To Kill a Mockingbird

“The misery of that house began many years before Jem and I were born. The Radleys, welcome anywhere in town, kept to themselves, a predilection unforgiveable in Maycomb. […] The shutters and doors of the Radley house were closed on Sundays, another thing alien to Maycomb’s ways: closed doors meant illness and cold weather only. Of all days Sunday was the day for formal afternoon visiting: ladies wore corsets, men wore coats, children wore shoes. But to climb the Radley front steps and call, ‘He-y,’ of a Sunday afternoon was something their neighbors never did. The Radley house had no screen doors. I once asked Atticus if it ever had any; Atticus said yes, but before I was born.” 

In this passage, Scout expands upon her analysis of Maycomb’s social climate. She specifically applies this analysis to her childhood neighbor, Arthur “Boo” Radley, offering implied suggestions for his “misery.” According to Scout’s deductions, because formal Sunday visits are so important to Maycomb society, the Radley family’s decision to remove screen doors resulted in suspicion of their character. This suspicion led to gossip and cruel rumor-spreading (such as the rumor that all pecans from the Radley’s tree are poisonous). Because they knew gossip and rumors had spread about them, the Radleys—and most especially Boo—were hesitant to leave the house. Of course, the more the Radleys kept to themselves, the more Maycomb’s residents wondered and gossiped about them, spawning a vicious cycle.

“Atticus said professional people were poor because the farmers were poor. As Maycomb County was farm county, nickels and dimes were hard to come by for doctors and dentists and lawyers. Entailment was only part of Mr. Cunningham’s vexations. The acres not entailed were mortgaged to a hilt, and the little cash he made went to interest. If he held his mouth right, Mr. Cunningham could get a WPA job, but his land would go to ruin if he left it, and he was willing to go hungry to keep his land and vote as he pleased. Mr. Cunningham, said Atticus, came from a set breed of men.” 

Here, an adult Scout outlines the cycles of poverty in Maycomb, explaining that the poverty of professionals such as Atticus Finch went hand-in-hand with the poverty of farmers like Mr. Cunningham. She also describes the particular “breed” of stubborn pride, determination, and strange loyalty embodied by Mr. Cunningham. This characterization also foreshadows the Cunningham’s important roles both in the pre-trial mob and the jury of the Tom Robinson trial. 

“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view […] until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.” 

This line is spoken by Atticus to young Scout as he attempts to console her after her tumultuous first day of school. He encourages her to identify with the perspectives of her teacher, Miss Caroline, and another student from a very different socioeconomic background, Burris Ewell. This idea—considering how someone’s life experiences have shaped their point of view—becomes a kind of touchstone in the novel. Though the principle of this sentiment is fairly elementary, its precise application within To Kill A Mockingbird (to social “outsiders” such as Boo Radley, Tom Robinson, and even Bob Ewell) is relatively radical for the place and time in which the book is set. After all, as the novel demonstrates, many adult residents of Maycomb do not adhere to this principle, instead allowing their decisions to be guided by fear, anger, and other emotionally-driven judgments. 

“‘Do you know what a compromise is? [It’s an] agreement reached by mutual concession. It works this way,’ he said. ‘If you’ll concede the necessity of going to school, we’ll go on reading every night just as we always have.’” 

Here, Atticus applies another lofty ethical principle to the level of Scout’s childhood experience. In so doing, Atticus not only presents an alternative solution to Scout’s somewhat subpar education, but also introduces the reader to his generous approach—and rhetorical strategy—as a lawyer. According to Atticus, no concept is too mature to be adapted for the comprehension of a child (or, by extension, the comprehension of a less-educated Maycomb citizen).

“There are just some kind of men who—who’re so busy worrying about the next world they’ve never learned to live in this one, and you can look down the street and see the results.” 

Miss Maudie illuminates the differences between herself (a devout Baptist) and those she calls “foot-washing Baptists,” characterizing the foot-washers as people who believe everything pleasurable is a sin. She explains that Boo Radley’s father was himself a “foot-washer” and suggests that this limiting perspective played a major role in developing the anxiety around the Radley household. As Miss Maudie implies, “the result” of this oppressive “foot-washing” belief system was Boo Radley’s (self) imprisonment “down the street” in his own house. 

“Shot in the air. Scared him pale, though. […] Says he’s got the other barrel waitin’ for the next sound he hears in that patch […].” 

These lines are spoken by Miss Stephanie—the neighborhood gossip—as she tells the neighborhood how Nathan Radley shot at a person whom he presumed to be a prowler. The reader, however, knows that the prowler was none other than Jem Finch, and that his intention—to coax Boo Radley out of the house—was harmless. Thus, this passage encourages the reader to reflect on the disparity between the exaggerated threat expressed by Miss Stephanie and the mostly-innocent activities of Jem, Scout, and Dill. The progressive trio of intruders at the end of Miss Stephanie’s speech foreshadows a number of critical moments-to-come in the book, including Atticus shooting the “dog,” Atticus’ defense of Tom Robinson, and the confusion between Jem and Boo that transpires around the murder of Bob Ewell.

“Scout, simply by the nature of the work, every lawyer gets at least one case in his lifetime that affects him personally. This one’s mine, I guess. You might hear some ugly talk about it at school, but do one thing for me, if you will: you just hold your head high and keep those fists down […] Try fighting with your head for a change…it’s a good one, even if it does resist learning.”

After Scout fights her schoolmate Cecil Jacobs, Atticus explains that he is defending a man named Tom Robinson. He further explains that he feels he must provide the best possible defense for Tom Robinson, even though he knows he will not win the case, simply because if he didn’t, he couldn’t hold his own head high in town (86). He knows that the tension around the case will not only affect him and Tom Robinson, but the entire town. Atticus repeats this advice at numerous intervals throughout To Kill A Mockingbird.

“Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit ‘em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.” 

In keeping with his admonitions against violence, Atticus lectures Scout and Jem how to mindfully practice shooting with their new air rifles. He warns them “it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird,” employing a word he rarely uses—“sin”—to signal the severity of his warning. Miss Maudie later explains to the children that it is a “sin” to kill a mockingbird because mockingbirds are vulnerable, delicate creatures who never do anything harmful. Thus, throughout the remainder of the novel, the mockingbird becomes a stand-in for numerous people—such as Tom Robinson and Boo Radley—who have not harmed anyone, but nevertheless experience undeserved violence.

“If your father’s anything, he’s civilized in his heart. Marksmanship’s a gift of God, a talent—oh, you have to practice to make it perfect, but shooting’s different than playing the piano or the like. I think maybe he put his gun down when he realized that God had given him an unfair advantage over most living things. I guess he decided he wouldn’t shoot till he had to, and he had to today.” 

Following Atticus’ demonstration of impressive (but necessary) sharpshooting, Miss Maudie explains the basis of his civility. Atticus’ civilization is characterized by his refusal to take “an unfair advantage of things” even though he knows he must occasionally use his talents to protect those who might easily be taken advantage of (such as Tom Robinson). Likewise, the novel suggests that those who use their power to take “an unfair advantage” of vulnerable, harmless people (mockingbirds), are sinners of the worst degree.

“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you’re licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what.” 

In this passage, Atticus explains to Jem that old Mrs. Dubose was a morphine addict whose dying wish was to kick her addiction. He frames Mrs. Dubose’s determination as an example of bravery that counters Jem’s childish ideas of bravery as masculine heroism, broadening Jem’s idea of what it means to be both a man and a responsible adult. This explanation also echoes Atticus’s earlier reflections regarding his need to defend Tom Robinson, even though he essentially knows he’s “licked before [he] begin[s].” 

“It’s not necessary to tell all you know […] folks don’t like to have somebody around knowin’ more than they do. It aggravates ‘em. You’re not gonna change any of them by talkin’ right, they’ve got to want to do it for themselves, and when they don’t want to learn there’s nothing you can do but keep your mouth shut or talk their language.” 

After bringing Scout and Jem to her all-Black church, First Purchase, Calpurnia explains why she speaks differently among her fellow church members than she does with the Finch family. As the Finch’s cook, Calpurnia suggests that she travels between two different social worlds where the people speak two different languages, figuratively. She also suggests that her literacy is a learned talent—much like Atticus’ shooting ability—and that it would “aggravate” her Black friends if it seemed like she were using this talent too much to her own advantage. This explanation ties together the wide range of interactions Scout and Jem experience when the boundary between White and Black Maycomb residents is crossed. The phrase “[i]t’s not necessary to tell all you know” could also be read as foreshadowing for Heck Tate’s decision to “let the dead bury the dead” (317) and conceal Boo Radley’s killing of Bob Ewell in Chapter 30.

“Well, Atticus, I was just sayin’ to Mr. Cunningham that entailments are bad an’ all that, but you said not to worry, it take a long time sometimes…that you all’d ride it out together…” 

These lines are spoken by young Scout after she recognizes Mr. Cunningham among the lynch mob that confronts Atticus outside the prison where Tom Robinson is held. She speaks to Atticus, expressing her naive attempt to “climb into his skin” (33) by identifying with his interests and concerns. She also connects Mr. Cunningham’s struggles with the community at-large, saying they “all’d ride it out together.” She thus reminds Mr. Cunningham that she, Atticus (and, by extension, Tom Robinson) are not his enemies, but his neighbors. Her demonstration of empathy results in Mr. Cunningham calling off the mob.

“I was very tired, and was drifting into sleep when the memory of Atticus calmly folding his newspaper and pushing back his hat became Atticus standing in the middle of an empty waiting street, pushing up his glasses. The full meaning of the night’s events hit me and I began crying.” 

After the Finches return home from the mob scene, Scout makes a conceptual connection between Atticus’ shooting of the neighborhood dog—Old Tim Johnson—and his defense of Tom Robinson against the lynch mob (whom Atticus later identifies as neighbors and other people he knows). 

“A mob’s made up of people, no matter what. Mr. Cunningham was part of a mob last night, but he was still a man. Every mob in every little Southern town is always made up of people you know—doesn’t say much for them, does it?” 

Talking with his children over breakfast the morning after the mob incident, Atticus explains that a mob always includes familiar people from one’s community. In addition to illuminating Mr. Cunningham’s presence, this conversation foreshadows the community gossip and groupthink that will converge around the Tom Robinson trial later that day.

“As Tom Robinson gave his testimony, it came to me that Mayella Ewell must have been the loneliest person in the world. She was even lonelier than Boo Radley, who had not been out of the house in twenty-five years. When Atticus asked had she any friends, she seemed not to know what he meant, then she thought he was making fun of her. She was as sad, I thought, as what Jem called a mixed child: white people wouldn’t have anything to do with her because she lived among pigs; Negroes wouldn’t have anything to do with her because she was white. She couldn’t live like Mr. Dolphus Raymond, who preferred the company of Negroes, because she didn’t own a river bank and she wasn’t from a fine old family. Nobody said, ‘That’s just their way,’ about the Ewells. Maycomb gave them Christmas baskets, welfare money, and the back of its hand. Tom Robinson was probably the only person who was ever decent to her. But she said he took advantage of her, and when she stood up she looked at him as if he were dirt beneath her feet.” 

Even as a child, Scout’s preconditioned ability to “climb into” a person’s skin allows her to appreciate the social complexities of the Tom Robinson trial. She compares Mayella to Boo Radley, recognizing that she, too, is an outcast from Maycomb society. She recognizes the complicated relationship between class and race, acknowledging that because of her poverty, Mayella is not afforded the same privileges of social mobility as Mr. Dolphus Raymond (who lives among Maycomb’s Black community with his mixed-race children). In short, she recognizes the many ways in which Mayella is a kind of mockingbird—a vulnerable person who, until recently, never harmed anyone. Scout also seems to understand, however, that being a mockingbird does not make someone immune from causing harm. With her knowingly false accusation of rape, Mayella has committed the “sin” of using her social status as a White person against Tom Robinson, who “was probably the only person who was ever decent to her.”

“I felt right sorry for her, she seemed to try more’n the rest of ‘em—” 

When the prosecutor asks Tom why he did so many of Mayella’s chores, Tom tries to explain that he was motivated out of sympathy, seeing that Mayella wanted a different life from the one she lived with her family. In this sense, Tom is climbing into Mayella’s skin, just as Atticus has taught Scout to do with others. As soon as Tom mentions he “felt sorry” for Mayella, however, he realizes he has made a mistake, as the jury will be averse to the idea of a Black man pitying a White woman. In other words, White residents of Maycomb are resistant to demonstrations of kindness from Black people, as it implies a kind of power over them, and thereby a breach in the community’s rigid social stratification. 

“And so a quiet, respectable, humble Negro who had the unmitigated temerity to ‘feel sorry’ for a white woman has had to put his work against two white peoples’. I need not remind you of their appearance and conduct on the stand—you saw them for yourselves. The witnesses for the state, with the exception of the sheriff of Maycomb County, have presented themselves to you gentlemen, to this court, in the cynical confidence that their testimony would not be doubted, confident that you gentlemen would go along with them on the assumption—the evil assumption— that all Negroes lie, that all Negroes are basically immoral beings, that all Negro men are not to be trusted around our women, an assumption one associates with minds of their caliber. Which, gentlemen, we know is in itself a lie as black as Tom Robinson’s skin, a lie I do not have to point out to you.” 

In Atticus Finch’s impassioned speech to the jury, he calls out the hypocrisy of maintaining prejudice against Black men in a court system where “all men are created equal.” He disrupts the toxic mindset that enables White people to think of Black people as a singular whole, rather than considering them as individuals. He further disrupts the jury’s negative thoughts against Tom Robinson’s sympathy, upholding the confidence that he “do[es] not need to point that out.” He suggests, in other words, that when speaking to adults, he should not need to point out the necessity of “climb[ing] into [Tom Robinson’s] skin,” an idea even his children understand.

“It’s like bein’ a caterpillar in a cocoon, that’s what it is […] Like somethin’ asleep wrapped up in a warm place. I always thought Maycomb folks were the best folks in the world, least that’s what they seemed like.”

After the Tom Robinson trial, Jem appears to lose his faith in his presumed goodness of humanity. He makes the visual comparison to a cocoon, suggesting that after the trial, he has emerged from a safe “warm place,” with his perspective transformed.

“If you had been on that jury today, son, and eleven other boys like you, Tom would be a free man […] So far nothing in your life has interfered with your reasoning process. Those are twelve reasonable men in everyday life, Tom’s jury, but you saw something come between them and reason. You saw the same thing in front of the jail […] There’s something in our world that makes men lose their heads—they couldn’t be fair if they tried.”

When Jem bemoans the cruelty of the jury’s “guilty” verdict, Atticus explains that time, experience, and pressure from others in the community often leads adults to think less fairly than Jem might. He insinuates that when prejudiced opinions converge together—as in the jailhouse mob and the courtroom—the reasoning of men becomes tainted and they “couldn’t be fair if they tried.” This passage hints at the complicated process of maturation, a process that adolescent Jem is now confronting: growing older isn’t as simple as growing wiser.

“If there’s just one kind of folks, why can’t they get along with each other? If they’re all alike, why do they go out of their way to despise each other? Scout, I think I’m beginning to understand something. I think I’m beginning to understand why Boo Radley stayed shut up in the house all this time…it’s because he wants to stay inside.” 

In Chapter 23, Scout and Jem demonstrate their different perspectives on humanity after the Tom Robinson trial. While Scout expresses her belief that all humans are essentially the same—containing the potentiality for both good and evil—Jem seems to have a more cynical outlook. Through the trial, he has come to appreciate how socially segregated Maycomb is, and he perceives this segregation as the direct result of groups’ inability to “get along with each other.” Furthermore, he recognizes that Boo Radley is likely sensitive to the judgment, gossip, and mob mentality in Maycomb. Jem believes that Boo has decided to “stay inside” and avoid confronting the hateful judgment of his community.

“His face was as white as his hands, but for a shadow on his jutting chin. His cheeks were thin to hollowness; his mouth was wide; there were shallow, almost delicate indentations at his temples, and his gray eyes were so colorless I thought he was blind. His hair was dead and thin, almost feathery on top of his head.” 

When Scout finally sees Boo, she descriptively compares him to a mockingbird, drawing attention to birdlike, delicate features such as his “feathery” hair. She thus reminds the reader that despite all the heightened tales, gossip, and rumors surrounding Boo, he is far from a threat, and—like a mockingbird—has done nothing wrong.

“I’m not a very good man, sir, but I am sheriff of Maycomb County. Lived in this town all my life an’ I’m goin’ on forty-three years old. Know everything that’s happened here since before I was born. There’s a black boy dead for no reason, and the man responsible for it’s dead. Let the dead bury the dead this time, Mr. Finch […] maybe you’ll say it’s my duty to tell the town all about it and not hush it up. Know what’d happen then? All the ladies in Maycomb includin’ my wife’d be knocking on his door bringing angel food cakes. To my way of thinkin’, Mr. Finch, taking the one man who’s done you and this town a great service an’ draggin’ him with his shy ways into the limelight—to me, that’s a sin. It’s a sin and I’m not about to have it on my head.” 

In this moment, Maycomb County Sheriff Heck Tate recognizes that Boo Radley—not Jem—killed Bob Ewell. He acknowledges that Boo committed this act of violence to protect his neighbors, Scout and Jem, and that the killing was a necessary use of Boo’s power (just as Atticus’ shooting of the mad dog was a necessary use of his shooting ability). By deciding to call Ewell’s death an accident, Tate claims he hopes to prevent “ladies […] from bringing angel food cakes” and disrupting Boo’s solitude; however, his proclamation that spreading the word would be “a sin” suggests a much darker truth. The implied result of attributing the killing to Boo would be even more malicious (and possibly deadly) gossip. Thus, Tate prevents the “sin” of killing a figurative mockingbird: the sin of destroying the life of a vulnerable man who never did any harm that wasn’t justified.

“Atticus was right. One time he said you never really know a man until you stand in his shoes and walk around in them. Just standing on the Radley porch was enough.”

Atticus’ adage about appreciating another person’s perspective appears to have registered on a new level for Scout. This moment suggests her own coming into maturity as she appreciates—even without fully knowing—everything Boo has experienced.