15. Mrs Benjamin Pantier

The epitaph of Mrs Benjamin Pantier gives us pause for thought. It is, to say the least, problematical. She claims, for instance, that her husband has probably already told us that “all the men loved him” and “most of the women pitied him”. But, of course, Benjamin Pantier told us no such thing! Was she, then, so oblivious of her husband? 

It would be so easy to condemn her out of hand for her seemingly dismissive attitude toward her husband. He is probably entitled to his feeling of being discarded like so much waste. 

This is where we should pause and ponder.

What Benjamin Pantier did tell us was that he had been an attorney at law, with some aspiration and achievement behind him. And then he married a “well-endowed” woman. 

To our modern ears, this phrase may have particular connotations regarding a woman’s physical charms. In the latter part of the nineteenth-century/early twentieth-century, it is unlikely a woman of respectable upbringing would so describe herself. What Mrs Pantier probably means by this phrase is that financially she was well situated - her father likely provided a handsome dowry upon her marrying. 

It seems possible that the once aspirational young attorney took to living off his wife’s endowment rather than seeking the glory to be found in a successful career at the bar. If such were the case, as her husband sank into the debauched lifestyle - “whiskey and onions” - so common among Spoon River residents, she no doubt felt justified in rejecting him as only a wife can reject a man.

Let us not, after all, fail to note the significance of this epitaph’s title. As a wife, and one that was given away by a father, despite her wishes, she is no longer even entitled to her own name. She must forever be known by the name of that man whom she so despises. She, who appreciates the beauty - and, possibly, the genius - of Wordsworth’s Ode: Intimations on Immortality. 

This may be dismissed as silly, girlish nonsense. What is a bit of poetry compared with the more important issues with which a man must deal? 

But, again, we must pause - after all, those of us who spend any time writing about/discussing the Anthology, are unlikely to simply dismiss Mrs Pantier’s concerns out of hand. 

With that in mind, and meaning no disrespect to the Scottish poet William Knox, we must accept that his Mortality, while being a poem with a valid point of view on the human condition, never matches the complexity and sheer genius of Wordsworth’s Ode. 

Nor can we ignore the symbolism of the poets themselves. Wordsworth, who wrote of immortality, lived to the ripe old age of 80, having spent the last two decades of his life as Poet Laureate. William Knox, on the other hand, who wrote of mortality, died at age 36, after overindulging in life’s pleasures, of a stroke.

It isn’t pushing the bounds of imagination too far to see the parallel between the poet who wrote, “Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?” and Mr Benjamin Pantier, who smelled of “whiskey and onions”; between the poet who published only three volumes of poetry and the attorney who once “knew aspiration”. 

How could a woman - or anyone - of “delicate tastes” “And the rhythm of Wordsworth’s Ode run[ning] in your ears”, feel anything but disgust for one who sought only life’s baser pleasures - and at her expense?

We can argue that this gives Mrs Benjamin Pantier no right to drive her husband “away from home”, to end his days with “his dog in a dingy room/Back of his office”. But, if a parallel exists between the attorney and the Scottish poet, one can be seen betwixt the wife and the Poet Laureate, who Lord Byron deemed a sell-out, describing him, in the Dedication to Don Juan, along with Robert Southey and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, the first of whom appears later in the Anthology (69. Robert Southey Burke) as “shabby fellows”, declining to “imitate the petty thought” of those of whom he asks, “You have your salary; was't for that you wrought?”.

Mrs Benjamin Pantier should not be dismissed out of hand for her finer feelings, for why should we not long for beauty and great poetry? Her behaviour towards her husband merely serves to betray her humanity, a warning that “delicate tastes” are not, in themselves, enough to make of life a work of art.