Harriet Jacobs' Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl is the account of one black woman's struggle for freedom from the bonds of slavery. Written under the pseudonym Linda Brent, the story-telling is highly comparable to that of earlier captivity narratives written by white women enslaved by Native Americans. Jacobs' account is especially stylistically reflective of Mary Rowlandson's captivity tale, Sovereignty and the Goodness of God. Both are relatively short works which were published to urge readers to action. However, they offer distinctly different messages. Rowlandson's narrative vilifies Native Americans, painting them as a threat to women and the virtue of the Christian nation. It also supports the Puritanical power structure, as Rowlandson does not question her role in society: God is her ultimate master, and she is subsequently subjected to the authority of all men, according to God's will. Jacob's story challenges Puritanism, blaming it for the justification of the slavery of her people. She recognizes that the Christian religion serves as a reinforcement of patriarchy, which is responsible for slavery, and to a greater extent, the subjugation of all women, black or white.
Jacobs writes that she shares her story in order to “arouse the women of the North to a realizing sense of the condition of two millions of women at the South, still in bondage” (2-3). Jacobs' distortion of religion makes its first appearance in the narrative's epitaph, a scriptural reference from Isaiah 32.9: “Rise up, ye women that are at ease! Hear my voice, ye careless daughters! Give ear unto my speech.” Jacobs utilizes religion to connect with the white women of the North even before the narrative begins. She must prove that she, too, is a virtuous woman, but also that her people are in need of the assistance of fellow women everywhere. This epitaph also shows that, while she may not always agree with religion, she does not utterly denounce it. Jacobs is instead concerned with the hypocrisy of religion and the corruption of it for personal gain: “There is a great difference between Christianity and religion at the south. If a man goes to the communion table, and pays money into the treasury of the church, no matter if it be the price of blood, he is called religious” (64). By ignoring the Puritanical power structure, Jacobs is able to place the subjugation of women squarely on men. She only refers positively to religion when attempting to justify her own piety or to connect with her white women readers. At all other instances, she points out that scriptural doctrine has given mortal men the power to keep women in whatever place they desire.
Since women did not frequently write and publish books in the early nineteenth century, Rowlandson's narrative is prefaced by a testimonial on her behalf written by an unidentified male. This man lends credibility to the narrative by painting Rowlandson as a “pious” “Gentlewoman” who is married to a minister (66). Jacob's publication follows the same tactic. However, instead of a preface by a male author, the introductory words are written by an upper-class white woman, Lydia Maria Child. Child lends credibility to Jacobs by identifying her as “highly esteemed” by a “distinguished family,” claiming that she has had “frequent intercourse with intelligent persons” as well as “opportunities for self-improvement” (4). She testifies on Jacobs' behalf because “the public ought to be made acquainted with” the “monstrous features” of slavery (5). She, too, reiterates Jacobs' desire to incite the women of the North to action. She also calls on men to “swear solemnly before God” to prevent the enslavement of blacks (5). This, once again, calls attention to the Puritanical power hierarchy, and forces men to recognize their responsibility as representatives of God.
A stark contrast between the two narratives is the authors' treatment of other women. Rowlandson refuses to obey the Indian women while she is held captive. This can be attributed to the fact that, according to the Puritanical power structure, she is equal to other women and the head of her own servants. Indeed, the female Indians in Sovereignty and the Goodness of God are painted as more barbaric creatures than the males. When a male Indian gives Rowlandson a Bible, a female grabs it from her, throws it, and then slaps her across the face. Later, when King Philip helps her wash herself, a female Indian throws ash into her eyes. Even her master acknowledges that he understands her position when he tells her, “Two weeks more and you shal be Mistress again” (96). Jacobs is mistress of no one, and she knows that the only way she may be able to bring peace to her people is to convince white women to protest the unjust treatment of black women. She creates sympathy for her sex by highlighting instances of oppression that all women can relate to: “Slavery is terrible for men; but it is far more terrible for women. Superadded to the burden common to all, they have wrongs, and sufferings, and mortifications peculiarly their own” (66). Dr. Flint, like so many other slave owners, uses Linda's sexuality against her, as a weapon for further enslavement. As soon as she was of child-bearing age, her “master began to whisper foul words” into her ear. Jacobs differentiates between white women's subjugation and that of black women when she writes that “there is no shadow of law to protect [the black woman] from insult, from violence, or even from death; all these are inflicted by fiends who bear the shape of men” (26). Jacobs also goes so far as to paint Mrs. Flint as an utter fool who is jealous of Linda for all the wrong reasons. In a scene parallel to Rowlandson's, Mrs. Flint makes Linda swear on a Bible that she is innocent of relations with Dr. Flint. In Rowladson's narrative, the Bible signifies her loyalty to God in the face of adversity. In Jacobs' story, it represents the hypocrisy of Puritanism.
While Rowlandson remains passive, submitting her life to Providence and all higher authority, Linda is constantly active, striving to find ways to free herself and her family. At one point, Rowlandson actually has a chance to escape her native captors, but she fails to act because she would rather “wait on the Lord” for “deliverance” (77). The truth is that Rowlandson could likely not survive on her own in the wilderness. She chooses to remain the passive female over attempting to free herself. Jacobs, on the other hand, wastes no time taking the opportunity to escape. As soon as she realizes that her children are to be brought to the plantation to be “broke in,” she begins making plans to flee. Of the gentleman that gives her this information, she says, “To this day I feel grateful to [him]. It nerved me to immediate action” (80). Linda realizes that if she does not act fast, her two children will be made slaves as well. She does not wait for God or anyone else to give her guidance. To escape, she can only rely on herself.
It is ironic that Rowlandson, who claims the Indians are such barbaric creatures, submits herself to them without argument. This simply reflects her Puritanical values which place her second in command to male authorities. Even though the Indians were savage characters, she maintains her place as a good Christian woman by allowing them to dominate her. She even goes so far as to recognize King Philip as a benevolent protector, calling him “the best friend that I had of an Indian” (86). Linda does not submit to the same power structure, and, instead, commits a series of “sins” in order to pursue her freedom. First and foremost, instead of allowing Dr. Flint to control her sexuality, she takes charge of it herself, developing an intimate relationship and having two children with Mr. Sands, a successful white lawyer. She also flees and hides from her master for several years, and practices deception by sending him letters postmarked from a different location. While she devotes page after page to confessing her sins and recalling the pain and humiliation of her actions, she also asserts the necessity of action in order to free herself from slavery. She does not see her actions as unforgivable considering the circumstances.
Unlike Rowlandson, Jacobs refuses to accept the Puritanical power structure that reinforced slavery and promoted the subjugation of women. She portrays herself as a devoted mother in an attempt to connect with white women of the North. At her narrative's end, she writes, “Reader, my story ends with freedom; not in the usual way, with marriage” (164). While she “longs for a hearthstone” of her own, she does not plan on marrying to obtain it (164). She does not need a man to provide for her. By proving that religion is often distorted for personal gain, she attempts to undermine the patriarchal society that awards men ownership of all women.
Works Cited
Jacobs, Harriet. “Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl.” Dover: New York, 2001. Print.
Rowlandson, Mary. “Sovereignty and the Goodness of God.” Ed. Neal Salisbury. Bedford/St. Martin's: Boston, 1997. Print.
Showing posts with label thompson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thompson. Show all posts
Friday, March 19, 2010
The Battle Over Woman's Virtue: Sexual Imagery in The Last of the Mohicans and “A Panther Captivity”
The 1804 painting The Murder of Jane McCrea by John Vanderlyn portrays a helpless white woman at the mercy of two Indian savages prepared to claim her tresses. McCrea appears completely vulnerable, with the cleavage of her voluptuous bosom exposed to the nearly nude male captors, one of whom wields an ax high above her head. The painting, based on the actual murder of a white woman at Fort Edward in 1777, utilizes an imaginary context in which to tell the story. This imaginary context paints the murder as a highly sexualized act of violence. This type of imagery repeats itself throughout many captivity and Indian war narratives, such as in James Fenimore Cooper's The Last of the Mohicans and “The Panther Captivity Narrative” written under the pseudonym Abraham Panther. Originally, the American frontier offered a truly masculine realm for the white man to explore his fascination with the red man, but the introduction of females to the wilderness undeniably upsets this exclusively male fantasy structure. Consequently, men of both races battle, not only for the dominion of the wilderness, but also to defend or possess the virtue of white women.
Captivity and Indian war narratives often aimed to displace the native as the proper hero of the American wilderness, and instead, suggested Indianized white men like Daniel Boone and Natty Bumppo should be the new chiefs of the frontier. Women, however, had no place in such a dangerous and intimidating territory. Colonists feared that a white woman captured by Indians might be defeminized by her interactions with the wild, or worse yet, that she might be forced to have sexual relations with – or even marry – an Indian. White men also feared that their women could potentially be attracted to these beautiful, physical and exotic natives. Therefore, colonists felt it necessary to protect the virtue of their women, and to a larger degree, the virtue of the nation. Violent sexual imagery like in Vanderlyn's painting helped many authors convey their anxieties about racial integration. Cooper's inclusion of women in the wilderness upsets the masculine balance that white men and Indians shared. The conclusion of The Last of the Mohicans indicates that racial integration is impossible, and that women have no place in the masculine wilderness fantasy between the white man and the red man. “The Panther Captivity Narrative,” on the other hand, challenges the notion that woman cannot survive in the wilderness, and instead indicates that not only Indians but men in general are a threat to woman's virtue.
Cora and Alice, the leading ladies of The Last of the Mohicans, are both inherently and potentially sexual characters. Alice is weak and innocent; she weeps and faints at the sight of physical danger. Cora starkly contrasts her sister, with a “rather fuller and more mature” figure, which quickly becomes the object of two Indians' affections (17). One of these men is Magua, a Huron Indian who threatens the white man's very fears of interracial relationships. Cora is prey to all of the perils white women taken captive by Indians face – defeminization, rape and Indianization. Vanderlyn's sexual imagery is evoked when Magua raises an ax above Cora's head, threatening to kill her: “The form of the Huron trembled in every fibre, and he raised his arm on the high, but dropped it again with a bewildered air, like one who doubted” (413). Magua's hesitation indicates a real affection for Cora. His feelings for her, predicated by violence, have become something more sentimental. Cooper ultimately determines that a white woman/red man relationship is immoral regardless of the foundation on which it is formed. The deaths of both Cora and Magua indicate that interracial relationships were not acceptable in the New World. Furthermore, the novel ends just as it began – with the wilderness as a masculine world with no room for female disturbances.
“The Panther Captivity Narrative” challenges notions that women have no place on the frontier. The tale of the woman taken captive by Indians in 1777 (ironically, the same year of McCrae's murder) is told within a letter to an unnamed recipient requesting information about the “Western wilderness” (211). The writer tells of how he and his companion, Mr. Camher, came upon a “most beautiful young lady! sitting near the mouth of a cave!” (212). As they approach her, the lady screams and swoons, and after coming to and being calmed by the men, tells them her story of captivity. The account, which began as a masculine tale of two men trekking through the wilderness, turns sharply at this point to accommodate the female captivity narrative. However, this captivity narrative does not resemble traditional tales of women like Mary Rowlandson or Maria Kittle. Instead, the woman presents all of the ways in which she is able to successfully survive in the wilderness after her capture.
First, she is driven into elopement by her father, who refuses to permit a relationship between the young woman and the man she loves. On the fourth day after she leaves her father's home, she and her lover are captured by Indians, and the latter is barbarously murdered. Surprisingly, by swooning and laying on the ground until her captors are preoccupied, the woman is able to escape, and subsequently wanders aimlessly in the wilderness for fourteen days. Most narratives would, at this point, focus on woman's lack of ingenuity and navigation in the wilderness. However, “The Panther Captivity Narrative” details this woman's ability to survive on her own: “By day the spontaneous produce of earth supplied me with food, by night the ground was my couch, and the canopy of heaven my only covering” (214).
On the fifteenth day of her wandering, she is approached by a “man of gigantic figure,” who captures her and leads her back to the very cave the writer finds her in (214). The man indicates that he would like to have sexual relations with the woman, and she declines his offer, prompting a scene very much like Vanderlyn's: “... at length he rose in a passion … and brought forth a sword and hatchet. He then motioned to me, that I must either accept of his bed, or expect death for my obstinacy” (214). Once again the woman objects and the man (whose identity is never clearly defined as white, Indian or other) ties her up for the night, giving her time to reconsider her decision. During the night, however, she frees herself from her restraints, and, taking up her captor's hatchet, “with three blows effectually put[s] an end to his existence” (214).
“The Panther Captivity Narrative” turns man's expectations of women in the wilderness upside-down, suggesting that, if white men have a place in the wilderness alongside Indians, so do white women. The woman in this narrative is neither masculinized or Indianized, as previously feared. Despite her nine-year experience in the wilderness, she still reflects a well-bred, sophisticated white woman. She swoons and cries, she is a gracious hostess to the men who discover her, she adopts a small dog as a pet, and her singing cannot be distinguished from that of a bird. Ironically, she also murders and dismembers her captor. This action is acceptable, however, because she commits the act in order to protect her chastity, which would have been wholly in line with white men's desires. “The Panther Captivity Narrative” helps displace the male wilderness fantasy by suggesting that women were indeed fit to survive on the frontier. The woman in the narrative is taken captive not only by Indians, but also by her father and another man whose race is unspecified, indicating that all men are a threat to woman's virtue.
Works Cited
Cooper, James Fenimore. The Last of the Mohicans. New York: Signet, 2005. Print.
Panther, Abraham. “The Panther Captivity Narrative.” Edgar Huntly. Ed. Philip Barnard and Stephen Shapiro. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing, 2006. 211-215. Print.
Captivity and Indian war narratives often aimed to displace the native as the proper hero of the American wilderness, and instead, suggested Indianized white men like Daniel Boone and Natty Bumppo should be the new chiefs of the frontier. Women, however, had no place in such a dangerous and intimidating territory. Colonists feared that a white woman captured by Indians might be defeminized by her interactions with the wild, or worse yet, that she might be forced to have sexual relations with – or even marry – an Indian. White men also feared that their women could potentially be attracted to these beautiful, physical and exotic natives. Therefore, colonists felt it necessary to protect the virtue of their women, and to a larger degree, the virtue of the nation. Violent sexual imagery like in Vanderlyn's painting helped many authors convey their anxieties about racial integration. Cooper's inclusion of women in the wilderness upsets the masculine balance that white men and Indians shared. The conclusion of The Last of the Mohicans indicates that racial integration is impossible, and that women have no place in the masculine wilderness fantasy between the white man and the red man. “The Panther Captivity Narrative,” on the other hand, challenges the notion that woman cannot survive in the wilderness, and instead indicates that not only Indians but men in general are a threat to woman's virtue.
Cora and Alice, the leading ladies of The Last of the Mohicans, are both inherently and potentially sexual characters. Alice is weak and innocent; she weeps and faints at the sight of physical danger. Cora starkly contrasts her sister, with a “rather fuller and more mature” figure, which quickly becomes the object of two Indians' affections (17). One of these men is Magua, a Huron Indian who threatens the white man's very fears of interracial relationships. Cora is prey to all of the perils white women taken captive by Indians face – defeminization, rape and Indianization. Vanderlyn's sexual imagery is evoked when Magua raises an ax above Cora's head, threatening to kill her: “The form of the Huron trembled in every fibre, and he raised his arm on the high, but dropped it again with a bewildered air, like one who doubted” (413). Magua's hesitation indicates a real affection for Cora. His feelings for her, predicated by violence, have become something more sentimental. Cooper ultimately determines that a white woman/red man relationship is immoral regardless of the foundation on which it is formed. The deaths of both Cora and Magua indicate that interracial relationships were not acceptable in the New World. Furthermore, the novel ends just as it began – with the wilderness as a masculine world with no room for female disturbances.
“The Panther Captivity Narrative” challenges notions that women have no place on the frontier. The tale of the woman taken captive by Indians in 1777 (ironically, the same year of McCrae's murder) is told within a letter to an unnamed recipient requesting information about the “Western wilderness” (211). The writer tells of how he and his companion, Mr. Camher, came upon a “most beautiful young lady! sitting near the mouth of a cave!” (212). As they approach her, the lady screams and swoons, and after coming to and being calmed by the men, tells them her story of captivity. The account, which began as a masculine tale of two men trekking through the wilderness, turns sharply at this point to accommodate the female captivity narrative. However, this captivity narrative does not resemble traditional tales of women like Mary Rowlandson or Maria Kittle. Instead, the woman presents all of the ways in which she is able to successfully survive in the wilderness after her capture.
First, she is driven into elopement by her father, who refuses to permit a relationship between the young woman and the man she loves. On the fourth day after she leaves her father's home, she and her lover are captured by Indians, and the latter is barbarously murdered. Surprisingly, by swooning and laying on the ground until her captors are preoccupied, the woman is able to escape, and subsequently wanders aimlessly in the wilderness for fourteen days. Most narratives would, at this point, focus on woman's lack of ingenuity and navigation in the wilderness. However, “The Panther Captivity Narrative” details this woman's ability to survive on her own: “By day the spontaneous produce of earth supplied me with food, by night the ground was my couch, and the canopy of heaven my only covering” (214).
On the fifteenth day of her wandering, she is approached by a “man of gigantic figure,” who captures her and leads her back to the very cave the writer finds her in (214). The man indicates that he would like to have sexual relations with the woman, and she declines his offer, prompting a scene very much like Vanderlyn's: “... at length he rose in a passion … and brought forth a sword and hatchet. He then motioned to me, that I must either accept of his bed, or expect death for my obstinacy” (214). Once again the woman objects and the man (whose identity is never clearly defined as white, Indian or other) ties her up for the night, giving her time to reconsider her decision. During the night, however, she frees herself from her restraints, and, taking up her captor's hatchet, “with three blows effectually put[s] an end to his existence” (214).
“The Panther Captivity Narrative” turns man's expectations of women in the wilderness upside-down, suggesting that, if white men have a place in the wilderness alongside Indians, so do white women. The woman in this narrative is neither masculinized or Indianized, as previously feared. Despite her nine-year experience in the wilderness, she still reflects a well-bred, sophisticated white woman. She swoons and cries, she is a gracious hostess to the men who discover her, she adopts a small dog as a pet, and her singing cannot be distinguished from that of a bird. Ironically, she also murders and dismembers her captor. This action is acceptable, however, because she commits the act in order to protect her chastity, which would have been wholly in line with white men's desires. “The Panther Captivity Narrative” helps displace the male wilderness fantasy by suggesting that women were indeed fit to survive on the frontier. The woman in the narrative is taken captive not only by Indians, but also by her father and another man whose race is unspecified, indicating that all men are a threat to woman's virtue.
Works Cited
Cooper, James Fenimore. The Last of the Mohicans. New York: Signet, 2005. Print.
Panther, Abraham. “The Panther Captivity Narrative.” Edgar Huntly. Ed. Philip Barnard and Stephen Shapiro. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing, 2006. 211-215. Print.
Sympathizing With the Savage
In 1759, Scottish philosopher Adam Smith wrote “The Theory of Moral Sentiments,” a treatise outlining how and to what extent one man is capable of feeling sympathy for another. His theory was particularly significant at the time because global interactions during the Colonial Era made humans from a variety of different cultures question their ability to interact with one another without provocation. Smith describes the personal affections we feel for others after forcing ourselves to relate to their sensations. He explains how we choose companions who are most likely to reciprocate our sympathies. He also contests that “we are often differently affected” by particular sensations, and that “our different habits of life” create varying possibilities for our capacity to sympathize. While Smith claims that men are capable of relating to one another through shared feelings, he also justifies their ability to disagree because each man perceives certain sensations as more important than others. In 1783, as a battle over American soil raged between European settlers and the land's native inhabitants, Benjamin Franklin channeled Smith's theory in his “Remarks Concerning the Savages of North America.” By drawing upon notions explored in Smith's theory, Franklin asserts that native American Indians are not “savages,” but rather part of a culture unfamiliar to that of European settlers.
The ability to sympathize with one another is of utmost importance, according to Smith, because “society and conversation … are the most powerful remedies for restoring the mind to its tranquility.” In his remarks, Franklin praises the Indians for their use of oratory, explaining how both public transactions and tradition are passed down through memorization, as they have no written language to utilize. He claims that they have an “abundance of leisure for improvement by conversation” and that “having frequent occasions to hold public councils, they have acquired great order and decency in conducting them.” According to their culture, it is extremely improper to interrupt someone speaking, even in common conversation. These images of peaceful communion are contrasted with Franklin's description of a chaotic session of the British House of Commons, where few men can come to agreement and politeness in conversation is hardly observed. The Indians' ability to successfully participate in “society and conversation” prove them to be much less “savage” than the Europeans who fail to utilize sympathy in their processes of communication.
Native American Indians' ability to listen when others speak is a direct result of the importance their culture places on politeness. Smith writes that we must “always endeavor to bring down our passions” to a pitch comparable to that of our company. Furthermore, he claims that “if we are at all masters of ourselves, the presence of a mere acquaintance will really compose us, still more than that of a friend; and that of an assembly of strangers still more than that of an acquaintance.” Smith advocates utilizing sympathy “especially when in their presence and acting under their observation.” Franklin identifies the Indians' extreme politeness in several instances. For example, at the Treaty of Lancaster in Pennsylvania in 1744, when the commissioners of Virginia offered the Indians of the Six Nations an opportunity to send their youth to a Williamsburg college, they waited a full day before making their reply. Franklin explains that this is an Indian rule, and that a public proposition is never to be answered before the tribe has a significant amount of time to weigh the issue, as doing otherwise would indicate the Indians' lack of appreciation, or sympathy, for the matter. Franklin, with his colonial conceptions, still finds this politeness troubling: “The politeness of these savages in conversation is indeed carried to excess, since it does not permit them to contradict or deny the truth of what is asserted in their presence. By this means they indeed avoid disputes; but then it becomes difficult to know their minds, or what impression you make upon them.” While this politeness is certainly of a peaceful nature, even Franklin admits the prospect of it causing tension between the cultures. He reminds us, however, that “if we could examine the manners of different nations with impartiality, we should find no people so rude, as to be without any rules of politeness; nor any so polite, as not to have some remains of rudeness.”
Franklin's illustration of the proposal at the Treaty of Lancaster also demonstrates the two cultures' differing sentiments regarding labor and education. The Indians' reply is thoughtful, with regard to the commissioners' good intentions: “For we know … that you highly esteem the kind of learning taught in those colleges, and that the maintenance of our young men, while with you, would be very expensive to you.” However, although they are able to sympathize with the white men's intentions, they reject their offering, stating that “different nations have different conceptions of things,” and that their “ideas of this kind of education happen to to be the same” as the Europeans'. They had experienced English education, and had determined it to make their men unsuitable for native American life. Franklin remarks that while the Indians may seem “slavish and base” to us, they regard the education with which we value ourselves to be “frivolous and useless.” Smith's theory that men are capable of varying degrees of sympathy according to the subjects which he is most personally affected by explains why colonists and Indians were likely to disagree on the importance of labor and education in their daily lives.
These varying degrees of sympathy manifest themselves in the two cultures' religions as well. Franklin writes that missionaries are often frustrated with Indians because they will listen to stories of the Gospel with patience, understanding and approbation, but fail to actually convert their own sympathies to the Christian doctrine. He writes about an Indian who attempts to relay the natives' version of Creation to a Christian missionary. The missionary becomes “disgusted with this idle tale” and lashes out at the Indian for delivering “mere fable, fiction and falsehood” in exchange for “sacred” Christian “truths.” The Indian replies that the missionary has not been properly instructed in the “rules of common civility,” and that it is ironic that the Christian should refuse listening to the Indian's revelation after he had listened intently to the missionary's. Smith claims that a spectator, or listener, in this instance, must “endeavor as much as he can, to put himself in the situation of the other, and to bring home to himself every little circumstance of distress which can possibly occur to the sufferer,” and that “he must adopt the whole case of his companion with all its minutest incidents; and strive to render as perfect as possible, that imaginary change of situation upon which his sympathy is founded.” The missionary fails to put himself in the position of the Indian, whose story highlighted his people's struggle with starvation. Despite the desperate tale, the missionary finds no way to sympathize with the Indian. Religion, one of the most affective sensations of all, prevents the Christian man from putting himself in the position of the Indian, whose conceptions of spirituality are vastly different.
Franklin recognizes the importance of Smith's theory in relations between the Europeans and the native Americans. He finds varying degrees of sympathy in men to be responsible for the inevitable clash of cultures. Smith forewarns that a lack of mutual sympathy can only result in malice:
With his remarks, Franklin attempts to create genuine sympathy for the native American “savages.” However, he seems to be keenly aware that a lack of sympathy on the part of the white man will be detrimental to the assimilation of both cultures.
Works Cited
Franklin, Benjamin. “Remarks Concerning the Savages of North-America.”
Smith, Adam. “The Theory of Moral Sentiments.” 1759.
The ability to sympathize with one another is of utmost importance, according to Smith, because “society and conversation … are the most powerful remedies for restoring the mind to its tranquility.” In his remarks, Franklin praises the Indians for their use of oratory, explaining how both public transactions and tradition are passed down through memorization, as they have no written language to utilize. He claims that they have an “abundance of leisure for improvement by conversation” and that “having frequent occasions to hold public councils, they have acquired great order and decency in conducting them.” According to their culture, it is extremely improper to interrupt someone speaking, even in common conversation. These images of peaceful communion are contrasted with Franklin's description of a chaotic session of the British House of Commons, where few men can come to agreement and politeness in conversation is hardly observed. The Indians' ability to successfully participate in “society and conversation” prove them to be much less “savage” than the Europeans who fail to utilize sympathy in their processes of communication.
Native American Indians' ability to listen when others speak is a direct result of the importance their culture places on politeness. Smith writes that we must “always endeavor to bring down our passions” to a pitch comparable to that of our company. Furthermore, he claims that “if we are at all masters of ourselves, the presence of a mere acquaintance will really compose us, still more than that of a friend; and that of an assembly of strangers still more than that of an acquaintance.” Smith advocates utilizing sympathy “especially when in their presence and acting under their observation.” Franklin identifies the Indians' extreme politeness in several instances. For example, at the Treaty of Lancaster in Pennsylvania in 1744, when the commissioners of Virginia offered the Indians of the Six Nations an opportunity to send their youth to a Williamsburg college, they waited a full day before making their reply. Franklin explains that this is an Indian rule, and that a public proposition is never to be answered before the tribe has a significant amount of time to weigh the issue, as doing otherwise would indicate the Indians' lack of appreciation, or sympathy, for the matter. Franklin, with his colonial conceptions, still finds this politeness troubling: “The politeness of these savages in conversation is indeed carried to excess, since it does not permit them to contradict or deny the truth of what is asserted in their presence. By this means they indeed avoid disputes; but then it becomes difficult to know their minds, or what impression you make upon them.” While this politeness is certainly of a peaceful nature, even Franklin admits the prospect of it causing tension between the cultures. He reminds us, however, that “if we could examine the manners of different nations with impartiality, we should find no people so rude, as to be without any rules of politeness; nor any so polite, as not to have some remains of rudeness.”
Franklin's illustration of the proposal at the Treaty of Lancaster also demonstrates the two cultures' differing sentiments regarding labor and education. The Indians' reply is thoughtful, with regard to the commissioners' good intentions: “For we know … that you highly esteem the kind of learning taught in those colleges, and that the maintenance of our young men, while with you, would be very expensive to you.” However, although they are able to sympathize with the white men's intentions, they reject their offering, stating that “different nations have different conceptions of things,” and that their “ideas of this kind of education happen to to be the same” as the Europeans'. They had experienced English education, and had determined it to make their men unsuitable for native American life. Franklin remarks that while the Indians may seem “slavish and base” to us, they regard the education with which we value ourselves to be “frivolous and useless.” Smith's theory that men are capable of varying degrees of sympathy according to the subjects which he is most personally affected by explains why colonists and Indians were likely to disagree on the importance of labor and education in their daily lives.
These varying degrees of sympathy manifest themselves in the two cultures' religions as well. Franklin writes that missionaries are often frustrated with Indians because they will listen to stories of the Gospel with patience, understanding and approbation, but fail to actually convert their own sympathies to the Christian doctrine. He writes about an Indian who attempts to relay the natives' version of Creation to a Christian missionary. The missionary becomes “disgusted with this idle tale” and lashes out at the Indian for delivering “mere fable, fiction and falsehood” in exchange for “sacred” Christian “truths.” The Indian replies that the missionary has not been properly instructed in the “rules of common civility,” and that it is ironic that the Christian should refuse listening to the Indian's revelation after he had listened intently to the missionary's. Smith claims that a spectator, or listener, in this instance, must “endeavor as much as he can, to put himself in the situation of the other, and to bring home to himself every little circumstance of distress which can possibly occur to the sufferer,” and that “he must adopt the whole case of his companion with all its minutest incidents; and strive to render as perfect as possible, that imaginary change of situation upon which his sympathy is founded.” The missionary fails to put himself in the position of the Indian, whose story highlighted his people's struggle with starvation. Despite the desperate tale, the missionary finds no way to sympathize with the Indian. Religion, one of the most affective sensations of all, prevents the Christian man from putting himself in the position of the Indian, whose conceptions of spirituality are vastly different.
Franklin recognizes the importance of Smith's theory in relations between the Europeans and the native Americans. He finds varying degrees of sympathy in men to be responsible for the inevitable clash of cultures. Smith forewarns that a lack of mutual sympathy can only result in malice:
But if you have either no fellow-feeling for the misfortunes I have met with, or none that bears any proportion to the grief which distracts me; or if you have either no indignation at the injuries I have suffered, or none that bears any proportion to the resentment which transports me, we can no longer converse upon these subjects. We become intolerable to one another. I can neither support your company, nor you mine. You are confounded at my violence and passion, and I am enraged at your cold insensibility and want of feeling.
With his remarks, Franklin attempts to create genuine sympathy for the native American “savages.” However, he seems to be keenly aware that a lack of sympathy on the part of the white man will be detrimental to the assimilation of both cultures.
Works Cited
Franklin, Benjamin. “Remarks Concerning the Savages of North-America.”
Smith, Adam. “The Theory of Moral Sentiments.” 1759.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
