Judgment appears throughout “The Sculptor’s Funeral” to give various perspectives on the life of the deceased sculptor whose body is returning home for burial. Cather uses the townspeople’s harsh criticism of Harvey to illustrate the disparity between the toxic environment he came from and the art he went on to create. Gossiping about a living person might be a common occurrence in a small town, but Sand City citizens clearly never learned that one shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. By having the townspeople disrupt the usual social niceties of a funeral, Cather implies that they are not reliable judges of character. Through the townspeople’s defamation of Harvey at his own funeral, Cather explores the influence of a disapproving home on the outcome of an individual. By contrasting this criticism with Jim Laird and Henry Steavens’s fond memories of Harvey, Cather presents the final Christian judgment as the only true judge of a person’s character. The people of Sand City can condemn Harvey Merrick as weak and incompetent, but it is they who require the “mercy” of God.
Many of the Sand City townspeople give their individual, condemning assessments of Harvey Merrick throughout the story, showing that the residents have no qualms about belittling a dead man. The first speaker in the story, the Grand Army man, disparages that the funeral will not be a nicer “order funeral.” Even though the sculptor had “some repytation,” this townsperson feels no shame declaring Harvey’s funerary arrangements to be inadequate. By beginning the story this way, Cather creates initial uncertainty about the reliability of the characters’ opinions and uncertainty as to what kind of man Harvey Merrick really was. “Some repytation” makes Harvey sound like an infamous criminal rather than acclaimed artist.
During the funeral, each townsperson takes their turn passing judgment on the sculptor and sharing anecdotes that frame the deceased man in negative light. The cattleman states that Harvey wasn’t “sharp.” Commenting on Harvey’s “ladylike voice,” the coal and lumber dealers agree that he “shore never was fond of work.” Due to Harvey’s pursuit of his passion, the townspeople undermine his intelligence and emasculate him. Rejecting typical social niceties one would assume at a funeral, the townspeople take this as their opportunity readily discuss their negative opinions about Harvey. However, it’s clear that their criticism says more about them than it does about Harvey. At one point, the Grand Army man relates an anecdote in which Harvey unintentionally killed one of his cows. The cow escaped as Harvey was watching the sunset over the marshes. With this anecdote, Cather juxtaposes the sculptor’s appreciation of nature and beauty with his inattention to the concerns of Sand City’s citizens. While this story of Harvey as a younger person could have illuminated his values to his fellow townspeople by demonstrating that he was a thoughtful man who was captivated by nature and beauty, the townspeople choose to see the bad in him.
While Cather abundantly portrays the negative opinions of the townspeople throughout the story, only a few characters truly appreciate who Harvey Merrick was. It is significant that Cather includes Jim Laird and Henry Steavens’s grief-stricken discussion of Harvey because it further illustrates that the townspeople aren’t worthy judges of character. By comparing Harvey to an oyster in the conversation between Laird and Steavens, Cather shows that Harvey’s childhood in Sand City made him closed off to human connection. However, there are a select few who knew him and appreciated him for who he really was—a master sculptor and a great man. Steavens shares that although Harvey “distrusted men pretty thoroughly and women even more, yet somehow without believing ill of them. He was determined, indeed, to believe the best; but he seemed afraid to investigate.” Much like an oyster, Harvey was seemingly impenetrable. But for the few that had the pleasure of truly knowing him, saw that he possessed a pearl of talent and an unmatched appreciation for beauty.
While Laird’s and Steavens’s fond memories of Harvey cast significant doubt on whether the townspeople’s judgments are warranted or accurate, Cather also explores the idea of Christian judgment to further devalue the townspeople’s judgment as nothing more than idle talk. The minister, the character one might assume to be most justified in doling out judgment, refrains from speaking his mind about Harvey even though he wants to. His silence stems from the shame that his own sons are gamblers, one of who was shot in a gambling hall. Even more so, his shame stems from his perceived inability to raise moral sons. Cather portrays the individual that should be the most pious as incompetent and incapable of positive influence on neither his own sons nor anybody in Sand City. Cather uses the minister’s inability to pass judgment on Harvey to suggest that the other, more vocal townspeople don’t have room to talk, either.
Prior to his death, Harvey warned his apprentice that after “[the townspeople] have had their say, I shan’t have much to fear from the judgment of God!” Harvey was absolutely aware that the town would judge him harshly, but he was concerned about his apprentice’s reaction to such defamation. His past made him wary of humanity, but it made him less fearful of God’s final judgment. He knew he would have nothing to fear from an honest assessment of his life. However, Harvey predicted that the townspeople’s would illuminate his perceived flaws and exaggerate even more, yet he did not defend himself to Steavens. For Harvey, their judgment is just as inevitable, albeit more vicious, as God’s final judgment.
Cather explores the townspeople’s judgment of Harvey Merrick to demonstrate that those who live a life consumed by gossip and criticism are not fit to judge a life led in pursuit of passion. Cather argues that the stories others tell about an individual (honest or otherwise) cannot impact that person’s identity, especially when those storytellers might not be upstanding individuals. Their anecdotes about Harvey aren’t an accurate retelling of his life because they didn’t know him or appreciate him for who he really was. Spinning tales that depict Harvey as a weak, incompetent drunk, the townspeople will require far more mercy for their despicable treatment of him (and the other wasted youths of Sand City) than Harvey could ever fear at the gates of God.
Judgment ThemeTracker
Judgment Quotes in The Sculptor’s Funeral
The men on the siding stood first on one foot and then on the other, their hands thrust deep into their trousers pockets, their overcoats open, their shoulders screwed up with the cold […] There was but one of the company who looked as if he knew exactly why he was there, and he kept conspicuously apart.
“Was he always a good deal of an oyster?” he asked abruptly. “He was terribly shy as a boy.”
“Yes, he was an oyster, since you put it so,” rejoined Steavens. “Although he could be very fond of people, he always gave one the impression of being detached. He disliked violent emotion; he was reflective and rather distrustful of himself—except, of course, as regarded his work. He was sure enough there. He distrusted men pretty thoroughly and women even more, yet somehow without believing ill of them. He was determined, indeed, to believe the best; but he seemed afraid to investigate.”
“A burnt dog dreads the fire,” said the lawyer grimly, and closed his eyes.
“That’s Harve for you,” approved the Grand Army man. “I kin hear him howlin’ yet, when he was a big feller in long pants and his mother used to whale him with a rawhide in the barn for lettin’ the cows git foundered in the cornfield when he was drivin’ ‘em home from pasture. He killed a cow of mine that-a-way once—a pure Jersey and the best milker I had, an’ the ole man had to put up for her. Harve, he was watchin’ the sun set acrost the marshes when the anamile got away.”
Was it possible that these men did not understand, that the palm leaf on the coffin meant nothing to them? The very name of their town would have remained for ever buried in the postal guide had it not been now and again, mentioned in the world in connection with Harvey Merrick’s.
He remembered what his master had said to him on the day of his death, after the congestion of both lungs had shut off any probability of recovery, and the sculptor had asked his pupil to send his body home. “It’s not a pleasant place to be lying while the world is moving and doing and bettering,” he had said with a feeble smile, “but it rather seems as though we ought to go back to the place we came from in the end. The townspeople will come in for a look at me; and after they have had their say, I shan’t have much to fear from the judgment of God!”
“[…] you all hated Harvey Merrick more for winning out than you hated all the other boys who got under the wheels. […] Phelps, here, is fond of saying that he could buy and sell us all out any time he’s a mind to; but he knew Harve wouldn’t have given a tinker’s damn for his bank and all his cattlefarms put together […]
Brother Elder says Harve was too free with the hold man’s money—fell short in filial consideration, maybe. Well, we can all remember the very tone in which brother Elder swore his own father was a liar, in the county court […]
Harvey Merrick and I […] were dead in earnest, and we wanted you all to be proud of us some day. We meant to be great men. […] I came back here to practice, and I found you didn’t in the least want me to be a great man. You wanted me to be a shrewd lawyer—oh yes! Our veteran here wanted me to get him an increase of pension, because he had dyspepsia; Phelps wanted a new county survey that would put the widow Wilson’s little bottom farm inside his south line […]”