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2. The Death of the Hired Man
Mary sat musing on the lamp-flame at the table,
Waiting for Warren. When she heard his step,
She ran on tiptoe down the darkened passage
To meet him in the doorway with the news
And put him on his guard. "Silas is back."
She pushed him outward with her through the door
And shut it after her. "Be kind," she said.
She took the market things from Warren's arms
And set them on the porch, then drew him down
To sit beside her on the wooden steps.
"When was I ever anything but kind to him?
But I'll not have the fellow back," he said.
"I told him so last haying, didn't I?
If he left then, I said, that ended it.
What good is he? Who else will harbor him
At his age for the little he can do?
What help he is there's no depending on.
Off he goes always when I need him most.
He thinks he ought to earn a little pay,
Enough at least to buy tobacco with,
So he won't have to beg and be beholden.
behold :을 바라보다, 을 주시하다
'All right,' I say, 'I can't afford to pay
Any fixed wages, though I with I could.'
'Someone else can.' 'Then someone else will have to.'
I shouldn't mind his bettering himself
If that was what it was. You can be certain,
When he begins like that, there's someone at him
Trying to coax him off with pocket money―
In haying time, when any help is scarce.
In winter he comes back to us. I'm done."
"Sh! not so loud: he'll hear you," Mary said.
"I want him to: he'll have to soon or late."
"He's worn out. He's asleep beside the stove.
When I came up from Rowe's I found him here,
Huddled against the barn door fast asleep,
A miserable sight, and frightening, too―
You needn't smile―I didn't recognize him―
I wasn't looking for him―and he's changed.
Wait till you see."
"Where did you say he'd been?"
"He didn't say. I dragged him to the house,
And gave him tea and tried to make him smoke.
I tried to make him talk about his travels.
Nothing would do: he just kept nodding off."
"What did he say? Did he say anything?"
"But little."
"Anything? Mary, confess
He said he'd come to ditch the meadow for me."
"Warren!"
"But did he? I just want to know."
"Of course he did. What would you have him say?
Surely you wouldn't grudge the poor old man
Some humble way to save his self-respect.
He added, if you really care to know,
He meant to clear the uppe pasture, too.
That sounds like something you have heard before?
Warren, I wish you could have heard the way
He jumble everything. I stopped to look
Two or three times―he made me feel so queer―
To see if he was talking in his sleep.
He ran on Harold Wilson―you remember―
The boy you had in haying four years since.
He's finished school, and teaching in his college.
Silas declared you'll have to get him back.
He says they two will make a team for work:
Between them they will lay this farm as smooth!
The way he mixed that in with other things.
He thinks young Wilson a likely lad, though daft
daft : 어리석은, 미친 듯한, 정신 이상의
On education―you know how they fought
All through July under the blazing sun,
Silas up on the cart to build the load,
Harold along beside to pitch it on."
"Yes, I took care to keep well out of earshot."
"Well, those days trouble Silas like a dream.
You wouldn't think they would. How some things linger!
Harold's young college-boy's assurance piqued him.
After so many years he still keeps finding
Good arguments he sees he might have used.
I sympathize. I know just how it feels
To think of the right thing to say too late.
Harold's associated in his mine with Latin.
He asked me what I thought of Harold's saying
He studied Latin, like the violin,
Because he liked it―that an argument!
He said he couldn't make the boy believe
He could find water with a hazel prong―
prong : 뾰죡한 끝, 가지, 뾰죡한 기구
Which showed how much good school had ever done him.
He wanted to go over that. But most of all
He thinks if he could have another chance
To teach him how to build a load of hay―"
"I know, that's Silas' one accomplishment.
He bundles every forkful in its place,
And tags and numbers it for future reference,
So he can find and easily dislodge it
In the unloading. Silas does that well.
He takes it out in bunches like big birds' nests.
You never see him standing on the hay
He's trying to lift, straining to lift himself."
"He thinks if he could teach him that, he'd be
Some good perhaps to someone in the world.
He hates to see a boy the fool of books.
Poor Silas, so concerned for other folk,
And nothing to look backward to with pride,
And nothing to look forward to with hope,
So now and never any different."
Part of a moon was falling down the west,
Dragging the whole sky with it to the hills.
Its light poured softly in her lap. She saw it
And spread her apron to it. She put out her hand
Among the harplike morning-glory strings,
Taut with the dew from garden bed to eaves,
As if she played unheard some tenderness
That wrought on him beside her in the night.
"Warren," she said, "he has come home to die:
You needn't be afraid he'll leave you this time."
"Home," he mocked gentl
"Yes, what else but home?
It all depends on what you mean by home.
Of courde he's nothing to us, any more
Than was the hound that came a stranger to us
Out of the woods, worn out upon the trail."
"Home is the place where, when you have to go there,
They have to take you in."
"I should have called it
Something you somehow haven't to deserve."
Warren leaned out and took a step or two
Picked up a little stick, and brought it back
And broke it in his hand and tossed it by.
"Silas has better claim on us you think
Than on his brother? Thirteen little miles
As the road winds would bring him to his door.
Silas has walked that far no doubt today.
Why doesn't he go there? His brother's rich,
A somebody―director in the bank."
"He never told us that."
"We know it, though."
"I think his brother ought to help, of course.
I'll see to that if there is need. He ought of right
To take him in, and might be willing to―
He may be better than appearances.
But have some pity on Silas. Do you think
If he had any pride in claiming kin
Or anything he looked for from his brother,
He'd keep so still about him all this time?"
"I wonder what's between them."
"I can tell you.
Silas is what he is―we wouldn't mind him―
But just the kind that kinsfolk can't abide.
He never did a thing so very bad.
He don't know why he isn't quite as good
As anybody. Worthless though he is,
He won't be made ashamed to please his brother."
"I can't think Si ever hurt anyone."
"No, but he hurt my heart the way he lay
And rolled his old head on that sharp-edged chair-back.
He wouldn't let me put him on the lounge.
You must go in and see what you can do.
I made the bed up for him there tonight.
You'll be surprised at him―how much he's broken.
His working days are done; I'm sure of it."
"I'd not be in a hurry to say that."
"I haven't been. Go, look, see for yourself.
But, Warren, please remember how it is:
He's come to help you ditch the meadow.
He has a plan. You mustn't laugh at him.
He may not speak of it, and then he may.
I'll sit and see if that small sailing cloud
Will hit or miss the moon."
It hit the moon.
Then there were three there, making a dim row,
The moon, the little silver cloud, and she.
Warren returned―too soon, it seemed to her―
Slipped to her side, caught up her hand and waited.
"Warren?" she questioned.
"Dead" was all he answered,
------------
고용인의 죽음
메리는 식탁의 등불을 명상하며 앉아서,
워런을 기다리고 있었다. 그의 발소리가 들리자,
그녀는 어두운 통로를 발끝으로 달려가
문간에서 그를 맞이하여 소식을 전했다.
“사일러스가 돌아왔어요.”그리곤 그에게 진중하라고 일렀다.
그녀는 그의 등을 밀어 문밖으로 나왔다.
그리곤 문을 닫았다. 그녀는 “인정을 베푸세요,”라고 말했다.
그녀는 장 보따리를 워런의 팔에서 잡아챈 다음
현관에 내려놓고는, 마구 끌어내리듯이 그를
그녀 옆의 나무 계단에 앉혔다.
"내가 그에게 쌀쌀맞게 대한 적이 있소?
하지만 이젠 다시는 고용하지 않겠소,"그는 말했다.
"지난번 건초 만들 때 그에게 그렇게 말했지 않았소?
그가 그때 떠나면, 그것으로 끝장이라고, 내가 말했거든요.
그 사람 어디에 써먹겠소? 그 나이에 할 수 있는 일도 별로 없는데
다른 사람인들 누가 그를 써주겠소?
그나마 그의 일손을 도무지 믿을 수 있어야지.
요긴하게 쓰겠다 싶으면 훌쩍 떠나버리잖소.
그 사람 생각에는 구걸하거나 신세지지 않고,
담배 살 돈이라도 넉넉히 챙길 만큼
임금을 받아야 되겠다는 거 아니오.
나는‘좋아요, 그럴 수 있으면 좋겠지만,
고정급을 줄 능력이 내겐 없어요,’라고 말하지요.
‘다른 데 가면 받을 수 있는데요.’ ‘그럼 다른 데로 가는 수밖에.’
그의 말이 사실이라면 저 잘 되겠다는 데 난들 말리겠소. 허나 틀림없이,
그가 그렇게 나오기 시작하면, 누군가가 그에게 달라붙어서
용돈을 준다며 그를 꾀어내는 사람이 있어요―
일손 모자라는 건초 만들 때 말이요.
그리곤 그 사람 겨울이 되면 우리에게 돌아오잖소, 이제 손들었소."
"쉿! 그렇게 큰 소리 내지 마세요. 그 사람이 듣겠어요," 메리가 말했다.
"들었으면 좋겠어요. 조만간 듣게 될 말이잖소."
"그 사람 기진맥진한 상태에요. 지금 난롯가에서 자고 있어요.
내가 로우 씨 집에서 돌아와 보니 그 사람이 우리 집에 왔더군요.
헛간 문을 기대고 웅크린 채 깊이 잠들어 있었어요.
비참한 광경이었고, 또한, 겁도 났어요―
웃지 마세요―난 그 사람인줄 몰랐어요―
그 사람이 오려니 생각지도 않았으니까요―게다가 꽤 변했더군요.
보면 알 거예요.”
"어디에 가있었다고 했지요?"
"말을 않더군요. 내가 그를 집으로 끌고 와서,
차도 끓여 주고 담배도 권했지요.
어딜 돌아다녔는지 말을 들어보려고 했지요.
하지만 소용없었어요. 마냥 졸기만 하는 거예요.”
"무어라고 말합디까? 하는 말 있었소?"
"별로 없었어요."
"아무 말 없었다고요?
메리, 그 친구 우리 목장에 도랑 파주러 왔다고 말했다고 고백하구려."
"워런!"
"그렇게 말했죠? 그랬을 거요."
"물론 그랬어요. 그럼 당신은 무슨 말을 듣고 싶었어요?
그 불쌍한 노인이 자존심을 지킬 하찮은 말조차
말할 자격이 없다고 생각하는 것은 분명 아닐 것이고요.
당신이 정말 알고 싶으면, 그 노인은 도랑에다가
위쪽 풀밭까지 치우겠다고 말했어요.
당신 전에도 비슷한 말을 들었던 것 같지요?
워런, 그 노인이 횡설수설하는 소리를
당신도 들었으면 좋았을 거예요. 그의 말에
이상한 느낌이 들었어요―
혹시 잠꼬대하는 것이 아닌가―두세 번씩이나 물끄러미 쳐다봤어요.
그 노인 계속 해롤드 윌슨 얘기를 했어요―당신도 생각나지요―
사년 전 건초 만들 때 고용했던 아이 말이에요.
이제 공부마치고, 다니던 대학에서 가르친 대요.
사일러스는 그를 다시 데려와야 된다고 단언하더군요.
둘이서 한 팀이 되어 일하겠다고 말하는 거예요.
둘이서 우리 농장을 말끔히 정돈하겠다는 거예요!
그러면서 이것저것 혼동하며 횡설수설했어요.
그 노인은 윌슨이 공부에 미친놈이지만,
쓸 만한 아이래요―그들이 땡볕아래서 유월 내내
싸웠던 것을 당신 알고 있잖아요.
사일러스는 마차 위에 올라가 건초 단을 쌓고,
해롤드는 옆에서 그것을 던져주었지요.”
"그랬었지, 난 일부러 떨어져서 싸우는 소리가 안 들리는 척했지."
"그런데, 그 시절이 사일러스를 꿈처럼 괴롭히고 있어요.
신은 그럴 거라고 생각하지 않겠죠. 어떤 일들은 영 잊히지 않나 봐요!
젊은 대학생 해롤드의 자신만만한 태도에 자존심이 상했나 봐요.
여러 해가 지났는데도 그 때 사용했으면 좋았으리라 생각되는
좋은 주장들을 여전히 찾고 있으니 말이에요.
동정이 가요. 뒤늦게야 적절한 말을
생각해 낸 기분이 어떨지 알만해요.
그 노인은 해롤드하면 라틴어를 연상하는 거예요.
라틴어를, 바이올린 배우듯, 공부한다는
해롤드의 말을 어떻게 생각하느냐고 내게 묻는 거예요.
좋아하기 때문이라는데―그게 말이나 되냐고요!
노인이 개암나무 막대기 끝으로 물줄기를 찾을 수 있다니까―
그 아이는 도무지 믿지 않더라는 거예요.
그게 다 대학 물 먹은 탓이라는 거죠.
노인은 그 문제를 다시 짚고 넘어가겠다는 거예요.
그러나 무엇보다도 또 한 번 기회를 가질 수 있다면
그 아이에게 건초 더미 쌓는 법을 가르치고 싶다는 거예요―”
"나도 알아요. 그것 한 가지는 사일러스가 끝내주지요.
그는 한 포크씩 적절하게 건초를 꾸려서,
훗날을 위해 꼬리표에 번호까지 매겨 두었다가,
마차에서 건초를 부릴 때에는
쉽게 찾아서 빼내거든요. 사일러스는 그 일을 잘 하지요.
그는 큰 새들의 둥지처럼 건초를 뭉치로 싹 빼내거든.
건초를 들어 올릴 때는 그 위에 올라서서
그것을 들어 올릴 때, 낑낑대며 제 몸까지 들썩이는 일이 없지요.”
"노인 생각은 그 아이에게 그 일을 가르칠 수 있다면,
자기로서는 세상 어떤 사람에게 좋은 일을 하는 셈이라는 거죠.
그 노인은 책에 미친 바보 아이는 꼴 보기 싫어해요.
사일러스 딱해요, 다른 사람 걱정은 그렇게 하면서도,
자랑스럽게 뒤돌아볼 옛 일도 없고,
희망차게 내다볼 장래도 없고,
예나 지금이나 똑같으니 말이에요.”
달의 일부분이 서쪽으로 기울면서,
덩달아 하늘까지 모두 언덕으로 끌어내리고 있었다.
달빛이 부드럽게 그녀의 무릎에 쏟아졌다. 그녀는 달빛을 보고
달빛에 앞치마를 폈다. 그녀는 손을 내밀어
정원에서 처마까지 이슬로 팽팽해진
현금 같은 나팔꽃 줄기들을 어루만졌다.
소리 없는 사랑의 노래를 연주하는 듯
옆에 있는 어둠 속 남편의 심금을 울렸다.
그녀는 말했다,"워런, 그 노인 죽으러 집에 온 것이에요.
이번에도 노인이 당신을 떠나리라는 걱정은 할 필요가 없어요.”
"집?" 그는 가볍게 조소했다.
"그래요, 집이 아니면 무엇이겠어요?
집이라는 게 의미를 붙이기 나름이지요.
물론 그 노인 우리완 아무 상관이 없지요.
사냥 길에 녹초가 돼서, 숲을 나와
우리에게 온 낯선 사냥개나 다름없지요.”
“집이란, 당신이 그곳에 가야만 할 때,
사람들이 당신을 맞아들일 의무가 있는 곳 아닌가요.”
“나는 집이란 것이
꼭 당연한 자격이 있어야 하는 곳은 아니라고 하고 싶어요.”
워런은 상체를 내밀고 한두 걸음 걸어가서,
작은 막대기 하나를 집어 들고, 돌아오더니
손으로 분지른 다음 휙 던져 버렸다.
“사일러스가 자기 형보다 우리에게 요구할
권리가 더 많다는 이야기요? 꾸불꾸불한 길이지만
십삼 마일 정도만 가면 자기 형네 집이잖아요.
사일러스는 오늘도 틀림없이 그 정도는 걸었어요.
왜 거기로 안가는 거야? 그의 형은 부자고,
대단한 사람이라던데―은행 이사라더군.”
“그 노인 우리에게 그런 말 한 적 없잖아요.”
“그래도, 다 아는 사실 아니요.”
“물론, 나도 그의 형님이 도와야 된다고 생각해요.
필요하면 꼭 그렇게 하도록 할 생각이에요. 그는 당연히
노인을 받아들여야 하고, 아마 기꺼이 그럴 거예요―
그 사람 겉보기보다는 좋은 사람일 거예요.
하지만 사일러스에게 인정을 좀 베푸세요. 당신 생각에
그 노인이 그의 형에게서 기대하는 살붙이라든가
뭐 그런 것을 주장하면 그의 자존심은 어떻겠어요?
그래서 지금껏 내내 형에 대해서는 함구하는 거지요.“
“형제 사이에 무슨 일이 있었나?”
“내 말 들어보세요.
사일러스는 그런 사람이잖아요―우리야 별로 신경 쓰지 않지만―
친척들은 감내할 수 없는 그런 부류잖아요.
그가 크게 나쁜 일을 저지른 적은 없지요.
그는 자기가 왜 남만 못한지 그 이유를
모르는 거예요. 쓸모없는 사람이긴 하지만,
수치를 무릅쓰고 형의 비위를 맞추지는 않을 거예요.”
“나도 사일러스가 누굴 해칠 사람은 못된다고 생각해요.”
“그렇지요, 하지만 그가 누워서 모서리가 날카로운 의자등받이에
그의 늙은 머리를 굴리는 모습이 내 가슴을 아프게 했어요.
내가 그를 긴 의자에 눕히려 해도 막무가내였어요.
당신이 들어가서 어떻게 해보세요.
내가 거기다 오늘밤 그의 잠자리를 봐놨어요.
당신도 그를 보면 놀라실 거예요―형편없이 망가졌어요.
그가 일할 날은 이제 끝났어요. 그건 분명해요.”
“서둘러 그렇게 말하고 싶지는 않소.”
“나도 그랬어요. 가서, 살펴보고, 직접 확인하세요.
하지만, 워런, 이런 사정만은 기억하구려.
그는 당신을 도와서 목장에 도랑을 파려고 왔어요.
그는 어떤 계획을 가지고 있어요. 그를 비웃으면 안돼요.
그는 계획을 말하지 않고, 뜸을 들일지도 몰라요.
나는 여기 그대로 앉아서 저기 흘러가는 조각구름이
달을 맞출지 아니면 빗겨갈지 지켜볼래요.”
구름은 달을 맞췄다.
그러자 그곳엔 셋이서, 흐릿하게 한 줄을 이루었다.
달, 작은 은빛 구름, 그리고 그녀.
워런이 돌아왔다. 그녀가 보기엔, 너무 일찍 돌아왔다.
그는 그녀 옆으로 살짝 오더니, 그녀의 손을 잡고 말이 없었다.
“워런?” 그녀는 물었다.
“죽었소,” 그의 대답은 이뿐이었다.
-신재실 옮김-
단상(斷想): 죽음은 예외가 없지만, 어디서, 어떻게 죽느냐는 서로 다르다. 아마도 거의 모든 사람은 사랑하는 가족이 지켜보는 가운데, 자신의 집에서, 편안한 죽음을 맞이하기를 염원할 것이다. 하지만 “자신의 집과 가족이란 진정 무엇인가?”의 질문에 쉽게 대답하기는 어려울 것이다. 예컨대 어느 뜨내기 일꾼이 임종을 맞이할“집”은 어디며, 그 임종을 지켜줄 가족은 누구인가?
이 시에 등장하는 뜨내기 일꾼 사일러스는 건초 쌓기의 달인이지만, 일꾼으로서는 도무지 믿을 수 없다. 그의 일손이 가장 필요할 때면 으레 돈 몇 푼 더 준다는 꼬임에 다른 곳으로 훌쩍 떠났다가, 철이 지나면 도랑을 파준다면서 다시 나타나곤 했다. 금년에도 사일러스는 그렇게 다시 나타났다. 사실은 임종의 시각이 다가오고 있었기 때문이다. 농부 부부는 그런 그를 다시 받아들일 것인지 논쟁을 벌인다.
그들의 논쟁은 불성실한 일꾼 사일러스를 다시 받아들일 의무가 그들에게 있는지에 초점이 모아진다. 사일러스는 본질적으로 괜찮은 사람이다. 그러나 함께 일하던 아르바이트 대학생 해럴드에 대한 그의 태도에서 보듯이, 사일러스는 자신의 일솜씨에 대한 긍지와 라틴어로 상징되는 학문 앞에서의 열등감에 갈등을 느끼는 한편, 자신의 노동 가치가 응분의 대우를 받지 못한다고 판단하고, 오랫동안 자신을 고용한 농부 부부에 대한 신의와 성실의 의무를 저버리는 취약점을 보인다.
하지만 이 시의 초점은 사일러스보다도 다시 찾아온 그에 대한 농부 부부의 대조적인 태도다. 아내 메리는 남편 워런과 일꾼 사일러스를 모두 현명하고, 부드러우면서도, 견고하게 상대한다. 그녀의 원칙은 자비와 사랑이다. 반면에 남편 워런은 사일러스가 배은망덕했다고 생각하고, 가혹할 정도로 정의, 법, 그리고 상호간의 책임에 호소한다. 워런은 사일러스가 부자인 형을 찾지 않고 자신을 찾아온 것은 법률적으로 온당치 않다며 도무지 받아들이려 하지 않는다. 하지만 형에게 도움을 청하는 것은 그의 자존심이 허락하지 않을뿐더러, 자신의 능력을 인정하고 오랫동안 고용한 농부 부부 앞에서라야 작지만 자긍심을 가질 수 있기 때문에, 사일러스는 임종을 맞이할 집으로 농부의 집, 그리고 그것을 지켜볼 가족으로 농부 부부를 선택한 것이다.
밖에서 돌아온 남편에게 사일러스의 귀환을 알리는 아내 메리의 말과 몸짓은 연약한 사일러스에 대한 인간적 연민과 배려, 그리고 열린 마음과 감정의 제어를 보인다. 남편 워런은 사일러스의 허물들을 공격적으로 들추면서 불충한 그를 받아들이지 않겠다는 단호한 태도이지만, 사일러스의 일솜씨 특히 그의 건초 쌓기 기술을 칭찬할 때는, 그를 용서할 가능성을 보인다.
아내와 남편 사이의 갈등은 집에 대한 각자의 정의에서 미묘하게 표출된다.“집이란, 당신이 그곳에 가야만 할 때, 사람들이 당신을 맞아들일 의무가 있는 곳 아닌가요.”라는 워런의 말은 법률적 책임에 호소하는 반면, “나는 집이란 것이 꼭 당연한 자격이 있어야 하는 곳은 아니라고 하고 싶어요.”라는 메리의 대꾸는 법률적 책임과 의무보다는 너그러움과 자비에 호소한다.
결국 메리의 사랑과 자비 앞에 워런의 법과 정의가 자리를 양보한다. 메리가 때맞춰 앞치마를 펴고 무릎에 안은 부드러운 달빛이 워런의 마음을 녹였다는 것인가? 워런은 사일러스가 있는 곳으로 간다. 하지만 워런이 자리를 뜬 순간 구름이 달을 맞추었다. “그러자 그곳엔 셋이서, 흐릿하게 한 줄을 이루었다./ 달, 작은 은빛 구름, 그리고 그녀가./ 워런이 돌아왔다. 그녀가 보기엔, 너무 일찍 돌아왔다./ 그는 그녀 옆으로 살짝 오더니, 그녀의 손을 잡고 말이 없다./“워런?” 그녀는 물었다./ “죽었소,” 그의 대답은 이뿐이었다.
워런이 메리와 손을 잡음으로써, 뜨내기 일꾼 사일러스를 포함하는 한 지붕 밑의 가족과 사랑의 유대가 다시 이어진 것이다.
-신재실 씀-
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The Death of a Hired Man is a typical poem by Frost in which an ordinary man and his wife turn into a philosophically significant debate. The wife represents love and sympathy, emotion and imagination, and evaluates 'human beings' not in terms of reason but emotion. The husband is a 'practical' modern man who regards and respects people in terms of their work, worth, contribution and so on. In other words, the husband represents reason, intellect, utilitarianism, practicality, rationality, and the like.
Robert Frost (1874-1963)
The ‘hired’ man of the title is an old laborer who roams and stays in one place for a few days and goes away without considering how and when he can be of the best ‘use’ to others, or even to himself. He has become old and almost unable to work. He has got a brother who is a director in the bank, but he probably prefers dignity to a well- to-do brother. He probably prefers a free and independent life most of all. He doesn’t satisfy anyone he works for; and we never know whether he is satisfied, or even conscious, or not. He becomes an issue of debate between the couple of one of his employers.
He comes to this couple (Warren and Mary) once a year and stays for a time. Warren’s complaint is that this old fellow goes away precisely when he is most needed; he comes in ‘off season’ and goes when the time arrives for work. But the old man doesn’t seem to understand that, though he has been told it. But Mary-probably symbolizing motherhood, or even Christ’s or humanity’s mother –insists that the man must be loved and cared, for he is dying, and that no external reason is necessary to love and care for a man. These two people represent two poles of attitudes, two philosophies and two ways to look at fellow beings or even life. The old man, Silas, has come for the last time- he is exhausted and is dying. He cannot even speak to reply what the woman asks. The reader is stuck between the two attitudes of the couple.
The poem is set in an evening when the husband is due to arrive from work and “Mary sat musing”. The old man, Silas, has arrived again and Mary is worried due to his extreme bad health. When she hears the footsteps of her husband, she runs down the passage to receive him and to tell him that the old man has arrived. She whispers in his ear, “Silas is back”. She pushes him outward and shutting the door behind, lest the old man hears what her merciless husband says, requests him to “Be kind”. This “Be Kind” is Mary’s philosophy, for which no reason or justification is necessary. But her husband is himself: he replies with an almost irritated, “When was I ever anything (else) but kind to him”. He means that he has always been kind to the man; but his idea of being ‘kind’ is obviously different from that of Mary. “But I’ll not have the fellow back”, he adds, because he had warned him not to leave the place the previous time. The man had left! “What good is he? Who else will harbor him at his age for the little he can do?... Off he goes always when I need him most… I can’t afford to pay”. Warren is not to be convinced by what Mary says. What he objects to most about the reckless old man is that he is not responsible towards himself either. Why doesn’t the stupid old fellow better himself, even if he doesn’t care for others?
“Sh! Not so loud: he’ll hear you”. Mary is so sympathetic that she is worried about the man hearing her husband’s cruel word and feeling insulted. But her husband says, “I want him to (hear)”! She says that the man is “worn out”. When he arrived that afternoon, he looked a miserable sight’. Warren smiles to her this; Mary tells him not to! She didn’t recognize him. She tried to talk to him, but he wasn’t able to answer; “he just kept nodding off’. Warren laughs at the man’s case by asking whether he said that he had come to make a ditch in his meadows. Mary speaks more strongly this time: “Surely you wouldn’t grudge the poor old man/ Some humble way to save his self-respect… Warren…. he made me feel so queer –To see if he was talking in his sleep”. Now she is swept away by emotion to recount several incidents when the poor old man impressed her by the way he worked and talked in the past. But it all sounds only funny to the heartless husband. It is not that the old man is bad at work; in fact as Mary remembers he has always been a skillful hard-working man. Besides, he is such an honest and simple man to the extent of hating young boys whom he calls “fools of books”. Poor Silas is very concerned for the people and he has nothing to look forward with hope, or to look backward with pride. That is why he never takes life seriously. Warren picks up a stick of wood and broke into two; this suggests his violence in contrast to the tenderness of Mary.
The effect of sympathy begins to down in Warren’s heart. Frost has dramatically created a natural setting in which outside atmosphere corresponds to the inside affair. The appearance of the moon signifies the generating of sympathy and love in Warren’s mind. Marry is overwhelmed with pity for the poor man which is symbolically represented by the moonlight falling upon her lap immediately, the reader is caught-in an emotional tone of the poem as Mary declares that Silas has come home to die. Frost’s essentially emotional expression blended with philosophy find its expression through Mary who defines ‘home as the place where, when you have to go these, they will take you in’. This sentence is a crux of the whole poem. Instead of going to his rich brother at the time of problem and sickness, Silas has tracked back Warren’s house.
Warren’s heart has now melted and he admits ‘I can’t think ever hurts anyone.’ Mary is so troubled to see the deteriorating condition of Silas’ who is on the verge of collapse that she advices Warren to watch the dying man. When Warren returns, Mary asks, “Warren?” anxiously. Warren only replies in his typical heartless manner, “Dead”. He is probably not yet touched! The significance of this sequence of dialogue and events is self-explanatory once the basic thematic tension is understood. Thematically “The Death of the Hired Man,” which dramatizes the isolation of the individual and the difficulty of communication, is memorable for its poignant portrait of Mary’s mercy overwhelming Warren’s judgment, as she persuades her husband to let the hired man return home. The conflict between them ends as they finally come close to each other, thereby emphasizing that reconciliations are of central importance to Frost because they provide one of the few sources of sustenance in a stark world where God is inscrutable and not always benevolent. Despite his skepticism regarding society and government, Frost did not believe people could stand alone and thrive. Although they should maintain their individuality, people need each other. And they can live together successfully
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From Robert Frost on Writing - Elaine Barry
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“The Death of the Hired Man” (1914)
One of Frost’s most compelling narrative poems,
“The Death of the Hired Man” first appeared in
North of Boston, a collection teeming with dramatic
dialogues, including “Home Burial,” “Blueberries,”
and “The Code,” as well as the lesser-known “The
Mountain,” “A Hundred Collars,” “The Fear,” and
others. As many of the poems in this collection do,
“Death of the Hired Man,” carefully constructs in
everyday language a New England rural scene. In
this instance the subtle unfolding explores one of
Frost’s most memorable lines: “Home is the place
where, when you have to go there, / They have to
take you in.” The line appears roughly halfway
through the poem, but it largely sums up the con
flict on which the understated, unsentimental
drama hinges.
In a preface to the poem written for the text
book American Authors Today (1947), edited by
Whit Burnett and Charles Slatkin, Frost states
facetiously that the “employee here depicted is no
longer numerous enough to be dealt with statisti
cally by the Department of Economics and Sociol
ogy. Nevertheless I should like to flatter myself that
it is at least partly for his sake that the revolution
[National Labor Relations] is being brought on.”
Frost says that he is glad to make the connection
and “give [his] poems every extraneous help possi
ble.” He cautions his readers that it is “in blank
verse, not free verse.” The preface was not pub
lished during his lifetime, as the editors decided to
write their own introduction.
The poem is concerned with the relationships
among three characters: the wife Mary, her husband
Warren, and Silas, a hired hand. The setting is a hay
farm in winter. The poem, which has been performed
as a one-act play, opens as a play might. Mary is
introduced “musing on the lamp-flame at the table /
Waiting for Warren.” Warren has gone to the mar
ket in town, and while he is away, Silas, the former
hired hand (who never appears “on stage”), has
returned after what seems to have been an extended
absence. Description soon gives way to dialogue, as
more and more the conversation between husband
and wife reveals what is and is not meant.
The terse opening phrases are Mary’s: “Silas is
back . . . Be kind”—and the reader is abruptly
alerted that there may be some reason not to be
kind.
As is typical in other Frost narratives, such as
“Home Burial,” there is a conflict between two
people. Warren’s first lines are “When was I ever
anything but kind to him?” and “But I’ll not have
the fellow back.” Clearly the husband and wife
have different approaches to the problem of Silas,
though it will become clear by the end that they
think somewhat similarly of him.
Silas apparently has had a habit of disappearing
when he was needed most. His last disappearance
came in response to his declined request for “a little
pay, / Enough at least to buy tobacco with,” as he
did not want to have to “beg and be beholden.”
Warren simply could not pay, other than with room
and board, though he wished he could, so Silas
apparently moved on to someone who was able to
“coax him off with pocket-money.” Warren feels
betrayed since Silas has a habit of leaving “[i]n hay
ing time, when any help is scarce” and returning in
winter, when Warren and Mary, and perhaps no
one else, will have to take him in.
Mary throughout attempts to “Sh!” Warren, lest
Silas overhear his grievances about him, while War
ren expresses his objections to taking Silas in once
again. Mary’s descriptions of Silas reveal a broken
and confused man who “jumble[s] everything” and
is a “changed” and “miserable sight.” Mary is sym
pathetic to Silas because she has seen him, though
she has found him scarcely recognizable. At present
Silas is “asleep beside the stove,” having been
unable to keep from “nodding off ” despite Mary’s
efforts to keep him awake.
Silas has returned for another reason, but in an
attempt to “save his self-respect” he has claimed to
come to help “ditch the meadow” and “clear the
upper pasture.” His work is something he can be
proud of, as opposed to his abandoning Warren at
haying time, and it is a customary appreciation for
work that makes him think that Warren and Mary
might be sympathetic to him. (The New England
appreciation for work is developed considerably in
“After Apple-Picking.”)
A boy named Harold Wilson, who has finished
school and is now “teaching in his college,” unex
pectedly occupies Silas’s thoughts. The boy is some
one Silas had an ongoing quarrel with while
working on the farm, and they are described as
having “fought / All through July under the blazing
sun.” Mary says, hauntingly, “those days trouble
Silas like a dream.” It turns out Silas was “piqued”
by the boy’s “assurance” and still spends time,
according to Mary, trying to think of other points
he might have made during their arguments. A
clear distinction is drawn between the merely
“school smart” Harold and the simpler but land
savvy Silas, who can “find water with a hazel
prong.” (Frost habitually favored life smarts over
book smarts.) Mary, while reflecting on “[h]ow
some things linger” says she knows “just how it feels
/ To think of the right thing to say too late,” and this
may constitute some oblique commentary on her
years with Warren. Suddenly there is a bit of Silas in
Mary, making the desires of the hired hand seem
quite natural. Silas is described as wanting to go
back and begin over with the boy, wanting another
shot at teaching him “how to build a load of hay.”
This desire is reminiscent of the speaker in “Birches,”
whose own aging causes him to think he might like
to “come back” to earth and “begin over.”
Warren says Silas’s “one accomplishment” was
building a load of hay “every forkful in its place.”
Mary says that Silas “thinks if he could teach [Har
old] that, he’d be / Some good perhaps to someone
in the world,” and with that Harold becomes a cen
tral figure in defining the worth of Silas’s life. “Poor
Silas,” Mary continues, imagining that he has
“nothing to look backward to with pride, / And
nothing to look forward to with hope.” Silas is a sad
but prideful character who has spent his life work
ing for others, if somewhat half-heartedly, and in
the end finds that not only has he done little “good”
in the world but tragically he has no place he can
truly call home. His life has meaning, but it is the
sort of meaning that is more easily found by readers
of the poem than by Silas himself.
Here the narrative voice returns and provides a
description of the moon “falling down the west, /
Dragging the whole sky with it to the hills.” The
moon is clearly a highly significant metaphor, and
before the final scene, the poem will return to it. In
its earlier appearance, as the moon drags the sky
with it, its light pours “softly” into Mary’s lap. Mary
is described in gentle terms as playing “Upon the
harp-like morning-glory strings” some “unheard . . .
tenderness.” It is winter, and the stripped vines of
the morning glory stretched on the trellis outside
the window might well resemble the strings of a
harp. Mary appears to be deep in thought, quietly
strumming the shadows cast by the “strings” onto
her lap.
Now Mary calmly reveals to Warren what she
and the reader have known all along: that Silas
“has come home to die.”
Warren “gently” mocks Mary’s use of the word
“home” in relation to Silas. But his wife responds
that “it all depends on what you mean by home,”
and the reader is compelled to reflect on just what
home means. At the same time Mary sadly opines
that Silas is “nothing” to either her or Warren.
Then she backs up a bit and reconsiders her choice
of the word home. She says that instead she might
have “called it / Something you somehow haven’t
to deserve,” as if home were not a place but an
action, something one does rather than has.
The conversation veers off to a discussion of
Silas’s brother, who apparently lives only 13 miles
from Warren and Mary and is “rich.” But they do
not know this because Silas has told them; he has
never revealed to them a kinship with anyone.
Mary concludes that the reason Silas has no rela
tionship with his family is that “Silas is what he is
. . . just the kind that kinsfolk can’t abide.” Frost
hints at the sort of disagreements that family mem
bers have as opposed to those that take place in the
open with outsiders. There is a suggestion that fam
ily may accept fewer flaws in its members than will
those who are not family. After all, Silas “never did
a thing so very bad,” never “hurt anyone,” but he
still will not be “ashamed to please his brother” by
showing up on his doorstep and asking to be let in.
There apparently is less shame associated with
showing up on Warren and Mary’s doorstep, as
they are, importantly, not kin.
As the poem comes to a close, Mary sends War
ren in to check on Silas with a warning not to
“laugh at him.” The notion of Silas being allowed
to save face is paramount. In the meantime, Mary
sits to “see if that small sailing cloud / Will hit or
miss the moon.” It “hit[s] the moon.” The poet
writes, “Then there were three there, making a dim
row, / The moon, the little silver cloud, and she.” A
heavenly conjunction heralds Silas’s end.
“ ‘Warren?’ she questioned.”
“ ‘Dead,’ was all he answered.”
Silas has come “home” to die.
The understated dialogue questions the rela
tionships between the hired and the people who
hire them, what a home really is, and what a person
struggles with before dying. Its sadnesses are
immense. A man may work his whole life for oth
ers, only to discover that a routine politeness is the
extent of the bond shared, as ultimately a worker
means “nothing” to his employer.
In his 1960 Paris Review interview with Richard
Poirier, Frost used the poem to discuss Franklin
Delano Roosevelt’s New Deal. He distinguished
between the masculine, Republican way of viewing
home as “the place where, when you have to go
there, They have to take you in” and the feminine,
Democratic way as “I should have called it / Some
thing you somehow haven’t to deserve.” He points
out that “[v]ery few have noticed that second
thing, they’ve always noticed the sarcasm, the hard
ness of the male one” (885).
Home is not a place where one chooses to go,
nor is it a place where the inhabitants willingly take
one in, deserving or not needing to be deserved. It
is where, when one has to go there, “they have to
take you in.” When death is about, one might arrive
on any doorstep, often the doorstep that allows
death with the least remorse, as one’s past and
what one did or did not do with life will haunt
enough.
While Warren and Mary are more gentle than
“ungentle,” there is something almost “departmen
tal” about their relationship to Silas. See HOME,
THEME OF.
FURTHER READING
Brooks, Cleanth, and Robert Penn Warren. Under
standing Poetry: An Anthology for College Students.
Rev. shorter ed. New York: Henry Holt, 1950,
388–397.
Charney, Maurice. “Robert Frost’s Conversational
Style,” Connotations: A Journal for Critical Debate
10, nos. 2–3 (2000–2001): 147–159.
French, Warren. “ ‘The Death of the Hired Man’:
Modernism and Transcendence.” In Frost: Centen
nial Essays III, edited by Jac Tharpe, 382–401.
Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1978.
Frost, Carol. “Frost’s Way of Speaking,” New England
Review: Middlebury Series 23, no. 1 (Winter 2002):
119–133.
Frost, Robert. “Paris Review Interview with Richard
Poirier,” In Robert Frost Collected Prose, Poems, and
Plays. Edited by Richard Poirier and Mark Richard
son. New York: Holt, 1995.
Hoffman, Tyler. Robert Frost and the Politics of Poetry.
Hanover, N.H.: Middlebury College Press, 2001,
103–106, 189–190.
Jost, Walter. “Lessons in the Conversation That We
Are: Robert Frost’s ‘Death of the Hired Man,’ ”
College English 58, no. 4 (April 1996): 397–422.
Monteiro, George. “Frost’s Hired Hand,” College Liter
ature 14, no. 2 (Spring 1987): 128–135.
Pack, Robert. Belief and Uncertainty in the Poetry of
Robert Frost. Hanover, N.H.: Middlebury College
Press, 2003, 104–109.
Vogel, Nancy. “A Post Mortem on ‘The Death of the
Hired Man.’ ” In Frost: Centennial Essays, edited by
Jac Tharpe, 201–206. Jackson: University Press of
Mississippi, 1974.