The Violent Bear It Away

Of all of the errors Rayber makes in his efforts to rid Tarwater of Mason’s influences, perhaps none are more fatal than his decision to bring the boy back to Powderhead. Again, Rayber’s clinical, scientific view of Tarwater’s fixation causes him to fail miserably in his course of treatment, as he succeeds only in accelerating the boy’s approach toward his destiny.

Yet despite the flaw at the heart of Rayber’s broader plan, he takes two small yet significant steps toward connecting with Tarwater, suggesting that had Rayber taken a different approach toward the boy, his destiny could have been altered. The first is his decision to throw Tarwater’s clothes in the lake, forcing the boy to wear the new clothes Rayber bought for him. On its face, this may not seem all that successful a strategy. Yet again and again, the biggest source of Tarwater’s contempt for Rayber is the schoolteacher’s inability to act and impose his will, which he finally does here by tossing the coveralls in the water. For example, when Rayber admits he tried to drown Bishop but lost his nerve, Tarwater is less disgusted by the schoolteacher’s murderous intent and more by his inaction. By contrast, the act of submerging the boy’s coveralls at the very least causes Tarwater to acknowledge Rayber’s presence “by shifting the glint in his eyes slightly” (176) which, frankly, is more respect than the schoolteacher has drawn up to this point.

The second is the small act of generosity Rayber commits when he buys Tarwater the combination bottle opener and corkscrew from the gas station. Upon receiving it, Tarwater says, “I don’t have no use for it but I thank you” (188)—a line of almost startling sincerity, given that the boy’s shown nothing but mockery and disdain toward Rayber up to this point. Neither of these acts are rational by Rayber’s strict definition; the first is an immature prank and the second a subtle sign of affection. Yet each does more to build a connection with Tarwater than any of Rayber’s psychotherapeutic approaches.

Unfortunately, the gestures are too small and arrive too late to halt Tarwater’s grim march toward destiny. O’Connor pulls a clever trick in these chapters by dramatically shifting the perspective to that of Tarwater, thus exposing the extent to which Rayber’s reconditioning efforts are an utter failure, and how clueless the schoolteacher is regarding the boy’s inner life. For example, Tarwater knows immediately that the fishing trip is a ruse to lead him back to Powderhead: “The trip was designed to be a trap but the boy had no attention to spare for it. His mind was entirely occupied with saving himself from the larger grander trap that he felt set all about him” (159).

With the return of Tarwater’s internal monologue comes the return of the friend, who continues to prey on Tarwater’s individual personality qualities. As evidenced by his use of his straw hat as a marker for his identity, Tarwater takes his individuality seriously, a trait on which the Satanic voice capitalizes. He tells Tarwater, “You’re alone in the world, with only yourself to ask or thank or judge; with only yourself. And me. I’ll never desert you” (166). By understanding what drives Tarwater—perhaps more so than Tarwater understands himself—the Devil is far better equipped to persuade him than Rayber, whose tactics rarely work except by accident.

The question remains as to what the Devil wants of Tarwater. On the face of it, Tarwater’s drowning of Bishop seems to be the Devil’s main objective. After all, it involves the death of an innocent, the moral corruption of a would-be prophet, and the desecration of a sacred Christian ritual all at once in a single unholy act. Yet if anything, the drowning only draws Tarwater closer to Powderhead and his destiny as an agent of God. Forced to flee the scene following his crime, Tarwater is immediately caught back up in the currents of fate. Given the friend’s constant mockery of Tarwater’s prophetic ambitions, this does not seem to have been part of the Devil’s plan. By this series of events, O’Connor seems to suggest that, try as he might, the Devil is as ineffectual as Rayber when it comes to altering Tarwater’s destiny as it is already set in stone by God or perhaps Mason alone.

There is, however, a second interpretation that fits in with O’Connor’s exploration of duality. Perhaps in Tarwater’s case at least, God and the Devil work in tandem to carry the boy onto his destiny. This is reflected in the friend’s words upon Tarwater’s arrival to the lake: “Steady, his friend said, everywhere you go you’ll find water. It wasn’t invented yesterday. But remember: water is made for more than one thing” (167). Moreover, Bishop’s demise is at once a drowning and a baptism, albeit a perversion of the latter. Given that reason and logic dictate that a thing cannot be two things at once, this duality rebukes Rayber’s rationalism.

Finally, Rayber exits the narrative on a note of extreme ignominy. First, he visits Powderhead and quickly loses all hold on his sense of rationality, crumbling into emotional agony at the traumatic memories of this cursed place. Next, the reader learns that the real reason Rayber never returns to Powderhead to retrieve Tarwater is that the look on the baby’s face disturbs his equally secular companion, Bernice: “The face for her had expressed the depth of human perversity, the deadly sin of rejecting defiantly one’s own obvious good” (181). From this perspective, Rayber’s vaunted cult of rationality is little more than a cult of self-preservation. This is echoed in Rayber’s own self-imposed emptiness, which prevents him from potentially destroying himself through love and passion. Finally, the reader is presented with the logical end of Rayber’s rational inaction: a dead child and no tears to cry over him. Whatever destiny lies ahead for Tarwater, it is no worse than the fate Rayber meets, and perhaps no less unavoidable.