Brotherly Advice

If the speaker of Andrew Marvell’s “To His Coy Mistress” could see the speaker of William Carlos Williams’ “Portrait of a Lady,” he would laugh, but it would be a brotherly laugh. Both of these poems are dialogue between a man and a perspective lover. In Marvell’s this lover is the “Mistress” from the title; in Williams’, it is the “Lady.” It seems that both speakers have the same goal of seducing their respective women but Marvell does so with ancient grace and eloquence while Williams falls flat on his face, stumbling for words and ultimately making no progress.
Marvell’s compliments grow as the poem progresses. He would adore his mistress’ eyes for “an hundred years,” each breast for “two hundred,” and finally “thirty thousand to the rest.” He takes the mistress, and the reader, on a visual journey starting in India, traveling back in time to the great Biblical flood, and through “the iron gates of life.” Contrarily, Williams’ poem is unable to progress past the initial image that he presents: “Your thighs are appletrees / whose blossoms touch the sky.” He does make his way down the body of his lady addressing her thighs, knees, and ankles, but once he’s gotten to the bottom, the lady, again, interrupts his description asking “Whose shore? Whose shore?” causing the narrator return to the beginning of the poem reiterating in frustration, “I said petals from an appletree.” Thomas R. Whitaker pinpoints the reason for Williams’ stumbling as “the sequence of initial composition and sardonic question or retort.” He notes that it is this distraction that “carries the speaker beneath such decorative surfaces [the decorative surfaces that Marvell is able to achieve] toward an inarticulate contact.” The speaker’s goals of seduction with beautiful rhetoric are distracted and he is forced to resort to “defend[ing] himself.”
Critic, Mordecai Marcus, claims that “far as I can determine no one has noted the particular nature and function of the overlapping references to [Fragonard and Watteau}.” However, the answer may lie in Whitaker’s observations from the poem. The narrator’s initial path has become misaligned. He may have planned on rolling through his compliments and straight into his lady’s arms, like Marvell’s narrator, but instead he is thrown off his track. The confusion the narrator concerning the two painters may be one of Williams’ ways of showing the reader how misaligned the narrator has become. The constant questions and other interruptions make it impossible for the narrator to compliment the lady in the same manner as Marvell’s narrator.
Marvell’s narrator’s laughter and Williams’ narrator would be the laughter of an older brother, watching his younger, less experienced brother try to ask a girl out on a date. Marvell’s narrator knows the way to get what he wants. He is able to flee “time’s winged chariot” and run for safety in the bedroom. Williams’ narrator can’t quite even seem to take his lady to a metaphorical beach without getting tripped up in questions like “Whose shore?” Marvell’s narrator, as well as Thomas Whitaker, would have one piece of brotherly advice for Williams’ narrator: Don’t let the woman speak, she will only distract you from your true goal.
And, possibly also, don’t start with her thighs.

Manipulation and Trickery in "The Passing of Grandison"

The cast of Charles Chestnutt’s “The Passing of Grandison” varies in race, age, and gender but in one way, they all act the same. Each of Chestnutt’s unique characters can be classified as a manipulator. Each character tries to enact power over other characters but ultimately each of these characters fall short with one exception. Ironically, the only character that is able to completely manipulate another is the character with the least amount of power: Grandison. Throughout the story, Chestnutt shows the reader a variety of different instances of failed manipulation and trickery to lead up to the ultimate climax of the story, when Grandison escapes with his family and friends.

The first manipulation in the story is laid out in the first full sentence explaining that Dick Owens’ actions were “done to please a woman.” This woman is Charity Lomax and her requests of Dick are the genesis of the entire plot. She plays on Dick’s desire to be with her in order to get him to act as she wants him to act. There is no tone of compromise in her dialogue with Dick. She lays out a clear ultimatum: “I’ll never love you, Dick Owens, until you have done something.” Her words are the persuasive element that cause Dick to try to free one of his father’s slaves. In fact, it is actually Charity who prods Dick to free one of his own slaves rather than someone else’s. Her actions clearly manipulate Dick into action with the intended goal of marrying a reformed man. However, this is certainly not what Charity gets. Really, Charity wants a man who wants to “dare something for humanity” but she gets Dick, who does “dare something” but it is not for humanity. He dares to try to free Grandison for Charity’s “love and affection.” He doesn’t want to help the world. He wants to marry Charity and, he does. Charity’s manipulation of Dick got the proper end results, but he certainly did not undergo any type of glorious transformation like she had wanted.

Motivated by Charity, Dick attempts to control the actions of two of the story’s other characters. First, he creates a fake desire to travel so that his farther will suggest a trip. Dick’s feigned spontaneity allows his father to unsuspectingly suggest that he bring Tom along on the trip. However, Dick’s trick doesn’t go all according to plan and when the Colonel agrees insists that Dick bring Grandison instead, the reader sees another failed attempt at controlling another individual, another plot gone awry.

Dick’s second manipulation, drawing most of the focus of the narrative, occurs when he tries to direct Grandison into running away. He drags Grandison to Canada and practically force feeds him abolition. Dick does everything in his power to try to motivate Grandison to run away but it all seems for naught. It seems that, he can lead a slave to Canada, but he can’t make him free; that needs to come from Grandison. Furthermore, after Dick does finally manage to get rid of Grandison, he is not able to make him stay away; Grandison comes home months after being left in Canada. Dick is helpless to manipulate Grandison into doing his will. Though Grandison does eventually leave, it is at his own behest, not as a result of Dick’s trickery.

It seems that Grandison’s reticence to run away comes from his respect for his slave life under Colonel Owens. He directly tells the Colonel that “I sh’d jes’ reckon I is better off, suh den tem low-down free niggers, suh!” Owens treats Grandison with an elevated level of respect for a slave. He gives him rum and tobacco to keep Grandison happy. Until the twist at the end of the story, it appears that Owens’ kind tactics have worked and that Grandison really does feel so thankful towards the Colonel that he would choose slavery over freedom. However, the reader eventually learns that this is not true and that Grandison is simply waiting for the perfect moment to flee. Colonel Owens’ treatment of Grandison is yet another example Chestnutt gives of one character’s failed manipulation of another.

In the first four sections of the story, Chestnutt establishes a pattern. He shows over and over again that trickery does not work. At first it appears that the moral of this story might be something along these same lines, that dishonesty and deception never work. However, in the end the reader sees that it does work out, but only from the character who is least suspected of trickery. Grandison is the only one whose manipulation comes to fruition when he and his eight closest family members escape. Grandison played the role of the loyal slave so well that he was put into a position where escape for himself and his friends would be possible. The moral behind the story drastically shifts after this breakout. Instead of teaching of a lesson, Chestnutt has given a depiction of a reversal as old as the Bible. “The Passing of Grandison” is a story about the last becoming the first (Mat. 20:16), about the chief becoming the servant (Mat. 20:27). “The Passing of Grandison” is ultimately a story about the trickster becoming the tricked.

<3 vs Conscience

“[The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is] a book of mine where a sound heart and a deformed conscience come into collision and conscience suffers defeat.”

—Mark Twain, Notebook, 1895.

There is a reason that The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is written from the first person point of view. Twain wants the readers to be able to see the thoughts passing through Huck’s mind. He wants the readers to follow Huck’s internal development just as Huck and Jim follow the path of the Mississippi. Huck’s opinion of Jim (as person or property) is constantly changing, flowing back and forth. Huck fights an internal battle between his “deformed conscience,” the view of Jim as property instilled in Huck by society, and his “sound heart,” the view of Jim as a friend, and fellow human being that Huck feels to be true. Though Huck’s heart ultimately triumphs over his social conscience, it is not without much fluctuation, in either direction.

When Huck and Jim first meet on Jackson Island, Huck disregards Jim’s former position as a slave. He sees himself and Jim on equal footing. They’re both runaways trying to find their freedom. In this circumstance, Huck follows what his heart tells him. However, it is not without first acknowledging the voice of society. “People will call me a low-down Abolitionist and despise me for keeping mum,” he says to Jim before declaring his course of action “…but that don’t make no difference, I ain’t a-going to tell, and I ain’t a-going back there, anyways.” The last phrase of Huck’s statement shows the impact that Huck’s conscience is having on his decision. Huck’s course of action would have been set had he stopped talking after “I ain’t a-going to tell,” but he continues onward to justify his actions saying “I ain’t a-going back there, anyways.” Huck finds the need to validate a decision that he was free to make. Though he makes his own independent decision, this act of validation shows that he is, in reality, not completely free but still being influenced by the opinions of the town.

Later, in the chapter “The Rattlesnake Skin Does Its Work,” Huck’s decision to help Jim is tested. He’s presented with a perfect opportunity to give Jim up, two slave hunters ask to inspect his boat where Jim is hiding. Huck again finds himself torn between what he thinks would be right by society’s standards and what would be right in his own mind. He doesn’t give up Jim but ultimately assesses the situation as a loose-loose scenario. He asks himself “…s’pose you’d a done right and give Jim up, would you felt better than what you do now? No, says I, I’d feel bad—I’d feel just the same way I do now.” Huck directly states that he believes that giving Jim up would have been the “right” thing to do. Again, Huck is torn between what his conscious says and what he wants to do in his heart. This particular encounter shows the degree to which Huck was in conflict with himself. He is so equally split that neither side makes him feel better than the other; both feel equally bad. However, despite the apparent equilibrium, Huck again chooses to act with his heart.

The moral climax of the novel comes in the form of a reversal. After the Wilks incident, Huck’s “conscience [gets] to grinding” him and he realizes that he’s “stolen” from Miss Watson. He feels like he has committed a crime against a kind old lady, and a friend of his, and he aims to correct it. After Huck writes Miss Watson a letter explaining the situation, it seems like Huck’s conscience has finally beat over his heart. However, this is not the case, and in a dramatic reversal Huck cannot find a reason to crush Jim’s dreams of freedom and he declares “All right, then, I’ll go to hell” and he tears up the note. In one motion Huck rejects both the societal belief in slaves as property as well as the religious belief in the need for salvation and paradise. He acknowledges a belief in hell but decides that he’s rather make his own personal decisions than listen to a conscience that has been molded by the public.

Huck was never a proper member of society and never will be. This is why he sets out West at the end of the novel instead of returning to the South. He and Paw have never completely belonged in town. They’re outsiders. The difference between the two of them is that Paw wants to be on the inside, and Huck never can seem to find that desire. He is independent. He knows that the only thing he can completely trust is himself. As an outsider, he’s bound to come in conflict with his own beliefs and what people on the inside of society have told him to believe, but Huck will follow his heart over his conscience every single time, because that is what he knows he can trust. This is what leads Huck and Jim down the river together.

Union in Whitman's "Beat! Beat! Drum!"

In comparing the war poems of contemporary poets Walt Whitman, George Moses Horton, and Henry Timrod there is a clear line separating Whitman from the other two poets. War covered America with an unavoidable aura in the 1860’s yet these poets saw its effects in two distinctly different ways. Whitman saw one country torn apart by a vague yet violent force. Timrod and Horton saw two countries, joined in overt bloody combat.
Throughout his poem “Beat! Beat! Drum!” Whitman maintains a unified view of the country. He sees war as a force within a solid America. It is not something that has split the country into the USA and the CSA but a state that is pervasive within one country. This attitude separates Whitman, a self proclaimed "American," from Timrod, sometimes called the "poet laurite of the confederacy." Timrod and Whitman's poems "Cotton Boll" and "Beat! Beat! Drum!" are formatted very similarly but differ in way that the two poets see their country. Both poems take the readers on a tour of war torn America. Through a spiritual experience with a piece of cotton, the narrator of "Cotton Boll" is able to see "the landscape" broaden before his eyes as if a "veil" was "lifted." Likewise, in "Beat! Beat! Drums!" Whitman follows the drums and bugle on a tour which covers the entirety of the country. The difference between these two poems is in the distinctively different ways that each poet sees their country. In his poem "Cotton Boll," Timrod focuses on the unique aspects of the CSA, emphasizing the exclusive qualities of the southern states and romanticizing the idea of the new fledgling country. Whitman's perspective is much broader. While Timrod prays for victory over the North using phrases like "Upon the Northern winds, the voice of woe" and "Northward, strike with us!" Whitman's war has no definitive direction or boundaries. Whitman sees war as universal destruction in ambiguous "cities." He makes no distinction between North and South.
The way Whitman describes the path of war is intentionally ambiguous. The examples cited throughout could be at any location; they illicit emotional reactions regardless of whether or not they are located in the North or the South. The first concrete location that Whitman describes being disrupted by war is the church. The church is a powerful symbol in America. Often in colonial times the church was one of the first buildings established within a town. Many communities are laid out with the church at the center, as the focus of community life. Furthermore, the church is a symbol that knows no political bounds. The image of a church disrupted has just as much striking power to readers of Whitman in the USA as well as in the CSA. Throughout "Beat! Beat! Drum!" Whitman continues to show the reader universal examples of the disruption of war as the sound of the drums filters "into the school," across a farm, and into the presence of a man with his wife. The poem climaxes when the drums of war disturb the two most universal images of all: that of a mother and child and that of someone lying, dead. Everyone has a mother and everyone dies. By introducing these universal characters and then neglecting them, Whitman is showing that everyone within the country is neglected and hurt by war. Unlike Timrod, Whitman does not take a side in the Civil War. He uses vague language because the distinction between North and South does not exist to the destruction of war. War unites everyone in desolation and chaos.
Another way that Whitman is able to unite all people in "Beat! Beat! Drums!" is through his depiction of the war itself. There is no clear enemy. In fact, throughout the entire poem, the word "war" does not appear once. Despite this hole, the idea of war is clear because conflict is pervasive. Whitman creates conflict by setting up an event to occur and then refusing the fulfillment of that event. He uses this technique especially in the second stanza. Whitman depicts "beds prepared for sleepers," and then destroys this opportunity saying that "no sleepers shall sleep in those beds." Though the conflict is clear, the instigator of the conflict is not. He uses ethereal language and images to describe the idea of war rather than describing specific battles. Timrod and Horton both uses specific, vivid descriptions of violent battles. In “The Spectator of the Battle of Belmont,” Horton first narrows the area for interpretation by titling the poem in reference to a specific battle. He continues by using bloody, archetypal images to describe the battle as having the "war-beaming aspect, the sword and the shield." War as presented by Horton fits into a clear and defined role. In Timrod’s “Cotton Boll” the battle lines are clear and unambiguous with the North engaged against the South. Timrod asks god to help “us…roll the crimson flood” of war.” Not only does Timrod define the combatants but he takes a side in the war. Whitman’s War moves everywhere. It is seen as a “ruthless force” not as group of people engaged against one another. To Whitman, War is not a tangible force. It doesn’t march around like a soldier but floats like smoke “through the windows” and “through doors.” The refrain of “Beat! Beat! Drum!” conjures up constant auditory stimulation which is again, not unique to the North or South but a uniting sense. The drums and bugles could belong to either side and regardless of who the instruments belong to, they are still “terrible drums.” Also defining War as a factor which is not controlled by either side, Whitman shows it literally on another literal level than the rest of life as it moves “over the traffic of cities – over the…streets.” To Whitman, War is not created by two separate human armies. It is a loftier amorphous force. The North and the South are unified pawns; manipulate by the beat of the war drums.
George Horton and Henry Timrod view the American Civil War as a division between two peoples on opposing sides. Whitman sees one people united in combat against a nebulous “ruthless force” which threatens everyone from mothers to children with destruction.

Setting the Mood in Benito Cereno

From the very beginning of Benito Cereno, Herman Melville uses an extensive amount of detail to describe the setting of the uninhabited St. Maria harbor. Throughout the story, Melville maintains the readers’ attention by leading them through the mystery of the curious circumstances surrounding Benito Cereno however, in the very beginning of the story, before Cereno is even introduced, Melville uses the details of the surrounding to convey the same sense of mystery and intrigue.

The broadest aspect Melville employs to create a sense of mystery is the day itself. Melville states that this specific day is “peculiar.” Everything seems to possess an abnormal amount of calm. Here, by creating a lack of all action, the day is perfectly set for the coming of something dramatic in order to fill the void caused by the “mute and calm” of the morning. Throughout literature, the presence of an ominous brooding storm is constantly seen as a symbol for approaching trouble. Though Melville does not directly incorporate an approaching storm in Benito Cereno the reader is told that the birds flying over the water are behaving “ as swallows over meadows before storms.” In fact, the birds themselves provide yet another aspect of a forthcoming mystery. Melville repeatedly describes the different birds as “grey,” a color without real definition. It is neither black nor white. It lies between these two colors and cannot be clearly defined as going one way or the other. These unclassifiable birds as well as the unclassifiable, “peculiar” day mimic the mystery that will come with the San Dominick.

Once the San Dominick arrives, Melville continues to create a mysterious tone for the story using Delano’s description of the ship. Primarily, suspense and mystery is created because the ship is stationed a fair distance away from Delano’s Batchelor’s Delight. Because the ship is so far away, Delano is forced to conjecture about its purpose or motives. Just as Delano cannot mentally grasp the circumstances of the ship it is also physically out of his reach. Another interesting way Melville creates mystery regarding the San Dominick can be seen in his word choice describing it. Before Delano reaches the boat is constantly referred to as “the stranger.” In fact the first word used to describe the boat is “strange.” The reader desires clarity; Melville’s vagueness creates a need in the reader to clear up the situation, essentially to solve the mystery. Delano feels this same need. In a way of further prodding the desires of the reader, Melville has Delano begin to unravel this puzzle by forming two contrasting theories about the identity of the strange ship. Delano observes that the boat is either “peaceful” or “lawless” and then remembers “the sort of stories…associated with [these] seas.” The reader is left wondering how to classify the San Dominick. As with the day, Melville also uses color in creating intrigue in the San Dominick. Delano notes that the ship “flew no colors.” Having no color at all creates an effect very similar to the grey of the birds or the two possible motives Delano posits about the ship—the reader cannot clearly define the situation so a mystery ensues.

Melville both satisfies as well as irks the reader by moving Delano on board the San Dominick. Though one step is taken towards understanding the ship, many more confusing atmospheric traits are added. Delano observes that the ship is damaged but offers no observation as to a motive. Melville creates a condition but refuses to explain this condition. This ambiguity is heightened by the contrast with other aspects of the ship. Great attention is paid in describing all the parts of the ship in as complete detail as possible so when the reader is then presented with an incomplete description of the damage (incomplete because there is no explanation to causation) the desire for clarity and completion again takes hold of the reader, irking them onward. The reader also gets a literally incomplete view of the figure-head of the boat as it is quite literally shrouded and hidden from view. Additionally, Melville again uses color to add to the mystery. Delano notes that the balance of white men to black men is significantly skewed on the San Dominick. That is, as a combined entity, the crew of the ship is the wrong color. Delano tells the reader that the color scheme is unusual for the boat; it does not fall into existing categories. Instead the crew, like the ship itself, falls into a grey area. Rather than clear up any immediate mysteries, the details Melville adds aboard the ship serve only to further tantalize the readers’ need for understanding.

Throughout Benito Cereno Melville provides clues leading up towards the final revelation at the end but these clues are not the only attributes that make this story a mystery. Melville uses tonal description of the day, the distant San Dominick, and the deck of the San Dominick to create a mood that is exceedingly mysterious. Melville describes factors that defy categorization or simply leaves out details in order to engage the reader in trying to solve this mystery. After only a few pages of explication, the mood is completely set in order to support the rising action of Benito Cereno.

The Group - Not Worth Seeing

Mercy Otis Warren's The Group is clearly not a play meant to be performed. Any company taking on this project would be doomed for failure. It lacks nearly every necessary component for successful theater. The lack of engaging dialogue and action does not serve to further an engaging plot. The setting is bland. And, the characters lack personality.

The action in a play is driven forward by a combination of characters' dialogue as well as characters' action. Generally speaking it is the action of a play that grabs the audience's attention and maintains their interest throughout the show. The Group fails as a means of typical theatrical entertainment because it fails to create a driving plot for the reader to invest their attention. While most plays undergo dynamic changes in action (explication, rising action, climax, denouement) The Group remains mostly stagnant. In fact in the end of the play, where Shakespeare would have put a sword-fight or an unexpected reversal full of fast paced action and dialogue, Warren maintains the dense, long-winded dialogue that she has used throughout the entire work.

A look at the setting of The Group is equally lackluster. Act 1 Scene 1 takes place in "a little dark parlor." The description here serves little more than to add a mood to discussion that will follow. Darkness accompanies secrecy or uncertainty. And, as follows, the characters are in a private debate regarding the American colonies. The parlor is meant to be any of a hundred similar dark parlors across the American colonies. Though setting Act 1 in a parlor does give it universality, it also leaves much to be desired as far as visual stimulation goes. Though the characters have been placed in the parlor, there is no action (besides topic for discussion) to suggest that they are in fact in a parlor. The designation of the location of Act 1 can be seen mostly as arbitrary. Act 2 Scene 1 is a little more specific. Warren places these characters in "a large dining room. The table furnished with bowls, bottles, glasses, and cards...In one corner of the room is discovered a small cabinet of books, for the use of the studious and contemplative." She then goes on to list off the books on the dining room's shelves. Just as before, this description of setting is intended much more to set a mood than to be an actual component of the action of the play. Exemplifying this idea is Warren's specific detail in describing which books to put on the shelves. Though Colonial theaters were undoubtedly smaller than modern standards, the idea that someone in the back row would be able to read the spine of a book on a shelf on stage is still far fetched. Warren chose books to represent the heritage of the characters in debate as well as demonstrate the sources of some of their ideas. Much like in Act 1, the setting here has little bearing on the development of the play and has little pertinence to an audience.

Just as Warren has failed by providing static dialogue and setting, she also fails to engage the audience (or reader) by depicting flat characters. Even the characters in The Group who represent real individuals are presented on page with one unwavering point of view. This is because the characters are not meant to be real people, but rather stereotypes that represent a group of people or a way of thinking. The two most obvious examples of Warren’s stereotyped characters are Hateall and Simple. In both cases, the name says it all. Hateall, is a character built around an ultimate faith in the British military and as violence as the answer. Other characters may push for a more peaceful solution but he hates all calling for “brutal force on quick destruction, misery and death.” Simple Sapling is an equally flat character. He describes himself using adjectives like “feeble,” “slender,” and “humble.” His concern with regards to conflict with the colonists is to “rural peace,” showing that he represents the lesser-to-do British man. Characters like Hateall and Simple are a good way of conveying stereotypes but lack all forms of humanity. These flat, character shells fail to meet the standard necessary for engaging an audience.

No colonists in Mercy Otis Warren’s time would have gone to see The Group. But this is not because of its lack of dynamic change, its bland, nondescript sets, or its soulless characters. No one would have seen The Group because it didn’t need to be put on in order for Warren’s point to get across. The Group completely fails as a work of theater, but as piece of political satire writing, it certainly hits its mark. The lack of change allows Warren to analyze the different British points of view on the American colonies laterally rather than worrying about any type of forward progression, giving a more complete vision of the current state of affairs. The settings and the characters are bland because they are not important. Their nondescript or stereotypical qualities make them universal so that Warren’s message applied to all the colonists. Warren’s message is the most important part of The Group and as such, it certainly stands out as the work’s strongest ingredient.

Portrait of the Artist in a Young Country

In her attack on the developing American nation, Abbe Reynal challenges that “America has not yet produced one good poet.” In his Notes on the State of Virginia Thomas Jefferson, counters this attack by showing all of the great men that America has produced. He cites Washington as a great soldier, Rittenhouse as a great astronomer, and Franklin as a great physicist. Though his point is solid, Jefferson did not need to look any further than to Benjamin Franklin to prove that America had indeed produced at least “one good poet.” A dissection of The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin shows the development of Franklin, not only as a physicist but also as a writer.

The Kunstlerroman is a sub-group of the Bildungsdroman; rather than tracing the development of the protagonist from youth to adulthood, the Kunstlerroman traces the development into an artist. Much like Joyce’s Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man or Wolfe’s more American Look Homeward, Angel, Benjamin Franklin’s autobiography also traces his transformation from a boy employed as a chandler’s assistant to a brilliant wordsmith. Like Joyce and Wolfe, Franklin’s art is his writing. Throughout his autobiography Franklin provides the reader with a portrait of his development from an inexperienced, aspiring newspaper columnist to one of the greatest essayists in history.

A crucial factor in the Kunslerroman is the act of development. Throughout Franklin’s life he shows dynamic changes in his relationship with writing. In his youth he is apprenticed to his brother as a typesetter. The words he publishes are not original. However, Franklin does not stay in this subordinate position long. In 1723, after five years with his brother James, he runs away to Philadelphia to pursue his own talent as a writer. He continues to rise in prominence and eventually arrives at the point where he is in charge of his own publications containing his own thoughts and words. The changes in Franklin’s writing can also be seen by the outside world’s relationship with his writing. In his younger years, Franklin is forced to write his Silence Dogood letters, hiding behind a pseudonym. However, years later, as a well-connected, well-known, global citizen. Franklin’s letters become respected documents, both in the minds of the forming American nation as well as in the minds of the world.

With respect to his art, Franklin is constantly trying to improve his talent as a writer. The stylization exercises he performs with The Spectator as a youth, the formation of his poetry circle as a young adult, and his creation of Junto as a man are all examples of Franklin’s constant drive for the betterment of his mind, and in effect, his pen. In Part Two of his autobiography, Franklin comments that he lives his life under the assumption that his “writings” will be eventually “collected.” This assumption changes the way that Franklin lives his life. Given the fact that Franklin is recording his own life, he must then live his life in a manner that he would wish to write about. Franklin is the main character in the masterpiece of his life. To shape himself into the role of protagonist he aims at eliminating negative qualities from his life. He creates his thorough thirteen step plan to becoming virtuous and he also tries to remove all types of nonproductive activities from his life. He refuses to be “tempt[ed]” into playing chess “unless on this condition, that the victor in every game should have a right to impose a task, either in parts of the grammar to be got by heart, or in translations, etc..” Just as Franklin is constantly working on improving his writing methods, he is also constantly working on improving his life so that he can have something commendable to write about.

One quality Franklin shares with both Joyce and Wolfe as a developing writer is a sense of displacement. Wolfe more so than any of the three feels constantly out of place in the world believing that as a developing artist he belongs “perhaps to an older and simpler race of men…the Mythmakers.” In Look Homeward, Angel, Eliza Gant sees “the hunger for voyages in [Wolfe’s] face.” This kind of longing parallels Franklin’s “strong inclination for the sea.” Though, Franklin looses his desire to be constantly sea bound, he does maintain a tendency towards travel, making many trips over seas and throughout the colonies in his life. In Angel, Wolfe’s nomadic persona reflects the isolation he feels as a “Mythmaker.” Though Franklin, possesses a great deal more humility than Wolfe, and would never openly claim to be a “Mythmaker,” he is certainly a larger than life character who undoubtedly feels some of the same displacement as Wolfe.

In Joyce’s Portrait of the Artist and Franklin’s autobiography, the artists’ separation from society manifests itself in a spiritual form as well. Joyce, raised Irish-Catholic, ends up rejecting the Church based on the fire and brimstone sermons preached in his school. Likewise, Franklin separates himself from the Christianity practiced in most of the colonists in America in favor of Deism a more philosophical theistic belief. Franklin also separates himself from the bourgeoisie society by creating the Junto society, available by invitation only. The same decisive factor Franklin sees between himself and the rest of common society is the same distinguishing factor between the Kunstlerroman and the Bildungsroman, that is, the distinction between an artist and a normal man.

Benjamin Franklin begins his Last Will and Testament by describing himself first and foremost as a “printer.” Though Benjamin Franklin will be remembered as a dignitary, an inventor, and a statesman, he personally considers himself to be a “printer.” Like Joyce and Wolfe, his art is in his words and an exploration of his life shows the many events that led to his development as a wordsmith.