went about to the lakes and everywhere? But whatever they are, Clyde, surely you can afford to do this for me without feeling too bad. I know it seems hard to you now, but you don’t want to forget either that if I was the like some that I know, I might and would ask more. But as I told you I’m not like that and never could be. If you don’t really want me after you have helped me out like I said, you can go.
Please write me, Clyde, a long, cheery letter, even though you don’t want to, and tell me all about how you have not thought of me once since I’ve been away or missed me at all — you used to, you know, and how you don’t want me to come back and you can’t possibly come up before two weeks from Saturday if then.
Oh, dear, I don’t mean the horrid things I write, but I’m so blue and tired and lonely that I can’t help it at times. I need some one to talk to — not just any one here, because they don’t understand and I can’t tell anybody.
But there, I said I wouldn’t be blue or gloomy or cross and yet I haven’t done so very well this time, have I? But I promise to do better next time — to-morrow or next day, because it relieves me to write to you, Clyde. And won’t you please write me just a few words to cheer me up while I’m waiting, whether you mean it or not, I need it so. And you will come, of course. I’ll be so happy and grateful and try not to bother you too much in any way.
Your lonely
Bert
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Critical Response
For this writer — reading An American Tragedy for the first time (it was my introduction to Dreiser) — it was a gut-wrenching experience to read Roberta’s letter, to realize how oblivious Clyde is to her claims to superiority over Sondra in practically every respect (excluding wealth and social status).
These two letters — superimposed one upon the other, as it were — have, of course, the opposite effect on Clyde:
[I]t was the contrast presented by these two scenes which finally determined for him the fact that he would never marry Roberta … or let her come back to him here, if he could avoid that.
Almost immediately afterward, Clyde sees the newspaper headline “Double Tragedy At Pass Lake” and the plot to murder Roberta begins to take shape in his mind.
Dreiser is able in this novel, his masterpiece, both to identify with Clyde’s twisted point of view and to see its limitations, which is to say that he wants to make plausible the kind of feelings that could cause Clyde to want to forsake Roberta for Sondra (similar to yearnings for wealth and status that Dreiser himself had) and, at the same time, intends for the reader to see the sadness, the pathos in all of this: the ironic contrast between the outlook of the totally vapid, self-centered flapper Sondra and the farm girl now factory worker Roberta, who, while less sophisticated, socially speaking, is clearly Sondra’s moral superior (and, actually, though Clyde doesn’t realize it, the better woman for him).
Roberta is wholesome, honest, and sincere; she really loves Clyde. She is considerate of Clyde’s feelings and those of others. She has a wholesome family life. This is precisely what Clyde needs, not the imagined glories of Sondra’s world.
Sondra comes across as narcissistic and shallow, and as so self-centered it is almost beyond belief. Yet somehow Dreiser makes Clyde’s incomprehension plausible — his adoration of Sondra and detestation of Roberta. And this makes Clyde’s crime believable and understandable in terms of his and its perverse logic.
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The Analysis of James L. McDonald
I was surprised to read James L. McDonald’s article “Dreiser’s Artistry: Two Letters from An American Tragedy” in a past issue of the Dreiser Newsletter (7 [1976]:2–6), in which he expresses an entirely opposite point of view. [PDF file attachment above.]
Professor McDonald states:
[T]he letters … show Dreiser’s finely wrought presentation and dramatization of the characters of Roberta and Sondra. Further, they reveal his subtle use of irony to reverse the readers’ [sic] previous judgments of the two women and to indicate the dimensions of the worlds they inhabit, thus deepening our awareness of Clyde’s callowness and naiveté and complicating the whole problem of his guilt.
What does McDonald mean by “subtle use of irony” and “reverse the readers’ previous judgments of the two women”? He goes on to explain:
A hasty reading of the letters seems to confirm what readers have been led to believe about Sondra and Roberta. On the surface, Dreiser has been manipulating two stock characters: the beautiful but hollow and demanding rich girl … and the rather plain but loving and fertile girl-next-door. … Thus one can note an apparent contrast between the superficiality and frivolity of Sondra and the love and devotion of Roberta. Sondra, the wealthy golden girl of Clyde’s dreams, writes–in a language characterized by babytalk and imperious commands–of her carefree, trivial activities…. in the world of wealth Clyde yearns to enter. Roberta, the poor battered girl who has become a handicap to Clyde’s ambitions. writes simply and naturally about her loneliness, the discomforts of her pregnancy, and the virtues of the lower-class domestic world which he is trying to escape.
The sympathies of Dreiser’s readers–formed in a respectable middle-class environment which views the pleasure-loving rich as decadent and immoral and sees the ordinary, average citizen as the salt of the earth–incline toward Roberta. So these readers are prone to interpret Clyde’s preference for Sondra as a sign of his vanity, conceit, and ultimate folly. This view of Clyde is not incorrect. Yet Dreiser is also working to reverse these sympathies; and this irony makes possible a deeper understanding of the characters and the moral problems in the novel.
Can this be true? Can this really be what Dreiser had in mind?
Dreiser may have had such intentions, but if he did, I for one would never have suspected, on a first reading, that this was the case.
McDonald’s analysis continues:
Dreiser juxtaposes two worlds. Sondra’s letters come from and dramatize the world of wealth. … It is an active, competitive society where golfing, boating, horseback-riding, swimming, and dancing are the privileges of charming, polished, carefree young people–a social climate which she thoroughly enjoys and wants to share with Clyde. Roberta’s letters come from and present the world of the lower-class, “Blitz” [sic] and “Homer,” ‘where her sister and brother-in-law have “such a cute little home” with “pretty furniture, a victrola and all . . .”: a passive, drearily domestic existence whose pleasures are dim and routine (playing cards and games) — a life which she does not enjoy, which makes her bored and lonely, but which she wishes to drag Clyde into.
Dreiser makes these worlds explicit in the styles of the writers: through contrasting diction, rhythm, emphasis, and tone, he specifies the essential qualities which mark the gap between Sondra and Roberta, and the worlds they represent. One is struck by the stylishness and dynamism of Sondra” from the speed and intensity of the opening lines. As her diction and rhythms indicate, Sondra is more than just a social butterfly. … The sharp, arresting address, the playful banter which follows, and the abrupt, frank, natural summation of the situation reveal Sondra as a singularly dashing and vibrant young lady.
“There is nothing striking about the beginning of Roberta’s letter,” McDonald goes on to say. “It is utterly drab and lifeless. … Roberta may be fertile, but her diction and rhythm are remarkably dingy, plodding, and labored.”
McDonald proceeds to make the following points about Sondra’s correspondence vis-à-vis Roberta’s:
Roberta’s letter drags on, detailing her miseries, with a characteristic stress on “I,” a word she uses 71 times in all.
Throughout Sondra’s letter, one is aware of her serene self-assurance, typified by her personification of herself as “Sonda” and her use of babytalk. … The babytalk reflects a surface immaturity. But it also shows her social position; the babytalk about the [horseback riding] accident directs Clyde’s attention away from a possibly battered and disheveled Sondra to a desirable, commanding “Sonda” who, provocatively, “has to dress now,” and can promise “Kisses. Big and little ones. All for baddie boy.”
Roberta …. has no such self-awareness, much less self-assurance. … Trapped within her own wounded ego and unable to cope with her physical predicament, she cannot see the image she presents to Clyde. Though “nearly ready for bed,” she is anything but enticing.
She cannot present herself as anything more than a self- centered, self-pitying, whining problem-child.
In the abstract, and given the readers’ predispositions, it would be easy and natural to sympathize with Roberta, her condition and the world she represents. But, juxtaposed to Sondra, Roberta comes off very badly. Her dullness, egotism, self-pity, her inability to cope with her situation (“Oh, dear, don’t mind this blot. I just don’t seem able to control myself these days like I once could.”) are the results of serious weaknesses of character and the moral, as well as material, poverty of the class she comes from. Her condition is not advanced enough to be noticed; but Roberta has degenerated into a pregnant lump. In Sondra’s letter, a calculated artificiality is evident, in keeping with her self-styled role as fashionable darling among the wealthy elite. But before she can begin to behave and write so successfully, before she can offer such an image, Sondra has to know herself and her capabilities very well and has to appreciate the motives and predispositions of others. The fact is that she does not lack substance. And the world that she comes from–with its allure, power, and almost unlimited opportunities–has helped provide that substance and has a richness and depth that Dreiser recognizes and communicates to the reader.
The point about Roberta’s essence — she is referred to by McDonald as “a pregnant lump” — is a crucial one. If Dreiser intended us to see her this way (Clyde, admittedly, does), it is regrettable. (Yet, in the film A Place in the Sun, Alice Tripp, the Roberta character, is portrayed this way by Shelley Winters.)
I think that Professor McDonald gets it entirely wrong, backwards. I can’t believe that Dreiser intends us to view Sondra as Roberta’s superior — morally speaking, that is, as a person.
But there is indeed ambiguity in the novel — there was undoubtedly ambiguity in Dreiser’s (and Clyde’s) mind. The reader experiences this.
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Another Point of View
A thesis by Thomas Kranidas, “The Materials of Theodore Dreiser’s An American Tragedy” (Columbia University, 1953), provides the best analysis that I am aware of. It clears up some of the confusion that the novel seems to create. The “confusion,” so to speak, seems to be inherent. Dreiser himself experienced it, he makes us experience it, he makes his principal characters experience it.
The following is the analysis of Kranidas:
One of the keys to Dreiser’s social thinking and to the feelings directing his writing, is his conception of the High-class Woman. The phrase is, I think, appropriate; it implies a vulgar conception of a woman with certain qualities that set her above other women, a woman who is desirable to men as a class distinction, a woman of good family, good education, money (generally) and of a certain kind of rarefied prettiness. Rarefied is perhaps the best word for her; she is fragile and needs special care by nature, yet she is independent and selfish. …
Dreiser’s ideal woman is … a figure to be set among and complimented with the conventional symbols of luxury — jewels, fountains, silks, satins. …
… in An American Tragedy, the low-class women are called Hortense Briggs, Doris Trine, and Lura Sipe. The names of Dreiser’s upper-class women point to the shallowness and naiveté of his conception. … The names are if not downright fanciful, hyphenated, exotic, at least cool and distinctive. The climax of “distinctive” names comes in An American Tragedy. Sondra is like a childish drawling of the exotic name Sandra; and children drawl when they talk like rich people. Sondra’s friends are called Bertine Cranstan, Arabella Stark, Bella Griffiths and Constance Wynant. And these names are not used as part of a Dickensian caricature but as part of what Dreiser considered “class.”
The upper-class women of Dreiser’s novels are not sexy, they have even a slight touch of frigidity like the photos of Vogue models. Aloof rather than interested, they put a social rather than sexual gauge on their young men. These women are not portrayed deeply enough to give us any feeling of real superiority. There is no real delicacy or insight that reflects careful training. There is rather a shallow stereotype of a pretty, vain, well-dressed young woman. Dreiser never once did justice to a young woman of the upper classes. … the rude love of Roberta Alden is convincing while the baby talk of Sondra Finchley is not.
Dreiser wanted to write about the rich; he had a pitiful need to appear familiar with the “great world.” … And all this time Dreiser knew and felt and wrote that class was unimportant, that wealth was an evil thing, that the rich were not so very much after all. Through his work rages his own private battle between hate and resentment of the upper class and abject admiration and envy, and an attempt to identify with them. Wherever Dreiser’s class consciousness touches his writing, the effect is false. Wherever he attempts to identify through knowingness or annihilate with scorn, he is unrealistic.
Whenever he sees his character as apart from his social yearnings, as united to him, not in education and money, but in love, hate, hunger, fear, he is realistic. So Roberta is true and Sondra is not. (Thomas Kranidas, “The Materials of Theodore Dreiser’s An American Tragedy,” pp. 35-40)
This brilliant thesis was for years unavailable and has been overlooked. The thesis is posted by me here at
Thomas Kranidas, “The Materials of Theodore Dreiser’s An American Tragedy”
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Conclusion
In the final analysis, one can say with confidence that:
Dreiser did not intend Roberta Alden to be less admirable or desirable than Sondra Finchley. Clyde is wrong to feel that way.
Roberta writes beautifully, showing her inner beauty. Sondra’s prose is insipid, as befits her personality.
— Roger W. Smith
April 2017
‘Dreiser, Nyiregyhazi, Helen Richardson, and Marie Pergain
See downloadable Word document, which contains the complete text of this post, above.
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Abstract:
Hungarian pianist Ervin Nyiregyházi, a child prodigy, emigrated to the United States in 1920.
In 1927, Theodore Dreiser and his mistress Helen Richardson were invited to a Nyiregyházi concert in Manhattan. The pianist became friends with the couple. Nyiregyházi and Helen began an affair which lasted for about two months. Dreiser found out about it, causing a rupture of his friendship with Nyiregyházi. Dreiser insisted that Helen break completely with the pianist. He demanded absolute liberty for himself to have affairs, but would not grant this to Helen.
Nyiregyházi tried to maintain the relationship with Dreiser. Dreiser rebuffed him. But in 1930, Nyiregyházi gave his girlfriend Marie Pergain a letter of introduction to Dreiser. Dreiser and Pergain commenced an affair.
Both Dreiser and Nyiregyházi were sex addicts and compulsive womanizers.
The relationship between Dreiser and Marie Pergain was a stormy one. Dreiser abused her.
Dreiser and Pergain traveled together to Harlan County, Kentucky in 1931 when Dreiser was heading up a committee investigating conditions of striking miners there. Dreiser had until that time kept his relationship with Pergain secret; he explained that she was one of his literary secretaries.
Dreiser and Pergain were indicted for adultery by Kentucky authorities, but they were never arrested and the charges were eventually dropped.
Dreiser and Pergain broke up shortly thereafter. Pergain moved to Hungary and lived with her former lover Nyiregyházi before breaking up with him.
Nyiregyházi and Pergain both returned to the United States. Near the end of Dreiser’s life, the pianist visited Dreiser and Helen in Los Angeles without renewal of the friendship with Dreiser or intimacy with Helen.
Marie Pergain has long been a “mystery woman.” She was an accomplished pianist and an actress with minor roles in several silent films during the 1920’s.
The affair between Dreiser’s mistress Helen and Ervin Nyiregyházi was not revealed until very recently, in a biography of Nyiregyházi that was published in 2007. The article by Roger W. Smith contained in the above attachment reveals hitherto unknown details about the affair and about Marie Pergain. The focus is on the incidents in this complicated story that involved Theodore Dreiser, directly or indirectly.
— Roger W. Smith
March 2016; updated October 2022
Roger W. Smith's Theodore Dreiser site 