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In the spirit of continuing a post-show discussion of The Seafarer, one of Steppenwolf’s Auxiliary Council Governors sent me a poem by William Blake entitled The Fly. He explained it had come to mind during the following exchange between Richard, who is blind, and Mr. Lockhart in The Seafarer:

Richard: Lordy, lordy, lordy, lordy, lordy, lordy, lordy, lordy, lordy would you listen to that wind? God, I had an awful dream the other night. I dreamt I could see. I dreamt that I woke up and I could see and that being blind had been a dream. And I dreamt the sun was shining through the window there, and there, just sitting on the windowsill was a bluebottle looking at me. You ever notice about those things? The whole head is nearly their eyes. Two big black footballs on the whole two sides of their head. And I was just staring at him and he was just staring at me - as much as you can tell if he’s looking at you at all… ‘What does he think of me?’ I was wondering, as we were kind of … communing with each other there. And there was such…comfort, in his blank unseeing regard for me, Mr. Lockhart. You just know that God is in a fly, don’t you? The very existence and the amazing design in something so small and intricate as a bluebottle - it’s God’s revelation really, isn’t it? Don’t you think that?

Lockhart: Well…except that they seem to like the taste of shit so much, don’t they?

Richard: Ah that only adds to their intrigue…

Lockhart: If you say so.

Richard: Well I do! I do say so! And…But then I had the terrible misfortune to wake up and realized I couldn’t see. And I kind of…I kind of panicked. I didn’t know if it was night, or day, or what the hell it was or where I was. And I didn’t want to call out to Sharky, because in case I woke him, his moods do be bad enough! And I…or turn on the radio in case I woke him, but I got my bearings. I was down here and I thought, ‘If I can get a drop of whiskey, the old panic may subside.’ But then of course, I fell in the fucking kitchen door and I made such a clatter that Sharky woke up anyway!

Here is the Blake poem:

Little Fly,
Thy summer’s play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

For I dance
And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life
And strength and breath
And the want
Of thought is death;

Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.

It’s a striking comparison. The progression from “thoughtless hand” to “blind hand” and the contemplation of mortality resonate deeply with the themes of The Seafarer. Furthering the insect trope is a speech of Mr. Lockhart’s. Mr. Lockhart is the devil, inhabiting the body of a mortal man, and he says while observing his hand:

Lockhart: I hate these stupid insect bodies you have. (Switches his drink from one hand to the other) This fucker’s left-handed! (Looking down at his legs) I mean, what is it? What are human beings? Two balloons – that’s your lungs – and an annoying little whistle at the top where the air comes out - that’s your voice…(Pause. Shouting) I mean, what have you got that I haven’t? Hey Romeo. I’m talking to you, Loves Young Dream! What have you got? Ha? You all age and wither before me like dead flowers in a bright window! You’re nothing! Me? I live in the stars above St. Anne’s Park! Thousands of Christmas Eves I’ve seen! I’m so old…and thousands more I’ll see – maybe millions! I’m the very power that keeps us apart! Isn’t that worth saving? Evidently not. No he loves you. He loves all you insects…Figure that one out.

This entry was posted by David New on Wednesday, January 14th, 2009 at 5:40 pm and is filed under The Seafarer. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.