Summary: Chapter 18
The trial continues, with the whole town glued to the
proceedings. Mayella, who testifies next, is a reasonably clean—by
the Ewells’ standards—and obviously terrified nineteen-year-old
girl. She says that she called Tom Robinson inside the fence that
evening and offered him a nickel to break up a dresser for her,
and that once he got inside the house he grabbed her and took advantage
of her. In Atticus’s cross-examination, Mayella reveals that her
life consists of seven unhelpful siblings, a drunken father, and
no friends.
Atticus then examines her testimony and asks why she didn’t
put up a better fight, why her screams didn’t bring the other children running,
and, most important, how Tom Robinson managed the crime: how he
bruised the right side of her face with his useless left hand, which
was torn apart by a cotton gin when he was a boy. Atticus pleads
with Mayella to admit that there was no rape, that her father beat
her. She shouts at him and yells that the courtroom would have to
be a bunch of cowards not to convict Tom Robinson; she then bursts
into tears, refusing to answer any more questions. In the recess
that follows, Mr. Underwood notices the children up in the balcony,
but Jem tells Scout that the newspaper editor won’t tell Atticus
about their being there—although he might include it in the social
section of the newspaper. The prosecution rests, and Atticus calls
only one witness—Tom Robinson.
Summary: Chapter 19
Tom testifies that he always passed the Ewell
house on the way to work and that Mayella often asked him to do
chores for her. On the evening in question, he recounts, she asked
him to come inside the house and fix a door. When he got inside,
there was nothing wrong with the door, and he noticed that the other
children were gone. Mayella told him she had saved her money and
sent them all to buy ice cream. Then she asked him to lift a box
down from a dresser. When Tom climbed on a chair, she grabbed his
legs, scaring him so much that he jumped down. She then hugged him
around the waist and asked him to kiss her. As she struggled, her
father appeared at the window, calling Mayella a whore and threatening
to kill her. Tom fled.
Link Deas, Tom’s white employer, stands up
and declares that in eight years of work, he has never had any trouble
from Tom. Judge Taylor furiously expels Deas from the courtroom
for interrupting. Mr. Gilmer gets up and cross-examines Tom. The
prosecutor points out that the defendant was once arrested for disorderly
conduct and gets Tom to admit that he has the strength, even with
one hand, to choke the breath out of a woman and sling her to the
floor. He begins to badger the witness, asking about his motives
for always helping Mayella with her chores, until Tom declares that
he felt sorry for her. This statement puts the courtroom ill at
ease—in Maycomb, black people aren’t supposed to feel sorry for
a white person. Mr. Gilmer reviews Mayella’s testimony, accusing
Tom of lying about everything. Dill begins to cry, and Scout takes
him out of the courtroom. Outside the courtroom, Dill complains
to Scout about Mr. Gilmer’s rude treatment of Tom Robinson during
the questioning. As they walk, Scout and Dill encounter Mr. Dolphus Raymond,
the rich white man with the colored mistress and mulatto children.
Analysis: Chapters 18–19
Mayella Ewell is pitiable, and her miserable
existence almost allows her to join the novel’s parade of innocent
victims—she, too, is a kind of mockingbird, injured beyond repair
by the forces of ugliness, poverty, and hatred that surround her.
Lee’s presentation of Mayella emphasizes her role as victim—her
father beats her and possibly molests her, while she has to deal
with her unhelpful siblings. She has lacked kind treatment in her
life to such an extent that when Atticus calls her Miss Mayella,
she accuses him of making fun of her. She has no friends, and Scout seems
justified in thinking that she “must have been the loneliest person
in the world.” On the other hand, though, Scout’s picture of Mayella
as a victim is marred by her attempt to become a victimizer, to
destroy Tom Robinson in order to cover her shame. We can have little
real sympathy for Mayella Ewell—whatever her sufferings, she inflicts
worse cruelty on others. Unlike Mr. Cunningham, who, in Chapter 15,
is touched enough by Scout’s human warmth to disperse the lynch
mob, Mayella responds to Atticus’s polite interrogation with grouchy
snarls.
Pity must be reserved for Tom Robinson, whose
honesty and goodness render him supremely moral. Unlike the Ewells,
Tom is hardworking and honest and has enough compassion to make the
fatal mistake of feeling sorry for Mayella Ewell. His story is the
true version of events: because of both Tom’s obviously truthful
nature and Atticus’s brilliant and morally scathing questioning
of the Ewells, the story leaves no room for doubt. A number of critics
have objected that the facts of the case are crafted to be—no pun
intended—too black and white. But, as Atticus’s awareness of his
defeat as a foregone conclusion suggests, Lee was not interested
in the believability of the trial. The exaggerated demarcation between
good and bad renders the trial more important for its symbolic portrayal
of the destruction of an innocent by evil. As clear as it is that
Tom is innocent, it is equally clear that Tom is doomed to die.
