The poet’s muse, his source of inspiration, had been celebrated and encoded by Burns in his own work and he had been delighted with the epithet ‘heav’n taught ploughman’ given to him in an influential review of his first book. The theme of the Dumfries mausoleum would also express itself in the Alloway monument. The circumstances of the poet’s death had been speculated upon by the sententious Reverend James Currie whose biography of 1800 had done much to dent Burns’s reputation. It was an appropriate style for remembering a poet in classical tradition, but the sober style might also have been a way of rehabilitating the memory of a fallen man. Despite his fondness for Tudor architecture, architect Thomas Frederick Hunt (1791–1831) had chosen the Greek Revival style that was popular at the time. Burns was different from other mortals and he was to be remembered as such.Īlloway took note of the design of the Dumfries mausoleum. This was a grave visible from a distance, as can be seen in an early watercolour of the mausoleum. Giving Burns a separate burial place (later painted brilliant white), in what was a crowded graveyard of browning sandstone masonry, made a strong statement about his importance. Miss Simmons, who must have been at the UN, had not yet returned home and savagely hoping that she was, so Grafferty could catch this Manco Devil in the very act of mangling.There were four elements of the Dumfries campaign which would prove influential in the monument that was eventually built at Alloway: She turned down a carpeted hall and stopped before Apartment 21. She gave it a shove, a very impatient gesture. It kept clicking and she didn't know you were supposed to push it when it clicked. The Countess Krak regarded the foyer door. The Countess simply turned the helmet on and dropped it over Simmons' head The Countess must have seen that she was speaking to someone who was as blind as a bat. Miss Simmons was having trouble locating the Countess to talk to her. Unsuspecting of the trap I had set for her, the Countess Krak pushed the buzzer. Even the streetwise kids of north Manhattan would not have been able to stomach what I was sure was about to occur. Gods, I thought, how they would have screamed and run had they known they watched a murderer on the brink of bloody slaughter. And Krak's purposeful progress could not have done otherwise than give that impression.
#SHRINE OF SECRETS FULL#
It was full of winter-dead trees and peopled with rather well-dressed but sullen kids, who watched the Countess Krak go by in total conviction that she was a truant officer in disguise and was about to blow the whistle on them all. The neighborhood in Morningside Heights was not too bad. And there it was, right there on number 21, the nameplate: There was no doorman, but the brass mailboxes shone. It was not a shabby apartment house: Miss Simmons must have some income of her own. The grim pound of her boots halted before an apartment house that bore the number 352. Police Inspector Grafferty would soon be on his way. It meant she lived alone Gods, wasn't anything going to stand between the Countess Krak and this awful crime? Ah, yes, there was. Like a sleepwalker, my favorite ally went down the hall toward her doom. I caught him at the Civic Center and he's just now locating squad cars. He said he could smell the headlines already. Police Inspector Grafferty was quivering like a bloodhound. She plugged in her microphone and then sat down in the easy chair. She arranged the pillow so it would support the helmet properly. The Countess Krak closed the bedroom door. There was a wide bed, a boudoir table and an easy chair, all decorated in frilly white organdy. She kicked the door shut behind her and right in front of Simmons took the hypnohelmet out of the square shopping bag.
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