Upper Level Essays
These essays are the Best of upper-level English classes for 2008-2009.
English 411, 20th Century British Science Fiction and Fantasy, Podcast -- Carrie Sippy, Liz Cashwell, Randi Gill-Sadler, Keith Menhinick, Ashleigh Blue, Trey Frey, Stephen Bell, Courtney Butler, Julie Boudreau
http://scififan.ning.com/
English 377, War Novels -- Becky Humphries, "The Futile Struggle for Power"
At first glance, Norman Mailer’s The Naked and the Dead (1948) seems to be nothing more than one of the first of a long line of typical World War II novels. Situated on the Japanese-held island of Anopopei, the novel follows the experience of the Intelligence and Reconnaissance platoon led by Sergeant Sam Croft. Parallel to, and occasionally intersecting with, this narrative is another about one of the American generals on Anopopei, General Edward Cummings, and his personal assistant, Lieutenant Robert Hearn. Given the mission of clearing out Japanese presence on the island, both these groups are locked in a power struggle with their enemies.
Oddly enough, this national power struggle, this war, serves primarily as a background to the power struggles among the men themselves. As Stanley T. Gutman states, “all the characters in the novel are affected by the tensions that arise when some men seek to control others” (4). In the IR platoon, a constant struggle of individual wills and a persistent fight for the ability to control one’s own destiny frequently place the men at odds with each other. Sergeant Croft and Red Valsen, in particular, have difficulties accepting the hierarchical balance of power. In the higher echelons of the military machine, the fight for individual dominance plays out between Lieutenant Hearn and General Cummings. Although Hearn and Cummings are locked in an individual power struggle similar to those in the IR platoon, their debates serve as microcosms for a much larger conflict—humanity’s attempt to control its future and, therefore, the fate of the world.
Within the IR platoon, where the assertions of power remain on the individual level, two men represent Mailer’s depiction of man-to-man confrontations. Although each enlisted man feels a certain dislike for his commanding officer, no man displays this aversion more than Red Valsen. Born and raised in a Montana mining community, Red enlists in the army to get away from his life as a hobo back home. Although he is a good soldier, Red frequently butts heads with his commanding officer, Sergeant Croft. Most of these affirmations of individual control are harmless. After Hennessey, a member of IR platoon, is killed during the beach landing, Croft orders his men to stay put. Red, in his urgent desire to get away from the site of the young soldier’s death, disobeys (Mailer 39). No one is put in danger by Red’s actions and Croft lets the insubordination slide. In this instance, the assertion of individual will is harmless.
Later in the story, as the platoon attempts to climb treacherous Mount Anaka, Red’s refusal to follow orders is not as passive. Scaling Mount Anaka is a difficult task, and two men have already lost their lives to the mountain. Voicing the opinion of his fellow soldiers, Red refuses to follow Croft any further. In the climax of the theme of individual power struggles, Croft threatens to shoot Red and any anyone else if they do not obey orders. Unlike in previous cases, such as the beach landing, Red is not casually disobeying an order—he is firmly standing up for his own individual desires. On the beach landing, Red simply did the opposite of what Croft ordered. No challenge of power was issued; Croft did not feel as if his authority was at risk. At the foot of Mount Anaka, however, the challenge is clear. Red feels as if Croft must be removed from power—his own will must now be superior to Croft’s.
But Red does not win this challenge. With heartlessness that shocks his men, Croft threatens to kill Red to maintain his own power. This platoon has been through thick and thin together, but no amount of brotherhood negates the threat to Croft’s loss of authority. Strictly speaking, Red and the rest of the platoon are guilty of insubordination, a crime punishable by death in the military. But such a law would not be necessary if it were not man’s nature to fear the loss of his individual power. Croft is the only man in the platoon who wishes to continue on; the other soldiers desperately want to turn back. But only the opinion—the will—of the commanding officer matters. When Red submits to Croft in order to save his own life, Croft ultimately wins this particular struggle for power.
Prior to this climactic scene, Croft orchestrates victory in another power struggle with Lieutenant Hearn. General Cummings, after having his authority challenged by the upstart Hearn—another smaller example of the confrontation of individual wills—transfers the strong-willed Lieutenant to the IR platoon—where the likelihood of his death is much higher. Thus, due to his superior rank, Lieutenant Hearn assumes command of IR platoon, usurping Sergeant Croft’s power. Tensions rise. Croft, accustomed to giving orders but not following them, struggles to adapt to his new position. For once, someone else’s will is superior to his. He must learn to subjugate his desires to those of Hearn.
While he apparently acquiesces, Croft plans out Hearn’s death. Along with the platoon scout Martinez, Croft feeds Hearn misinformation, lying about the location of Japanese troops and putting Hearn in a deadly situation. Although Croft himself does not pull the trigger—Hearn is shot by a Japanese soldier—there is little doubt that Hearn’s death was Croft’s desire; he could, in a grotesque way, be considered lucky. Unlike Red, Croft wins his first battle for individual power. With Lieutenant Hearn, the man who had appropriated his power, out of the way, Sergeant Croft is free to return to his position of control.
These two violent examples bring to light a key issue in the struggle for individual power, one Mailer dramatizes repeatedly throughout the novel. How far should the struggle go? At what point should individual will take a back seat to something else? Red, for instance, has no qualms with simply disobeying an order. But he is not, as evidenced in his confrontation with Croft, willing to die for the sake of individual power. Logically, this is a prudent decision. If Red had been shot, he would not have gained any more power; he would just be dead. Does survival, therefore, always come before assertion of individual power? Red realizes that, as he obeys Croft with pain and embarrassment, one’s submission to a greater authority is often necessary to survival.
In his never ending hunger for supremacy, Croft, in contrast, is willing to kill—both indirectly and directly. He feels no guilt over orchestrating Lieutenant Hearn’s death or over threatening the life of Red; these acts were simply necessary steps on the road to gaining and maintaining power. After his victory over Red, Croft exults in his absolute authority over the platoon. The omniscient narrator comments that “everything and everybody had tried to hold him back but there could be nothing left now, no obstacle at all” (Mailer 696).
Individual will and power are concepts central to the American viewpoint. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are fundamental rights written into the founding code of our nation and government. But, as Mailer asked in The Naked and the Dead over sixty years ago, how far can this individual power go? Do modern Americans, like Red, realize that submission to greater authority is often necessary for their survival and safety? Or do they, like Croft, cling to their own control so tightly that they would do practically anything to keep it?
By juxtaposing Red and Sergeant Croft, Mailer suggests the responses of these characters are the only ones available to people whose individual authority is being challenged. One must, by definition, either eventually give in (as Red does before Croft’s gun) or never give in. The line between acceptable compromise and infringement of rights may vary from person to person, as evidenced in the modern day by the various reactions to the Patriot Act, but the options are clear. Fight and do whatever one can to keep your own control, or surrender and compromise with the person or organization usurping one’s freedom of choice. The ultimate question, therefore, is which is more important – survival and safety or absolute freedom and personal control?
By the end of his novel, Mailer appears to say that the answer to this question, which differs from person to person, is irrelevant. In The Naked and the Dead, every individual character’s struggle for power is ultimately useless. Every man of the IR platoon, including and perhaps most especially Red, is subjugated under Sergeant Croft. Lieutenant Hearn is overpowered by both General Cummings and Sergeant Croft. Even Croft, the only soldier never to have his will dominated by another man, is finally defeated by Mount Anaka. He desires to conquer the ancient and powerful icon—the only thing on the island he has not overcome—but fails. Similarly, all of General Cummings’s quests for control over the Japanese are pointless. Hunger and starvation prove more effective than all of Cummings’s attacks and weaken the Japanese to the point of defeat. All of humanity’s feeble power struggles, Mailer posits, are belittled by the overwhelming might of natural processes. What significance, then, does individual will truly have?
As if to emphasize this denigration of individual rights, Mailer’s second examination of power struggles focuses on the national and political stage. General Cummings and Lieutenant Hearn initially engage in gentlemanly discussions of politics and philosophy, but these conversations quickly degenerate into another individual struggle of wills. Mailer uses the two character to personify the opposing ends of the political spectrum—fascism and socialism. Safe and comfortable in the General’s tent, the two men debate politics—a topic no doubt on every officer’s mind in the height of World War II. General Cummings, claiming that fascism simply started in the wrong country, believes “You’re a fool if you don’t realize this is going to be the reactionary’s century, perhaps their thousand-year reign. It’s the one thing Hitler said which wasn’t completely hysterical” (Mailer 85). Advocating further and more extensive consolidation of power—eventually leading to a fascist system—Cummings completely ignores the rights of individuals to self-autonomy and adheres only to the idea of the elite—the government, the militarily strong—having any power or choice.
Lieutenant Hearn, in stark contrast, leans toward the political left, supporting equality among all peoples and passive resistance similar to Gandhi’s (Mailer 320). Throughout all of these debates with Cummings, Hearn is frequently unable to defend his views, realistically claiming at one point “until you show me some other ideas to replace it [his political view], I’ll hold on to this one” (320). Through the views and debates of these two characters, Mailer puts forth that even the idea of fascism and consolidation of power is more in line with human nature; sharing control is not what human beings are wired to do. The struggle, although ultimately futile, will continue.
The lengthy debates between General Cummings and Lieutenant Hearn provide enough philosophical food for thought to inspire dozens of essays, but one statement of Cummings’s is particularly significant to the discussion of individual control. “For the past century,” he says, “the entire historical process has been working toward greater and greater consolidation of power” (Mailer 321). Here, Mailer displays the seemingly inevitable global implications of the individual power struggle seen in the IR platoon. If the entire historical process, the accumulative result of all of humanity’s choices and actions, has led to and continues to lead to greater consolidation of power, what can individuals do to stop it? What can the Reds of the world do to stop the world’s Crofts?
In today’s world, where nations grow stronger and more distinct and individual control may be slowly being exchanged for guarantees of “safety” and “national security,” Cummings’s comment hits home. Greater consolidation of power, in the end, would mean all individual power would be appropriated by the elite few. In Cummings’s mind, these elite are most likely the government or the military. Such a concept is not alien to the modern American subconscious. Even in our recent history, such as during the Red Scare of the 1950’s, civil and personal liberties of the many have been suspended by the few. Further consolidation of power leads to less individual control.
Mailer’s novel, therefore, is an examination of individual power in historical context. As Philip H. Bufithis states, “Mailer refuses to allow the reader to imagine . . . a character . . . has control over the historical moment in which he finds himself” (280). Individual will is dwarfed by what Cummings refers to as “the historical process.” Although Mailer uses the backdrop of war, an extreme situation where extreme philosophies can be examined, to study the multileveled struggle for power, his implications go far beyond this setting. Mailer “intended it [The Naked and the Dead] to be a parable about the movement of man through history” (Ross 2). It is, therefore, an examination of humanity as a whole. And what humanity desires is power. But that desire, that unending struggle, is ultimately futile. Natural and historical processes have more control over humanity’s future than any one individual could ever hope to overcome.
In his 1972 article, Randall H. Waldron proposes that “the principal burden of the novel [The Naked and the Dead] is to explore the condition of man struggling against the depersonalizing forces of modern society: the forces of ‘the machine’” (273). This essay, in contrast, focuses on loss of individuality caused by natural and historical processes, not only modern society. Both viewpoints are valid, but the significance of the time difference between the penning of Waldron’s article and that of this essay must be noted. In the thirty-seven years between pieces, American society has changed. Societal trends of the 1970s such as resisting “the machine,” or the effects of the increasing mechanization of society, have faded away and been replaced with new preoccupations. In the increasingly interdependent culture of the twenty-first century, individuals have come to see themselves as part of something larger—as part of the natural and historical forces that manipulate Mailer’s characters.
It is a mark of a genuine classic to have a multiplicity of interpretations of the work’s theme and meaning. Mailer’s novel clearly fits this category—the significance of The Naked and the Dead will no doubt continue to change and expand as it has done since it was published sixty-one years ago. But from a twenty-first century point of view, the true power lies in the hands of nature and history. To struggle against such things is futile.
Mailer’s title sums up his bleak view of humanity’s choices. To be naked, to be exposed, to be vulnerable is to surrender some, if not all, of one’s individual control. It is to intentionally make something or someone more powerful than one’s self. The only other option is to be dead—to fight so hard to maintain one’s individual control that it costs one’s life. Either way, the struggle to control one’s life, to choose one’s own destiny, is lost. What then, is the American proclamation of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness founded on? It is not human nature; we do not like to share our individual control. It is not an historical guarantee; control has only been consolidated throughout the ages, further diminishing individual power. We must therefore ask ourselves—are the core values of self-determination so vital to American philosophy founded on nothing more than unrealistic and naïve ideals?
Mailer’s message is not an optimistic one. Individual control and rights, the very core of American society, is an illusion. To struggle for power is human nature, yet to struggle for power is ultimately useless. Men from every walk of life, every rank and background attempt the struggle in the pages of The Naked and the Dead, and all fail. Mailer offers no solution; perhaps there is no solution. Despite humanity’s desire to control their lives, to have that guarantee of individual rights, there is no control. Humanity may attempt to control destiny, but, as General Cummings suggests, it is really destiny that is controlling humanity.
ENGL 232, -- Chelsea Kiracofe, "A Well Kept Secret: 'A Glimpse of Freedom' Or White Heron: The Uncaptured Freedom of Sylvia"
Sarah Orne Jewett’s story “A White Heron” is a bewildering story of a young girl’s desperation for freedom and admirable loyalty to a bird that represents everything that she wants to be, free. Sadly, throughout the story it seems as if she is being kept from this freedom, because nature is calling her to stay at the farm. All throughout the short story, there are many references to the sea and the white heron which are symbols to represent the freedom that the little girl has been subjected to, but never reaches.
Sylvia, the little girl, grew up in the hustle and bustle of a noisy city, but has spent a year so far of solitude in the woods and her only human interaction is with her grandmother. Sylvia’s life in the city prior to moving out into the woods is unknown, but Jewett lets the readers know: “but, as for Sylvia herself, it seemed as if she never had been alive at all before she came to live at the farm.” This shows that this little girl feels very much in her own element away from the busyness of the city. Sylvia is very much in touch with the “nature” setting she’s been put in, and most of her friends are the critters she discovers during her travels along the familiar paths. Her grandmother, Mrs. Tilley, states that she knows the woods and animals very well and has a special bond with them: “There ain’t a foot o’ ground she don’t know her way over, and the wild creaturs counts her one o’ themselves. Squer’ls she’ll tame to come an’ feed right out o’ her hands, and all sorts o’ birds.” In other words the grandmother is saying that she knows just about every creature in their neck of the woods, and shares a special connection which ties them together. The fact that Sylvia is very aware of her surroundings is of extreme importance when it comes time for the stranger to enter the story.
Once the stranger appears into Sylvia’s life she goes through a series of emotions. His appearance brings about a feeling in Sylvia that she’s never experienced before which causes her to grow more aware of her possibilities in life. The stranger opens Sylvia’s eyes to all of the potential options he could hold in store for her. He tells her that he is hunting for birds and then Mrs. Tilley informs him that Sylvia knows the whereabouts of every animal in the woods. So the stranger then directs his attention to Sylvia for help, but doesn’t exactly get what he had hoped for. Jewett adds, “The little white heron, it is, and he turned again to look at Sylvia with the hope of discovering that the rare bird was one of her acquaintances.” Unfortunately for the stranger, the heron is Sylvia’s glimpse of hope for freedom, but yet it is also unknown to the stranger that he sheds a new light on her life as well. She knows where the bird can be found, but doesn’t want to reveal that secret because she believes that this amazing creature is entitled to its own sense of freedom. She doesn’t want this bird that in her eyes represents everything she dreams of to be stuffed and made someone’s prized possession to be placed above their fireplace; she wants the heron to live.
The sea in Sylvia’s eyes is never-ending, just like the possibilities of what is out there for her in the “real world.” The possibilities for her are endless, yet she feels as if she may not ever get to experience them. The stranger acts as a catalyst for her new sense of possibilities because he’s a new element into her familiar and untainted surroundings. Sylvia catching a glimpse of the sea could be interpreted as Sylvia glimpsing her life with the stranger. Yet she chooses to return back to her normal life and not take a life with the stranger into consideration. She has already explored all of her surroundings, and is desperately trying to discover more about life and trying to break away from her tired out routine around the farm. The author illustrates the locations of the sea, “Not far beyond were the salt marshes just this side of the sea itself, which Sylvia wondered and dreamed much about, but never had seen, whose great voice could sometimes be heard above the noise of the woods on stormy nights.” So Sylvia can hear the noises of the sea, but cannot actually witness its never-ending glory, because according to her, you have to climb the tallest pine tree in order to view this unobserved site. She also knew that at this particular site, you could find the mysterious white heron. Jewett writes about the enthusiasm of the child, “Now she thought of the tree with new excitement, for why, if one climbed it at break of day could not one see all the world, and easily discover from whence the white heron flew, and mark the place, and find the hidden nest.” This information produced great excitement within the curious child. It was yet another adventure for her to embark upon, but one that would have a immense impact upon her.
The thrill of the adventure was almost too much to bear for the young girl. She knew that she was getting ready to fulfill one of her dreams once she started climbing up on that tall pine tree. The author paints the picture of the child climbing the tree, “There was the huge tree asleep yet in the paling moonlight, and small and silly Sylvia began with the utmost bravery to mount to the top of it, with tingling, eager blood coursing the channels of her whole frame, with bare feet and fingers, that pinched and held like bird’s claws to the monstrous ladder reaching up, up, almost to the sky itself.” The action of climbing up the tree is a symbol of Sylvia climbing for freedom. By her climbing the tree, she knows that she will be able to see the endless sea that she has dreamed about, which in a sense gives her a feeling of freedom. It isn’t easy for the little girl to climb the tree, she runs into several difficulties upon her excursion. This could be seen as a metaphor for the difficulty Sylvia faces of getting away, because this task wouldn’t be easy, and sometimes you have to get through some tough obstacles in order to achieve your own personal freedom. Sylvia is doing this in her own personal way by climbing the tree branches to reach the top and view the ocean. Jewett illustrates Sylvia’s moment of triumph, “Sylvia’s face was like a pale star, if one had seen it from the ground, when the last thorny bough was past, and she stood trembling and tired but wholly triumphant, high in the tree-top.” Once Sylvia had reached the top of the tree, she was able to see what she had been dreaming about and hearing some nights in the still of the woods.
After viewing the magnificent sight of the sea, and the freedom of the white heron to fly through the skies and venture where it pleases, Sylvia just could not take that away from the bird. There was an understanding within her that made Sylvia feel as if revealing the bird’s whereabouts would somehow kill the white heron. The writer claims, “She remembers how the white heron came flying through the golden air and how they watched the sea and the morning together, and Sylvia cannot speak; she cannot tell the heron’s secret and give its life away.”
A recurring theme that can be found in American Literature is the desire to achieve freedom. There are different variations of achieving freedom, but they are all different personal freedoms trying to be reached. There are several stories that we have read this semester that relate to a child trying to achieve their own sense of freedom in their own way. Sylvia for instance is trying to escape becoming the “typical” woman who lives on a farm. She doesn’t want to be stuck with the cleaning, cooking, and taking care of others, tending to the farm and animals, which would be expected of her. She feels as if life has more opportunities to offer her, and she believes this because in her mind, the sea is a symbol of never-ending possibilities. She wants to break away from the norm of your typical woman on a farm, she doesn’t want to be tied down with all of that, and believes that there is more out there. Another example is Huckleberry Finn in Mark Twain’s Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. In the end of the novel, once Huck returns home after his life of independence, the Widow Douglas tries to civilize him. So after spending a lot of time doing what he wanted on the river, and making his own rules, he returns and all the sudden rules are being placed upon him and expectations are being raised upon him about his behavior. After living in an uncivilized manner, the Widow Douglas is attempting to transform him back into being a civilized young boy. In regards to Huck Finn, his freedom is being taken away from him because he has to answer to someone else other than himself, therefore, setting in a desire for freedom. Huck had the dream of traveling out west, but the Widow Douglas didn’t approve of that at such a young age. There is an evident gender difference between these characters. Since Huck is a boy, his dreams of going out west can become a reality, but because Sylvia is a girl, she cannot escape from the farm, it’s her duty to stay and run things with her grandmother. There is a clear double standard issue when it comes to these two young characters.
Another example of this desire of freedom is the little boy Sarty Snopes in William Faulkner’s short story “Barn Burning”. The little boy is trying to escape from his pap that treats him terribly. At the end of the story Sarty is left with no parental figures, so there is nothing holding him back from following all of the possibilities out there. At the end of the story after discovering his father’s death and the barn burnt to the ground, Sarty started walking, he didn’t know where, but just had to get away from it. He saw the sun as a new day, a new beginning for him. So also like Huck Finn, Sarty Snopes had the opportunity to leave and discover all the possibilities waiting for him with no strings attached and no reason to look back. Unlike Sylvia, he was given the option to leave his current surroundings and do whatever he pleased with his life.
This recurring theme of a longing for freedom occurs in many works of American Literature. It seems to be a problem that many characters deal with internally, though they all struggle with it in a different way. Sylvia wasn’t given an option to pursue her possibilities of freedom, Huck Finn could have left the Widow’s and pursued his dream of traveling out west, and Sarty had no choice but to leave. They all have the desire to leave, but only the boys have the actual chance of leaving because they are boys, and Sylvia is doing what is expected of her and staying at the farm.
Heather Wilson, "Not Fitting In: The Difference between Dating Practices of Europe and America in the 19th Century"
Most fathers wish they could keep a shot-gun by the door when their teenage daughter reaches the age of dating. The protection of young girls as they approach the dating age remains a relatively universal idea. However, dating practices vary by time and location. In 19th century Europe, Daisy Miller experiences these changes as she defies the social standards of dating in the short story “Daisy Miller,” by Henry James. Her American attitude towards dating challenges the traditional European courtship observed by Winterbourne. Through this, James demonstrates that the American customs of dating contrast greatly with the expectations of courting in Europe in the 19th Century.
A common idea that governs the role of males in a dating relationship is that men pursue the woman whom they choose. In Europe, the male properly pursued a young woman through the means of visiting the girl at her parents’ house or meeting her at social callings. The young woman of the best breeding waited for a male’s invitation instead of being as forward as Daisy Miller is in her meeting with Winterbourne. James stresses her unconventional reactions to Winterbourne’s invitation to visit the old castle in his company. Due to the fact that “she didn’t rise, blushing, as a young girl at Geneva would have done,” Daisy Miller displays no concern or awareness of Winterbourne’s boldness (140). To show respect, Winterbourne extends the invitation to her mother as well. As a result of the American culture that Daisy grows up, she overlooks both Winterbourne’s boldness and good manners. American girls experienced more freedom with males than their English counterparts. Winterbourne’s action neither offends nor concerns her because women received more liberty in choosing their mates in the United States. The class system and the emphasis on nobility in Europe restricted girls to actively seek relationships with males because of the importance of marrying for money over personal affection. As such, the elite society in which Daisy meets, believes that Daisy violates her responsibility as a young woman of high class.
Another issue that Daisy encounters in her stay with the European aristocracy is the issue of multiple male friends. Because of her informal relationship with Eugenio, her courier, many of her old money acquaintances insinuate their suspicion that Daisy is bad news. To make their claims even more justifiable, Daisy’s relationship with Mr.Giovanelli suggest that she is flirtatious. In the old European culture, this meant that Daisy’s reputation among high society suffers. Mrs. Walker tells Winterbourne all the offenses of dating that Daisy violates. She accuses her of “flirting with any man she could pick up; sitting in corners with mysterious Italians; dancing all the evening with the same partners; receiving visits at eleven o’clock at night” (160). In essence, Mrs. Walker provides insight on the culture mores of courtship in Europe. Most importantly, as Daisy encourages these advances by males, Mrs. Walker loses more and more respect for her as a possible match for Winterbourne.
The 19th century American definition of flirting contrasted greatly with the old European ideas of displaying affection. In Europe, for two individuals to show much interest in each other, suggested that the relationship will end in an engagement. In the United States, Daisy enjoys friendships with multiple men without these constraints. Also, dancing in Europe implies a more meaningful relationship than in America where dancing is viewed as a social event. Daisy motives for her sudden interest in Mr. Giovanelli derive from her desire to build friendship with males instead of committing to marriage.
The main culture conflict that influences Winterbourne’s disapproval of Daisy’s behavior is when Daisy walks alone with Mr. Giovanelli. Earlier, Daisy takes day time strolls with Mr.Giovanelli, which angers Mrs. Walker who reveals more European rules of dating practices. When Winterbourne confronts Daisy about walking with Mr. Giovanelli alone to save her from Mrs. Walker’s condemnation, she takes his warning as ludicrous. He explains that it hurts her reputation because she is alone with a man whom she is not betrothed. She replies that even though others may not accept her actions, she will continue to be her own free-spirited self (160). Traditionally, reputation and status in America is not as crucial as in Europe. Due to this, Daisy does not understand the status system in Europe and therefore defies this strongly stressed cultural value.
Later she uses Winterbourne’s concerns for her reputation as acts of jealousy. As such, instead of being frank with him about her not being engaged she plays with his heart. In her background, women desire to be the object of the man’s affection. Her attitude towards Mr. Giovanelli does not only suggest companionship, but her strategy to get Winterbourne’s attention. European women used respect and patience in courtships, while many American girls attracted men by being mysterious and assertive.
The nighttime stroll with Mr. Giovanelli proves to be the most critical social violation that Daisy committed. Again, her motives for being alone with a man at night are not about engagement or marriage. Instead, her fascination with adventure or her ignorance of the possible dangers that night possesses leads her to join Mr. Giovanelli, going against the accepted practices. Either she has no fear of contacting the “love fever” from mosquitoes, which are more numerous at night, or she has not acquired the knowledge about this risk in which is an understanding of European girls. Even still, Daisy contacts the “love fever” which leaves her in a tragic situation. Her attitudes of adventure suggest the American culture value of risk taking. Due to the movement into the frontier, the unknown, Americans throughout history received a reputation as being courageous. If courage drives Daisy to leave the safety of the indoors, then she most definitely receives this attitude from her origins in America, where bravery is not viewed as carelessness. In Europe, Daisy free-spirited attitude contradicts the accepted value of women being practical and cautious when it comes to adventure.
Overall, the independency that Daisy possesses drives her to break these dating rules. Americans by nature displayed more independence then their European brothers. Women in relationships in America experienced more liberty to be themselves, which is unlike the standards set in Europe. This culture difference is expressed through Daisy comment after Winterbourne shows concern about Daisy’s sudden interest in a man she hardly knows. Winterbourne fears that Daisy will be driven against her will to participate in inexcusable activities. His idea is to protect Daisy from the evils of man. However, Daisy responds with “I have never allowed a man to dictate to me or to interfere with anything I do” (157). Like many American women, Daisy expresses her independency and her capability to defend herself. In Europe, women heavily depended on men to define their social status and protect them from the harshness of reality because of the belief that women were delicate and easily persuaded. In America, women, for the most part, sought a husband out of companionship instead of necessity or security.
The European woman verses the American woman reaches its climax in Henry James’ short story “Daisy Miller,” as the main character contradicts the social norms of courtship and dating in Europe. In essence, Daisy represents an independent, free-spirited women living in a European class-driven society in which she does not belong. As such, her adventurous nature, forwardness, and autonomy challenge the accepted social practices in Europe. Ultimately, Daisy does not belong in the in this 19th century European world of old money.
ENGL 431, American Women's Literature -- Heather Adams, "The Male Response to the Motherhood of Herland"
Written in 1915, Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s Herland is a utopian novel that theorizes the ways in which a society could develop without the black cloud of male dominance. Gilman identifies and satirically illustrates the different natures of men and women in a narrative that begins when three male American explorers stumble into Herland, an isolated, yet highly developed country inhabited only by women. The story is told through the writings of one of those male explorers, a sociologist who, in his mind, attempts to be as objective as possible in his observations. The irony of this “objectivity” however, is that he does not recognize that the ideals of his dominant American culture are not universal. Gilman’s use of this male narrator further emphasizes the social perceptions and expectations of women in a male-dominated society, as well as the ways in which the men respond to the communal nature of motherhood in Herland.
Herland’s advanced society immediately impresses the male explorers; however they are shocked to discover a complete absence of men. The men expect to find a group of savage women, operating under a social hierarchy, with heightened “feminine” characteristics as a result of their savage nature and the lack of male suppression. However, the men find something quite different: “a band of women standing close together in even order . . . They were not young. They were not old. They were not, in the girl sense, beautiful. They were not in the least ferocious . . . calm, grave, wise, wholly unafraid, evidently assured and determined” (Gilman 25). The Herlandian women shock the men with their pure, clean, and quiet land, lack of overtly “feminine” characteristics (as per dominant standards) and their extraordinarily communal nature—the men later discover that no task is undertaken alone, even child-rearing. Hausman states, “Herlanders are without most of the characteristics of women in the rest of the world—in Gilman’s language, we would say that they are without ‘sex-distinction.’ Their distinguishing characteristic is a pronounced communal, not familial, maternalism” (496). There is no family structure because there is no patriarchy and therefore, no competition—only a society of mothers desiring to care for all children.
The three men are taken aback by what they consider to be major differences in the women of Herland and the women of America. They cannot understand why the women operate as a single being, why they complete every task from the building of roads to the pruning of a garden together; they cannot fathom why there are not “typical” families within their society, nor why the women are so peaceable, and they surely cannot understand why the women are purely content while living in a world that is void of men. The men perceive this lack of “feminine” qualities as a problem that needs to be corrected, and set out to “educate” the women in the ways of the “superior” American society. Hausman states, “The men who come to Herland believe that the ‘sex-distinction’ common in white Victorian society is universal. They believe in the very ‘feminine nature’ that Gilman found so destructive, and they believe that they can make the women express their latent ‘feminine nature’”(500).
Entrenched in their own hopes for the women, the men are thoroughly unprepared for the realization that the communal, non-competitive culture of Herland does not stem from a lack of anything—it stems only from a spirit of cooperation and subsequent achievement the likes of which the dominant world has never encountered. Weinbaum states, “In the captivity narrative that unfolds they [the men] gradually acquire the Herlandian language; accumulate knowledge of customs, government, and industry; and discover, through careful comparison, just how superior to their own land is this nation of mothers” (283). The men do recognize the significant achievements of this pure, peaceful, advanced society; however, acceptance is slow in coming. Whether a result of sheer stubbornness or the simple inability to break free from the mindset of dominant American ideals, all three men find themselves challenging any aspect of Herland that does not adhere to their dominant standards for women. They view the women’s communal motherhood, lack of sexual distinction, and sober personalities as “unnatural.”
One of the most effective, yet subtle ways in which Gilman portrays the male-dominated perceptions and expectations of women is through the questions that the women of Herland ask the men. The women discover the concept of the female virgin, and how highly she is regarded by American society, only to be told that it is not socially acceptable for the label “virgin” to be applied to a man—illustrating that a man takes pride in his sexual conquests, not his purity. A little later, the women discover that it is considered a sign of social status and beauty for a woman to wear feathers in her hats, yet when they inquire as to whether or not this is a male tradition, they are told again that it is socially unacceptable for men to follow the female standard. Through this series of questions and answers between the woman of Herland and the American men, Gilman is able to draw attention to the many double standards that exist between men and women in a male-dominated society. Perhaps the most significant of these discussions concerns the domestication of dogs in American culture. One of the men attempts to explain, “Because they love it [the dog] so much—especially men. This animal is kept shut up, or chained” (Gilman 45). When the women still appear to be confused, the narrator adds, “A valuable dog would be stolen if he was let loose . . . We put collars on them, with the owner's name, in case they do stray” (Gilman 46). Through these statements, Gilman is also emphasizing (though subtly,) that this is the way in which American women are treated also.
The American women in the early twentieth century, when Gilman was writing Herland, operated solely within the domestic sphere. They were not allowed to pass into the public sphere, for the sake of their “protection” by their husbands and fathers. If a woman were to leave the realm of her domestic duties and venture out into the world of men, her innocence and domestic purity would surely be shattered. Therefore, the men could keep their wives and daughters confined to the home for the sake of her “protection,” thinking themselves the guardians of the women. The three male explorers come to Herland with this attitude engrained into their consciousness; however, the strength and independent nature of the women of Herland shock the men. Singer-Wilson states, “The masculine characteristics their society has taught them [the men] to value, such as strength and protectiveness, do not bear any weight with the wise, strong, and sweet women of Herland” (Singer-Wilson). The women of Herland know no such threat and therefore no such “protection” as the women in America. The women of Herland are completely self-sufficient and have achieved that state quite on their own, without the aid of any man. They know not what comprises a domestic sphere, for their entire land is their home and every child is their child. Golden states, “Gilman's vision of motherhood . . . broadened the cult of domesticity to give women opportunities to move their maternal capacities and piety outside the home” (138).
Further on, when the men begin to learn more of the society of Herland and its collective motherhood, they become altogether uncomfortable with the ways in which the children are raised, with no sense of personal possession or pride. The men come from the dominant American society in which every family is a separate unit within the broader society, governed in a patriarchal nature by the “head of the household.” From this viewpoint, the men fail to understand that this collective familial nature is the very thing which gives the women of Herland a sense of pride. Weinbaum states, “The "pure" national genealogy and the unpolluted pedigree of each citizen render genetic filiation [relationship of child to parent] the dominant ideology in Herland. Herlanders are of ‘one family’ descended from ‘one mother,’ and thus the nationalist glue that binds them is their actual kinship” (284). Because the women were content to share in the responsibilities of childrearing and put all the effort of their entire society into their children, they were deemed “unnatural.” Here, Gilman is drawing a contrast between a mothering, child-focused society and a male-dominated society in which the personal gain of the men is the main focus. Men view their families as products of their hard work, and they do not want to share that ownership with anyone, whereas women prefer to work cooperatively when raising children. Golden states, “Gilman sees the mother's function as social, universal, and necessary to raise a new generation in which virtually everyone lives together democratically and cooperatively” (137).
Mothering is the passion of the women of Herland, for it permeates every part of their lives. One of the women describes the beginnings of Herland, in which the women were physically separated from the men, who were away at war when a volcanic eruption destroyed the only route back home:
For five or ten years [after separation from the men] they [the women] worked together, growing stronger and wiser and more and more mutually attached, and then the miracle happened—one of these young women bore a child. Of course they all thought there must be a man somewhere, but none was found. Then they decided it must be a direct gift from the gods, and placed the proud mother in the Temple of Maaia—their Goddess of Motherhood—under strict watch. And there, as years passed, this wonder-woman bore child after child, five of them—all girls . . . As fast as they reached the age of twenty-five they began bearing. Each of them, like her mother, bore five daughters. Presently there were twenty-five New Women, Mothers in their own right, and the whole spirit of the country changed from mourning and mere courageous resignation to proud joy. (Gilman 64-65)
The women recognize that their entire existence is a product of divine motherhood that began with one and was passed on to all and that the continuance of their society rests safely in their love of the children. They have a continuous desire to make their world better for the next generation, as their entire existence revolves around the birth of that generation. Hudak states, “They look to reproduction and mothering with near-religious fervor” (458). Motherhood is everything that they have been, are, and hope to become, and above all else, the women of Herland will work to preserve this, their most sacred institution.
Gilman portrays the metaphysical nature of women that cannot be captured with words in her description of the religion of the women of Herland. Religion for the women isn’t just going to a place of worship once a week; it is everything that they do and everything that they are, and the men are amazed by this. The narrator exclaims, “It is beautiful! It is the most practical, comforting, progressive religion I ever heard of. You do love one another – you do bear one another’s burdens – you do realize that a little child is a type of the kingdom of heaven. You are more Christian than any people I ever saw” (Gilman 98). The women of Herland do not separate their religion with the tasks of their everyday lives (the nurture of the land and the love and care of the children,) rather, they combine the two into a single state of being.
It is important to note that although the women of this fabled land and the men who stumble upon it are products of two very different cultures, they are all still human beings and do in fact share the basic tenants of humanity. Hudak states:
Gilman’s narrative does not entirely deny that the women of Herland are different from the men. It suggests, however, that the explorers’ hyper-masculinity conceals their “human” qualities, and that if the over-sexing of man and women were to disappear, everyone would resemble the Herlanders: a perfect blend of intellect and emotion, strength and sensitivity, maternal love and social duty. (463)
In a world without dominance, the two groups might have never suspected the other of being different from themselves. There would be no “Other.” Men and women would exist in a state of equality and both groups would value and adhere to the same principles. Every action taken would be backed by a sense of community and would benefit all people.
The men had come to Herland with definite preconceptions of what the women would be like; however the images that they left with were somewhat different. The narrator muses:
We had expected a dull submissive monotony, and found a daring social inventiveness far beyond our own . . . . We had expected pettiness, and found a social consciousness beside which our nations looked like quarreling children – feebleminded ones at that. We had expected jealousy, and found a broad sisterly affection, a fair-minded intelligence, to which we could produce no parallel. We had expected hysteria, and found a standard of health and vigor, a calmness of temper, to which the habit of profanity, for instance, was impossible to explain – we tried it. (Gilman 69)
The men’s original expectations of the women of Herland are a result of their dominant Victorian ideals of women, but through their encounters with the women, they are forced to acknowledge that women are a product of the society in which they are nurtured; and these women have forged success in the absence of men. Hudak states, “The women, of course, defy all of the men’s expectations as they prove themselves to be subjects, not objects” (461).
Through the final realizations of the men, Gilman is able to illustrate more fully than at any other point in the text how much potential is lying within women, and what could become of our society if women, rather than suppress their true selves, were only encouraged to embrace and make use to the fullest extent their strengths, their creativity, and their passions. Furthermore, our society could advance exponentially if men adopted some of the values of the wise women of Herland. Think of it: a world in which cooperation, not competition held the keys for success; a world clean and efficient in the greatest sense of the words, for anything less would be unthinkable; a world in which there was no dominance and no subjectivity, where men and women operated as equals, working toward a common goal: the betterment of the world around them for the sake of their children and their children’s children; a world in which spirituality was found in life itself and worship, the act of serving others continually. Such is the legacy of Herland.
Anna Bozovich, "Anne Bradstreet and the Wild Zone of Motherhood"
I am obnoxious to each carping tongue
Who says my hand a needle better fits,
A poet’s pen all scorn I should thus wrong,
For such despise they cast on female wits;
If what I do prove well, it won’t advance,
They’ll say it’s stol’n, or else it was by chance. (Prologue 27-32)
These lines of Anne Bradstreet’s “Prologue,” to her book of poetry called The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up In America, were published in 1650 making Bradstreet the first published American poet (Gordon ix). Bradstreet was many things; she was a gentlewoman, a Puritan, a daughter, a wife, and a mother. On top of all these things, Bradstreet was a poet. Bradstreet wrote about many issues of daily life as a Massachusetts’s Bay Colonist. She wrote about sickness, her love for her husband, God, and being a mother. As she writes in her “prologue” however, it is obvious to see that Bradstreet felt that many people thought it was unacceptable for women to be accomplished writers at this time. Many thought women should work at strictly female tasks such as sewing. She knew she could receive much criticism for her writing and yet she wrote anyway. What compelled her to be a poet when she was probably very busy being a frontier woman? Why was it so important that she give a voice to her experiences when others might dismiss her work as stolen or stupid?
Elaine Showalter, a twentieth century feminist critic explains the concept of the “wild zone (Showalter 367).”She says, “Spatially, it stands for an area which is literally no-man’s land, a place forbidden to men. . . . Experientially it stands for the aspects of the female life-style which are outside of and unlike those of men” (367). Because women live and work as a part of a subordinate separate from the dominant culture they have experiences that cannot be explained within the context of the dominant culture, i.e. male culture. Therefore, women have to express themselves and their “wild zone” in some other way, through art, through a creative use of language etc. It may not be apparent on the surface, but living as a woman in a Puritan culture, strictly dominated by men, Bradstreet wrote about Elaine Showalter’s “wild zone” (367). One area that Bradstreet writes often about in her poetry is motherhood. Motherhood is a part of the wild zone because men are forbidden by their own anatomy to be mothers and they cannot understand what it is like to carry, deliver, or be the mother of a child. Bradstreet’s “wild zone” writing is evidenced by her three poems “Before the Birth of One of Her Children”, “In Reference to her Children, 23 June, 1656”, and “The Author to Her Book”. These poems center on motherhood, and other areas of Bradstreet’s life as a woman, in a way that, in the words of Showalter, “make[s] the invisible visible. . . make[s] the silent speak.”
Anne Bradstreet did not start out writing from the “wild zone”. Much of the poetry of her earlier years are written about subjects and in styles that are quite masculine. In her book, Bradstreet’s poems are about very traditional subjects, the four humours, elegies to royalty, and other “lofty” subjects. Through her years as a writer her writing became more personal and as she realized that her poetry could spring from her life, that she was a worthy subject and a worthy author, her poetry gained beauty and power. As she began to write for that part of herself that was muted, that was subordinate, and as she gave a voice to many things her contemporaries may have felt was unnecessary to voice she wrote of personal truths. The three poems to be looked at in this paper were written about very personal experiences and from a very personal place and from them we can find her speaking about motherhood and about her, “wild zone” in a way that can be appreciated universally.
In “Before the Birth of One of Her Children” Bradstreet writes a loving farewell to her husband in case she dies while giving birth. This poem is about sorrow that accompanies joy and the inevitable end of all living things. As a Puritan, Bradstreet has a lot of hope in death and belief in eternal life. In some ways this poem is about these claims rather than about fear or worry. When Bradstreet says, in line 10-12, “These farewell lines to recommend to thee, / That when that knot’s untied that made us one, / I may seem thine, who in effect am none (Before 670),” she is saying that does not belong to her husband even though they are one in marriage and no matter how much she loves him because she belongs to no one on earth, but to God alone. In saying that she is God’s and not her husband’s she is making a statement of being a separate entity from her husband. Women of this time were the property of their husband and as that might be remembered after death as a favorite possession is remembered after it is lost or broken. Bradstreet demands more than this. She claims equal citizenship in the kingdom of heaven as her husband and in doing so asks to be remembered as she would remember him if he died. She gives herself to him, instead of him owning her by right, she gives him, “These farewell lines” and in doing so she ties the knot back. She shows through doing this that her love for him is not out of duty or obligation but from personal choice and through romantic love for him.
Bradstreet’s desire is for her husband and children to remember her after she is gone for all the good she did and for the love she and her husband had for each other. In writing this desire she is again giving value to something purely feminine. If women are expected to be good wives and mothers it would been strange to especially remember them for this. Bradstreet is making a claim that these things should not be taken for granted. To have been a good wife and mother is an accomplishment and not something to sneeze at. She is claiming that the culture of women she takes part in, a culture that gets little recognition, has immense value.
Bradstreet expresses the desire to last in their memory even though her body will decay. She also claims eternal life in her writing. In Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18 he says, “So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.” This sentiment of writing causing someone to live forever is hinted at in the last four lines of “Before the Birth of One of Her Children,” when Bradstreet says,
And if chance to thine eyes shall bring this verse,
With some sad sighs honor my absent hearse;
And kiss this paper for thy love’s dear sake,
Who with salt tears this last farewell did take (25-28).
Simon Bradstreet, Anne’s husband, cannot forget her memory as long as her poetry serves as a reminder of her. Bradstreet almost seems to be asking God to keep her alive, and through this she seems to be questioning some Puritan ideals. Puritans believed that marriage ended after death and no one could change that reality. Bradstreet almost seems to be hoping for something different. She is writing about what she is feeling, not what she is supposed to be feeling. She is recognizing that women have a desire to be remembered and she is using her writing, just as a man might except about something only a woman can know, to ensure she is remembered.
The sentiment of love and friendship Bradstreet has for her husband is remarkable. The poem reinforces She says, “How soon, my dear, death may my steps attend, / How soon’t may be thy lot to lose thy friend, / We both are ignorant, yet love bids me / These farewell lines to recommend to thee” (Bradstreet 7-10). She is choosing to love him and not out him out of duty. In making this choice she is writing from herself and writing as a woman with power to love her husband or to not love her husband. Bradstreet obviously does have a deep love for her husband and she continues to show this throughout the poem in describing how badly she wants to be remembered by him after she dies. This does not fall in line with Puritan beliefs which scorned too much grief after a loved one died because it showed an attachment to earthly things rather than to God (Stanford 379-380). Anne Stanford explains that Bradstreet does not take her faith for granted but rather questions it constantly and only after being satisfied with answers she receives is she willing to accept the faith of the puritans. Bradstreet struggled with her faith and through that gained a closer relationship with God. Even when she seems to have accepted many Puritan ideals about God she still has many questions that evidence themselves in her poetry (374). This poem seems to support this conclusion. The men in her Puritan colony were the spiritual leaders and by questioning Puritan beliefs she is questioning the dominant culture. In this too she is stepping out into the “wild zone,” into a tenuous place there are no words for.
The wording Bradstreet uses can seem to have double meanings or ambiguous meanings. Ellen Brandt states, in reference to a few lines from the Bradstreet poem, “Upon the Burning of My House,” it is easily argued, “that Bradstreet is technically an imperfect versifier, and that she quite often employs similar distortions of grammatical structure to meet the exigencies of her metrical and rhyme schemes.” Brandt goes on to explain how it seems that instead of Bradstreet just trying to write in a convoluted way that instead there could be repressed or controlled feelings that go beyond Bradstreet’s surface themes are betrayed in her poetry. There are a lot of double meanings that can be taken in her poems because of her phrasing, the question is whether or not it is intentional or not. Perhaps she is trying to control her belief that her intelligence is equal to that of men or perhaps she is trying to hide a certain erotic element that comes through in her poetry. Ambiguous meanings give Bradstreet an ability to express a side of her “wild zone” that may not be socially acceptable. She allows readers to see what they want to see, while she is fully expressing herself. To give voice to women who are consistently silenced may take some ambiguity in order to be spoken. This is certainly an issue in the poem “Before the Birth of One of Her Children”. When Bradstreet says, “No ties so strong, no friends so dear and sweet, / but with death’s parting blow is sure to meet (Before 3-4),” on the surface she seems to be saying that all will meet death even people who love each other. It could be taken another way however. It could be seen that with the blow of death they will meet, meaning, they will meet once again in heaven. This would be an idea that is not a Puritan one because the Puritan’s believed that marriages ended when someone died (Blackstock). The next line says, “The sentence past is most irrevocable.” Keeping in mind that poetry is meant to be spoken, when you hear this line you would probably think “sentence passed,” like a judgment, but in saying sentence past she is probably referring to the last sentence.
If Bradstreet were not pregnant she would probably not be worried about dying although she was not always in the best of health. When she was a small child she had a serious case of rheumatic fever and came close to death from small pox as a teenager (Martin 15). She had seen a lot of sickness and death. Anne’s father is quoted as saying only a year after their arrival in Massachusetts, “there is not one house where there is not one dead and in some houses many (24).” That being said, the delivery process was a very dangerous endeavor for the women of her time. Bradstreet knew that each child she had brought with it a risk of death. Bradstreet is writing out of knowledge of the cycle of life. She understands that people are born, live and die and there is little certainty in any of these parts of life. She is writing from a purely feminine place.
Ellen Brandt claims that a controlled but ever present sensuality is a very consistent characteristic in much of Bradstreet’s poetry. The way that Bradstreet intertwines death, life, love, God and passion gives this particular poem a strong feeling of eroticism. Audre Lorde, a renowned 20th century poet very interested in the subject of the power the erotic gives women. In her essay, “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power she defines eroticism in this way, “The erotic is a measure between the beginnings of our sense of self and the chaos of our strongest feelings (Lorde 537).” This poem is erotic because it comes out of feelings of fear, confusion, strength, passion, and desire. She is faced with thoughts of her own death, the life of another child, the love for her husband, and the desire to be remembered. Her poem is clearly written from an understanding of the “wild zone” because it is purely feminine. No man can fully understand her feelings of fear of death before giving birth. No man can understand the idea of giving birth at all. By writing about the possibility of her death in childbirth she is giving the experience value. She is making a statement that this is a subject worth writing about. Perhaps it is not about the fear of dying in battle, something masculine and perhaps universally accepted as worthy of literary acknowledgement. She is writing about a woman’s experience, a woman’s fear, and a woman’s desire to be remembered. She is giving a voice to the common, the mundane, and the voiceless. So many women died while giving birth, it was not considered unusual, out of the ordinary, or perhaps even worthy of mentioning. Anne Bradstreet in giving voice to her “wild zone” considers it worthy of mention.
The poem “In Reference to her Children, 23 June, 1656” is about Bradstreet’s eight children. She worries for them, and she knows that she will have to leave them eventually. They are her legacy. Men create legacies through saving. Men save money, land, possessions and when they invest they expect returns. Traditionally, men build buildings and create art that lasts, while women are expected create art that is consumable, food that is eaten, clothes that are worn. Simon Bradstreet moved their family many times while in America in order to acquire more land and enlarge their estates (Martin 24-25). Women like Bradstreet had to give up her legacy in order to have it. If her children could not stand on their own when it was time then her legacy would not be a good one. The last line of the poem shows how much of Bradstreet is defined by her motherhood and her care for her children. She imagines speaking from the grave to say, “I happy am, if well with you” (Bradstreet 94). Even after her death her energy is tied up in the well-being of her children. This poem is representative of the circular thinking of women as opposed to the linear thinking of men. For her, much of life is about having children, helping them grow up, watching them leave, her children having children and her dying. She writes,
When each of you shall in your nest
Among your young ones take your rest,
In chirping language, oft them tell,
You had a dam that loved you well (81-84).
That is not to say that there is not more to her life than that, but her children are obviously her greatest accomplishments. Bradstreet wants to be remembered again for something very marginalized and taken for granted, raising children. She is claiming that raising children is a difficult task and that it is worth being remembered for. Bradstreet writes,
You had a dam that loved you well,
That did what could be done for young,
That nursed you up till you were strong,
And ‘fore she once would let you fly,
She shew’d you joy and misery;
Taught what was good, and what was ill,
What would save life, and what would kill?
Thus gone, amongst you I may live,
And dead, yet speak, and counsel give (84-89).
She obviously feels that the life she lived and the advice she gave was worth remembering (Stanford 381). She wants to be remembered and she is not shy about it, with her husband or her children. She wanted to be remembered as a mother, but by using her poetry to remind others to remember her as a mother is an interesting choice. If she uses her poetry to remind her family of what a dutiful and good woman she was in life, she is simultaneously reminding them that she was also a good poet as well. She says that she has created a legacy in her children that is worthy of remembering while creating art that will last, her poetry. She keeps these two things together in a way that causes them to be unable to be separated. Just as in the lines from her “Prologue” we remember that she is doing something that is unheard of, she is choosing to be both a woman and an artist; a mother and a poet; a conformist and a rebel.
This desire to be remembered for motherhood is something that only women can understand. Bradstreet’s husband was a governor and was often gone leaving Bradstreet to take care of their eight children and the affairs at home by herself, Bradstreet wrote many poems about her husband’s absences during these times (Brandt 47). Simon Bradstreet’s focus in life was most likely on his work, whereas Anne’s was on her cyclical legacy, her children. Bradstreet is writing about what she knows, being a wife and mother, and because she is writing what she knows, she ends up writing about the “wild zone.” She doesn’t tell her children to remember their mother and father and how they took care of them together, only how she has taken care of them. In writing about something that is familiar only to a subculture and not to the dominant culture it is hard to find words.
An interesting feature of this poem is that Bradstreet uses the metaphor of birds leaving the nest for her children growing up. This is very significant because it causes one to wonder if she uses a bird metaphor because she is writing about such a purely feminine subject. She keeps up the bird metaphor fairly well throughout the poem though it is obvious she is writing about herself and her children. Why did she choose to write about herself as a bird? Birds are symbols of beauty and freedom. They are also animals that we can observe being good mothers. They are an interesting choice for Bradstreet because although mother birds take their job very seriously in bringing food to their children, protecting their nest, and pushing their babies out when it is time, they also have art. Birds sing and birds fly. There is more to their life than just being mothers. Bradstreet made a good choice in comparing herself to a mother bird because motherhood defined Bradstreet, in the same breath freedom and art defined her as well.
In the two poems already addressed, it has been made obvious that the typical female roles of wife and mother are very important to Bradstreet. It is also because of the very fact that we have her many poems, including ones about her traditional roles, that we know writing itself is important to Bradstreet. Her poetry is an expression of her womanhood. This is made very clear by the poem, “The Author to Her Book.” Here Bradstreet writes about her experience as an author, appropriately, from the standpoint of a mother. She is writing about the book that was published behind her back by her brother-in-law, John Woodbridge, who entitled the book, The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up in America. In “The Author to Her Book” Bradstreet seems like she is judging her book very harshly. She calls it the, “ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain” (Author 1). She seems very humble about her work and anxious about it being exposed to professional, or just public, criticism. Her humility however, is not without acknowledgement that her work has some merit. She seems more upset that her poems had errors printed than the fact that they were printed (Stanford 378). She writes in lines 10 and 11, that no matter how ashamed she is of her work, she likes it because she wrote it. “Thy visage was so irksome in my sight; / Yet being mine own, at length affection would/ Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:” (Author 10-12). Bradstreet does not necessarily take all the blame for the issues in her book however. She may be recognizing through this poem that the printer made many mistakes in copying her script (Piercy 74). She tried to revise her work but was still unsatisfied.
One interesting aspect of this poem occurs when Bradstreet writes about her book not having a father. She says, “If for thy father asked, say, thou hadst none: / And for thy mother, she alas is poor, / Which caused her thus to send thee out of door” (Author 22-24). It is interesting that Bradstreet writes of her book not having a father. A book would be the only way for a woman to have a child that is solely her own. Although it is arguable that women would have done most of the work in having and raising children men could still get some credit, maybe most of the credit, if a child succeeded in life. A book is something that could be Bradstreet’s alone. She did not have to share the recognition of parenthood with anyone else. In her book not having a father however, her book becomes, “illegitimate.” Living when and where she did Bradstreet had to tread a very thin line in order for her works to not be dismissed as inappropriate, or “illegitimate.” Anne Hopkins, a contemporary of Bradstreet received much criticism about her writing, possibly because it caused her to neglect her housework but most likely because she was a woman writing. John Winthrop wrote a journal entry about Hopkins in 1645 and that she had, “fallen into a sad infirmity, the loss of her understanding and reason, which had been growing upon her divers years, by occasion of her giving herself wholly to reading and writing, and had written many books” (Stanford, 374). He also said that, “If she had attended her house- hold affairs, and such things as belong to women, and not gone out of her way and calling to meddle in such things as are proper for men, whose minds are stronger &c. she had kept her wits, and might have improved them usefully and honourably in the place God had set her” (374).
It seems that it was important to Bradstreet that she be thought of as pious and as a, “good Puritan woman,” but it was also important to Bradstreet that she wrote. In “The Author to Her Book,” Bradstreet is making a statement that her book is like a child to her, and to women of that time, children were what women were expected to find their worth in. She obviously found some worth in having this literary “illegitimate child.” This brings us back to the lines Bradstreet wrote in her Prologue, reproduced at the beginning of this paper. She says she is “obnoxious” to people saying she shouldn’t write, but she should sew instead. She shows frustration that her work will probably not be taken seriously and that if anyone thinks it is good they will probably doubt that she had the ability to write it. It is obvious to see that Bradstreet is fully aware of the criticism she is up against, yet her book took England by storm (Gordon 250).
Perhaps creating art is as close as a man can get to motherhood, the creation of something out of one’s body. Even so, only a woman who has been a mother can truly understand the connection between having a child and creating a piece of artwork out of your body, for example, a book. Her book child grew from her intellect similarly to how her children grew from her body. Just as she would clean one of her children who have come home dirty, she explains how she tried to patch up her book and “blemishes amend” (Author 12). She cared for her book that she considered being ashamed of, but mostly was just scared as most authors are, of criticism. This poem and her book are written from a place that is her own and she wrote them from a desire to write them, not in order to get paid or to become famous but because she wanted to write.
Bradstreet writes what she thinks and feels and knows. Much of that is absolutely female writing. Perhaps it seemed to her this is what she had to write about because other issues were not culturally appropriate for the women of her time but what she writes about is so important. She writes from personal experience and because her experience is essentially feminine she writes as a part of a subculture within the dominant culture. By skillfully writing about her own experiences of being a mother she gives them value. She makes a stand that they are worth writing about. She writes about wanting to be remembered for the wife and mother that she was in a way that acknowledges the difficulties being a wife and mother come with. Her writing has erotic undertones about death, spirituality and desire for her husband. Bradstreet makes it clear she wants to be remembered. Her writing comes from a very personal place that women are rarely allowed or able to give a voice to. Bradstreet was perhaps subversive and rebellious but in doing so was well respected in her community. In writing about such personal feelings and experiences her writing becomes universal and can be appreciated, understood, and empathized with even now. Bradstreet was a woman who wrote about the “wild zone”. She gave motherhood value and consistently reinforced the idea that writing can be “women’s work.”
Carrie Sippy, "Fragmented"
Silences. How often are they noticed? More often than not, they are overlooked as a time in which nothing important happens. Sometimes silences speak louder than the words that surround them. It is often in the silences that meaning is made and thoughts are solidified. Tillie Olsen explores this idea in her book, Silences. However, her writing often jumps from topic to topic and appears to lack a purpose. These techniques are not random or reflection of a lack of thought, but instead are tools Olsen uses to illustrate her point. Very often writers did not choose their silences, and the interruptions that cause their silences are demonstrated throughout Olsen’s work. For Olsen, fragmented lives equal fragmented writing, and she uses interrupted writing to demonstrate the reasons behind the silences.
Olsen’s book shows the reason for silences of writers just as much as it tells it. Olsen talks much about interruptions, and the effects they have on writing. Her choppy style is seemingly always interrupting the flow of her thoughts onto paper. However, when one examines her silences – the spaces in between her words – they carry much meaning. For example, when Olsen is discussing the past of women while explaining the lack of women writers over history, she uses fragments punctuated by semicolons or periods (Olsen 26). These breaks represent the different times in the history of women and different stigmas women had held over time. The reader is, through the interrupted thoughts, forced to make connections from thought to thought. He or she must infer for himself or herself why these thoughts have caused the existing lack of women writers. Olsen’s silences create meaning – much as those who have endured silences in their writing create and experience meaning even during times of literary silence.
Survival often commanded interruptions in the writing process. Writing takes dedication and lots of time and Olsen highlights the fact that many people historically have been unable to devote their time completely to their work as a writer – causing them to lapse into silence. They must work to survive, to provide for themselves and their family. Such was the case in Olsen’s own life (38). “What if the writers, as in some of these silences, must work regularly at something besides their own work,” Olsen ponders (13). Just as Olsen asks these questions, writers over the course of history have had to question their own ability to produce meaningful works while otherwise invested in different professions. The reader can hear the echo of the writer’s voice getting smaller and smaller in Olsen’s words - “Where the claims of creation cannot be primary, the results are atrophy; unfinished work; minor effort and accomplishment; silences” (13). Even the length of Olsen’s phrases diminishes, just as the author’s work eventually lapses into silence. Olsen’s example of Franz Kafka as an author who refused to let anything get in the way of his writing demonstrates the incompatibility of writing and any other profession. Even in Kafka’s entries about his writing, daily life situations come up, such as sleeping, supper, and memory. Writers will always be interrupted by daily life demands, whether they are as basic as food or as major as needing to pursue another profession other than writing.
“Substantial creative work demands time,” declares Olsen (13). Even as Olsen presents the opinion that solitude and complete devotion are necessary for forming a creative work, the reader is bombarded with a cacophony of quotes from different authors (Olsen 12-13). It is difficult to stay focused on what any writer is saying for too long because the reader is almost instantly showered with another idea from a different voice. Where one quotation ends, another begins. These interruptions represent the disruption of other people in the lives of a writer. The “starving artist” mentality is often upheld as a classic representation of someone completely devoted to his or her art (Olsen 13). However, that is often highly impractical in a world which demands interaction with others.
For women writers, interruptions often come in the form of running a household and raising children. “Motherhood means being instantly interruptible,” says Olsen (18). This life as a wife and a mother is a full-time job – something that Olsen argues is nearly impossible to maintain and be able to be a successful writer. Historically, the women whose writing did gain fame were primarily unmarried, and, of the ones who were married, very few had children (Olsen 16). Olsen states that she herself struggled to find time to write for years. Even when her children were grown, she found it hard to break those “habits of years” and to sit down and focus uninterrupted on her writing (Olsen 38-39). In this section where Olsen discusses her personal writing, her writing seems rushed and interrupted. When she discusses the barriers she had to break through to be a successful writer, she lists them much as she would a grocery list or a list of chores to do: “habits of years – response to others, distractability, responsibility for daily matters – stay with you, mark you, become you” (Olsen 39). Often times the demands of the day dictate that the only writing most women get to do is to create another list of things to be done. This “habit” that Olsen had to break is momentarily lapsed into to make a point. Olsen chooses to show you the struggle that exists instead of explaining it.
Tillie Olsen uses her work Silences to not only discuss literary silence but to demonstrate its causes and effects. Silences illustrates its point well. By letting the shape and form of her text speak for her, as well as clearly articulating the points she chose to make, Olsen makes a valuable argument about how fragmented lives lead to fragmented writing. Olsen lets her text speak on multiple levels. In the silences between the reader and the text, the reader understands much more clearly the reasons behind the silences of writers.
Eng , American Literature Survey -- Trent Kozman, "Portraying the Evils of Slavery through Death"
The cultural traditions and customs of nineteenth-century America differ tremendously from the acceptable cultural practices of today. Through time, language in America has evolved along with the openness and discussion of death. Twenty-first-century Americans fear death and loathe any honest and direct discourse about passing on from this physical world. In nineteenth-century America, the same period in which Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote Uncle Tom’s Cabin, open discussion and conversation regarding death was accepted. Society glorified death, seeing it as the body’s way of returning to its true home, mother earth. Romantic poet William Cullen Bryant vividly glamorizes death in his work “Thanatopsis.” Bryant glorifies the process through which one’s body and soul return to nature:
Yet not to thine eternal resting-place
Shalt though retire alone, nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world – with kings,
The powerful of the earth – the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun, -- the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods – rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old Ocean’s gray and melancholy waste, --
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man. (Bryant 2889)
Death, as Bryant illustrates, is celebrated in the Romantic age. This popular romantic idea and glorification of death in the nineteenth century allow Stowe to include death scenes in her widely recognized novel. In fact, Stowe uses the powerful emotions implicated with death to stir the hearts and souls of her readers. All readers of her novel share a common experience: death of a family member, loved one, and/or close friend. Thus, she unleashes the emotions in all her readers by appealing to their universal experiences with death.
The deaths of three specific characters in her novel illustrate Stowe’s utilization of death and the emotions implicated with the dramatic event. First to pass on in dramatic fashion is precious Evangeline St. Clare. The eleven-year-old daughter of Augustine and Marie St. Clare suffers from tuberculosis. Shortly after her agonizing death, her father, unable to bear the burden of life without his daughter, shortly follows her into the afterlife; St. Clare hastens his passing when he intervenes in a local bar fight and consequently receives a ghastly wound. His death has insurmountable implications on the future of Uncle Tom, the kind, loyal, Christian, and obedient slave man. Uncle Tom is sold south, to Simon Legree, at an auction of St. Clare’s property. Tom descends into the cruel environment fostered by the Northerner; although burdened, Tom does not give into the wrongs of slavery, and his moral and spiritual strength remain until he is beaten to death by the heartless Legree. The death of each character is described in vivid detail, as Stowe intends to pull on each and every heartstring of her readers. Stowe uses the deaths of major characters Evangeline and Augustine St. Clare, and Uncle Tom to appeal to all readers’ emotions and best illustrate the moral sicknesses and illuminate the harsh wrong realities of slavery.
The effectiveness of a character’s death depends directly upon how much he or she appeals to the reader. Thus, before Stowe brings death upon Eva, she establishes the girl as a symbol of moral perfection and innocence. Stowe portrays Eva’s morals and integrity through her honest, expressive speech. For example, Eva voices her wishes in regards to what she would do with her mother’s diamond necklace and expensive jewelry:
“I wish I had [the jewels], to do what I pleased with! . . . . I’d sell them, and buy a place in the free states, and take all our [slaves] there, and hire teachers, to teach them to read and write . . . . I’d teach them to read their own Bible, and write their own letters, and read letters that are written to them . . . . I know, mamma, it does come very hard on them, that they can’t do these things. Tom feels it, -- Mammy does, -- a great many of them do. I think it’s wrong.” (Stowe 230)
Thus, Eva establishes herself as a morally upright character, one who does not agree with the practices of slavery. In addition, Eva sees the slaves as human beings, individuals who deserve the opportunity to read and write. She does not see property when she observes black men, women, and children: she sees worthy individuals who have feelings. Most importantly, slaves have spirits, and it pains Eva to see most of these spirits unaware of God’s love and broken by the system of slavery. The anguish Eva feels is the result of the injustices done to slaves through the oppressive system. She yearns to upend the oppressive system, to educate the slaves, and to bring them into a relationship with God. She is left heartbroken when she realizes that there is little she can do to change the thoughts of those so dedicated to and enamored by the economic practicality of slavery.
Eva is a type of Christ, one who truly acts and thinks in ways that reflect God’s Son on earth. She stands for moral perfection in this world and opposes the common beliefs of society. Eva’s selflessness further strengthens her resemblance to Christ. In her last days, she encounters Topsy, a wayward slave girl with no family, whose purpose on earth had always been to serve a master. Eva, though, shows compassion for this girl who had been ground into the dirt of the earth through the slavery system. Shortly after Augustine St. Clare purchases Topsy, the little girl brings Eva a bouquet of flowers; this slave girl’s show of affection towards Eva spurs a response in Marie St. Clare, a firm supporter of oppressing slaves. St. Clare cites Topsy’s motivation for picking the bouquet: “O, nonsense! It’s only because she likes to do mischief. She knows she mustn’t pick flowers, -- so she does it; that’s all there is to it” (Stowe 248). Such a remark illustrates the disgusting ignorance and corrupted mind of Marie, a woman who will never realize the wrongs of slavery. Eva, though, sees Topsy’s loving intentions; she sees Topsy as a child of God who has feelings, including love. Eva says, “But, mamma, isn’t God her father, as much as ours? Isn’t Jesus her Saviour?” (Stowe 249). Eva sees the slaves not as property, but as people with souls and feelings that await liberation. Here, Eva reveals her belief that all people, even slaves, are equal in the eyes of God. As Christ reaches out to those in need and the wretched, Eva also reaches out to the slaves and even manages to bring Topsy, the mischievous girl who had for so long been wicked, to know that God is her father also. Thus, Stowe reveals Eva in a light reflective of Christ’s perfection, only to have her die from tuberculosis.
Eva’s death, on the surface, is the result of the feared disease of the time, tuberculosis. In a much more complex sense, though, Eva’s death is the result of slavery. Eva even says in a conversation with Uncle Tom, “‘Uncle Tom…I can understand why Jesus wanted to die for us…. Because I’ve felt so, too….I’ve felt that I would be glad to die, if my dying could stop all this misery. I would die for them, Tom, if I could’” (Stowe 240). Eva’s death is caused by the ills of slavery. She is the exceptional girl who can see the reality of slavery, the pain it causes and suffering it inflicts on the oppressed men, women, and children. In a symbolic sense, the pain she feels from slavery overwhelms her, so much so that she passes on to Heaven, a place where all men, women, and children are free. Slavery and its moral injustice is so painful and contradictory with God’s word that it destroys the hearts and souls of those who oppose it, even those given Heavenly strength. Through the death of Eva, Stowe reveals that the system of slavery induces pain and suffering on slaves and their families as well as owners and their families. Slaves would be split from their families at auctions; children would be torn out of their mothers’ comforting arms. Brothers and sisters who were fortunate enough to remain together would witness the beatings of family members. Events such as these, which were commonplace in the system of slavery, place a burden on the heart of Eva. The angel’s death results from her anguish and the burden she feels as a result of slavery; she is like Christ, who died on the cross for all the sins of mankind. Eva dies for the sins of slaveholders, for the injustice of the slavery system; she leaves the earth hoping that someday after her passing slaves will be liberated from their chains of bondage.
Shortly after Evangeline, angelic even in her worldly appearance, passes on, her father, Augustine St. Clare, is overwhelmed by her absence. He is so overcome by grief that he fails to act on a promise that he gave to his dear child before her death. Eva asks her father to free their slaves, specifically Tom. Eva asks, “And promise me, dear father, that Tom shall have his freedom, as soon as…I am gone!” (Stowe 242). St. Clare responds by promising, “Yes, dear, I will do anything in the world, -- anything you could ask me to.” St. Clare, however, does not fulfill his promise to Eva, and fails to free Tom before his death. A local bar fight prompts St. Clare to intervene in an attempt to keep the peace; his efforts are resisted and he suffers a “fatal stab in the side with a bowie-knife” (Stowe 275). St. Clare remains alive only a short while longer, before passing on and leaving Tom vulnerable to the auction blocks. St. Clare’s death reveals that any slave is totally dependent on his or her master’s actions and words. Slaves, in fact, have no say in matters involving their own fate; their words are not valued or considered significant, especially in legal situations. Slaves, even honest ones such as Uncle Tom, who tell the truth about their master’s wishes, are not respected by the vicious proponents of slavery. Slaves are property, and as such they face the same fate; when their masters die, they are made available to the highest bidder, even if that bidder may be the devil personified on earth. The sale of a slave who was soon to be free epitomizes the immoral system of slavery that so ruthlessly breaks those enslaved.
Uncle Tom, like Eva, is a typological comparison to Jesus Christ. He represents moral perfection, loyalty, and love and respects all things living in God’s created earth. Tom even respects his first master, Mr. Shelby, so much so that when he learns that he has been sold due to debts owed by Shelby, he does not flee. He sees it as his duty to repay his master’s debt, if that is his master’s will; Tom’s loyalty and trustworthiness are strengthened by his strong Christian faith. Stowe depicts Tom in ways that bolster the reader’s respect and liking of the reputable slave. Like Christ, Tom shows selfless qualities, even in the face of severe suffering. Legree purchases Tom at the auction and brings the slave to his plantation. Tom soon experiences severe suffering. His own physical pain, though, cannot corrupt his moral strength and Christian faith. For instance, after a long day’s work, “Tom waited till a late hour, to get a place at the mills; and then, moved by the utter weariness of two women, whom he saw trying to grind their corn there, he ground for them, put together the decaying brands of the fire, where many had baked cakes before them, and then went about getting his own supper” (Stowe 301). Tom’s selflessness prompts him to assist the two women in need, grinding their corn first so that they may eat. Tom’s goodness is too great for this earth, and his death is the result of his loyalty to Christ Jesus and moral perfection; loyalty to God and morality are both contradicted by the values of slavery. Tom meets death without fear, knowing that he will pass onto Heaven, where all men and women and children are free; he dies with a pure heart and soul.
Tom refuses to give in to his master; on a deeper level, he refuses to give his soul to anyone other than God. When Legree finds Tom wearily reading The Bible after a backbreaking day of labor, he crows that he has finally broken the slave’s spirit. Tom, though, responds with words that glorify God, the only One who can own his soul: “I’ll hold on. The Lord may help me, or not help; but I’ll hold to him, and believe him to the last!” (Stowe 339). Tom refuses to sell his soul to Simon Legree, as many other slaves had already done. Legree’s whippings only strengthen Tom’s faith and confirm the reality that slavery is wrong. The essence of slavery is selling souls and the physical worldly ownership of souls. This, however, is incompatible with the words of God and His plan; Stowe illustrates this incompatibility of slavery with Christianity through Tom’s death.
Stowe uses Tom’s death to illustrate that the heavenly values of generosity and love must be adhered to over earthly values formed by economic motivations. If adhering to heavenly values within the slavery system leads to death, as it does for Uncle Tom, then the system itself is undeniably wrong and evil. Stowe describes the death of this Christian man with vivid detail, causing the reader to almost feel the pain that the poor slave endures in the last stage of his life. Legree ferociously beats Tom, pounding, pounding, and pounding the slave with his whip. Tom loses consciousness, but even in the face of death, “he poured forth a few energetic sentences of that wondrous One, -- his life, his death, his everlasting presence, and power to save” (Stowe 359). In death, Tom manages to save Quimbo and Sambo, the two slave drivers who had previously never known the mercy of God. Stowe thus ends the life of a morally upright character, one who resembles God’s goodness and mercy on earth. The system of slavery grants slave holders the freedom to beat their slaves and treat them in any imaginable manner; this is a moral injustice of slavery. Through the death of Tom, Stowe reveals the powerlessness of the slave, even the most physically strong, as well as the suffering endured by slaves through the death of Uncle Tom. Tom’s death is brought on by his loyalty to Christ and fellow slaves; under no circumstances, should human beings be punished for loving others and remaining faithful to the word of God. Slavery, however, permits evil to grind out any goodness left on the earth.
Stowe attacks the system of slavery in her novel through death scenes in the book. Death evokes powerful emotion in the reader’s heart, especially when death claims the life of loved ones. Eva’s death tugs on the heartstrings of the reader, as she suffers helplessly and ever so slowly as a result of the injustices of slavery and her tuberculosis. The system of slavery is responsible for the death of all morally right ideas and individuals. St. Clare’s death reveals the injustices done to the slave, even when freedom seems so real. Most powerfully, though, the scene of Tom’s death speaks out against the injustice of slavery. Eva’s pale, beautiful face and Uncle Tom’s broad shoulders manifest heaven on earth in the midst of slavery. But even their undeniable goodness, faith, and yearnings for change cannot change the system that has become engrained in the American South. These individuals alone cannot eradicate slavery, but inspiration from their deaths can motivate scores of Americans to act. Thus, through death Stowe calls her readers to action; unite against this corrupted and absolutely evil system of slavery. Stowe emphasizes that it is no longer time to adhere to worldly values when fellow members of God’s kingdom suffer. Stowe calls out to Christians in the North and South and non-Christians with pure hearts through the universal event of death.
English 411, 20th Century British Science Fiction and Fantasy, Podcast -- Carrie Sippy, Liz Cashwell, Randi Gill-Sadler, Keith Menhinick, Ashleigh Blue, Trey Frey, Stephen Bell, Courtney Butler, Julie Boudreau
http://scififan.ning.com/
English 377, War Novels -- Becky Humphries, "The Futile Struggle for Power"
At first glance, Norman Mailer’s The Naked and the Dead (1948) seems to be nothing more than one of the first of a long line of typical World War II novels. Situated on the Japanese-held island of Anopopei, the novel follows the experience of the Intelligence and Reconnaissance platoon led by Sergeant Sam Croft. Parallel to, and occasionally intersecting with, this narrative is another about one of the American generals on Anopopei, General Edward Cummings, and his personal assistant, Lieutenant Robert Hearn. Given the mission of clearing out Japanese presence on the island, both these groups are locked in a power struggle with their enemies.
Oddly enough, this national power struggle, this war, serves primarily as a background to the power struggles among the men themselves. As Stanley T. Gutman states, “all the characters in the novel are affected by the tensions that arise when some men seek to control others” (4). In the IR platoon, a constant struggle of individual wills and a persistent fight for the ability to control one’s own destiny frequently place the men at odds with each other. Sergeant Croft and Red Valsen, in particular, have difficulties accepting the hierarchical balance of power. In the higher echelons of the military machine, the fight for individual dominance plays out between Lieutenant Hearn and General Cummings. Although Hearn and Cummings are locked in an individual power struggle similar to those in the IR platoon, their debates serve as microcosms for a much larger conflict—humanity’s attempt to control its future and, therefore, the fate of the world.
Within the IR platoon, where the assertions of power remain on the individual level, two men represent Mailer’s depiction of man-to-man confrontations. Although each enlisted man feels a certain dislike for his commanding officer, no man displays this aversion more than Red Valsen. Born and raised in a Montana mining community, Red enlists in the army to get away from his life as a hobo back home. Although he is a good soldier, Red frequently butts heads with his commanding officer, Sergeant Croft. Most of these affirmations of individual control are harmless. After Hennessey, a member of IR platoon, is killed during the beach landing, Croft orders his men to stay put. Red, in his urgent desire to get away from the site of the young soldier’s death, disobeys (Mailer 39). No one is put in danger by Red’s actions and Croft lets the insubordination slide. In this instance, the assertion of individual will is harmless.
Later in the story, as the platoon attempts to climb treacherous Mount Anaka, Red’s refusal to follow orders is not as passive. Scaling Mount Anaka is a difficult task, and two men have already lost their lives to the mountain. Voicing the opinion of his fellow soldiers, Red refuses to follow Croft any further. In the climax of the theme of individual power struggles, Croft threatens to shoot Red and any anyone else if they do not obey orders. Unlike in previous cases, such as the beach landing, Red is not casually disobeying an order—he is firmly standing up for his own individual desires. On the beach landing, Red simply did the opposite of what Croft ordered. No challenge of power was issued; Croft did not feel as if his authority was at risk. At the foot of Mount Anaka, however, the challenge is clear. Red feels as if Croft must be removed from power—his own will must now be superior to Croft’s.
But Red does not win this challenge. With heartlessness that shocks his men, Croft threatens to kill Red to maintain his own power. This platoon has been through thick and thin together, but no amount of brotherhood negates the threat to Croft’s loss of authority. Strictly speaking, Red and the rest of the platoon are guilty of insubordination, a crime punishable by death in the military. But such a law would not be necessary if it were not man’s nature to fear the loss of his individual power. Croft is the only man in the platoon who wishes to continue on; the other soldiers desperately want to turn back. But only the opinion—the will—of the commanding officer matters. When Red submits to Croft in order to save his own life, Croft ultimately wins this particular struggle for power.
Prior to this climactic scene, Croft orchestrates victory in another power struggle with Lieutenant Hearn. General Cummings, after having his authority challenged by the upstart Hearn—another smaller example of the confrontation of individual wills—transfers the strong-willed Lieutenant to the IR platoon—where the likelihood of his death is much higher. Thus, due to his superior rank, Lieutenant Hearn assumes command of IR platoon, usurping Sergeant Croft’s power. Tensions rise. Croft, accustomed to giving orders but not following them, struggles to adapt to his new position. For once, someone else’s will is superior to his. He must learn to subjugate his desires to those of Hearn.
While he apparently acquiesces, Croft plans out Hearn’s death. Along with the platoon scout Martinez, Croft feeds Hearn misinformation, lying about the location of Japanese troops and putting Hearn in a deadly situation. Although Croft himself does not pull the trigger—Hearn is shot by a Japanese soldier—there is little doubt that Hearn’s death was Croft’s desire; he could, in a grotesque way, be considered lucky. Unlike Red, Croft wins his first battle for individual power. With Lieutenant Hearn, the man who had appropriated his power, out of the way, Sergeant Croft is free to return to his position of control.
These two violent examples bring to light a key issue in the struggle for individual power, one Mailer dramatizes repeatedly throughout the novel. How far should the struggle go? At what point should individual will take a back seat to something else? Red, for instance, has no qualms with simply disobeying an order. But he is not, as evidenced in his confrontation with Croft, willing to die for the sake of individual power. Logically, this is a prudent decision. If Red had been shot, he would not have gained any more power; he would just be dead. Does survival, therefore, always come before assertion of individual power? Red realizes that, as he obeys Croft with pain and embarrassment, one’s submission to a greater authority is often necessary to survival.
In his never ending hunger for supremacy, Croft, in contrast, is willing to kill—both indirectly and directly. He feels no guilt over orchestrating Lieutenant Hearn’s death or over threatening the life of Red; these acts were simply necessary steps on the road to gaining and maintaining power. After his victory over Red, Croft exults in his absolute authority over the platoon. The omniscient narrator comments that “everything and everybody had tried to hold him back but there could be nothing left now, no obstacle at all” (Mailer 696).
Individual will and power are concepts central to the American viewpoint. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are fundamental rights written into the founding code of our nation and government. But, as Mailer asked in The Naked and the Dead over sixty years ago, how far can this individual power go? Do modern Americans, like Red, realize that submission to greater authority is often necessary for their survival and safety? Or do they, like Croft, cling to their own control so tightly that they would do practically anything to keep it?
By juxtaposing Red and Sergeant Croft, Mailer suggests the responses of these characters are the only ones available to people whose individual authority is being challenged. One must, by definition, either eventually give in (as Red does before Croft’s gun) or never give in. The line between acceptable compromise and infringement of rights may vary from person to person, as evidenced in the modern day by the various reactions to the Patriot Act, but the options are clear. Fight and do whatever one can to keep your own control, or surrender and compromise with the person or organization usurping one’s freedom of choice. The ultimate question, therefore, is which is more important – survival and safety or absolute freedom and personal control?
By the end of his novel, Mailer appears to say that the answer to this question, which differs from person to person, is irrelevant. In The Naked and the Dead, every individual character’s struggle for power is ultimately useless. Every man of the IR platoon, including and perhaps most especially Red, is subjugated under Sergeant Croft. Lieutenant Hearn is overpowered by both General Cummings and Sergeant Croft. Even Croft, the only soldier never to have his will dominated by another man, is finally defeated by Mount Anaka. He desires to conquer the ancient and powerful icon—the only thing on the island he has not overcome—but fails. Similarly, all of General Cummings’s quests for control over the Japanese are pointless. Hunger and starvation prove more effective than all of Cummings’s attacks and weaken the Japanese to the point of defeat. All of humanity’s feeble power struggles, Mailer posits, are belittled by the overwhelming might of natural processes. What significance, then, does individual will truly have?
As if to emphasize this denigration of individual rights, Mailer’s second examination of power struggles focuses on the national and political stage. General Cummings and Lieutenant Hearn initially engage in gentlemanly discussions of politics and philosophy, but these conversations quickly degenerate into another individual struggle of wills. Mailer uses the two character to personify the opposing ends of the political spectrum—fascism and socialism. Safe and comfortable in the General’s tent, the two men debate politics—a topic no doubt on every officer’s mind in the height of World War II. General Cummings, claiming that fascism simply started in the wrong country, believes “You’re a fool if you don’t realize this is going to be the reactionary’s century, perhaps their thousand-year reign. It’s the one thing Hitler said which wasn’t completely hysterical” (Mailer 85). Advocating further and more extensive consolidation of power—eventually leading to a fascist system—Cummings completely ignores the rights of individuals to self-autonomy and adheres only to the idea of the elite—the government, the militarily strong—having any power or choice.
Lieutenant Hearn, in stark contrast, leans toward the political left, supporting equality among all peoples and passive resistance similar to Gandhi’s (Mailer 320). Throughout all of these debates with Cummings, Hearn is frequently unable to defend his views, realistically claiming at one point “until you show me some other ideas to replace it [his political view], I’ll hold on to this one” (320). Through the views and debates of these two characters, Mailer puts forth that even the idea of fascism and consolidation of power is more in line with human nature; sharing control is not what human beings are wired to do. The struggle, although ultimately futile, will continue.
The lengthy debates between General Cummings and Lieutenant Hearn provide enough philosophical food for thought to inspire dozens of essays, but one statement of Cummings’s is particularly significant to the discussion of individual control. “For the past century,” he says, “the entire historical process has been working toward greater and greater consolidation of power” (Mailer 321). Here, Mailer displays the seemingly inevitable global implications of the individual power struggle seen in the IR platoon. If the entire historical process, the accumulative result of all of humanity’s choices and actions, has led to and continues to lead to greater consolidation of power, what can individuals do to stop it? What can the Reds of the world do to stop the world’s Crofts?
In today’s world, where nations grow stronger and more distinct and individual control may be slowly being exchanged for guarantees of “safety” and “national security,” Cummings’s comment hits home. Greater consolidation of power, in the end, would mean all individual power would be appropriated by the elite few. In Cummings’s mind, these elite are most likely the government or the military. Such a concept is not alien to the modern American subconscious. Even in our recent history, such as during the Red Scare of the 1950’s, civil and personal liberties of the many have been suspended by the few. Further consolidation of power leads to less individual control.
Mailer’s novel, therefore, is an examination of individual power in historical context. As Philip H. Bufithis states, “Mailer refuses to allow the reader to imagine . . . a character . . . has control over the historical moment in which he finds himself” (280). Individual will is dwarfed by what Cummings refers to as “the historical process.” Although Mailer uses the backdrop of war, an extreme situation where extreme philosophies can be examined, to study the multileveled struggle for power, his implications go far beyond this setting. Mailer “intended it [The Naked and the Dead] to be a parable about the movement of man through history” (Ross 2). It is, therefore, an examination of humanity as a whole. And what humanity desires is power. But that desire, that unending struggle, is ultimately futile. Natural and historical processes have more control over humanity’s future than any one individual could ever hope to overcome.
In his 1972 article, Randall H. Waldron proposes that “the principal burden of the novel [The Naked and the Dead] is to explore the condition of man struggling against the depersonalizing forces of modern society: the forces of ‘the machine’” (273). This essay, in contrast, focuses on loss of individuality caused by natural and historical processes, not only modern society. Both viewpoints are valid, but the significance of the time difference between the penning of Waldron’s article and that of this essay must be noted. In the thirty-seven years between pieces, American society has changed. Societal trends of the 1970s such as resisting “the machine,” or the effects of the increasing mechanization of society, have faded away and been replaced with new preoccupations. In the increasingly interdependent culture of the twenty-first century, individuals have come to see themselves as part of something larger—as part of the natural and historical forces that manipulate Mailer’s characters.
It is a mark of a genuine classic to have a multiplicity of interpretations of the work’s theme and meaning. Mailer’s novel clearly fits this category—the significance of The Naked and the Dead will no doubt continue to change and expand as it has done since it was published sixty-one years ago. But from a twenty-first century point of view, the true power lies in the hands of nature and history. To struggle against such things is futile.
Mailer’s title sums up his bleak view of humanity’s choices. To be naked, to be exposed, to be vulnerable is to surrender some, if not all, of one’s individual control. It is to intentionally make something or someone more powerful than one’s self. The only other option is to be dead—to fight so hard to maintain one’s individual control that it costs one’s life. Either way, the struggle to control one’s life, to choose one’s own destiny, is lost. What then, is the American proclamation of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness founded on? It is not human nature; we do not like to share our individual control. It is not an historical guarantee; control has only been consolidated throughout the ages, further diminishing individual power. We must therefore ask ourselves—are the core values of self-determination so vital to American philosophy founded on nothing more than unrealistic and naïve ideals?
Mailer’s message is not an optimistic one. Individual control and rights, the very core of American society, is an illusion. To struggle for power is human nature, yet to struggle for power is ultimately useless. Men from every walk of life, every rank and background attempt the struggle in the pages of The Naked and the Dead, and all fail. Mailer offers no solution; perhaps there is no solution. Despite humanity’s desire to control their lives, to have that guarantee of individual rights, there is no control. Humanity may attempt to control destiny, but, as General Cummings suggests, it is really destiny that is controlling humanity.
Sarah Orne Jewett’s story “A White Heron” is a bewildering story of a young girl’s desperation for freedom and admirable loyalty to a bird that represents everything that she wants to be, free. Sadly, throughout the story it seems as if she is being kept from this freedom, because nature is calling her to stay at the farm. All throughout the short story, there are many references to the sea and the white heron which are symbols to represent the freedom that the little girl has been subjected to, but never reaches.
Sylvia, the little girl, grew up in the hustle and bustle of a noisy city, but has spent a year so far of solitude in the woods and her only human interaction is with her grandmother. Sylvia’s life in the city prior to moving out into the woods is unknown, but Jewett lets the readers know: “but, as for Sylvia herself, it seemed as if she never had been alive at all before she came to live at the farm.” This shows that this little girl feels very much in her own element away from the busyness of the city. Sylvia is very much in touch with the “nature” setting she’s been put in, and most of her friends are the critters she discovers during her travels along the familiar paths. Her grandmother, Mrs. Tilley, states that she knows the woods and animals very well and has a special bond with them: “There ain’t a foot o’ ground she don’t know her way over, and the wild creaturs counts her one o’ themselves. Squer’ls she’ll tame to come an’ feed right out o’ her hands, and all sorts o’ birds.” In other words the grandmother is saying that she knows just about every creature in their neck of the woods, and shares a special connection which ties them together. The fact that Sylvia is very aware of her surroundings is of extreme importance when it comes time for the stranger to enter the story.
Once the stranger appears into Sylvia’s life she goes through a series of emotions. His appearance brings about a feeling in Sylvia that she’s never experienced before which causes her to grow more aware of her possibilities in life. The stranger opens Sylvia’s eyes to all of the potential options he could hold in store for her. He tells her that he is hunting for birds and then Mrs. Tilley informs him that Sylvia knows the whereabouts of every animal in the woods. So the stranger then directs his attention to Sylvia for help, but doesn’t exactly get what he had hoped for. Jewett adds, “The little white heron, it is, and he turned again to look at Sylvia with the hope of discovering that the rare bird was one of her acquaintances.” Unfortunately for the stranger, the heron is Sylvia’s glimpse of hope for freedom, but yet it is also unknown to the stranger that he sheds a new light on her life as well. She knows where the bird can be found, but doesn’t want to reveal that secret because she believes that this amazing creature is entitled to its own sense of freedom. She doesn’t want this bird that in her eyes represents everything she dreams of to be stuffed and made someone’s prized possession to be placed above their fireplace; she wants the heron to live.
The sea in Sylvia’s eyes is never-ending, just like the possibilities of what is out there for her in the “real world.” The possibilities for her are endless, yet she feels as if she may not ever get to experience them. The stranger acts as a catalyst for her new sense of possibilities because he’s a new element into her familiar and untainted surroundings. Sylvia catching a glimpse of the sea could be interpreted as Sylvia glimpsing her life with the stranger. Yet she chooses to return back to her normal life and not take a life with the stranger into consideration. She has already explored all of her surroundings, and is desperately trying to discover more about life and trying to break away from her tired out routine around the farm. The author illustrates the locations of the sea, “Not far beyond were the salt marshes just this side of the sea itself, which Sylvia wondered and dreamed much about, but never had seen, whose great voice could sometimes be heard above the noise of the woods on stormy nights.” So Sylvia can hear the noises of the sea, but cannot actually witness its never-ending glory, because according to her, you have to climb the tallest pine tree in order to view this unobserved site. She also knew that at this particular site, you could find the mysterious white heron. Jewett writes about the enthusiasm of the child, “Now she thought of the tree with new excitement, for why, if one climbed it at break of day could not one see all the world, and easily discover from whence the white heron flew, and mark the place, and find the hidden nest.” This information produced great excitement within the curious child. It was yet another adventure for her to embark upon, but one that would have a immense impact upon her.
The thrill of the adventure was almost too much to bear for the young girl. She knew that she was getting ready to fulfill one of her dreams once she started climbing up on that tall pine tree. The author paints the picture of the child climbing the tree, “There was the huge tree asleep yet in the paling moonlight, and small and silly Sylvia began with the utmost bravery to mount to the top of it, with tingling, eager blood coursing the channels of her whole frame, with bare feet and fingers, that pinched and held like bird’s claws to the monstrous ladder reaching up, up, almost to the sky itself.” The action of climbing up the tree is a symbol of Sylvia climbing for freedom. By her climbing the tree, she knows that she will be able to see the endless sea that she has dreamed about, which in a sense gives her a feeling of freedom. It isn’t easy for the little girl to climb the tree, she runs into several difficulties upon her excursion. This could be seen as a metaphor for the difficulty Sylvia faces of getting away, because this task wouldn’t be easy, and sometimes you have to get through some tough obstacles in order to achieve your own personal freedom. Sylvia is doing this in her own personal way by climbing the tree branches to reach the top and view the ocean. Jewett illustrates Sylvia’s moment of triumph, “Sylvia’s face was like a pale star, if one had seen it from the ground, when the last thorny bough was past, and she stood trembling and tired but wholly triumphant, high in the tree-top.” Once Sylvia had reached the top of the tree, she was able to see what she had been dreaming about and hearing some nights in the still of the woods.
After viewing the magnificent sight of the sea, and the freedom of the white heron to fly through the skies and venture where it pleases, Sylvia just could not take that away from the bird. There was an understanding within her that made Sylvia feel as if revealing the bird’s whereabouts would somehow kill the white heron. The writer claims, “She remembers how the white heron came flying through the golden air and how they watched the sea and the morning together, and Sylvia cannot speak; she cannot tell the heron’s secret and give its life away.”
A recurring theme that can be found in American Literature is the desire to achieve freedom. There are different variations of achieving freedom, but they are all different personal freedoms trying to be reached. There are several stories that we have read this semester that relate to a child trying to achieve their own sense of freedom in their own way. Sylvia for instance is trying to escape becoming the “typical” woman who lives on a farm. She doesn’t want to be stuck with the cleaning, cooking, and taking care of others, tending to the farm and animals, which would be expected of her. She feels as if life has more opportunities to offer her, and she believes this because in her mind, the sea is a symbol of never-ending possibilities. She wants to break away from the norm of your typical woman on a farm, she doesn’t want to be tied down with all of that, and believes that there is more out there. Another example is Huckleberry Finn in Mark Twain’s Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. In the end of the novel, once Huck returns home after his life of independence, the Widow Douglas tries to civilize him. So after spending a lot of time doing what he wanted on the river, and making his own rules, he returns and all the sudden rules are being placed upon him and expectations are being raised upon him about his behavior. After living in an uncivilized manner, the Widow Douglas is attempting to transform him back into being a civilized young boy. In regards to Huck Finn, his freedom is being taken away from him because he has to answer to someone else other than himself, therefore, setting in a desire for freedom. Huck had the dream of traveling out west, but the Widow Douglas didn’t approve of that at such a young age. There is an evident gender difference between these characters. Since Huck is a boy, his dreams of going out west can become a reality, but because Sylvia is a girl, she cannot escape from the farm, it’s her duty to stay and run things with her grandmother. There is a clear double standard issue when it comes to these two young characters.
Another example of this desire of freedom is the little boy Sarty Snopes in William Faulkner’s short story “Barn Burning”. The little boy is trying to escape from his pap that treats him terribly. At the end of the story Sarty is left with no parental figures, so there is nothing holding him back from following all of the possibilities out there. At the end of the story after discovering his father’s death and the barn burnt to the ground, Sarty started walking, he didn’t know where, but just had to get away from it. He saw the sun as a new day, a new beginning for him. So also like Huck Finn, Sarty Snopes had the opportunity to leave and discover all the possibilities waiting for him with no strings attached and no reason to look back. Unlike Sylvia, he was given the option to leave his current surroundings and do whatever he pleased with his life.
This recurring theme of a longing for freedom occurs in many works of American Literature. It seems to be a problem that many characters deal with internally, though they all struggle with it in a different way. Sylvia wasn’t given an option to pursue her possibilities of freedom, Huck Finn could have left the Widow’s and pursued his dream of traveling out west, and Sarty had no choice but to leave. They all have the desire to leave, but only the boys have the actual chance of leaving because they are boys, and Sylvia is doing what is expected of her and staying at the farm.
Most fathers wish they could keep a shot-gun by the door when their teenage daughter reaches the age of dating. The protection of young girls as they approach the dating age remains a relatively universal idea. However, dating practices vary by time and location. In 19th century Europe, Daisy Miller experiences these changes as she defies the social standards of dating in the short story “Daisy Miller,” by Henry James. Her American attitude towards dating challenges the traditional European courtship observed by Winterbourne. Through this, James demonstrates that the American customs of dating contrast greatly with the expectations of courting in Europe in the 19th Century.
A common idea that governs the role of males in a dating relationship is that men pursue the woman whom they choose. In Europe, the male properly pursued a young woman through the means of visiting the girl at her parents’ house or meeting her at social callings. The young woman of the best breeding waited for a male’s invitation instead of being as forward as Daisy Miller is in her meeting with Winterbourne. James stresses her unconventional reactions to Winterbourne’s invitation to visit the old castle in his company. Due to the fact that “she didn’t rise, blushing, as a young girl at Geneva would have done,” Daisy Miller displays no concern or awareness of Winterbourne’s boldness (140). To show respect, Winterbourne extends the invitation to her mother as well. As a result of the American culture that Daisy grows up, she overlooks both Winterbourne’s boldness and good manners. American girls experienced more freedom with males than their English counterparts. Winterbourne’s action neither offends nor concerns her because women received more liberty in choosing their mates in the United States. The class system and the emphasis on nobility in Europe restricted girls to actively seek relationships with males because of the importance of marrying for money over personal affection. As such, the elite society in which Daisy meets, believes that Daisy violates her responsibility as a young woman of high class.
Another issue that Daisy encounters in her stay with the European aristocracy is the issue of multiple male friends. Because of her informal relationship with Eugenio, her courier, many of her old money acquaintances insinuate their suspicion that Daisy is bad news. To make their claims even more justifiable, Daisy’s relationship with Mr.Giovanelli suggest that she is flirtatious. In the old European culture, this meant that Daisy’s reputation among high society suffers. Mrs. Walker tells Winterbourne all the offenses of dating that Daisy violates. She accuses her of “flirting with any man she could pick up; sitting in corners with mysterious Italians; dancing all the evening with the same partners; receiving visits at eleven o’clock at night” (160). In essence, Mrs. Walker provides insight on the culture mores of courtship in Europe. Most importantly, as Daisy encourages these advances by males, Mrs. Walker loses more and more respect for her as a possible match for Winterbourne.
The 19th century American definition of flirting contrasted greatly with the old European ideas of displaying affection. In Europe, for two individuals to show much interest in each other, suggested that the relationship will end in an engagement. In the United States, Daisy enjoys friendships with multiple men without these constraints. Also, dancing in Europe implies a more meaningful relationship than in America where dancing is viewed as a social event. Daisy motives for her sudden interest in Mr. Giovanelli derive from her desire to build friendship with males instead of committing to marriage.
The main culture conflict that influences Winterbourne’s disapproval of Daisy’s behavior is when Daisy walks alone with Mr. Giovanelli. Earlier, Daisy takes day time strolls with Mr.Giovanelli, which angers Mrs. Walker who reveals more European rules of dating practices. When Winterbourne confronts Daisy about walking with Mr. Giovanelli alone to save her from Mrs. Walker’s condemnation, she takes his warning as ludicrous. He explains that it hurts her reputation because she is alone with a man whom she is not betrothed. She replies that even though others may not accept her actions, she will continue to be her own free-spirited self (160). Traditionally, reputation and status in America is not as crucial as in Europe. Due to this, Daisy does not understand the status system in Europe and therefore defies this strongly stressed cultural value.
Later she uses Winterbourne’s concerns for her reputation as acts of jealousy. As such, instead of being frank with him about her not being engaged she plays with his heart. In her background, women desire to be the object of the man’s affection. Her attitude towards Mr. Giovanelli does not only suggest companionship, but her strategy to get Winterbourne’s attention. European women used respect and patience in courtships, while many American girls attracted men by being mysterious and assertive.
The nighttime stroll with Mr. Giovanelli proves to be the most critical social violation that Daisy committed. Again, her motives for being alone with a man at night are not about engagement or marriage. Instead, her fascination with adventure or her ignorance of the possible dangers that night possesses leads her to join Mr. Giovanelli, going against the accepted practices. Either she has no fear of contacting the “love fever” from mosquitoes, which are more numerous at night, or she has not acquired the knowledge about this risk in which is an understanding of European girls. Even still, Daisy contacts the “love fever” which leaves her in a tragic situation. Her attitudes of adventure suggest the American culture value of risk taking. Due to the movement into the frontier, the unknown, Americans throughout history received a reputation as being courageous. If courage drives Daisy to leave the safety of the indoors, then she most definitely receives this attitude from her origins in America, where bravery is not viewed as carelessness. In Europe, Daisy free-spirited attitude contradicts the accepted value of women being practical and cautious when it comes to adventure.
Overall, the independency that Daisy possesses drives her to break these dating rules. Americans by nature displayed more independence then their European brothers. Women in relationships in America experienced more liberty to be themselves, which is unlike the standards set in Europe. This culture difference is expressed through Daisy comment after Winterbourne shows concern about Daisy’s sudden interest in a man she hardly knows. Winterbourne fears that Daisy will be driven against her will to participate in inexcusable activities. His idea is to protect Daisy from the evils of man. However, Daisy responds with “I have never allowed a man to dictate to me or to interfere with anything I do” (157). Like many American women, Daisy expresses her independency and her capability to defend herself. In Europe, women heavily depended on men to define their social status and protect them from the harshness of reality because of the belief that women were delicate and easily persuaded. In America, women, for the most part, sought a husband out of companionship instead of necessity or security.
The European woman verses the American woman reaches its climax in Henry James’ short story “Daisy Miller,” as the main character contradicts the social norms of courtship and dating in Europe. In essence, Daisy represents an independent, free-spirited women living in a European class-driven society in which she does not belong. As such, her adventurous nature, forwardness, and autonomy challenge the accepted social practices in Europe. Ultimately, Daisy does not belong in the in this 19th century European world of old money.
Written in 1915, Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s Herland is a utopian novel that theorizes the ways in which a society could develop without the black cloud of male dominance. Gilman identifies and satirically illustrates the different natures of men and women in a narrative that begins when three male American explorers stumble into Herland, an isolated, yet highly developed country inhabited only by women. The story is told through the writings of one of those male explorers, a sociologist who, in his mind, attempts to be as objective as possible in his observations. The irony of this “objectivity” however, is that he does not recognize that the ideals of his dominant American culture are not universal. Gilman’s use of this male narrator further emphasizes the social perceptions and expectations of women in a male-dominated society, as well as the ways in which the men respond to the communal nature of motherhood in Herland.
Herland’s advanced society immediately impresses the male explorers; however they are shocked to discover a complete absence of men. The men expect to find a group of savage women, operating under a social hierarchy, with heightened “feminine” characteristics as a result of their savage nature and the lack of male suppression. However, the men find something quite different: “a band of women standing close together in even order . . . They were not young. They were not old. They were not, in the girl sense, beautiful. They were not in the least ferocious . . . calm, grave, wise, wholly unafraid, evidently assured and determined” (Gilman 25). The Herlandian women shock the men with their pure, clean, and quiet land, lack of overtly “feminine” characteristics (as per dominant standards) and their extraordinarily communal nature—the men later discover that no task is undertaken alone, even child-rearing. Hausman states, “Herlanders are without most of the characteristics of women in the rest of the world—in Gilman’s language, we would say that they are without ‘sex-distinction.’ Their distinguishing characteristic is a pronounced communal, not familial, maternalism” (496). There is no family structure because there is no patriarchy and therefore, no competition—only a society of mothers desiring to care for all children.
The three men are taken aback by what they consider to be major differences in the women of Herland and the women of America. They cannot understand why the women operate as a single being, why they complete every task from the building of roads to the pruning of a garden together; they cannot fathom why there are not “typical” families within their society, nor why the women are so peaceable, and they surely cannot understand why the women are purely content while living in a world that is void of men. The men perceive this lack of “feminine” qualities as a problem that needs to be corrected, and set out to “educate” the women in the ways of the “superior” American society. Hausman states, “The men who come to Herland believe that the ‘sex-distinction’ common in white Victorian society is universal. They believe in the very ‘feminine nature’ that Gilman found so destructive, and they believe that they can make the women express their latent ‘feminine nature’”(500).
Entrenched in their own hopes for the women, the men are thoroughly unprepared for the realization that the communal, non-competitive culture of Herland does not stem from a lack of anything—it stems only from a spirit of cooperation and subsequent achievement the likes of which the dominant world has never encountered. Weinbaum states, “In the captivity narrative that unfolds they [the men] gradually acquire the Herlandian language; accumulate knowledge of customs, government, and industry; and discover, through careful comparison, just how superior to their own land is this nation of mothers” (283). The men do recognize the significant achievements of this pure, peaceful, advanced society; however, acceptance is slow in coming. Whether a result of sheer stubbornness or the simple inability to break free from the mindset of dominant American ideals, all three men find themselves challenging any aspect of Herland that does not adhere to their dominant standards for women. They view the women’s communal motherhood, lack of sexual distinction, and sober personalities as “unnatural.”
One of the most effective, yet subtle ways in which Gilman portrays the male-dominated perceptions and expectations of women is through the questions that the women of Herland ask the men. The women discover the concept of the female virgin, and how highly she is regarded by American society, only to be told that it is not socially acceptable for the label “virgin” to be applied to a man—illustrating that a man takes pride in his sexual conquests, not his purity. A little later, the women discover that it is considered a sign of social status and beauty for a woman to wear feathers in her hats, yet when they inquire as to whether or not this is a male tradition, they are told again that it is socially unacceptable for men to follow the female standard. Through this series of questions and answers between the woman of Herland and the American men, Gilman is able to draw attention to the many double standards that exist between men and women in a male-dominated society. Perhaps the most significant of these discussions concerns the domestication of dogs in American culture. One of the men attempts to explain, “Because they love it [the dog] so much—especially men. This animal is kept shut up, or chained” (Gilman 45). When the women still appear to be confused, the narrator adds, “A valuable dog would be stolen if he was let loose . . . We put collars on them, with the owner's name, in case they do stray” (Gilman 46). Through these statements, Gilman is also emphasizing (though subtly,) that this is the way in which American women are treated also.
The American women in the early twentieth century, when Gilman was writing Herland, operated solely within the domestic sphere. They were not allowed to pass into the public sphere, for the sake of their “protection” by their husbands and fathers. If a woman were to leave the realm of her domestic duties and venture out into the world of men, her innocence and domestic purity would surely be shattered. Therefore, the men could keep their wives and daughters confined to the home for the sake of her “protection,” thinking themselves the guardians of the women. The three male explorers come to Herland with this attitude engrained into their consciousness; however, the strength and independent nature of the women of Herland shock the men. Singer-Wilson states, “The masculine characteristics their society has taught them [the men] to value, such as strength and protectiveness, do not bear any weight with the wise, strong, and sweet women of Herland” (Singer-Wilson). The women of Herland know no such threat and therefore no such “protection” as the women in America. The women of Herland are completely self-sufficient and have achieved that state quite on their own, without the aid of any man. They know not what comprises a domestic sphere, for their entire land is their home and every child is their child. Golden states, “Gilman's vision of motherhood . . . broadened the cult of domesticity to give women opportunities to move their maternal capacities and piety outside the home” (138).
Further on, when the men begin to learn more of the society of Herland and its collective motherhood, they become altogether uncomfortable with the ways in which the children are raised, with no sense of personal possession or pride. The men come from the dominant American society in which every family is a separate unit within the broader society, governed in a patriarchal nature by the “head of the household.” From this viewpoint, the men fail to understand that this collective familial nature is the very thing which gives the women of Herland a sense of pride. Weinbaum states, “The "pure" national genealogy and the unpolluted pedigree of each citizen render genetic filiation [relationship of child to parent] the dominant ideology in Herland. Herlanders are of ‘one family’ descended from ‘one mother,’ and thus the nationalist glue that binds them is their actual kinship” (284). Because the women were content to share in the responsibilities of childrearing and put all the effort of their entire society into their children, they were deemed “unnatural.” Here, Gilman is drawing a contrast between a mothering, child-focused society and a male-dominated society in which the personal gain of the men is the main focus. Men view their families as products of their hard work, and they do not want to share that ownership with anyone, whereas women prefer to work cooperatively when raising children. Golden states, “Gilman sees the mother's function as social, universal, and necessary to raise a new generation in which virtually everyone lives together democratically and cooperatively” (137).
Mothering is the passion of the women of Herland, for it permeates every part of their lives. One of the women describes the beginnings of Herland, in which the women were physically separated from the men, who were away at war when a volcanic eruption destroyed the only route back home:
For five or ten years [after separation from the men] they [the women] worked together, growing stronger and wiser and more and more mutually attached, and then the miracle happened—one of these young women bore a child. Of course they all thought there must be a man somewhere, but none was found. Then they decided it must be a direct gift from the gods, and placed the proud mother in the Temple of Maaia—their Goddess of Motherhood—under strict watch. And there, as years passed, this wonder-woman bore child after child, five of them—all girls . . . As fast as they reached the age of twenty-five they began bearing. Each of them, like her mother, bore five daughters. Presently there were twenty-five New Women, Mothers in their own right, and the whole spirit of the country changed from mourning and mere courageous resignation to proud joy. (Gilman 64-65)
The women recognize that their entire existence is a product of divine motherhood that began with one and was passed on to all and that the continuance of their society rests safely in their love of the children. They have a continuous desire to make their world better for the next generation, as their entire existence revolves around the birth of that generation. Hudak states, “They look to reproduction and mothering with near-religious fervor” (458). Motherhood is everything that they have been, are, and hope to become, and above all else, the women of Herland will work to preserve this, their most sacred institution.
Gilman portrays the metaphysical nature of women that cannot be captured with words in her description of the religion of the women of Herland. Religion for the women isn’t just going to a place of worship once a week; it is everything that they do and everything that they are, and the men are amazed by this. The narrator exclaims, “It is beautiful! It is the most practical, comforting, progressive religion I ever heard of. You do love one another – you do bear one another’s burdens – you do realize that a little child is a type of the kingdom of heaven. You are more Christian than any people I ever saw” (Gilman 98). The women of Herland do not separate their religion with the tasks of their everyday lives (the nurture of the land and the love and care of the children,) rather, they combine the two into a single state of being.
It is important to note that although the women of this fabled land and the men who stumble upon it are products of two very different cultures, they are all still human beings and do in fact share the basic tenants of humanity. Hudak states:
Gilman’s narrative does not entirely deny that the women of Herland are different from the men. It suggests, however, that the explorers’ hyper-masculinity conceals their “human” qualities, and that if the over-sexing of man and women were to disappear, everyone would resemble the Herlanders: a perfect blend of intellect and emotion, strength and sensitivity, maternal love and social duty. (463)
In a world without dominance, the two groups might have never suspected the other of being different from themselves. There would be no “Other.” Men and women would exist in a state of equality and both groups would value and adhere to the same principles. Every action taken would be backed by a sense of community and would benefit all people.
The men had come to Herland with definite preconceptions of what the women would be like; however the images that they left with were somewhat different. The narrator muses:
We had expected a dull submissive monotony, and found a daring social inventiveness far beyond our own . . . . We had expected pettiness, and found a social consciousness beside which our nations looked like quarreling children – feebleminded ones at that. We had expected jealousy, and found a broad sisterly affection, a fair-minded intelligence, to which we could produce no parallel. We had expected hysteria, and found a standard of health and vigor, a calmness of temper, to which the habit of profanity, for instance, was impossible to explain – we tried it. (Gilman 69)
The men’s original expectations of the women of Herland are a result of their dominant Victorian ideals of women, but through their encounters with the women, they are forced to acknowledge that women are a product of the society in which they are nurtured; and these women have forged success in the absence of men. Hudak states, “The women, of course, defy all of the men’s expectations as they prove themselves to be subjects, not objects” (461).
Through the final realizations of the men, Gilman is able to illustrate more fully than at any other point in the text how much potential is lying within women, and what could become of our society if women, rather than suppress their true selves, were only encouraged to embrace and make use to the fullest extent their strengths, their creativity, and their passions. Furthermore, our society could advance exponentially if men adopted some of the values of the wise women of Herland. Think of it: a world in which cooperation, not competition held the keys for success; a world clean and efficient in the greatest sense of the words, for anything less would be unthinkable; a world in which there was no dominance and no subjectivity, where men and women operated as equals, working toward a common goal: the betterment of the world around them for the sake of their children and their children’s children; a world in which spirituality was found in life itself and worship, the act of serving others continually. Such is the legacy of Herland.
I am obnoxious to each carping tongue
Who says my hand a needle better fits,
A poet’s pen all scorn I should thus wrong,
For such despise they cast on female wits;
If what I do prove well, it won’t advance,
They’ll say it’s stol’n, or else it was by chance. (Prologue 27-32)
These lines of Anne Bradstreet’s “Prologue,” to her book of poetry called The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up In America, were published in 1650 making Bradstreet the first published American poet (Gordon ix). Bradstreet was many things; she was a gentlewoman, a Puritan, a daughter, a wife, and a mother. On top of all these things, Bradstreet was a poet. Bradstreet wrote about many issues of daily life as a Massachusetts’s Bay Colonist. She wrote about sickness, her love for her husband, God, and being a mother. As she writes in her “prologue” however, it is obvious to see that Bradstreet felt that many people thought it was unacceptable for women to be accomplished writers at this time. Many thought women should work at strictly female tasks such as sewing. She knew she could receive much criticism for her writing and yet she wrote anyway. What compelled her to be a poet when she was probably very busy being a frontier woman? Why was it so important that she give a voice to her experiences when others might dismiss her work as stolen or stupid?
Elaine Showalter, a twentieth century feminist critic explains the concept of the “wild zone (Showalter 367).”She says, “Spatially, it stands for an area which is literally no-man’s land, a place forbidden to men. . . . Experientially it stands for the aspects of the female life-style which are outside of and unlike those of men” (367). Because women live and work as a part of a subordinate separate from the dominant culture they have experiences that cannot be explained within the context of the dominant culture, i.e. male culture. Therefore, women have to express themselves and their “wild zone” in some other way, through art, through a creative use of language etc. It may not be apparent on the surface, but living as a woman in a Puritan culture, strictly dominated by men, Bradstreet wrote about Elaine Showalter’s “wild zone” (367). One area that Bradstreet writes often about in her poetry is motherhood. Motherhood is a part of the wild zone because men are forbidden by their own anatomy to be mothers and they cannot understand what it is like to carry, deliver, or be the mother of a child. Bradstreet’s “wild zone” writing is evidenced by her three poems “Before the Birth of One of Her Children”, “In Reference to her Children, 23 June, 1656”, and “The Author to Her Book”. These poems center on motherhood, and other areas of Bradstreet’s life as a woman, in a way that, in the words of Showalter, “make[s] the invisible visible. . . make[s] the silent speak.”
Anne Bradstreet did not start out writing from the “wild zone”. Much of the poetry of her earlier years are written about subjects and in styles that are quite masculine. In her book, Bradstreet’s poems are about very traditional subjects, the four humours, elegies to royalty, and other “lofty” subjects. Through her years as a writer her writing became more personal and as she realized that her poetry could spring from her life, that she was a worthy subject and a worthy author, her poetry gained beauty and power. As she began to write for that part of herself that was muted, that was subordinate, and as she gave a voice to many things her contemporaries may have felt was unnecessary to voice she wrote of personal truths. The three poems to be looked at in this paper were written about very personal experiences and from a very personal place and from them we can find her speaking about motherhood and about her, “wild zone” in a way that can be appreciated universally.
In “Before the Birth of One of Her Children” Bradstreet writes a loving farewell to her husband in case she dies while giving birth. This poem is about sorrow that accompanies joy and the inevitable end of all living things. As a Puritan, Bradstreet has a lot of hope in death and belief in eternal life. In some ways this poem is about these claims rather than about fear or worry. When Bradstreet says, in line 10-12, “These farewell lines to recommend to thee, / That when that knot’s untied that made us one, / I may seem thine, who in effect am none (Before 670),” she is saying that does not belong to her husband even though they are one in marriage and no matter how much she loves him because she belongs to no one on earth, but to God alone. In saying that she is God’s and not her husband’s she is making a statement of being a separate entity from her husband. Women of this time were the property of their husband and as that might be remembered after death as a favorite possession is remembered after it is lost or broken. Bradstreet demands more than this. She claims equal citizenship in the kingdom of heaven as her husband and in doing so asks to be remembered as she would remember him if he died. She gives herself to him, instead of him owning her by right, she gives him, “These farewell lines” and in doing so she ties the knot back. She shows through doing this that her love for him is not out of duty or obligation but from personal choice and through romantic love for him.
Bradstreet’s desire is for her husband and children to remember her after she is gone for all the good she did and for the love she and her husband had for each other. In writing this desire she is again giving value to something purely feminine. If women are expected to be good wives and mothers it would been strange to especially remember them for this. Bradstreet is making a claim that these things should not be taken for granted. To have been a good wife and mother is an accomplishment and not something to sneeze at. She is claiming that the culture of women she takes part in, a culture that gets little recognition, has immense value.
Bradstreet expresses the desire to last in their memory even though her body will decay. She also claims eternal life in her writing. In Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18 he says, “So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.” This sentiment of writing causing someone to live forever is hinted at in the last four lines of “Before the Birth of One of Her Children,” when Bradstreet says,
And if chance to thine eyes shall bring this verse,
With some sad sighs honor my absent hearse;
And kiss this paper for thy love’s dear sake,
Who with salt tears this last farewell did take (25-28).
Simon Bradstreet, Anne’s husband, cannot forget her memory as long as her poetry serves as a reminder of her. Bradstreet almost seems to be asking God to keep her alive, and through this she seems to be questioning some Puritan ideals. Puritans believed that marriage ended after death and no one could change that reality. Bradstreet almost seems to be hoping for something different. She is writing about what she is feeling, not what she is supposed to be feeling. She is recognizing that women have a desire to be remembered and she is using her writing, just as a man might except about something only a woman can know, to ensure she is remembered.
The sentiment of love and friendship Bradstreet has for her husband is remarkable. The poem reinforces She says, “How soon, my dear, death may my steps attend, / How soon’t may be thy lot to lose thy friend, / We both are ignorant, yet love bids me / These farewell lines to recommend to thee” (Bradstreet 7-10). She is choosing to love him and not out him out of duty. In making this choice she is writing from herself and writing as a woman with power to love her husband or to not love her husband. Bradstreet obviously does have a deep love for her husband and she continues to show this throughout the poem in describing how badly she wants to be remembered by him after she dies. This does not fall in line with Puritan beliefs which scorned too much grief after a loved one died because it showed an attachment to earthly things rather than to God (Stanford 379-380). Anne Stanford explains that Bradstreet does not take her faith for granted but rather questions it constantly and only after being satisfied with answers she receives is she willing to accept the faith of the puritans. Bradstreet struggled with her faith and through that gained a closer relationship with God. Even when she seems to have accepted many Puritan ideals about God she still has many questions that evidence themselves in her poetry (374). This poem seems to support this conclusion. The men in her Puritan colony were the spiritual leaders and by questioning Puritan beliefs she is questioning the dominant culture. In this too she is stepping out into the “wild zone,” into a tenuous place there are no words for.
The wording Bradstreet uses can seem to have double meanings or ambiguous meanings. Ellen Brandt states, in reference to a few lines from the Bradstreet poem, “Upon the Burning of My House,” it is easily argued, “that Bradstreet is technically an imperfect versifier, and that she quite often employs similar distortions of grammatical structure to meet the exigencies of her metrical and rhyme schemes.” Brandt goes on to explain how it seems that instead of Bradstreet just trying to write in a convoluted way that instead there could be repressed or controlled feelings that go beyond Bradstreet’s surface themes are betrayed in her poetry. There are a lot of double meanings that can be taken in her poems because of her phrasing, the question is whether or not it is intentional or not. Perhaps she is trying to control her belief that her intelligence is equal to that of men or perhaps she is trying to hide a certain erotic element that comes through in her poetry. Ambiguous meanings give Bradstreet an ability to express a side of her “wild zone” that may not be socially acceptable. She allows readers to see what they want to see, while she is fully expressing herself. To give voice to women who are consistently silenced may take some ambiguity in order to be spoken. This is certainly an issue in the poem “Before the Birth of One of Her Children”. When Bradstreet says, “No ties so strong, no friends so dear and sweet, / but with death’s parting blow is sure to meet (Before 3-4),” on the surface she seems to be saying that all will meet death even people who love each other. It could be taken another way however. It could be seen that with the blow of death they will meet, meaning, they will meet once again in heaven. This would be an idea that is not a Puritan one because the Puritan’s believed that marriages ended when someone died (Blackstock). The next line says, “The sentence past is most irrevocable.” Keeping in mind that poetry is meant to be spoken, when you hear this line you would probably think “sentence passed,” like a judgment, but in saying sentence past she is probably referring to the last sentence.
If Bradstreet were not pregnant she would probably not be worried about dying although she was not always in the best of health. When she was a small child she had a serious case of rheumatic fever and came close to death from small pox as a teenager (Martin 15). She had seen a lot of sickness and death. Anne’s father is quoted as saying only a year after their arrival in Massachusetts, “there is not one house where there is not one dead and in some houses many (24).” That being said, the delivery process was a very dangerous endeavor for the women of her time. Bradstreet knew that each child she had brought with it a risk of death. Bradstreet is writing out of knowledge of the cycle of life. She understands that people are born, live and die and there is little certainty in any of these parts of life. She is writing from a purely feminine place.
Ellen Brandt claims that a controlled but ever present sensuality is a very consistent characteristic in much of Bradstreet’s poetry. The way that Bradstreet intertwines death, life, love, God and passion gives this particular poem a strong feeling of eroticism. Audre Lorde, a renowned 20th century poet very interested in the subject of the power the erotic gives women. In her essay, “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power she defines eroticism in this way, “The erotic is a measure between the beginnings of our sense of self and the chaos of our strongest feelings (Lorde 537).” This poem is erotic because it comes out of feelings of fear, confusion, strength, passion, and desire. She is faced with thoughts of her own death, the life of another child, the love for her husband, and the desire to be remembered. Her poem is clearly written from an understanding of the “wild zone” because it is purely feminine. No man can fully understand her feelings of fear of death before giving birth. No man can understand the idea of giving birth at all. By writing about the possibility of her death in childbirth she is giving the experience value. She is making a statement that this is a subject worth writing about. Perhaps it is not about the fear of dying in battle, something masculine and perhaps universally accepted as worthy of literary acknowledgement. She is writing about a woman’s experience, a woman’s fear, and a woman’s desire to be remembered. She is giving a voice to the common, the mundane, and the voiceless. So many women died while giving birth, it was not considered unusual, out of the ordinary, or perhaps even worthy of mentioning. Anne Bradstreet in giving voice to her “wild zone” considers it worthy of mention.
The poem “In Reference to her Children, 23 June, 1656” is about Bradstreet’s eight children. She worries for them, and she knows that she will have to leave them eventually. They are her legacy. Men create legacies through saving. Men save money, land, possessions and when they invest they expect returns. Traditionally, men build buildings and create art that lasts, while women are expected create art that is consumable, food that is eaten, clothes that are worn. Simon Bradstreet moved their family many times while in America in order to acquire more land and enlarge their estates (Martin 24-25). Women like Bradstreet had to give up her legacy in order to have it. If her children could not stand on their own when it was time then her legacy would not be a good one. The last line of the poem shows how much of Bradstreet is defined by her motherhood and her care for her children. She imagines speaking from the grave to say, “I happy am, if well with you” (Bradstreet 94). Even after her death her energy is tied up in the well-being of her children. This poem is representative of the circular thinking of women as opposed to the linear thinking of men. For her, much of life is about having children, helping them grow up, watching them leave, her children having children and her dying. She writes,
When each of you shall in your nest
Among your young ones take your rest,
In chirping language, oft them tell,
You had a dam that loved you well (81-84).
That is not to say that there is not more to her life than that, but her children are obviously her greatest accomplishments. Bradstreet wants to be remembered again for something very marginalized and taken for granted, raising children. She is claiming that raising children is a difficult task and that it is worth being remembered for. Bradstreet writes,
You had a dam that loved you well,
That did what could be done for young,
That nursed you up till you were strong,
And ‘fore she once would let you fly,
She shew’d you joy and misery;
Taught what was good, and what was ill,
What would save life, and what would kill?
Thus gone, amongst you I may live,
And dead, yet speak, and counsel give (84-89).
She obviously feels that the life she lived and the advice she gave was worth remembering (Stanford 381). She wants to be remembered and she is not shy about it, with her husband or her children. She wanted to be remembered as a mother, but by using her poetry to remind others to remember her as a mother is an interesting choice. If she uses her poetry to remind her family of what a dutiful and good woman she was in life, she is simultaneously reminding them that she was also a good poet as well. She says that she has created a legacy in her children that is worthy of remembering while creating art that will last, her poetry. She keeps these two things together in a way that causes them to be unable to be separated. Just as in the lines from her “Prologue” we remember that she is doing something that is unheard of, she is choosing to be both a woman and an artist; a mother and a poet; a conformist and a rebel.
This desire to be remembered for motherhood is something that only women can understand. Bradstreet’s husband was a governor and was often gone leaving Bradstreet to take care of their eight children and the affairs at home by herself, Bradstreet wrote many poems about her husband’s absences during these times (Brandt 47). Simon Bradstreet’s focus in life was most likely on his work, whereas Anne’s was on her cyclical legacy, her children. Bradstreet is writing about what she knows, being a wife and mother, and because she is writing what she knows, she ends up writing about the “wild zone.” She doesn’t tell her children to remember their mother and father and how they took care of them together, only how she has taken care of them. In writing about something that is familiar only to a subculture and not to the dominant culture it is hard to find words.
An interesting feature of this poem is that Bradstreet uses the metaphor of birds leaving the nest for her children growing up. This is very significant because it causes one to wonder if she uses a bird metaphor because she is writing about such a purely feminine subject. She keeps up the bird metaphor fairly well throughout the poem though it is obvious she is writing about herself and her children. Why did she choose to write about herself as a bird? Birds are symbols of beauty and freedom. They are also animals that we can observe being good mothers. They are an interesting choice for Bradstreet because although mother birds take their job very seriously in bringing food to their children, protecting their nest, and pushing their babies out when it is time, they also have art. Birds sing and birds fly. There is more to their life than just being mothers. Bradstreet made a good choice in comparing herself to a mother bird because motherhood defined Bradstreet, in the same breath freedom and art defined her as well.
In the two poems already addressed, it has been made obvious that the typical female roles of wife and mother are very important to Bradstreet. It is also because of the very fact that we have her many poems, including ones about her traditional roles, that we know writing itself is important to Bradstreet. Her poetry is an expression of her womanhood. This is made very clear by the poem, “The Author to Her Book.” Here Bradstreet writes about her experience as an author, appropriately, from the standpoint of a mother. She is writing about the book that was published behind her back by her brother-in-law, John Woodbridge, who entitled the book, The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up in America. In “The Author to Her Book” Bradstreet seems like she is judging her book very harshly. She calls it the, “ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain” (Author 1). She seems very humble about her work and anxious about it being exposed to professional, or just public, criticism. Her humility however, is not without acknowledgement that her work has some merit. She seems more upset that her poems had errors printed than the fact that they were printed (Stanford 378). She writes in lines 10 and 11, that no matter how ashamed she is of her work, she likes it because she wrote it. “Thy visage was so irksome in my sight; / Yet being mine own, at length affection would/ Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:” (Author 10-12). Bradstreet does not necessarily take all the blame for the issues in her book however. She may be recognizing through this poem that the printer made many mistakes in copying her script (Piercy 74). She tried to revise her work but was still unsatisfied.
It seems that it was important to Bradstreet that she be thought of as pious and as a, “good Puritan woman,” but it was also important to Bradstreet that she wrote. In “The Author to Her Book,” Bradstreet is making a statement that her book is like a child to her, and to women of that time, children were what women were expected to find their worth in. She obviously found some worth in having this literary “illegitimate child.” This brings us back to the lines Bradstreet wrote in her Prologue, reproduced at the beginning of this paper. She says she is “obnoxious” to people saying she shouldn’t write, but she should sew instead. She shows frustration that her work will probably not be taken seriously and that if anyone thinks it is good they will probably doubt that she had the ability to write it. It is obvious to see that Bradstreet is fully aware of the criticism she is up against, yet her book took England by storm (Gordon 250).
Perhaps creating art is as close as a man can get to motherhood, the creation of something out of one’s body. Even so, only a woman who has been a mother can truly understand the connection between having a child and creating a piece of artwork out of your body, for example, a book. Her book child grew from her intellect similarly to how her children grew from her body. Just as she would clean one of her children who have come home dirty, she explains how she tried to patch up her book and “blemishes amend” (Author 12). She cared for her book that she considered being ashamed of, but mostly was just scared as most authors are, of criticism. This poem and her book are written from a place that is her own and she wrote them from a desire to write them, not in order to get paid or to become famous but because she wanted to write.
Bradstreet writes what she thinks and feels and knows. Much of that is absolutely female writing. Perhaps it seemed to her this is what she had to write about because other issues were not culturally appropriate for the women of her time but what she writes about is so important. She writes from personal experience and because her experience is essentially feminine she writes as a part of a subculture within the dominant culture. By skillfully writing about her own experiences of being a mother she gives them value. She makes a stand that they are worth writing about. She writes about wanting to be remembered for the wife and mother that she was in a way that acknowledges the difficulties being a wife and mother come with. Her writing has erotic undertones about death, spirituality and desire for her husband. Bradstreet makes it clear she wants to be remembered. Her writing comes from a very personal place that women are rarely allowed or able to give a voice to. Bradstreet was perhaps subversive and rebellious but in doing so was well respected in her community. In writing about such personal feelings and experiences her writing becomes universal and can be appreciated, understood, and empathized with even now. Bradstreet was a woman who wrote about the “wild zone”. She gave motherhood value and consistently reinforced the idea that writing can be “women’s work.”
Silences. How often are they noticed? More often than not, they are overlooked as a time in which nothing important happens. Sometimes silences speak louder than the words that surround them. It is often in the silences that meaning is made and thoughts are solidified. Tillie Olsen explores this idea in her book, Silences. However, her writing often jumps from topic to topic and appears to lack a purpose. These techniques are not random or reflection of a lack of thought, but instead are tools Olsen uses to illustrate her point. Very often writers did not choose their silences, and the interruptions that cause their silences are demonstrated throughout Olsen’s work. For Olsen, fragmented lives equal fragmented writing, and she uses interrupted writing to demonstrate the reasons behind the silences.
Olsen’s book shows the reason for silences of writers just as much as it tells it. Olsen talks much about interruptions, and the effects they have on writing. Her choppy style is seemingly always interrupting the flow of her thoughts onto paper. However, when one examines her silences – the spaces in between her words – they carry much meaning. For example, when Olsen is discussing the past of women while explaining the lack of women writers over history, she uses fragments punctuated by semicolons or periods (Olsen 26). These breaks represent the different times in the history of women and different stigmas women had held over time. The reader is, through the interrupted thoughts, forced to make connections from thought to thought. He or she must infer for himself or herself why these thoughts have caused the existing lack of women writers. Olsen’s silences create meaning – much as those who have endured silences in their writing create and experience meaning even during times of literary silence.
Survival often commanded interruptions in the writing process. Writing takes dedication and lots of time and Olsen highlights the fact that many people historically have been unable to devote their time completely to their work as a writer – causing them to lapse into silence. They must work to survive, to provide for themselves and their family. Such was the case in Olsen’s own life (38). “What if the writers, as in some of these silences, must work regularly at something besides their own work,” Olsen ponders (13). Just as Olsen asks these questions, writers over the course of history have had to question their own ability to produce meaningful works while otherwise invested in different professions. The reader can hear the echo of the writer’s voice getting smaller and smaller in Olsen’s words - “Where the claims of creation cannot be primary, the results are atrophy; unfinished work; minor effort and accomplishment; silences” (13). Even the length of Olsen’s phrases diminishes, just as the author’s work eventually lapses into silence. Olsen’s example of Franz Kafka as an author who refused to let anything get in the way of his writing demonstrates the incompatibility of writing and any other profession. Even in Kafka’s entries about his writing, daily life situations come up, such as sleeping, supper, and memory. Writers will always be interrupted by daily life demands, whether they are as basic as food or as major as needing to pursue another profession other than writing.
“Substantial creative work demands time,” declares Olsen (13). Even as Olsen presents the opinion that solitude and complete devotion are necessary for forming a creative work, the reader is bombarded with a cacophony of quotes from different authors (Olsen 12-13). It is difficult to stay focused on what any writer is saying for too long because the reader is almost instantly showered with another idea from a different voice. Where one quotation ends, another begins. These interruptions represent the disruption of other people in the lives of a writer. The “starving artist” mentality is often upheld as a classic representation of someone completely devoted to his or her art (Olsen 13). However, that is often highly impractical in a world which demands interaction with others.
For women writers, interruptions often come in the form of running a household and raising children. “Motherhood means being instantly interruptible,” says Olsen (18). This life as a wife and a mother is a full-time job – something that Olsen argues is nearly impossible to maintain and be able to be a successful writer. Historically, the women whose writing did gain fame were primarily unmarried, and, of the ones who were married, very few had children (Olsen 16). Olsen states that she herself struggled to find time to write for years. Even when her children were grown, she found it hard to break those “habits of years” and to sit down and focus uninterrupted on her writing (Olsen 38-39). In this section where Olsen discusses her personal writing, her writing seems rushed and interrupted. When she discusses the barriers she had to break through to be a successful writer, she lists them much as she would a grocery list or a list of chores to do: “habits of years – response to others, distractability, responsibility for daily matters – stay with you, mark you, become you” (Olsen 39). Often times the demands of the day dictate that the only writing most women get to do is to create another list of things to be done. This “habit” that Olsen had to break is momentarily lapsed into to make a point. Olsen chooses to show you the struggle that exists instead of explaining it.
Tillie Olsen uses her work Silences to not only discuss literary silence but to demonstrate its causes and effects. Silences illustrates its point well. By letting the shape and form of her text speak for her, as well as clearly articulating the points she chose to make, Olsen makes a valuable argument about how fragmented lives lead to fragmented writing. Olsen lets her text speak on multiple levels. In the silences between the reader and the text, the reader understands much more clearly the reasons behind the silences of writers.
The cultural traditions and customs of nineteenth-century America differ tremendously from the acceptable cultural practices of today. Through time, language in America has evolved along with the openness and discussion of death. Twenty-first-century Americans fear death and loathe any honest and direct discourse about passing on from this physical world. In nineteenth-century America, the same period in which Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote Uncle Tom’s Cabin, open discussion and conversation regarding death was accepted. Society glorified death, seeing it as the body’s way of returning to its true home, mother earth. Romantic poet William Cullen Bryant vividly glamorizes death in his work “Thanatopsis.” Bryant glorifies the process through which one’s body and soul return to nature:
Yet not to thine eternal resting-place
Shalt though retire alone, nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world – with kings,
The powerful of the earth – the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun, -- the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods – rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old Ocean’s gray and melancholy waste, --
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man. (Bryant 2889)
Death, as Bryant illustrates, is celebrated in the Romantic age. This popular romantic idea and glorification of death in the nineteenth century allow Stowe to include death scenes in her widely recognized novel. In fact, Stowe uses the powerful emotions implicated with death to stir the hearts and souls of her readers. All readers of her novel share a common experience: death of a family member, loved one, and/or close friend. Thus, she unleashes the emotions in all her readers by appealing to their universal experiences with death.
The deaths of three specific characters in her novel illustrate Stowe’s utilization of death and the emotions implicated with the dramatic event. First to pass on in dramatic fashion is precious Evangeline St. Clare. The eleven-year-old daughter of Augustine and Marie St. Clare suffers from tuberculosis. Shortly after her agonizing death, her father, unable to bear the burden of life without his daughter, shortly follows her into the afterlife; St. Clare hastens his passing when he intervenes in a local bar fight and consequently receives a ghastly wound. His death has insurmountable implications on the future of Uncle Tom, the kind, loyal, Christian, and obedient slave man. Uncle Tom is sold south, to Simon Legree, at an auction of St. Clare’s property. Tom descends into the cruel environment fostered by the Northerner; although burdened, Tom does not give into the wrongs of slavery, and his moral and spiritual strength remain until he is beaten to death by the heartless Legree. The death of each character is described in vivid detail, as Stowe intends to pull on each and every heartstring of her readers. Stowe uses the deaths of major characters Evangeline and Augustine St. Clare, and Uncle Tom to appeal to all readers’ emotions and best illustrate the moral sicknesses and illuminate the harsh wrong realities of slavery.
The effectiveness of a character’s death depends directly upon how much he or she appeals to the reader. Thus, before Stowe brings death upon Eva, she establishes the girl as a symbol of moral perfection and innocence. Stowe portrays Eva’s morals and integrity through her honest, expressive speech. For example, Eva voices her wishes in regards to what she would do with her mother’s diamond necklace and expensive jewelry:
“I wish I had [the jewels], to do what I pleased with! . . . . I’d sell them, and buy a place in the free states, and take all our [slaves] there, and hire teachers, to teach them to read and write . . . . I’d teach them to read their own Bible, and write their own letters, and read letters that are written to them . . . . I know, mamma, it does come very hard on them, that they can’t do these things. Tom feels it, -- Mammy does, -- a great many of them do. I think it’s wrong.” (Stowe 230)
Thus, Eva establishes herself as a morally upright character, one who does not agree with the practices of slavery. In addition, Eva sees the slaves as human beings, individuals who deserve the opportunity to read and write. She does not see property when she observes black men, women, and children: she sees worthy individuals who have feelings. Most importantly, slaves have spirits, and it pains Eva to see most of these spirits unaware of God’s love and broken by the system of slavery. The anguish Eva feels is the result of the injustices done to slaves through the oppressive system. She yearns to upend the oppressive system, to educate the slaves, and to bring them into a relationship with God. She is left heartbroken when she realizes that there is little she can do to change the thoughts of those so dedicated to and enamored by the economic practicality of slavery.
Eva is a type of Christ, one who truly acts and thinks in ways that reflect God’s Son on earth. She stands for moral perfection in this world and opposes the common beliefs of society. Eva’s selflessness further strengthens her resemblance to Christ. In her last days, she encounters Topsy, a wayward slave girl with no family, whose purpose on earth had always been to serve a master. Eva, though, shows compassion for this girl who had been ground into the dirt of the earth through the slavery system. Shortly after Augustine St. Clare purchases Topsy, the little girl brings Eva a bouquet of flowers; this slave girl’s show of affection towards Eva spurs a response in Marie St. Clare, a firm supporter of oppressing slaves. St. Clare cites Topsy’s motivation for picking the bouquet: “O, nonsense! It’s only because she likes to do mischief. She knows she mustn’t pick flowers, -- so she does it; that’s all there is to it” (Stowe 248). Such a remark illustrates the disgusting ignorance and corrupted mind of Marie, a woman who will never realize the wrongs of slavery. Eva, though, sees Topsy’s loving intentions; she sees Topsy as a child of God who has feelings, including love. Eva says, “But, mamma, isn’t God her father, as much as ours? Isn’t Jesus her Saviour?” (Stowe 249). Eva sees the slaves not as property, but as people with souls and feelings that await liberation. Here, Eva reveals her belief that all people, even slaves, are equal in the eyes of God. As Christ reaches out to those in need and the wretched, Eva also reaches out to the slaves and even manages to bring Topsy, the mischievous girl who had for so long been wicked, to know that God is her father also. Thus, Stowe reveals Eva in a light reflective of Christ’s perfection, only to have her die from tuberculosis.
Eva’s death, on the surface, is the result of the feared disease of the time, tuberculosis. In a much more complex sense, though, Eva’s death is the result of slavery. Eva even says in a conversation with Uncle Tom, “‘Uncle Tom…I can understand why Jesus wanted to die for us…. Because I’ve felt so, too….I’ve felt that I would be glad to die, if my dying could stop all this misery. I would die for them, Tom, if I could’” (Stowe 240). Eva’s death is caused by the ills of slavery. She is the exceptional girl who can see the reality of slavery, the pain it causes and suffering it inflicts on the oppressed men, women, and children. In a symbolic sense, the pain she feels from slavery overwhelms her, so much so that she passes on to Heaven, a place where all men, women, and children are free. Slavery and its moral injustice is so painful and contradictory with God’s word that it destroys the hearts and souls of those who oppose it, even those given Heavenly strength. Through the death of Eva, Stowe reveals that the system of slavery induces pain and suffering on slaves and their families as well as owners and their families. Slaves would be split from their families at auctions; children would be torn out of their mothers’ comforting arms. Brothers and sisters who were fortunate enough to remain together would witness the beatings of family members. Events such as these, which were commonplace in the system of slavery, place a burden on the heart of Eva. The angel’s death results from her anguish and the burden she feels as a result of slavery; she is like Christ, who died on the cross for all the sins of mankind. Eva dies for the sins of slaveholders, for the injustice of the slavery system; she leaves the earth hoping that someday after her passing slaves will be liberated from their chains of bondage.
Shortly after Evangeline, angelic even in her worldly appearance, passes on, her father, Augustine St. Clare, is overwhelmed by her absence. He is so overcome by grief that he fails to act on a promise that he gave to his dear child before her death. Eva asks her father to free their slaves, specifically Tom. Eva asks, “And promise me, dear father, that Tom shall have his freedom, as soon as…I am gone!” (Stowe 242). St. Clare responds by promising, “Yes, dear, I will do anything in the world, -- anything you could ask me to.” St. Clare, however, does not fulfill his promise to Eva, and fails to free Tom before his death. A local bar fight prompts St. Clare to intervene in an attempt to keep the peace; his efforts are resisted and he suffers a “fatal stab in the side with a bowie-knife” (Stowe 275). St. Clare remains alive only a short while longer, before passing on and leaving Tom vulnerable to the auction blocks. St. Clare’s death reveals that any slave is totally dependent on his or her master’s actions and words. Slaves, in fact, have no say in matters involving their own fate; their words are not valued or considered significant, especially in legal situations. Slaves, even honest ones such as Uncle Tom, who tell the truth about their master’s wishes, are not respected by the vicious proponents of slavery. Slaves are property, and as such they face the same fate; when their masters die, they are made available to the highest bidder, even if that bidder may be the devil personified on earth. The sale of a slave who was soon to be free epitomizes the immoral system of slavery that so ruthlessly breaks those enslaved.
Uncle Tom, like Eva, is a typological comparison to Jesus Christ. He represents moral perfection, loyalty, and love and respects all things living in God’s created earth. Tom even respects his first master, Mr. Shelby, so much so that when he learns that he has been sold due to debts owed by Shelby, he does not flee. He sees it as his duty to repay his master’s debt, if that is his master’s will; Tom’s loyalty and trustworthiness are strengthened by his strong Christian faith. Stowe depicts Tom in ways that bolster the reader’s respect and liking of the reputable slave. Like Christ, Tom shows selfless qualities, even in the face of severe suffering. Legree purchases Tom at the auction and brings the slave to his plantation. Tom soon experiences severe suffering. His own physical pain, though, cannot corrupt his moral strength and Christian faith. For instance, after a long day’s work, “Tom waited till a late hour, to get a place at the mills; and then, moved by the utter weariness of two women, whom he saw trying to grind their corn there, he ground for them, put together the decaying brands of the fire, where many had baked cakes before them, and then went about getting his own supper” (Stowe 301). Tom’s selflessness prompts him to assist the two women in need, grinding their corn first so that they may eat. Tom’s goodness is too great for this earth, and his death is the result of his loyalty to Christ Jesus and moral perfection; loyalty to God and morality are both contradicted by the values of slavery. Tom meets death without fear, knowing that he will pass onto Heaven, where all men and women and children are free; he dies with a pure heart and soul.
Tom refuses to give in to his master; on a deeper level, he refuses to give his soul to anyone other than God. When Legree finds Tom wearily reading The Bible after a backbreaking day of labor, he crows that he has finally broken the slave’s spirit. Tom, though, responds with words that glorify God, the only One who can own his soul: “I’ll hold on. The Lord may help me, or not help; but I’ll hold to him, and believe him to the last!” (Stowe 339). Tom refuses to sell his soul to Simon Legree, as many other slaves had already done. Legree’s whippings only strengthen Tom’s faith and confirm the reality that slavery is wrong. The essence of slavery is selling souls and the physical worldly ownership of souls. This, however, is incompatible with the words of God and His plan; Stowe illustrates this incompatibility of slavery with Christianity through Tom’s death.
Stowe uses Tom’s death to illustrate that the heavenly values of generosity and love must be adhered to over earthly values formed by economic motivations. If adhering to heavenly values within the slavery system leads to death, as it does for Uncle Tom, then the system itself is undeniably wrong and evil. Stowe describes the death of this Christian man with vivid detail, causing the reader to almost feel the pain that the poor slave endures in the last stage of his life. Legree ferociously beats Tom, pounding, pounding, and pounding the slave with his whip. Tom loses consciousness, but even in the face of death, “he poured forth a few energetic sentences of that wondrous One, -- his life, his death, his everlasting presence, and power to save” (Stowe 359). In death, Tom manages to save Quimbo and Sambo, the two slave drivers who had previously never known the mercy of God. Stowe thus ends the life of a morally upright character, one who resembles God’s goodness and mercy on earth. The system of slavery grants slave holders the freedom to beat their slaves and treat them in any imaginable manner; this is a moral injustice of slavery. Through the death of Tom, Stowe reveals the powerlessness of the slave, even the most physically strong, as well as the suffering endured by slaves through the death of Uncle Tom. Tom’s death is brought on by his loyalty to Christ and fellow slaves; under no circumstances, should human beings be punished for loving others and remaining faithful to the word of God. Slavery, however, permits evil to grind out any goodness left on the earth.
Stowe attacks the system of slavery in her novel through death scenes in the book. Death evokes powerful emotion in the reader’s heart, especially when death claims the life of loved ones. Eva’s death tugs on the heartstrings of the reader, as she suffers helplessly and ever so slowly as a result of the injustices of slavery and her tuberculosis. The system of slavery is responsible for the death of all morally right ideas and individuals. St. Clare’s death reveals the injustices done to the slave, even when freedom seems so real. Most powerfully, though, the scene of Tom’s death speaks out against the injustice of slavery. Eva’s pale, beautiful face and Uncle Tom’s broad shoulders manifest heaven on earth in the midst of slavery. But even their undeniable goodness, faith, and yearnings for change cannot change the system that has become engrained in the American South. These individuals alone cannot eradicate slavery, but inspiration from their deaths can motivate scores of Americans to act. Thus, through death Stowe calls her readers to action; unite against this corrupted and absolutely evil system of slavery. Stowe emphasizes that it is no longer time to adhere to worldly values when fellow members of God’s kingdom suffer. Stowe calls out to Christians in the North and South and non-Christians with pure hearts through the universal event of death.