Richard Cory” Themes

• Appearances Can Be Deceiving

  As much time as the narrator and the narrator’s community have spent observing, idolizing, and envying Richard Cory, no one fully understands Cory’s psychology or humanity. The poem leaves the truth about whatever drives Cory to suicide unspoken and unknown, but readers don't need to know the exact reason for Cory's ending to get what the poem is trying to say—namely, that no matter how well-off a person may seem (and no matter how happy a person “should” be), people can’t be easily understood based on appearances alone.

  The poem presents Richard Cory as a known entity—he is often seen, heard, and admired by the narrator’s community. Throughout the poem, the narrator (who speaks on behalf of the community, “we people on the pavement”) portrays Richard Cory as a man who, on the surface, seems to have it all: money, good looks, gentility, and connection to others.

  The community, meanwhile, must work hard and give up luxuries in order to survive, so Cory’s perfect-seeming life appears in direct contrast to the other characters’ struggles. The narrator and the narrator’s community aspire to be, and to live like, Richard Cory, but as the end of the poem makes clear, these other people actually have no idea what the reality of Cory’s life is like.

  The poem reveals that the most significant aspects of Cory’s life—whatever drives him, ultimately, to suicide—are beyond the knowledge of the community who assume him to be happy and satisfied. Despite all of Cory’s success, the narrator reveals in the final moments of the poem, Cory kills himself, with no explanation provided. Whatever privilege, power, and success defined Richard Cory for the reader, some unknown other force or factor proves stronger than all the elements of Cory’s life that “should” have made him happy.

  The unchanging, calmly-paced structure throughout makes the final lines all the more jolting. The reader knows what to expect rhythmically from each line, just as the community believes they know what to expect from Richard Cory. Cory’s suicide, then, arrives with no warning. The community believes they know who Cory is, and, therefore, are powerless to recognize his need for their support or intervention before it is too late.

  “Richard Cory” offers a reminder—and perhaps a warning—about the hidden depths of people whose whole selves are supposedly known and understood. Beneath the trappings of wealth and success, the silent truth of Cory’s unhappiness remained an unseen mystery. By elevating Cory to something other than fully human and vulnerable, the community were unable to fathom Cory’s unknown despair—which has been left, by his death, perhaps forever mysterious.

• Wealth and Happiness

  "Richard Cory" presents a sharp contrast between the rich and the poor. At the time of the poem’s composition, this gap had been widened dramatically widened by the economic depression in the United States. The poem's emphasis on Cory’s wealth, in comparison to the relative poverty of the narrator’s community—a community that survives the poem when Cory does not—stresses one of the poem’s possible morals: money does not guarantee happiness.

  The narrator’s community, “we people on the pavement,” appear to be geographically separated from Richard Cory. They seem to be regular residents of these "down town" streets, while Cory only visits this neighborhood. Downtown neighborhoods are usually centers of business and commerce—meaning they are often louder, dirtier, and more crowded than other parts of the city. The fact that Cory does not have to live there, then, immediately suggests that he probably does not have to get his hands dirty with work in the same way as the rest of the speaker's community.

  Indeed, throughout the first three stanzas, the narrator details Cory’s wealth, first through language suggestive of financial prowess (“gentleman,” “glittered”) and then through an explicit, seemingly hyperbolic assessment of his economic prosperity (“and he was rich—yes, richer than a king”). To the narrator, it seems, Cory’s wealth, whatever it actually amounts to, appears infinite and beyond measure.

  In the final stanza the narrator provides an even clearer contrast between Cory and the narrator’s community. The narrator’s community must give up luxuries and delicacies (“went without the meat”), putting up instead with bland, repetitive meals (“cursed the bread”). They work hard for their money (perhaps, the poem suggests in its depicting Cory’s downtown sojourn, Cory does not need to work much at all), and depend entirely on “the light,” some external source that will relieve their financial need. Yet despite ostensibly suffering more than Cory, the narrator’s community continue “on” while Cory ends his life. Cory’s money, by implication, didn’t shield him from pain and misfortune.

  Some context is helpful here. The poem was written in 1897, a year after the Panic of 1893. As in the Great Depression, this panic led to the deaths by suicide of a number of Americans. While the poem does not indicate that Cory’s suicide stems from financial issues, it is possible to interpret his death in that historical context as the result of a sudden change in fortune. In that light, the poem speaks more to the fickle finger of fate than to the power of unhappiness to reach even the most fortunate.

  Whether the poem reminds readers that money isn’t everything or warns readers against coveting cash that won’t bring them happiness (or even condemns Richard Cory for wasting his lavish lifestyle), wealth and the comparison between those who have it and those who do not—remains central to the meaning of the poem.

• Envy vs. Admiration

  The narrator and the narrator’s community harbor deep envy of Richard Cory, but they admire him too. Throughout the poem, there is the sense that the community feels torn: fundamentally, they want to be Richard Cory, but they also take pleasure in being around him. Both envy and admiration, though, isolate the community from Cory. Neither emotion allows the community to get to know Cory on a human level or to understand his personal pain in a way that might prepare them for Cory’s eventual suicide (or perhaps even grant them a chance to prevent it).

  The narrator’s recounting of the people’s interest in Cory sounds at first as if it may be purely based in admiration. Cory is a constant object of attention (“We people on the pavement looked at him”) and the narrator riddles Cory with compliments: on his face, his weight, his bearing, his clothing. The narrator explicitly references the community’s admiration when it comes to Cory’s manners—they perceive Cory as “admirably schooled in every grace.”

  In the second stanza, the narrator begins to present Cory not just as an object to view but as a person with whom connection is possible. The narrator describes Cory as “always human when he talked,” but there is little evidence of Cory actually forging relationships with the people who watch him—it is only “Good-morning” that the narrator recalls him saying. It is possible, from the narrator’s version of events, that while Cory greets those around him warmly, their admiration for him (and envy, too) prevents them from meaningfully connecting with him.

  The narrator’s suggestion that Cory’s greeting also “fluttered pulses” indicates a level of attraction to Cory, whether merely admiring or romantic, that further sets him apart from the community: while he may seek connection with the people he passes, they experience his greeting as if he was some sort of divinity (“he glittered when he walked”) rather than a fellow human being.

  The penultimate stanza, however, shifts this admiration towards envy. All of this praise and adoration sums to the sense (“In fine”) that Cory is “everything / To make us wish that we were in his place.” Instead of being seen as a neighbor or a potential friend, Cory comes to represent what the community wants for themselves. The boiling of admiration into envy serves to further isolate Cory from the community. They experience his presence, ultimately, as a reminder of what they do not and cannot have—their desire to be him, in fact, to take his place from him replaces their idolization of him (almost with a sense of violent hostility).

  The narrator and the narrator’s community view Cory either as a glittering god to be worshipped from afar or as an enemy, the symbol of all they wish to have for themselves. Between these two poles exists the real Cory, a man who may strive to be “always human when he talked” but who ultimately takes his own life. Robinson offers the possibility that Cory’s suicide derives from the isolation and loneliness he experiences as a result of the strong, but disconnecting, feelings that his community exhibit towards him.