Linda's Literary Home

Tag: character study

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “Barry Holden”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters https://factfile.org/10-facts-about-edgar-lee-masters#google_vignette
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters – Fact File

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Barry Holden”

    “Barry Holden” became fascinated by the murder trial of Dr. Duval, who stands accused of murdering his pregnant lover Zora Clemens.

    Introduction and Text of “Barry Holden”

    In Edgar Lee Masters’ “Barry Holden” from the American classic Spoon River Anthology, the speaker begins by letting his listeners know that he is the brother of Nancy Knapp, who in a fit of insanity burned down her own house.

    By the time he is finished, the reader will cringe at the brutal act he commits.  That Holden couples his confession with what he heard at a murder trial just piles more flaws onto his already flawed character.

    Barry Holden

    The very fall my sister Nancy Knapp
    Set fire to the house
    They were trying Dr. Duval
    For the murder of Zora Clemens,
    And I sat in the court two weeks
    Listening to every witness.
    It was clear he had got her in a family way;
    And to let the child be born
    Would not do.
    Well, how about me with eight children,
    And one coming, and the farm
    Mortgaged to Thomas Rhodes?
    And when I got home that night,
    (After listening to the story of the buggy ride,
    And the finding of Zora in the ditch,)
    The first thing I saw, right there by the steps,
    Where the boys had hacked for angle worms,
    Was the hatchet!
    And just as I entered there was my wife,
    Standing before me, big with child.
    She started the talk of the mortgaged farm,
    And I killed her.

    Commentary on “Barry Holden”

    “Barry Holden” couples his own desperate and despicable act with the murder trial of Dr. Duval, who stands accused of murdering his pregnant lover Zora Clemens.

    First Movement:  A Murder Trial

    The very fall my sister Nancy Knapp
    Set fire to the house
    They were trying Dr. Duval
    For the murder of Zora Clemens,
    And I sat in the court two weeks
    Listening to every witness.

    During the same autumn season that his sister, Nancy Knapp, burned down her house, Barry Holden sat in a courtroom for two weeks listening to the witnesses give testimony in a murder trial. Dr. Duval was on trial for the murder of Zora Clemens.

    It is unclear if Barry is suggesting that he was serving as a juror or whether he was just fascinated by the details of the murder as he listened carefully to each witness.  It may be that he is trying to establish his good character or perhaps he is just a crazy, addled-brain criminal just as his sister was.

    It does seem odd that he would continue to come to court every day for two weeks, unless he was, in fact, serving on the jury.  But because it remains unclear whether Barry was a juror, the reader must simply take it as a fact that what he heard must have encouraged him in his final despicable act.

    Second Movement:   The Nature of the Trial

    It was clear he had got her in a family way;
    And to let the child be born
    Would not do.
    Well, how about me with eight children,
    And one coming, and the farm
    Mortgaged to Thomas Rhodes?

    Barry then gives some terrifyingly pertinent information about the nature of the trial.  After getting Zora Clemens pregnant, the doctor could not allow her to carry that baby to term.  Barry expresses it that allowing the baby to be born, “Would not do.”

    Then Barry switches gears rapidly.  Informing his listeners that he is in a similar situation, or no, worse!  Barry already has eight children, and his farm is mortgaged to Thomas Rhodes (more about Rhodes in #104).  Pile on top of that, his wife is pregnant with child number nine.

    In order to show his lamentation over his situation, Barry forms his information into a question.  That question is meant rhetorically to put the listener squarely in Barry’s mind with the only answer:  what else could you do?

    Third Movement:   The Hatchet

    And when I got home that night,
    (After listening to the story of the buggy ride,
    And the finding of Zora in the ditch,)
    The first thing I saw, right there by the steps,
    Where the boys had hacked for angle worms,
    Was the hatchet!

    So after hearing the details of Zora’s murder, how there had been a buggy ride and Zora was found in a ditch, Barry goes home.  And the first thing he sees is the hatchet lying out by the steps.  His sons had been “hack[ing] for angle worms.”

    One might, at this point, expect that Barry would be on the warpath to upbraid his sons for leaving the hatchet lying out.  But Barry’s mind does not work that way.  He is even more selfish and self-important than behaving as a boorish parent would indicate.  So he enters his house.

    Fourth Movement:   Desperate and Despicable

    And just as I entered there was my wife,
    Standing before me, big with child.
    She started the talk of the mortgaged farm,
    And I killed her.

    The first thing Barry sees upon entering the house is his wife “big with child.”  She begins to talk about the farm being mortgaged. And Barry calmly says, “And I killed her.” Interestingly, Barry seems to imply that he killed his wife with the hatchet, but he does not state so directly.

    The reader, however, will be led to assume that he picked up the hatchet before entering the house, even though he does not say that he did.   Of course, it ultimately does not matter how Barry Holden killed his wife.

    What matters is that this despicable character existed, exists, and will continue, for all we know, throughout the existence of this physical planet Earth. Plus, he may have been serving as a juror!

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “Nancy Knapp”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters, Esq. https://librarycollections.law.umn.edu/darrow/trials_details.php?id=4 Clarence Darrow Law Library
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters, Esq. – Clarence Darrow Law Library

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Nancy Knapp”

    The epitaph spoken by “Nancy Knapp” remains one of the more baffling reports.  While miffed by life’s events, Nancy keeps her listener in the dark about important facts that would shed light on how she and her husband died.

    Introduction and Text of “Nancy Knapp”

    In Edgar Lee Masters’ “Nancy Knapp” from his American classic Spoon River Anthology, the speaker offers a vague report.  Most epitaphers reveal how they died, but Nancy does not. 

    The speaker offers only a glimpse into her life.  She is obviously upset with how things turned out.  She undoubtedly thinks her siblings-in-law caused her husband and her to have a miserable life.

    Nevertheless, Nancy puts forth some interesting images and claims, but they offer no clues about vital facts that would clarify important issues.   This epitaph leads its readers to hope that some future speaker will shed more light on this subject as does happen in some of the related series.

    Nancy Knapp

    Well, don’t you see this was the way of it:
    We bought the farm with what he inherited,
    And his brothers and sisters accused him of poisoning
    His father’s mind against the rest of them.
    And we never had any peace with our treasure.
    The murrain took the cattle, and the crops failed.
    And lightning struck the granary.
    So we mortgaged the farm to keep going.
    And he grew silent and was worried all the time.
    Then some of the neighbors refused to speak to us,
    And took sides with his brothers and sisters.
    And I had no place to turn, as one may say to himself,
    At an earlier time in life; “No matter,
    So and so is my friend, or I can shake this off
    With a little trip to Decatur.”
    Then the dreadfulest smells infested the rooms.
    So I set fire to the beds and the old witch-house
    Went up in a roar of flame,
    As I danced in the yard with waving arms,
    While he wept like a freezing steer.

    Commentary on “Nancy Knapp”

    The epitaph spoken by “Nancy Knapp” remains one of the more baffling reports.  While miffed by life’s events, Nancy keeps her listener in the dark about important facts that would shed light on how she and her husband died.

    First Movement: No Name Husband

    Well, don’t you see this was the way of it:
    We bought the farm with what he inherited,
    And his brothers and sisters accused him of poisoning
    His father’s mind against the rest of them.
    And we never had any peace with our treasure.

    Nancy is speaking; she never reveals he husband’s name. Thus he will henceforth have to be known simply as Mr. Knapp.  She reveals that he inherited enough cash which with they “bought the farm.” Interestingly, the expression “bought the farm” has come to mean “die.”

    The origin of “bought the farm” becoming an idiom for “died” is unknown, but apparently it did not appear as that exact form until 1955.  Might the idiom’s origin have been Master’s use of it in this poem?  While various other speculations exist, none is conclusive.

    Nancy begins her beef with the fact that her husband’s brothers and sisters accused Nancy and Mr. Knapp of turning the old man, Mr. Knapp’s father, against them.  

    Mr. Knapp became the only beneficiary of the father’s inheritance. Because of the accusation from the Knapp siblings, Nancy and her husband were unable to enjoy their good fortune.  She frames it this way:  “we never had any peace with our treasure.”

    Second Movement:  Trials, Tribulations, and Loss

    The murrain took the cattle, and the crops failed.
    And lightning struck the granary.
    So we mortgaged the farm to keep going.
    And he grew silent and was worried all the time.

    Nancy reports that they lost their cattle to a dreadful disease.  They also lost their crops.  Then Mother Nature interceded to destroy their granary with lightning. 

    These sorrowful events led to their having to mortgage the farm just “to keep going.”   But the sad events lead to Mr. Knapp becoming depressed.    Mr. Knapp stopped talking, and he was filled with worries that led to his depressed state.

    Third Movement:  Then Things Got Worse

    Then some of the neighbors refused to speak to us,
    And took sides with his brothers and sisters.
    And I had no place to turn, as one may say to himself,
    At an earlier time in life; “No matter,
    So and so is my friend, or I can shake this off
    With a little trip to Decatur.”

    Then things got worse.  Their neighbors turned against them and would not speak to them.  Those neighbors “took sides with the brothers and sisters” of Mr. Knapp.

    Nancy, who seems to be in a rambling mood of blabbering, then states that earlier in their lives they could have shaken off their difficulties with a “trip to Decatur.” The speaker implies that now things were so bad that they could no longer soothe their sorrows with distractions such as pleasure trips.

    Fourth Movement:  Bizarre Confession

    Then the dreadfulest smells infested the rooms.
    So I set fire to the beds and the old witch-house
    Went up in a roar of flame,
    As I danced in the yard with waving arms,
    While he wept like a freezing steer.

    Nancy concludes with a truly bizarre confession.  She complains that every room in the house became plagued with “the dreadfulest smells.”  Unfortunately, she gives no indication of what those smells might be.

    Did Mr. Knapp die in the house and his corpse become the source for those “smells”? No, he appears in another odd image at the end of the poem. Did they both just become so downtrodden that they no longer practiced cleanliness and hygienic routines?  

    This speculation seems to remain the only logical one. Whatever the origin of the smell, Nancy’s reaction to them is nothing but disastrous: she burns the house down.

    First, she set fire to the “beds.”  Is she implying that the beds were the origin of  all the smells?  Did she stop changing the sheets? Then she says that “the old witch-house / Went up in a roar of flame.”

    She refers to her home as a witch-house, seeming to imply that the place was haunted.  But again the speaker’s vagueness does not allow the reader much room to speculate about actual events.

    Then without adding any clarity to the entire episode or their lives in general, Nancy concocts a stark, raving mad image of herself, dancing and waving her arms out in the yard, as her home burns down.

    And while Nancy does her mad dance, her husband is weeping “like a freezing steer.”  This speaker leaves her listeners not having a clue as to how either she or Mr. Knapp died. Nancy Knapp’s report is one of the vaguest and oddest of the Spoon River epitaphs.

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “Blind Jack”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters https://chicagoliteraryhof.org/inductees/profile/edgar-lee-masters
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters – Chicago Literary Hall of Fame

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Blind Jack”

    Poor Blind Jack the Fiddler dies because of two drunken louts who drove a set of horses too fast and landed them all in a ditch.  But Jack has an important report to offer from his seat in the afterlife.

    Introduction and Text of “Blind Jack”

    In Edgar Lee Masters’ “Blind Jack” from the American classic Spoon River Anthology, the speaker reports his drama in the form of an American sonnet, also known as an Innovative sonnet (American-Innovative Sonnet).

    This sonnet is the epitome of “innovative.”  The poem displays itself in four movements, offering a cinquain, a tercet, a couplet, and a quatrain. The poem eschews both rime and rhythm, opting nevertheless for a surprise conclusion that is both gripping and a bit shocking but in the final analysis nothing short of fascinating.

    Blind Jack

    I had fiddled all at the county fair.
    But driving home “Butch” Weldy and Jack McGuire,
    Who were roaring full, made me fiddle and fiddle
    To the song of Susie Skinner, while whipping the horses
    Till they ran away.

    Blind as I was, I tried to get out
    As the carriage fell in the ditch,
    And was caught in the wheels and killed.

    There’s a blind man here with a brow
    As big and white as a cloud.

    And all we fiddlers, from highest to lowest,
    Writers of music and tellers of stories,
    Sit at his feet,
    And hear him sing of the fall of Troy.

    Commentary on “Blind Jack”

    Poor Blind Jack the Fiddler dies because of two drunken louts who drove a set of horses too fast and landed them all in a ditch.  But Jack has an important report to offer from his seat in the afterlife.

    First Movement Cinquain:  Drunken Louts of Death

    I had fiddled all at the county fair.
    But driving home “Butch” Weldy and Jack McGuire,
    Who were roaring full, made me fiddle and fiddle
    To the song of Susie Skinner, while whipping the horses
    Till they ran away.

    Blind Jack begins by asserting that he had been playing his fiddle all day at the county fair.  No doubt he was tired and eager to get home to rest. Jack was riding in a buckboard with two drunken louts, “Butch” Weldy and Jack McGuire.

    The two drunks insisted that Blind Jack keep playing his fiddle.  Seems they were partial to the tune “Susie Skinner.”  So they insisted that Jack keep playing that song. Jack reports that they kept whipping the horses to make them run faster and faster.  But the horses with horse-minds of the own then ran wild and landed the trio in a ditch.

    Second Movement Tercet:  Trapped by Wheels

    Blind as I was, I tried to get out
    As the carriage fell in the ditch,
    And was caught in the wheels and killed.

    Jack then claims that even though he was blind he tried to save himself by jumping from the buckboard as it was tumbling into the ditch.  Unfortunately, the blind fiddler became trapped by the wheels of the vehicle and was killed.

    Third Movement Couplet:  Finished His Earthly Talk

    There’s a blind man here with a brow
    As big and white as a cloud.

    Jack the blind fiddler has now finished his earthly tale and begins his report of things from where his soul now exists.  He reveals that he has encountered another blind man, and this man’s brow is “as big and white as a cloud.”  This revelation, of course, implies that Jack can now see.  Otherwise, he would not know that this blind man had such a brow.

    Fourth Movement Quatrain:  Greek Poet, Homer

    And all we fiddlers, from highest to lowest,
    Writers of music and tellers of stories,
    Sit at his feet,
    And hear him sing of the fall of Troy.

    Jack, in his final movement, confides that the “blind man” with the cloud-like eyebrows is none other than the famous Greek poet, Homer.  Jack does not mention the poet’s name, but his description makes it abundantly clear to whom he is referring.

    Jack also reports that all types of creative writers sit at the poet Homer’s feet listening to him tell the tales that have come down to us as The Iliad, The Odyssey, and The Aeneid.    And, of course, all flavor of musicians, especially fiddlers “from highest to lowest” place themselves among those craving to hear a good yarn.

    Homer’s Appearance and How Blind Jack Would Know

    Interestingly, most of the images and busts of the poet Homer that we have today do not show that he had such a prominent brow.  Likely, the blind fiddler is merely exaggerating for effect.  He probably surmises that extraordinary, creative folks like Homer would also be extraordinary in appearance.

    Also Jack’s description raises another puzzle:  was Jack able to see at some point in his life?  was he not born blind?  had he actually seen any of the busts and likenesses that exist of Homer?

    However, if before he lost his sight, Jack had seen an image of what Homer has been considered to look like, one can only accept that his postmortem description is, in fact, pure exaggeration.

    On the other hand, readers may simply interpret Jack’s ability to see after death as the soul’s immutable ability and that Jack is now able to correct all the images that do not push forth the big and cloud-like brow that belongs on Homer.

    Image 2:  Homer https://www.britishmuseum.org/collection/object/P_T-6-13 - British Museum
    Image:  Homer – British Museum

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “Dora Williams”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters https://chicagoliteraryhof.org/inductees/profile/edgar-lee-masters
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters – Chicago Literary Hall of Fame – https://chicagoliteraryhof.org/inductees/profile/edgar-lee-masters

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Dora Williams”

    “Dora Williams” is reporting from Camp Santo in Genoa, Italy, instead of from the Spoon River graveyard.

    Introduction and Text of “Dora Williams”

    In Edgar Lee Masters’ “Dora Williams” from the American classic Spoon River Anthology, the speaker, unlike the other posthumous reporters who announce themselves from the graveyard in Spoon River, is offering her shout-out from Campo Santo in Genoa, Italy.   The none-too-subtle allusion to Columbus offers an opening salvo of the trash-America-first bunch, who begin with the Columbian discovery of a New World.

    Dora Williams

    When Reuben Pantier ran away and threw me  
    I went to Springfield. There I met a lush,  
    Whose father just deceased left him a fortune.  
    He married me when drunk. My life was wretched.
    A year passed and one day they found him dead.
    That made me rich. I moved on to Chicago.
    After a time met Tyler Rountree, villain.
    I moved on to New York. A gray-haired magnate
    Went mad about me—so another fortune.  
    He died one night right in my arms, you know.
    (I saw his purple face for years thereafter.)
    There was almost a scandal. I moved on,  
    This time to Paris. I was now a woman,
    Insidious, subtle, versed in the world and rich.
    My sweet apartment near the Champs Élysées
    Became a center for all sorts of people,
    Musicians, poets, dandies, artists, nobles,  
    Where we spoke French and German, Italian, English.
    I wed Count Navigato, native of Genoa.
    We went to Rome. He poisoned me, I think.
    Now in the Campo Santo overlooking
    The sea where young Columbus dreamed new worlds,
    See what they chiseled: ”Contessa Navigato
    Implora eterna quiete.”

    Commentary on “Dora Williams”

    “Dora Williams”  offers her report from Camp Santo in Genoa, Italy, instead of from the Spoon River graveyard. Yeah, funny how that works!

    First Movement:  Making Her Life Miserable

    When Reuben Pantier ran away and threw me  
    I went to Springfield. There I met a lush,  
    Whose father just deceased left him a fortune.  
    He married me when drunk. My life was wretched.
    A year passed and one day they found him dead.
    That made me rich. I moved on to Chicago.
    After a time met Tyler Rountree, villain.

    Readers will remember meeting Dora as part of the fornicating couple, whom A. D. Blood castigated for using his grave as their “unholy pillow.”  The reader will not be surprised to learn the particulars of Dora’s ultimate history. 

    Dora begins with a brief mention of “Reuben Pantier,” who dumped her and “ran away.”  But after Reuben ran off, so did Dora; she “went to Springfield.”  There she met “a lush”; she reports that the lush’s father had died and left him a fortune.   The lush ends up married to Dora (she blames it on his being drunk at the time) and makes her life miserable.

    After a year of this wretched existence, “one day they found him dead.”  What’s Dora’s response?  “That made me rich.  I moved to Chicago.”  No word of concern for the man with whom she had lived, just the unadorned report that “they found him dead.”   And after relocating to Chicago, Dora meets another man, Tyler Rountree, whom she claims was a “villain.”  She gives us no further details about Tyler.  Thus she moves on.

    Second Movement:  Moving On

    I moved on to New York. A gray-haired magnate
    Went mad about me—so another fortune.  
    He died one night right in my arms, you know.
    (I saw his purple face for years thereafter.)
    There was almost a scandal. I moved on,  

    Dora then moves to New York, where the lucky gal again manages to marry a fortune, “a gray-haired magnate,” who again dies.  This time in her arms.  And Dora claims that she “saw his purple face for years thereafter.”  She also admits, “[t]here was almost a scandal.”  But then she moves on.

    Third Movement:   Entertaining the Rabble

    This time to Paris. I was now a woman,
    Insidious, subtle, versed in the world and rich.
    My sweet apartment near the Champs Élysées
    Became a center for all sorts of people,
    Musicians, poets, dandies, artists, nobles,  
    Where we spoke French and German, Italian, English.

    Now, Dora finds herself in Paris, and she is “now a woman,” and she describes herself as “[i]nsidious, subtle, versed in the world and rich.”  She lived in a “sweet apartment near the Champs Élysées.”  

    Dora’s pad became a hang-out for such rabble as “Musicians, poets, dandies, artists, nobles.”  They spoke “French and German, Italian, English.”  Dora has the need to make herself look very sophisticated and cosmopolitan.

    Fourth Movement:    Marrying a Count

    I wed Count Navigato, native of Genoa.
    We went to Rome. He poisoned me, I think.
    Now in the Campo Santo overlooking
    The sea where young Columbus dreamed new worlds,
    See what they chiseled: ”Contessa Navigato
    Implora eterna quiete.”

    While in Paris, Dora marries again, possibly a man with a fortunate, but maybe not.  His name is “Count Navigato,” and he is a “native of Genoa.”  They relocate to Rome, where the count poisons Dora; at least, she thinks he poisoned her. 

    Dora is reporting from a cemetery called “Campo Santo,” which is supposedly “overlooking / The sea where young Columbus dreamed new worlds.”  On Dora’s tombstone, the following is engraved:  “Contessa Navigato / Implora eterna quiete,” which roughly translates as “Countess Navigato – Rest in Peace.” 

    The irony is thick and Dora gets it:  she lived anything but a peaceful life, having murdered at least two husbands and finally being murdered by her third.  Dora—being the “[i]nsidious, subtle, versed in the world” woman that she is—understandably doubts that her rest will be peaceful.

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “George Gray”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters http://www.poorwilliam.net/al-082314.html Poor William’s Almanack
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters – Poor William’s Almanack

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “George Gray”

    The boat with furled sail chiseled on his tombstone prompts George Gray to speculate about his stalled life.

    Introduction and Text of “George Gray”

    In Edgar Lee Masters’ “George Gray” from the American classic Spoon River Anthology, the speaker philosophizes about his lost opportunities to infuse some meaning into his life. 

    The speaker’s tombstone features a boat “with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.”   This carving motivates George to dramatize his speculation that like the still boat his own life seemed to go nowhere.

    George Gray

    I have studied many times  
    The marble which was chiseled for me—
    A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
    In truth it pictures not my destination
    But my life.
    For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
    Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
    Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
    Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.  
    And now I know that we must lift the sail
    And catch the winds of destiny
    Wherever they drive the boat.
    To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness,
    But life without meaning is the torture
    Of restlessness and vague desire—
    It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.

    Commentary on “George Gray”

    In Edgar Lee Masters’ “George Gray,” the speaker is musing on his life as he philosophizes about the lost opportunities that might have given meaning to his life.

    First Movement:  A Twisted Symbolism

    I have studied many times  
    The marble which was chiseled for me—
    A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
    In truth it pictures not my destination
    But my life.

    A boat with a furled sail resting peacefully in a harbor symbolizes a life well lived and a soul resting comfortably in the arms of the divine after that life has accomplished its finish—an appropriate and beautiful image for a tombstone monument.   However, in the case of George Gray, the symbolism takes a very different twist.

    George begins by stating that he has contemplated that boat image “many times,” and he has concluded that it does not represent his life’s “destination” but the course of his life itself. 

    Second Movement:  Fear of Taking a Chance

    For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
    Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
    Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.

    George then offers the reasons that the boat image designates his course through life rather than his life’s destination.  George says that he was offered “love,” but he “shrank from its disillusionment.”  He would not have believed the old adage that is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

    George then claims that he had the opportunity to experience “sorrow,” but he would not allow himself the luxury of that experience simply because he was “afraid.”  Quite likely, the “sorrow” arose as he declined the offer of love.   

    A part of George wanted to return the love, but his brittle nature rejected it and along with the sorrow caused by the rejection of love.  George also did not allow himself to engage in “ambition” because of dreading the “chances.”  He failed to play the game because he might lose—which made it a forgone conclusion that he would not win.

    Third Movement:  A Hunger for Meaning in Life

    Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.  
    And now I know that we must lift the sail
    And catch the winds of destiny
    Wherever they drive the boat.

    Even as George was allowing love, ambition, and other emotions to slip through his fingers, he felt a “hunger[ ] for meaning in [his] life.”  He could not foretell that meaning resided in the unknown.

    But now George understands that to achieve meaning one must take chances; one must “lift the sail,” “catch the winds of destiny,” and be willing to go “[w]herever they drive the boat.” 

    Fourth Movement:  Torture Every Which Way 

    To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness,
    But life without meaning is the torture
    Of restlessness and vague desire—
    It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.

    George admits that “putt[ing] meaning in one’ life may end in madness.”  The loss of love, the despair brought on by sorrow, the dreaded dashing of ambitious hopes all could lead to “madness.”  But on the other hand, George now believes that “a life without meaning is the torture / Of restlessness and vague desire.”  

    Such a life of torture, he assumes, must be worse than the madness of unrequited love and failed ambitions.   George metaphorically likens such a passionless life as his own to a “boat longing for the sea yet afraid.”  Thus the only emotion he actually lived with was fear and that emotion proved to be torture.

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “Herbert Marshall”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters https://chicagoliteraryhof.org/inductees/profile/edgar-lee-masters
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters – Chicago Literary Hall of Fame

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Herbert Marshall”

    In this American-Innovative sonnet, “Herbert Marshall” is responding to the report delivered by “Louise Smith,” the speaker of the preceding epitaph.

    Introduction and Text of “Herbert Marshall”

    Edgar Lee Masters’ again performs his magic in an American-Innovative sonnet.  While the sonnet remains without a rime scheme or a rhythm pattern, it does section itself into the Petrarchan octave and sestet; the octave features the speaker’s response to Louise’s sorrow.  The sestet explains the speaker’s own sorrow along with his reason for abandoning the relationship with Louise.  

    The speaker in Edgar Lee Masters’ “Herbert Marshall” from Spoon River Anthology is offering his side of the complaint, revealed by Louise Smith, the previous speaker in the series.

    Herbert reflects the defects in Louise’s character, or lack thereof.  He then turns philosophical about life as it relates to happiness.  Herbert refused to be a doormat by allowing Louise to walk all over him in life.  And now in death he refuses to allow her to obfuscate the reason that he had to leave her.

    Herbert Marshall

    All your sorrow, Louise, and hatred of me  
    Sprang from your delusion that it was wantonness
    Of spirit and contempt of your soul’s rights
    Which made me turn to Annabelle and forsake you.
    You really grew to hate me for love of me,  
    Because I was your soul’s happiness,  
    Formed and tempered
    To solve your life for you, and would not.  
    But you were my misery. If you had been
    My happiness would I not have clung to you?
    This is life’s sorrow:  
    That one can be happy only where two are;
    And that our hearts are drawn to stars  
    Which want us not.

    Commentary on “Herbert Marshall”

    In this American-Innovative sonnet, “Herbert Marshall” is responding to the report delivered by “Louise Smith,” the speaker of the preceding epitaph.

    Octave: First Movement:  Louise’s Wrong Thinking

    All your sorrow, Louise, and hatred of me  
    Sprang from your delusion that it was wantonness
    Of spirit and contempt of your soul’s rights
    Which made me turn to Annabelle and forsake you.

    As Herbert addresses Louise, he lets her know that it was only her “delusion” regarding his relationship with Annabelle that made Louise end up hating Herbert.   Herbert insists that Louise was thinking wrongly.  He claims that he did not turn to Annabelle merely out of lust.  It was Louise’s own actions that caused Herbert to turn to another woman.

    Herbert wishes to make it clear that Louise’s wrong thinking caused her to hate him.  He insists that it was not evil intentions on his part that is responsible for Louise’s life destroying hatred.

    Octave: Second Movement:  Love Morphed into Hatred

    You really grew to hate me for love of me,  
    Because I was your soul’s happiness,  
    Formed and tempered
    To solve your life for you, and would not.

    Herbert remains well aware that Louise’s love for him morphed into hatred.  Yet he also understands that because she expected him to provide her “soul’s happiness,” he could never live up to such an expectation.  Like so many unlucky marriage partners, Louise wanted Herbert to supply her with that which he could not.  He was simply not capable of “solv[ing] [her] life for [her].”  

    Many marriages end because the partners expect each other to supply them with that soul happiness. That deep, inner happiness can only attained by each individual through his or her own effort.

    Marriage partners cannot supply each other with the deep, lasting happiness that only each unique soul can find.  The behavior of one human being toward another can never afford soul happiness.  Herbert was aware of this situation.  He realized that Louise would squeeze the life out of him if he tried to satisfy her soul longings.

    Thus, Herbert refused to allow himself to be used this way.  Knowing he could never the fill void caused by Louise’s wrongheadedness, he turned away from her and to Annabelle.

    Sestet: Third Movement:  Blunt and Defiant

    But you were my misery. If you had been
    My happiness would I not have clung to you?

    Herbert addresses Louise with a blunt and defiant response: “you were my misery.”    Herbert knew that Louise’s neediness would smother any hopes for a happy marriage for the two of them.

    Louise’s delusional expectations of Herbert made it impossible for her to offer him the love he need.  Her blindness to Herbert’s needs precluded any happiness that they might experience as a couple.  Herbert implies through a rhetorical question to Louise that if she had, in fact, been making him happy, he would have remained with her.

    And Herbert wants Louise to understand that he did not turn to another woman out of lust.  It was Louise’s needy selfishness that causes him to spurn her and end their relationship.  Louise’s clinging nature that grew out of pure greed was the culprit, not simple selfishness on Herbert’s part.

    Sestet: Fourth Movement:  Gleaning Awareness from Experience

    This is life’s sorrow:  
    That one can be happy only where two are;
    And that our hearts are drawn to stars  
    Which want us not.

    Finally, Herbert philosophically announces what he has gleaned from his experience about life and sorrow.  Herbert concludes that a conundrum exists: it seems that in order to be happy one has to become two, that is, has to have a marriage partner.  

    But Herbert also sees that “our hearts are drawn to stars / Which want us not.”  Even though we need a partner to be happy, we can be attracted to those who do not want us.  Such thinking makes the reader wonder about how Herbert’s relationship with Annabelle turned out.

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “Fiddler Jones”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters https://chicagoliteraryhof.org/inductees/profile/edgar-lee-masters
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters – Chicago Literary Hall of Fame

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Fiddler Jones”

    Fiddler Jones is one of the less melancholy figures of Spoon River, though he has his trials as well. 

    Introduction with Text of  “Fiddler Jones”

    In Edgar Lee Masters’ “Fiddler Jones” from his American classic Spoon River Anthology, the speaker waxes philosophical about life; he possesses a more congenial nature than many of the other Spoon River inmates. 

    Although Fiddler has trials to report from his life, he remains one of the more jovial and less melancholy characters from the Spoon River bunch.  He does not blame others for his lot in life.

    Fiddler Jones

    The earth keeps some vibration going  
    There in your heart, and that is you.  
    And if the people find you can fiddle,  
    Why, fiddle you must, for all your life.
    What do you see, a harvest of clover?
    Or a meadow to walk through to the river?  
    The wind’s in the corn; you rub your hands
    For beeves hereafter ready for market;
    Or else you hear the rustle of skirts  
    Like the girls when dancing at Little Grove.
    To Cooney Potter a pillar of dust
    Or whirling leaves meant ruinous drouth;  
    They looked to me like Red-Head Sammy  
    Stepping it off, to “Toor-a-Loor.”
    How could I till my forty acres
    Not to speak of getting more,
    With a medley of horns, bassoons and piccolos  
    Stirred in my brain by crows and robins
    And the creak of a wind-mill—only these?  
    And I never started to plow in my life
    That some one did not stop in the road
    And take me away to a dance or picnic.
    I ended up with forty acres;
    I ended up with a broken fiddle—
    And a broken laugh, and a thousand memories,
    And not a single regret.

    Commentary on “Fiddler Jones”

    Fiddler Jones is one of the less melancholy figures of Spoon River, though he has his own trials and tribulations as well.

    First Movement:  Vibration in the Heart

    The earth keeps some vibration going  
    There in your heart, and that is you.  
    And if the people find you can fiddle,  
    Why, fiddle you must, for all your life.

    Fiddler Jones holds forth that the heart of a human being is connected to and motivated by a planetary “vibration.”  He believes the essence of the human being is “some vibration” that resides in the heart and that essence constitutes the personality and nature of the individual. 

    Fiddler offers an example, using his own “vibration,” his talent for playing a fiddle.  He claims that when people learn of your talent, then you have to keep performing for them until you die.

    Second Movement:  Hearing vs Seeing

    What do you see, a harvest of clover?
    Or a meadow to walk through to the river?  
    The wind’s in the corn; you rub your hands
    For beeves hereafter ready for market;
    Or else you hear the rustle of skirts  
    Like the girls when dancing at Little Grove.

    Fiddler then compares himself to a farmer, who sees “a harvest of clover,” a meadow that backs up to a river, beef cattle “ready for market.”  

    Instead of all these things, Fiddler hears “the rustle of skirts” of the girls dancing while he plays his fiddle.

    Third Movement:  From Forty to a Thousand

    To Cooney Potter a pillar of dust
    Or whirling leaves meant ruinous drouth;  
    They looked to me like Red-Head Sammy  
    Stepping it off, to “Toor-a-Loor.”

    Fiddler refers to Cooney Potter, the farmer who began with an inherited forty acres and turned them into a thousand and strove to double that.  

    Fiddler asserts that a storm would leave Potter devastated, but people expected music from the fiddler so they could dance.  He implies that he would not have to endure such ruin.

    Fourth Movement:  Music Trumps Tillage

    How could I till my forty acres
    Not to speak of getting more,
    With a medley of horns, bassoons and piccolos  
    Stirred in my brain by crows and robins
    And the creak of a wind-mill—only these?  

    Unlike Cooney, who coveted more and more acres, Fiddler had a head full of music, “a medley of horns, bassoons and piccolos.”  

    All of these instruments were “stirred in [his] brain by crows and robins / And the creak of a wind-mill.”   Fiddler fiddled because he had musical talent that occupied his heart and mind.

    Fifth Movement:  Music in His Heart and Mind

    And I never started to plow in my life That some one did not stop in the road
    And take me away to a dance or picnic.

    Fiddler’s music ability, however, interfered with his ability to farm.  Every time he started to plow a field, someone would come and drag him off “to a dance or picnic” to entertain them.   

    Fiddler, however, obviously enjoyed his music more than plowing, or else he would have turned down those invitations once in a while.

    Sixth Movement:  No Regrets

    I ended up with forty acres;
    I ended up with a broken fiddle—
    And a broken laugh, and a thousand memories,
    And not a single regret.

    The musician claims that as he started with forty acres, he “ended up with forty acres.”  But he also “ended up with a broken fiddle.”  Sadly, Fiddler ended up with “a broken laugh, and a thousand memories.”  But yet not so sadly, he can report that he also ended up with no regrets.

    Being without regrets puts Fiddler Jones into a very different mind-set from many of the Spoon River epitaph reporters, whose main issue usually focuses on their regrets.  When they are not blaming others for their poor choices, they are whining about how they could have done better had the people around them treated them better. 

    Thus to announce a life that results in no regrets demonstrates that Fiddler Jones is resting much easier than his fellow graveyard residents.

    Edgar Lee Masters - Commemorative Stamp
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters – Commemorative Stamp  US Stamp Gallery

  •  Edgar Lee Masters’ “Deacon Taylor,” “Sam Hookey,” and “Cooney Potter”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters https://factfile.org/10-facts-about-edgar-lee-masters#google_vignette
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters

     Edgar Lees Masters’ “Deacon Taylor,” “Sam Hookey,” and “Cooney Potter”

    These three very short epitaphs from Edgar Lee Masters’ American Classic Spoon River Anthology feature diverse characters making bizarre confessions.

    Introduction:  A Motley Trio

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Deacon Taylor,” “Sam Hookey,” and “Cooney Potter” from Masters’ American classic Spoon River Anthology portray characters of little depth, so they are presented here together.  These three very short epitaphs feature very diverse characters making bizarre confessions.

    Each character features the complaining mind-set of most the after-death reporters; however, this trio gives few details about each of their stories.  They just want to chime in with a short quip about their lives., so it seems.

    Deacon Taylor’s confession reveals his hypocrisy, being a churchman and a member of the “prohibition” party, yet dying of cirrhosis of the liver. 

    Sam Hookey’s report may be one of the most bizarre as it remains unclear his purpose for revealing the odd appearance of “Robespierre” to him after Hookey’s death.

    Cooney Potter’s description of his death is odd, but his purpose is clear.  He needs to show that he died while working, not from a frivolous enjoyment of tobacco.

    Deacon Taylor

    I belonged to the church,
    And to the party of prohibition;
    And the villagers thought I died of eating watermelon. 
    In truth I had cirrhosis of the liver,
    For every noon for thirty years, I slipped behind the prescription partition
    In Trainor’s drug store
    And poured a generous drink
    From the bottle marked
    “Spiritus frumenti.”


    Commentary on “Deacon Taylor

    This speaker wants to get a dirty little secret off his chest.

    First Movement:  Member of Church and Prohibition Party

    Taylor says he was a church member as well as belonging to the “party of prohibition.”   And so when he died the villagers thought he “died of eating watermelon.”

    Second Movement:  Died of Cirrhosis

    But the Deacon confesses that he actually died of cirrhosis of the liver, because for thirty years he “slipped behind the prescription partition / In Trainor’s drug store” and gulped down a large portion of “Spiritus frumenti.”

    Sam Hookey

    I ran away from home with the circus,
    Having fallen in love with Mademoiselle Estralada,
    The lion tamer.
    One time, having starved the lions
    For more than a day,
    I entered the cage and began to beat Brutus
    And Leo and Gypsy.  
    Whereupon Brutus sprang upon me,  
    And killed me.  
    On entering these regions
    I met a shadow who cursed me,
    And said it served me right….  
    It was Robespierre!

    Commentary on “Sam Hookey

    Sam Hookey offers a bizarre admission about the events leading to his ultimate demise.

    First Movement:  For the Love of a Lion Tamer

    Sam reports that he left home to join the circus after he fell in love the lion tamer, Mademoiselle Estralada.

    Second Movement:  Karmic Lions

    In his bizarre confession, Sam reveals that he starved three lions, Brutus, Leo, and Gypsy, and then stepped into their cage and began beating them, whereupon Brutus “sprang upon me / And killed me.”

    Third Movement:  Chickens Coming Home to Roost

    Upon his death, Sam found himself confronted by “a shadow” that cursed him and told him that he got what he deserved.  He concludes by saying the “shadow” was Robespierre, the famous politician who is credited with the Reign of Terror during the French Revolution.

    Cooney Potter

    I inherited forty acres from my Father
    And, by working my wife, my two sons and two daughters
    From dawn to dusk, I acquired  
    A thousand acres. But not content,
    Wishing to own two thousand acres, I bustled through the years with axe and plow,
    Toiling, denying myself, my wife, my sons, my daughters.  
    Squire Higbee wrongs me to say
    That I died from smoking Red Eagle cigars.
    Eating hot pie and gulping coffee
    During the scorching hours of harvest time
    Brought me here ere I had reached my sixtieth year.

    Commentary on “Cooney Potter”

    Cooney Potter simply wants to refute the contention made by Squire Higbee about Potter’s death.

    First Movement:  Farm Expansion

    Sam states that his father left him “forty acres.”  By hard work, including that of his wife and four children all laboring from “dawn to dusk,” Sam was able expand his farm from forty acres to “a thousand acres.”

    Second Movement:  Striving for Two Thousand

    Sam was not satisfied with his thousand acres, and therefore kept his family busy, “Toiling, denying myself, my wife, my sons, my daughters” striving to acquire a second thousand acres.  He does not make it clear that he succeeded in reaching the two-thousand-acre goal.

    Third Movement:  Death before Sixty

    Sam complains, “Squire Higbee wrongs me” when he claimed Sam “died from smoking Red Eagle cigars.”  Sam insists he died from “eating hot pie and gulping coffee / During the scorching hours of harvest time.”  Finally, he reveals that he died before he had attained the age of sixty.

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “Lucius Atherton”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters https://chicagoliteraryhof.org/inductees/profile/edgar-lee-masters
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters – Chicago Literary Hall of Fame

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Lucius Atherton”

    The “Lucius Atherton” epitaph reveals a truly depraved and delusional man who decries his aging body simply because it no longer attracts women.

    Introduction and Text of “Lucius Atherton”

    A disgusting poseur, “Lucius Atherton,” from Edgar Lee Masters’ Spoon River Anthology, complains about the loss of his earlier handsomeness as well as the loss of his ability to draw to himself women of whom he could take advantage. 

    Readers will remember that “Aner Clute” had named Atherton as the man who jilted her, leaving her to take up the life of a prostitute.  Aner had claimed the Lucius was a rich man and that they had been engaged.

    Although Lucius’ epitaph offers no evidence that the two had been engaged or even that he was a rich man, it does confirm the fact the two star-crossed lovers had huge egos.

    Aner and Lucius also like many other Spoon River reporters from the grave possess a penchant for making excuses regarding their own excesses and debauchery.

    Lucius Atherton

    When my moustache curled,  
    And my hair was black,
    And I wore tight trousers  
    And a diamond stud,
    I was an excellent knave of hearts and took many a trick.
    But when the gray hairs began to appear—
    Lo! a new generation of girls  
    Laughed at me, not fearing me,  
    And I had no more exciting adventures
    Wherein I was all but shot for a heartless devil,
    But only drabby affairs, warmed-over affairs
    Of other days and other men.  
    And time went on until I lived at Mayer’s restaurant,  
    Partaking of short-orders, a gray, untidy,
    Toothless, discarded, rural Don Juan….
    There is a mighty shade here who sings
    Of one named Beatrice;  
    And I see now that the force that made him great
    Drove me to the dregs of life.

    Commentary on “Lucius Atherton”

    Formerly a dandy, Atherton begins his report as he reminisces about the man he had been earlier in his life.  He had a curling mustache and black hair, no doubt kept perfectly combed.

    First Movement:   Regrets Aging

    When my moustache curled,  
    And my hair was black,
    And I wore tight trousers  
    And a diamond stud,
    I was an excellent knave of hearts and took many a trick.

    The fatuousness of Lucious Atherton’s nature begins to appear early in his monologue.  His choices in behavior and dress suggest that he was likely little more than a male prostitute, who, however, instead of for money, compromised his integrity because of his vanity.

    Atherton sported “tight trousers / And a diamond stud.”  He describes himself as an “excellent knave of hearts and took many a trick.”  He had the ability to attract any woman he might have fancied.

    Second Movement:   Decrying Loss of Good Looks

    But when the gray hairs began to appear—
    Lo! a new generation of girls  
    Laughed at me, not fearing me,  
    And I had no more exciting adventures

    The sole purpose of Atherton’s soliloquy is to decry his loss of good looks as the reason that a “new generation” of women were not attracted to him; in fact, these new “girls” would ridicule him openly.  

    Atherton bemoans the fact that these new women showed no “fear” of him.  That he desired to have them fear him reveals the depraved nature of this despicable man.  He likely raped and beat the women that he had so easily attracted.

    Atherton’s aging body lost for him the ability to engage in “exciting adventures.”  The many “tricks” he had taken started to dwindle as the years piled up on his physique, and he is deeply disturbed by that loss.

    Third Movement:   No Long Worth Attention

    Wherein I was all but shot for a heartless devil,
    But only drabby affairs, warmed-over affairs
    Of other days and other men.

    While the process of aging was gripping savagely his physique, Atherton began to realize that he was no longer deemed to be worth the attention of this new generation of women.

    These new women considered him a “heartless devil,” and he devolved into a ridiculous humiliation to his former self.  Instead of good-looking women, he could pick up only what he describes as “drabby affairs” and “warmed-over affairs.” 

    With his decrepitude, Atherton had the ability to attract only women who had been with many “other men.”  He is filled with self-pity for his loss of his former handsome body with its magnetism to the female sex.

    Fourth Movement:  Whining Self-Pity

    And time went on until I lived at Mayer’s restaurant,  
    Partaking of short-orders, a gray, untidy,
    Toothless, discarded, rural Don Juan….

    Throughout Atherton’s caterwauling screed of whining self-pity, nowhere does he suggest that he offered any service to the community of humankind.  It remains unclear that he ever had a job.  He seems to hint that whatever means of support he formerly possessed he had also lost that. 

    Atherton claims he finally ended up “liv[ing] at Mayer’s restaurant,” where he ate, “short-orders.”  He is likely exaggerating, not actually saying that he resides at the restaurant but just takes most or all of his meals there.

    Likely the fact that Atherton leaves his listeners in the dark about how he met expenses and where he lived indicates a blurred mind, possibly being eaten up by syphilis.  

    Atherton then gives a truly pathetic description of himself:  “a gray, untidy, / Toothless, discarded, rural Don Juan.”  No doubt a grave insult to the real “Don Juan.”

    Fifth Movement:  Arrogant Popinjay

    There is a mighty shade here who sings
    Of one named Beatrice;  
    And I see now that the force that made him great
    Drove me to the dregs of life.

    Finally, with an arrogance to rival that of the pathetic popinjay Barack Obama, who liked to brag that he wrote two books all by himself, Atherton compares himself to the great poet Dante Alighieri, composer of The Divine Comedy.    

    Atherton would have us believe, “that the force that made [Dante] great / Drove me to the dregs of life.” Dante’s driving force was spiritual love, symbolically portrayed by the beautiful Beatrice.

    Atherton’s driving force was his penchant only for physical lust, demonstrated by his emphasis on his good looks and the pain that losing his physical appearance has caused him as he could no longer attract women for his exciting adventures.  

    While Lucius Atherton does belong to the same class of men that includes Bill Clinton, Atherton has nothing in common with Dante Alighieri.

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “Willard Fluke”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters https://www.best-poems.net/edgar_lee_masters/index.html#google_vignette
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Willard Fluke”

    The character, Willard Fluke, is spared an ignominious confession but at a great price.

    Introduction and Text of “Willard Fluke”

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Willard Fluke” from his American classic Spoon River Anthology is the name of the father of “Lois Spears,” the blind woman whose simple purity serves as a welcome cleansing after interacting with the many unsavory speakers the reader meets in this anthology.

    Willard Fluke

    My wife lost her health,
    And dwindled until she weighed scarce ninety pounds.
    Then that woman, whom the men
    Styled Cleopatra, came along.
    And we—we married ones
    All broke our vows, myself among the rest.
    Years passed and one by one
    Death claimed them all in some hideous form,  
    And I was borne along by dreams
    Of God’s particular grace for me,
    And I began to write, write, write, reams on reams
    Of the second coming of Christ.
    Then Christ came to me and said,
    “Go into the church and stand before the congregation
    And confess your sin.”
    But just as I stood up and began to speak
    I saw my little girl, who was sitting in the front seat—
    My little girl who was born blind!
    After that, all is blackness!

    Commentary on “Willard Fluke”

    The character, Willard Fluke, is spared an ignominious confession but at a great price.

    First Movement:  The Sick Wife

    My wife lost her health,
    And dwindled until she weighed scarce ninety pounds.
    Then that woman, whom the men
    Styled Cleopatra, came along.
    And we—we married ones
    All broke our vows, myself among the rest.

    Willard begins by reporting about his wife, who “lost her health.”  His wife lost so much weight that she “weighed scare ninety pounds.”   Willard does not reveal the nature of his wife’s affliction—just that this loss of her health apparently triggered breaking of his marital vows, after “that woman, whom the men / Styled Cleopatra, came along.” 

    Along with the other men, Willard succumbs to temptation with the woman they “styled Cleopatra.”  He allows the reader to draw the appropriate conclusions about the temptress because his only point is that he sinned through his weakness.

    Second Movement:  Time Flies

    Years passed and one by one
    Death claimed them all in some hideous form,  
    And I was borne along by dreams
    Of God’s particular grace for me,
    And I began to write, write, write, reams on reams
    Of the second coming of Christ.

    Time fled by as it is wont to do, and all the men involved with the cleopatrian temptress died one by one in “some hideous form.”  Willard was strangely motivated to write about “the second coming of Christ.”  He wrote “reams on reams.”  Spurred on by guilt, trying desperately to save his soul, he used his writing is an alternative to meditation.

    Willard stresses that he was “borne along by dreams / Of God’s particular grace for [him].”  Because he placed his mind so squarely on God, he was motivated to write those reams.  His dreaming and writing served him as a form of worship.

    Third Movement:  A Visitation

    Then Christ came to me and said,
    “Go into the church and stand before the congregation
    And confess your sin.”

    Through Willard’s concentration on God’s grace and intense relationship with Christ in writing about the second coming, Willard so prepared his soul for a visit from the Savior.   

    When Christ did honor Willard with a visitation, the Savior advised Willard to “confess [his] sin” “before the congregation.”  Willard was admonished to stand before the entire church and admit his sin.

    The reader will note that Willard says “sin”—not sins.  This designation indicates that it is only the one adulterous sin that has rifled his life—only that one sin that motivated him to concentrate on God and write reams for Jesus.   It, of course, was a great sin, and Willard has taken it very seriously as tries to wipe it from his karma.

    Fourth Movement:  Delivered by Death?

    But just as I stood up and began to speak
    I saw my little girl, who was sitting in the front seat—
    My little girl who was born blind!
    After that, all is blackness!

    Willard attempts to obey Christ’s demand that he confess before the church; however, as Willard stands and begins to speak, he sees Lois, his little girl, “who was born blind!”  At that point, we lose Willard, who simply reports, “After that, all is blackness!”  

    The reader may understand only that Willard fainted before he was able to confess.  But then the reader is left wondering if Willard also died at this point.   The possibility is great because Willard obviously has taken on guilt for Lois’ blindness.  He has suffered for a lifetime, and quite possibly his heart just gave out before he could confess.

    If Willard did die at this point, the reader may interpret his death as God’s mercy because Willard did not have to endure the ignominy of confessing his sin to the church but was spared just as Abraham was spared of sacrificing his son, Isaac; that confession would have hurt his little blind daughter, but she, too, was spared.