Nicholas Bindle speaks from the grave to the townspeople who once pressured him to keep giving money to churches, the poor, and the village. After his death, they learned how little he had left. He wants them to feel ashamed, not because he was stingy, but because they demanded more from a man who had already given plenty. His deepest bitterness comes from a specific memory: the pipe organ he donated to the church was played for Deacon Rhodes, a man whose actions had financially ruined Bindle, after Rhodes was acquitted. Bindle sees the church celebrating the very person who destroyed him, using the gift he paid for. The mood is resentful, wounded, and quietly accusing. It exposes hypocrisy in small-town respectability, where generosity is expected, but loyalty and justice are not returned.
Nicholas Bindle — Summary
Were you not ashamed, fellow citizens, When my estate was probated and everyone knew How small a fortune I left?— You who hounded me in life, To give, give, give to the churches, to the poor, To the village!—me who had already given much. And think you not I did not know That the pipe-organ, which I gave to the church, Played its christening songs when Deacon Rhodes, Who broke and all but ruined me, Worshipped for the first time after his acquittal?