In his
groundbreaking 1957 essay, "Sarah
Orne Jewett's Ideas of Race,"
Ferman Bishop
concludes that despite Jewett's admiration for her
abolitionist and egalitarian friends, John Greenleaf Whittier
and Harriet Beecher Stowe -- he might also have named Annie
Fields --, Jewett maintained throughout her life "an
aristocratic emphasis upon the racial inequalities of
mankind." He appears to be the first reader to label her
kind of racial thought, saying that Jewett must be "counted as
a consistent adherent to the ideas of nordicism" (249).
Bishop traces her nordicism to her research for and
composition of
The Story
of the Normans (1887), a volume in the Putnam's
Sons series of popular histories, The Story of the
Nations. He says that in this work, Jewett found an
account of the French Normans, from which the
Jewett family claimed its ancestry,
that persuaded her of the racial superiority of this Nordic
people.
Several critics have followed Bishop's lead
in categorizing Jewett as a nordicist and in reading
The
Story of the Normans as presenting her racial theory.
In
two essays,
Sandra
Zagarell elaborates upon Bishop's reading, arguing that
when Jewett composed
The Country of the Pointed Firs
(1896) she conceived of the ideal American community as
racially exclusive. In "Country's Portrayal of Community
and the Exclusion of Difference," she identifies "a nordicist
discourse that valorized 'northern races'" (54). In
"Crosscurrents," Zagarell finds in Jewett a "racialist,
nordicist version of Euro-American history which shades into
racism, white supremacy and
nativism"
(144).
Patrick Gleason follows
and further elaborates Zagarell, saying that
The Story of
the Normans, "celebrates the putatively Nordic qualities
of adventure, intelligence, vitality, conquest, and ambition,"
and claims "that the infusion of these characteristics into
the racially inferior Saxons made possible the formation of
massive empires on both sides of the Atlantic" (26). In
the view of these critics, Jewett is an avowed, if genteel,
nordicist white supremacist and nativist.
In this essay, I challenge the accuracy of
characterizing Jewett as a nordicist and of reading her work
on Normans as developing a racial theory. I argue that
the label is anachronistic and, finally, misleading, and that
The Story of the Normans actually has little to say
about race in the sense that the term is used either in the
21st century or by American nordicists, such as Madison
Grant. Somewhat more relevant to Jewett's thinking is
the discourse of Teutonism that emerged after the Civil War,
but Jewett proves not to be a supporter of Teutonism,
either. Examining these ideas leads to the broader
question of how to develop a more accurate and persuasive view
of Jewett on race. I move, then, to presenting a number
of Jewett texts that are more directly relevant to
understanding her racial thought. Taking notice of these
texts and the little that has been said about them casts doubt
upon the description of Jewett as a nordicist white
supremacist and nativist. I conclude that Jewett
scholarship has, as yet, uncovered little persuasive knowledge
about Jewett's racial thought, though there is a rich set of
materials scholars can examine to achieve such knowledge.
Nordicism
According to the
Oxford English
Dictionary, the term "nordicism" enters the English
language in about 1923, and it is first used to refer to the
"doctrine of or belief in the cultural and racial supremacy of
the Nordic people" in 1925, sixteen years after Jewett's death
in 1909. The term,
Nordic,
referring to
Scandinavian peoples and languages, goes back to the early
19th century, according to
OED, but the concepts of
nordicism come into use a century later. Of course, some
of the ideas that constitute nordicism could and, in fact, did
precede the appearance of the term, as illustrated in this
chronology:
1887 Jewett,
The Story of the Normans.
1899 William Z. Ripley,
The Races of
Europe. Introduces the concept of a distinct
Northern European race.
1902 Jewett's publishing career effectively
ends after she is seriously injured in a carriage accident.
1909 Jewett dies.
1916 Madison Grant,
The Passing of the
Great Race. Popularizes the name, Nordic, for
Ripley's distinct Northern European race and argues that
Nordics are the superior world race.
These dates indicate that for Jewett to have been an American
nordicist by 1887, she would have had to anticipate by 12
years Ripley's identification of a race of northern Europeans
and by nearly 30 years Grant's arguments for the superiority
of the Nordic race.
Thomas Gossett
explains that
ethnologist William
Ripley's
The
Races of Europe was part of an attempt to
complete the discrediting of Aryanism, the unscientific theory
that a distinct Aryan race could be identified in modern
Europe (126).
John Higham further
explains how Ripley synthesized recent anthropological studies
to develop the thesis that Europe was populated by three
distinct white races. He called the northern group
Teutons, the central group Alpines, and the southern group
Mediterraneans, and he worked out distinct physical and
cultural traits belonging to each race. Ripley
contributed to the kind of scientific race theory that new
American nativists, represented by the Immigration Restriction
League (founded in 1894), were anxious to develop as a
rationale for cutting off immigration from southern and
eastern Europe. However, Ripley's conclusions were not
especially useful to these new nativists, because he saw human
populations as essentially malleable, and he insisted upon the
importance of environment in producing cultural and even
physical differences over comparatively short times
(154). Madison Grant constructed the argument that gave
these nativists the "scientific" grounding they were seeking
in
The Passing of the Great Race (1916).
Renaming the northern group Nordics, Grant argued that they
were the superior race of Europe, the bearers of civilization,
and founders and leaders of the United States.
Crucially, he maintained that race was a natural and
essentially unchangeable feature of each individual. Grant
decried the "fatuous belief" of intellectuals in American
culture's powers of assimilation, "the power of environment to
alter heredity" (Higham 156).
Nordicism, as a form of nativism, receives
its first full expression in
Madison
Grant's
The Passing of
the Great Race. Grant's argument contains
these components:
- Biological races are distinguished by
heredity and have ancient roots in pre-history.
- Race ultimately dominates over
environmental influences in determining the character of
groups and of individuals.
- Nordics, with geographical origins in
Scandinavia and northern Europe, form a distinct race.
- Nordics are by far the most advanced
world race, physically, intellectually, and morally.
They are inherently and more or less permanently superior to
all other "species" of humanity.
- America's future survival depends upon
Nordic dominance, for Nordics compose the true human
aristocracy, those who are best fitted to govern.
- The United States originally was
not
a democracy, but a republic, designed for the rule of the
natural aristocracy, but a foolish and sentimental drift
toward greater democracy -- the rule of the majority -- has
reduced Nordic dominance and empowered the racially inferior
mob.
- Recent American history has produced at
least two major errors that threaten national survival: making
freed slaves into "equal" citizens; and importing a horde of
non-Nordic immigrants for reasons of sentimental sympathy for
the supposedly oppressed and as cheap labor.
- The Civil War in the past and World War I
in the present reduce the numbers of Nordic males, who -- as
the most courageous, enterprising, and morally committed --
always are eager to sacrifice themselves for justice and
liberty.
- America's future is under serious threat
because Nordic numbers are diminishing, while inferior races
are out-breeding and overwhelming the Nordics.
- Responses to this threat should include:
restricting immigration, maintaining and strengthening racial
segregation, encouraging native American Nordics to produce
more offspring.
With
The Passing of the Great Race,
says Higham:
[T]he old Anglo-Saxon tradition had finally
emerged in at least one mind as a systematic, comprehensive
world view. Race-thinking was basically at odds with
the values of democracy and Christianity, but earlier
nativists had always tried either to ignore the conflict or
to mediate between racial pride and the humanistic
assumptions of America's major traditions. Grant,
relying on what he thought was scientific truth, made race
the supreme value and repudiated all others inconsistent
with it. (157)
Solomon characterizes Grant, at one time an officer in the
Immigration Restriction League (IRL), as a eugenics supporter,
with a particular animus toward Polish Jewish immigrants
(201). His work along with that of the IRL and other
nordicists led to the
immigration
acts in
1917, 1921 and 1924 that
sought to limit, particularly, immigration from southern and
eastern Europe. Higham says that,
more
than anyone, Grant in
The Passing of the Great Race,
which was reprinted multiple times through the early 1920s,
"taught the American people to recognize within the white race
a three-tiered hierarchy of Mediterraneans, Alpines, and
Nordics, to identify themselves as Nordic, and to regard any
mixture with the other two as a destructive process of
'mongrelization'" (272). Higham notes Grant's beliefs in
the "racial determination of culture," and that blending races
led to regression of superior races toward the weaknesses of
the inferior races: "the cross between any of the three
European races and a Jew is a Jew" (156). For Grant,
"restoring" America's declining cultural superiority depended
upon reestablishing and maintaining an original Nordic racial
purity. To succeed in this project, America must turn
back from democracy to aristocracy (Higham 157).
In "
Jewett's
Argument in The Story of the Normans," I show
that Jewett's book neither forwards nor expresses agreement
with any of the leading ideas of Madison Grant. She
characterizes the Normans not as a superior people, but as
thieves and fighters, foolish, brutal and murderous, who,
nevertheless, have somehow given modern Anglo-American culture
its courage and steadfastness and its great cultural and
technological achievements. How is this possible?
Her final answer to this question is in the progressive will
of Divine Providence: "the slow processes by which God in
nature and humanity evolves the best that is possible for the
present" (363). The Normans were an aggressive
militaristic people, but they also possessed a genius for
finding out the best ways of doing things and the most
valuable cultural products of the peoples they encountered and
for transforming themselves by adopting newer and better
ways. My analysis of Jewett's argument draws out these
further observations:
- Jewett's context for thinking
about intercultural conflict and cooperation was religious
rather than scientific, contrasting with Grant, so that her
historical narrative traces the progressive actions of
Divine Providence to bring about moral improvement in world
civilizations.
- Hence, Jewett's understanding of race,
like that of most of her contemporaries, was not
scientific, as Grant and Stoddard believed their racial
concepts were.
- Her conflation of race, nation and
ethnicity, using the ideas interchangeably, allowed for
considerable fluidity in the formations of peoples, such as
the Normans.
- She, like her historical sources,
understood Normans to be a highly mixed amalgam of European
peoples in the period of the Norman conquests; Grant
would characterize Jewett's Normans as mongrels, distinct
from true Nordics with "pure" Scandinavian ancestry.
- Also in common with her sources, she
saw Normans and Saxons in England as opposed in cultural
traditions rather than in their genetic origins, which were
virtually identical.
- She concluded that Normans and
Saxons brought to Anglo-American culture complementary
strengths and weaknesses, such that their mixing after 1066
produced the particularly energetic and innovative culture
that, for both good and bad, she saw in ascendancy at the
end of the 19th century.
Though Jewett uses the term "race" often to refer to Normans
and Saxons, in fact, she does not understand them as races at
all, at least not as Madison Grant used the term. She
believed, along with her sources, that at the time of the
Norman conquest of England, the Normans were culturally as
well as militarily superior to the Saxons, but this was a
recent development, during which different groups of
essentially the same peoples experienced quite different
environments and cultural circumstances, a main difference
being relative domination by the Roman Empire and then by
Roman Catholicism. The Norman Conquest brought about the
reunion of different branches of the European family and,
thanks to Norman dominance, resulted in a union in which the
best qualities of both groups were preserved and developed,
while at least some of the worst qualities were shed or
reduced. What survives of the Normans after they blend
with the Saxons to become the English, is a spirit, a set of
attitudes and beliefs, which she calls a "rich inheritance,"
bequeathed in particular to England and America. In her
view,
anyone who embraces this
inheritance
becomes
a
Norman in spirit, regardless of ancestry. In a letter to
Annie Fields, written as she was
researching
The Story of the Normans, Jewett speaks of
the survival of Norman and Saxon viewpoints as like political
parties, claiming that she can categorize at least some of her
friends and neighbors in South Berwick as belonging to one
group or the other.
Jewett's thinking seems far distant from
20th-century nordicists; rather, she appears somewhat
old-fashioned, as one might expect in an artist who comes of
age a generation or more before the inventors of
nordicism. In her research for and composition of
The
Story
of
the Normans, Jewett, probably without knowing this,
participated in another historical debate regarding the
relative importance of Teutons and Normans in the development
of modern Anglo-American culture. To place her thinking about
race more precisely within the race discourse of her
generation, it is necessary, therefore, to review a line of
development that begins with Teutonic Origins Theory, tracing
it up to the beginnings of nordicism.
It seems helpful to begin following race
thinking from Teutonic Origins Theory to nordicism by
introducing concepts from David
Theo
Goldberg's
Racist
Culture. Goldberg is concerned in part to
sort out racist expression and exclusion from the background
of racialized discourse that he sees characterizing Western
civilization since the 16th Century. Westerners
virtually unavoidably communicate within a system of thought
in which race assumes persistent reality, even though the term
is empty of inherent meaning and, therefore, protean.
Individuals affiliate with groups in both positive and
negative ways by claiming and conferring racial
identity. Westerners routinely deploy racial
stereotypes, both benignly and invidiously. While in the
long run, we might hope to do away with racialized thinking
altogether, Goldberg wants to help readers understand when, at
this point in history, resistance and opposition are called
for. He sees little practical value in demanding that race
disappear as a means of claiming and conferring identity, but
justice requires a moral person to oppose what Goldberg
defines as racist expression and action: communications, acts
and policies that set members of groups apart as Others for
purposes of exclusion from privilege and power (See for
example, 41-3, 79, 90-7). Goldberg thus marks a
permeable barrier between taking race seriously in the ways
ethnologists and historians do when they categorize and study
populations according to how they have claimed and conferred
racial identities, on one hand, and, on the other, using these
racial identities to cause harm by enabling, recommending, and
carrying out exclusions (see 211). In the historical
developments of Teutonism and nordicism, this barrier is
crossed with the move from studying categories of people to
creating and rationalizing hierarchies that enable racist
exclusion.
Teutonic Origins Theory begins with
historical examination of European populations to advance and
test an hypothesis about the development of the modern nation
state, but in the hands of some historians and their
popularizers, the historical examination devolves into
Teutonism, a racist and nativist doctrine current in Jewett's
generation.
According to
Edward
Saveth in his first chapter, Teutonic Origins Theory
posited that Teutonic tribes, Germanic populations of Northern
Europe, rather than the Romans, originated certain key
institutions of the modern democratic nation state, such as
parliaments, the rule of law, and trial by jury (See also
Gossett, Chapter 5). In the latter half of the 19th
Century, discussion of Teutonic origins took a racist turn
toward Teutonism: the argument that Teutonic peoples, more
than originating key aspects of modern national government,
must also dominate in those contemporary nations, England and
the United States, that wish to continue and improve these
institutions. In the work of British historian Edward A.
Freeman, Teutonism became a rationale for racial nativism, for
excluding from Britain and North America all inferior,
non-Teutonic peoples and limiting the power of those already
present. These inferiors are not able to assimilate to a
republic and, in fact, threaten the continuance of
representative government.
Freeman was
in frequent contact with prominent American historians, and he
offered public lecture tours in the United States, one of
which led to his notorious book,
Some
Impressions of the United States (1883), in which
he argued that African Americans and the Irish could not be
assimilated to American democratic institutions.
Freeman, thus, crosses a line between the historical study of
differing populations on one side and, on the other, proposing
a hierarchy of "races" and recommending some groups for
exclusion from power.
Freeman's
Teutonism
came
to
include and foment anxiety about immigration.
Barbara Solomon describes New England
Brahmins' growing anxiety in the 1880s about the ability of
the United States to continue the process of assimilation by
which immigrants from many nations and peoples had been
transformed into Americans up to that point in history.
The "new immigration," which included increasing numbers of
southern and central Europeans, seemed to be bringing into the
nation hordes who appeared not so amenable to
assimilation. Solomon specifies prominent figures known
to Jewett who expressed anxiety about this, including
Thomas Bailey Aldrich, Phillips Brooks
and George Woodberry (See Chapter 4, especially 61-8).
In the early 1880s, some British historians, such as Freeman,
warned America of the increasing difficulty of assimilating
immigrants. Saveth describes Freeman's position:
He postulated an original pre-historic home land
of the Aryan peoples where they evolved a unique
institutional pattern. The dispersal of the Aryans from this
early cradle of civilization led to institutional
recapitulation wherever they or their descendants settled in
Greece, Rome, Germany, England and, finally, in America. The
Teutons, chronologically the last of the Aryan peoples and
like their predecessors, the Greeks and the Romans, destined
to be rulers and teachers of the world, were recipients of
the finest fruits of the racial heritage. Just as among the
Greeks and Romans the Aryan institutional heritage
culminated in the city-state and empire, so the entrance of
the mighty Teuton upon the historic scene marked the dawn of
a new era in political organization, that of the nation
state.
In Freeman's view the Teutonic character
was most highly developed not on the European continent,
where the blood of the Germans had suffered a Romanic
infusion, but in England where, despite Roman and Norman
invaders, the institutions of the Anglo-Saxon prevailed.
Widely as the contemporary British constitution differed
from the practices of the followers of Cedric, who had
carried the Teutonic heritage from the mainland to the
island forests, there was no break between them. It was the
distinctive trait of British nationality that, alone among
the greater states of Europe, Great Britain possessed a
Parliament whose descent could be traced from the Teutonic
institutions of earliest times.
Freeman also believed that the ties of
race transcended national boundaries. The English people had
not one, but three homes: originally on the European
mainland, then in England and, finally, in the United
States. Those who came to Britain with Hengest in the fifth
century and those whom the Mayflower brought to a New World
centuries later were alike carriers of the original Teutonic
heritage. The institutions of the early Massachusetts towns
were part of the inheritance of the Teutonic race, and their
establishment in New England was part of the history of the
Aryan people. (18-9)
According to Saveth, Freeman came into conflict with a number
of historians over Teutonic Origins Theory, the position,
summarized above, that democratic institutions have their
origin in the Aryan race, and particularly in the Teutons, and
that those Teutonic peoples who were influenced by the Romans,
such as the Normans, were culturally inferior to the
Anglo-Saxons.
American historians, in particular, were
skeptical of Teutonic Origins Theory and offered a counter
hypothesis in favor of Normans, Scandinavian peoples, which
developed into a local and transatlantic debate. American
historians, such as Henry Cabot Lodge and Henry Adams, became
persuaded of the importance of Norman influence upon the
development of democratic institutions as well as upon other
significant features of Anglo-American culture (see especially
Saveth, Chapter 3). Contention between Teutonic Origins
Theory and the Norman hypothesis played out mainly in academic
journals during the 1880s and 1890s. This discussion
also devolved into a racist position embraced by Lodge and,
especially, by the group of 1889 Harvard graduates who founded
IRL in 1894 (See Solomon, Chapter 5). The IRL, with
Lodge's encouragement and support, went on to help transform
the Norman hypothesis into a foundation for nordicism,
embracing Ripley's 1899 scientific, ethnological study that
differentiated European races, giving authority to the idea
that there was a distinct northern European race, and moving
toward the final step, provided by Madison Grant, of
constructing these European "races" into a larger hierarchy of
all world races.
Twentieth-century historical studies by
Solomon, Higham and Saveth present two parallel developments
in which nativists hijack historical studies of European
populations to use them as rationales for racist
nativism. These two appropriations illustrate a process
in which racialized thinking crosses a border into asserting
and exploiting racial hierarchies as described by Goldberg:
- Anthropological work categorizes peoples
according to cultural and other markers, including language,
location, religions, customs, physical appearance and
other characteristics.
- Historians describe and study categorized peoples'
migrations, interactions, cultural and political development
over time.
- Some historians and others enable racial oppression by
rationalizing hierarchies, making cases that one category is
"by nature," essentially and permanently superior to
another.
- These steps lead to establishing racial oppression and
exploitation by recommending and/or carrying out actions
that separate categories of people and exclude some
categories from power.
Jewett's work on
The Story of the
Normans takes place when American proponents of the
Norman hypothesis were challenging Teutonic Origins Theory and
when Freeman was arguing his Teutonist nativism. So far
as I can determine, Jewett was not aware of the academic
discussions of the origins of democratic institutions, but in
her research for
The Story of the Normans, she read
massive histories of the Normans by
Francis Palgrave, Augustin Thierry, and Freeman,
among others. Freeman's monumental
The
History
of
the Norman Conquest of England, Its Causes and Its Results
(6 volumes; 1867-1876) confirms his view of the primacy of the
Teuton Saxons in the creation of modern democracies, and
Palgrave concurs on this point, though, according to Gossett,
Palgrave resists the notion that other races are incapable of
assimilating these values (Gossett 87). Jewett's reading
-- and probably also ethnic pride in her own Norman ancestry
-- led her, apparently independent of contemporary
professional historians, to oppose Freeman's Teutonic Origins
Theory in her book:
Mr. Freeman believes that the Saxon element was
the permanent one in English history, and that the Norman
conquest simply modified it somewhat and was a temporary
influence brought to bear for its improvement. It is useless
to argue the question with such odds of learning and thought
as his against one, but the second invasion of Northmen by
the roundabout way of Normandy, seems as marked a change as
the succession of the Celts to the Britons, or the Saxons to
the Danes. The Normans had so distinctly made a great gain
in ideas and civilization, that they were as much foreigners
as any Europeans could have been to the Anglo-Saxons of that
eleventh century, and their coming had a permanent effect,
besides a most compelling power. It seems to me that England
would have disintegrated without them, not solidified, and a
warring handful of petty states have been the result. (355)
In this passage, Jewett is quite aware that she is
not
a professional historian, and she knows she cannot argue
against Freeman, only state her contrary opinion. She
speaks of Normans and Saxons as closely related, malleable
peoples who have temporarily undergone separate developments,
so that Normans became able to bring special cultural gifts to
the Saxons. And she affirms that both benefited from
their reunion. That she does not call to her aid those
American historians, who were in the process of developing
their pro-Norman arguments, indicates that she probably was
not aware of their work. Her book is a popular history based
upon the work of a few professional experts. She
authored it, presumably, because Putnam's had reason to
believe that she could successfully present this material to
their target readers. The book's commercial success as
measured by multiple reprintings and its generally positive
reviews
suggests that her publisher was right.
This example shows Jewett resisting
Freeman's
historical theory; on his nativism, she
apparently makes no comment in
The Story of the Normans.
Does
her
work provide any clues to how she would have responded to his
Teutonism had she been aware of it? When Jewett opposes
Freeman's Teutonic Origins thesis that "the Saxon element was
the permanent one in English history," she sketches and lends
support to the view that mixing nations and peoples -- rather
than always causing degeneration and cultural loss -- often
contributes to the progressive improvement of
civilization. Her basic argument is that adding a
"permanent" Norman element to the Saxon element of British
culture produced a new and better English culture. In
doing this, she strikes at one of the main features of
Freeman's nativism, his notion that maintaining at some level
the racial purity of the Teutonic founders of English and
American democracy was essential to its survival. To
return to her thesis in
The Story of the Normans, part
of what made it possible for the brutal and often foolish
Vikings to become the more gentle and civilized Normans and to
give gifts of imagination and tolerance to Anglo-American
culture was their willingness to combine with the peoples they
encountered, such as the French, the Italians, and the
English/Saxons, and to lead in the creation of new amalgams of
peoples. This idea would have been anathema to nearly
all forms of nativism, and especially to those developing
during her professional lifetime, which aspired to identifying
and maintaining a pure master race.
The above examination of
The Story of
the Normans shows that Jewett does not develop a racial
theory there. She does not present the Normans as a race
in the modern sense of the term, and she does not even argue
that they were a superior people, though they temporarily
dominated in France and England and left behind, when they
disappeared, a legacy of positive attitudes and values that
she considers a gift to modern civilization. She takes
no position on either Teutonism or nordicism. Indeed, by
following her sources in presenting the Normans as an amalgam
of northern European tribes improved by interaction with
French and Italian cultures and by conversion to Roman
Catholic Christianity, she unknowingly opposes Teutonism and
fails to support any of the key aspects of racial superiority
prized by the proponents of nordicism who appeared after her
death.
Jewett was not a nordicist, and her book on
the Normans fails to express her racial thought, except for
her belief that by mixing peoples over the centuries, Divine
Providence works to bring good out of human folly and, so, to
improve civilization. It is unfortunate that Bishop
opened the discussion of Jewett's racial thought with such an
extreme and apparently inaccurate characterization. In
fairness, it should be noted that, in using the term
"nordicism," Bishop seems unaware of Madison Grant's
ideas. He draws instead upon
Jacques
Barzun's analysis of the development of
German nordicism, which he traces from the Nazis back to
Tacitus
. Barzun applies the term "nordicist" to
all writers who speak favorably of Germanic peoples.
Still, this is problematic, for thinking highly of Germanic
peoples does not inevitably entail white supremacy and
nativism. Among the effects of Bishop's label has been
the assumption among influential critics of Jewett that Bishop
has established Jewett's nordicism and a subsequent slippage
of his terminology to include the anachronistic association of
Jewett with the beliefs of Grant and Stoddard. As a
result, for many readers, she is presumed to share the white
supremacist and nativist beliefs of those nordicists.
Bishop supports his thesis with a survey of
Jewett's presentation of Normans in her fiction, but because
he has missed Jewett's condemnation of Norman traits of
violence, cruelty, arrogance, tyranny, self-destructiveness,
ruthlessness, materialism, and folly, he fails to see how her
depictions are double-edged. For example, Bishop argues
that George Quint, the king of
Folly
Island, goes against his Norman ancestral qualities when
through pride and anger, he dooms his wife and daughter to
isolation and early death (246-7). But Quint embodies
the negative traits of Jewett's Normans almost exactly, just
as Mrs. Blackett of
The Country of the Pointed Firs
embodies their prime virtues. Similarly, Bishop
registers Tom Burton's pity for the "Norman" Mr. Bellamy in "A
War Debt," but misses Jewett's presentation of Bellamy as
having sacrificed a rich social life, a prosperous plantation,
his wife's health, his sons, and much more in the folly of a
war to preserve slavery (247-8). This sort of distorted
reading has characterized a good deal of critical writing
since Bishop, as readers come to Jewett texts assuming her
nordicism and nativism to be well-established.
Knowing that Jewett was not one kind of
white supremacist or nativist reveals too little about her
racial thought. As Gossett's
Race: The History of an
Idea in America makes clear, the variety of positions
one could occupy in post-Reconstruction discourse on race was
as various then as in the 21st century. She could have
accepted or opposed any of several versions of racial or
ethnic hierarchy. She could have supported or opposed the
segregation or immigration of any number of ethnic, religious
or racial groups. It should be possible to locate Jewett
within the race discourse of her time. If her racial
beliefs are not clearly present in
The Story of the
Normans, then one can look for them elsewhere.
Unfortunately, Bishop's argument has combined with the fact
that the Dunnet Landing stories, especially,
The Country
of the Pointed Firs, are Jewett's most acclaimed and,
therefore, best-known works. As a result, much of the
scholarship on Jewett's racial thought
draws primarily upon these stories, which are set in a small,
down-
east Maine coastal village. As
Zagarell suggests in "
Old Women and Old
Houses," perhaps Jewett's critics have participated in
creating a distortion by positing Dunnet Landing as Jewett's
one idealized community and exploring the ways in which she
seems to recommend it as a model for the region and for the
nation. Given its location in time and space, it should
be no surprise that Dunnet Landing lacks diversity, virtually
its entire population having northern European ancestry.
The only ethnic outsider fully presented in the stories is
Mrs. Tolland of "The Foreigner," who comes to the area from
Martinique via Jamaica. Gleason, for one, has argued that Mrs.
Todd, who tells the story of Mrs. Tolland, suppresses her
racial difference, forgetting or ignoring the probability that
she is a mixed-race former slave (31-35). Mrs. Todd
seems quite sure, however, that Mrs. Tolland was born in
France and spent her childhood there, and Todd presents more
evidence of her French customs than of African or Creole
influence. Though it still is possible that Tolland was
of mixed-race, no one in the story betrays even a suspicion of
this. Instead locals focus on her outsider status as
Catholic and foreign.
The main problem with using Dunnet Landing
to get at Jewett's racial thought, then, is that the community
lacks racial diversity, making it difficult to infer anything
definitive about her ideas. The main inferences readers
have made are that because Jewett prizes this community, she
must be thinking of it as representing an ideal America, and,
since the village lacks racial and ethnic diversity, she must
long for an America without such diversity, a version of the
racially pure, Nordic America of which Madison Grant dreamed.
Racialized Language and Stereotypes in
Jewett Texts
If one wishes to get at Jewett's ideas
about race, it would seem sensible to focus on texts in which
she deals with the topic directly. Some work has been
published on relevant texts, but more will be necessary before
readers can begin to feel confident that a clear and
consistent picture has emerged. The next part of this
essay introduces texts in which Jewett deals directly with
racial materials and in which she depicts more diverse
communities than Dunnet Landing.
Readers seeking insight into Jewett's
racial thought have naturally turned to pieces in her own
voice,
especially her
letters. Examining these materials, readers have
shown that Jewett employs the racialized language of her time
and makes use of racial and ethnic stereotypes. Some
readers consider these examples as evidence that she "others"
certain racial and ethnic groups, betraying her white
supremacist beliefs, but other interpreters emphasize the
difficulty of moving from such examples to reliable inferences
about Jewett's opinions. A main problem in making such
inferences is grasping the context of any particular
utterance.
For example, Gleason calls attention to
examples of racialized thinking in a Jewett letter reporting
on her winter 1896 Caribbean cruise with Annie Fields and the
T. B. Aldriches on Henry Lillie Pierce's steam yacht, the
Hermione:
Writing home to Louisa Dresel, Jewett expressed
her fascination with the islands of Haiti and Jamaica,
articulating her touristic view of the local population in
racialized terms that echo the nostalgic plantation
literature of the 1850s: "Then we went to Hayti, which was
oh, so funny with its pomp of darkeys. Port au Prince was
quite an awful scene of thriftlessness and silly pretense --
but one or two little Haytian harbours and the high green
coast were most lovely. And then Jamaica, with all its new
trees and flowers, and its coolies, Loulie! with their
bangles and turbans and strange eyes. You would like Jamaica
immensely" (Fields, Letters 163). (24)
Gleason characterizes Jewett as exoticizing and eroticizing
these islands and their peoples. He believes Jewett's habitual
"othering" of non-whites in her language originated during her
first trip to Europe in 1882: "After this trip, she
increasingly associated natural superiority with the Nordic
races, racial inferiority and submission with the
Anglo-Saxons, and servile dependence with people of African
descent" (25). He notes condescension to Blacks in
another letter about her cruise, this to Sarah Wyman Whitman,
arguing that Elizabeth Silverthorne in her biography of Jewett
attempts to obscure Jewett's racist language:
The original letter reads, "It is a charming
little town along the waterside, with its little square
houses with four-sided thatched roofs; and down the side
lanes come women carrying things on their heads, firewood
and large baskets of grapes, and an idle man-person on a
small donkey, and little black darkeys, oh, very black, with
outgrown white garments" (Fields, Letters 161).
Silverthorne's presentation of the letter is for the most
part accurate until she substitutes "small black children
wearing garments handed down to them by whites" for "little
black darkeys, oh, very black, with outgrown white
garments." The alteration elides both Jewett's pejorative
and her emphatic repetition of their visible blackness and
injects a philanthropic tone absent from Jewett's original
letter, which does not speculate that the children's
clothing was beneficently "handed down" by whites. (28)
Another well-known similar example of racialized language is
the
incident at the
Bowden
reunion in
The Country of the Pointed Firs, when
one character says of another "I always did think Mari' Harris
resembled a Chinee." Zagarell reads this as an ethnic
slur that illustrates Jewett's exclusionary view of American
identity ("
Country's Portrayal of Community" 39).
Josephine Donovan
calls attention to the context of the "Chinee" comment,
noting, among a number of problems, that Jewett puts this
remark into the mouth of a less than reliable character and
allows Mrs. Blackett, the most ethically admirable person in
the book, to contradict the comment. Similarly, elements
of the context of the two letters Gleason studies make his
inferences problematic. How does one know that Jewett's
racial terminology was pejorative within her cultural
context? Did she intend or even acquiesce in conferring
characteristics of inferiority upon Black people by using
"darkeys" or upon immigrant laborers by using "coolies" and by
calling attention to their different appearance? What is the
likelihood that future readers will read my use of the terms
"Blacks" and "Black people" as pejorative epithets?
Further, the recipients of both Jewett letters were
painters --
as was
Jewett at a more amateur level -- for whom the emphasis
on color and visual contrast in the descriptions would have
meanings perhaps more significant than denoting racial
distinctions.
In a
diary entry of Sunday 15
August 1869, when Jewett was nearly 20, she wrote: "Very
rainy. Went to Church all day. Miss Lizzie Parks
& Mr Barker of California sat with me in the morning. A
nigger preached in the afternoon –" This would seem to
be clear proof that at the very beginning of her writing
career, Jewett's use of racialized language proved her
white-supremacist beliefs. And yet, this is the only use
of "nigger" so far noted in Jewett's writing. What did
this word mean in Jewett's family, community, and church four
years after the Civil War? Without much fuller knowledge of
the context within which Jewett wrote this word, it seems
impossible to know her intentions.
Racialized language often is part of
employing stereotypes used to assert invidious racial and
ethnic distinctions and maintain a racial hierarchy. Gleason
identifies some stereotypes he sees Jewett using when she
associates "submission with the Anglo-Saxons, and servile
dependence with people of African descent." He draws
upon Zagarell's "Crosscurrents," where she argues that
Jewett's 1895 story, "
A
War Debt," produces a version of post-Civil War
reconciliation narrative in which a pair of Nordic families
will restore their friendship across the North / South divide,
reestablish a feudal order with Freedmen as the new peasants,
and so unify the broken nation on a foundation of
institutionalized racism (145-6). This story, according
to Zagarell, stereotypes freed slaves as incapable of
functioning in democracy and Saxons as less able than Nordics
to unify the nation and restore a proper racial order.
She also characterizes Jewett's final novel
The
Tory Lover (1901), set in 1777-8 during the
American Revolution, as presenting the view that the War of
1812 was a decisive victory of a Nordic United States over an
Anglo-Saxon England, attesting to "America's destiny to
supersede England as the primary sea-power of the Atlantic"
(146).
In these arguments, Jewett is shown to
accept as
obvious and to depend upon
her readers being willing to accept certain stereotypes about
Nordics, Saxons, and African Americans. I have argued,
in "
To Each Body a Spirit," that
Jewett's depiction of African Americans in her fiction is
generally sympathetic. For example, two important Black
slave characters appear in
The Tory Lover.
Though their depiction may not be free of stereotypes,
narrative sympathy for their oppression and recognition for
their dignity as equals to their white owners seems
clear. Further, I argue that the depiction of newly
freed Blacks in "A War Debt" is complicated by being filtered
through the consciousness of Tom Burton, the politically naive
point-of-view character. It is clear that
he
stereotypes the former slaves he observes in the story, but it
is less than clear that Jewett or her narrator affirms or
intends for readers to accept his point of view. Whether
Jewett accepts the typical post-war stereotypes of Freedmen as
dependent and incapable of self-rule is further complicated by
her use of a Black point-of-view character and her depiction
of other Black characters in "
The
Mistress
of
Sydenham Plantation" (1888), seven years before "A War
Debt."
Barbara Solomon shows Jewett deploying a
negative stereotype of German immigrants as materialistic
(157-8, 253). She also describes a letter to
Louisa Dresel of 14 June, probably in 1892, as objectifying an
elderly Polish pianist and, thereby, displaying the xenophobia
common among New Englanders after the Civil War (175,
257). In that letter, Jewett playfully sketches an
accomplished musician who is staying at her hotel in
Aix-les-Bains, France. Age has diminished her ability.
She is pathetic and amusing, with her cross looks, funny wig,
bad table manners, and kitten-like demeanor. But Jewett
confesses that this uncharitable portrait is "wicked," and
tells Dresel that she has become friendly with the woman and
feels sincere gratitude for "her good music." Jewett
then reflects upon the dangers of simply accepting appearances
and discounting such an eccentric: "but the minute you get
beyond a certain point of interest and acquaintance, how this
all changes!" This is like laughing at everyone at the
circus, and Jewett reminds her correspondent that it is
neither kind nor just to do so (Fields,
Letters,
#87).
Jewett apparently underwent a similar
change of view-point with regard to Jews. In a letter to
Anna Laurens Dawes of
25 November 1876, Jewett says of
antisemitism:
I wonder if it is not a very shabby thing to have
this contempt for that race? With me it is not a prejudice
against their belief and history -- It is the looks of the
Jews!! which is not a high-minded view of things at all..
This honestly confessed mixture of prejudice and recognition
of her lack of high-mindedness in harboring it shifts a dozen
years later, as seen in her
5 February 1888 letter to Dawes.
She reports having read Dawes's
The Modern Jew (1884),
and goes on:
... I was tempted to ask you to give me some
titles of books so that I could go on growing wise as to
this great subject Indeed it is far too great for one
to be bound by ignorant prejudice as I have been; it is such
a good hit at me when you ask whether I am willing to have
America represented by the typical Yankee! I have heard Mr.
[James Russell] Lowell say the most interesting
things about the growing political power of the Jewish race
and I believe that he has an uncommon liking for tracing
unsuspected lines of Jewish heredity!
Jewett seems to imply here that antisemitism is the norm in
her culture and to recognize that this results at least in
part from the perpetuation of stereotypes that she would like
to overcome in her own thinking. That antisemitism based
partly on stereotypes was common in Jewett's circle is
suggested by Annie Fields's travel diary entry of
15 February 1896, during her Caribbean
cruise with Jewett and Thomas Bailey Aldrich. Further,
Jewett, during her difficult and never completed recovery from
her September 1902 carriage accident, wrote a
March 1903 letter to Annie Fields in
which she suggests that Fields has been in some way victimized
by a "grabbing old Jew." While it is difficult to know
exactly what she refers to, it is clear that she has resort to
a hoary stereotype, perhaps connected with Shakespeare's
Shylock.
As with racialized language, the examples
of Jewett's use of stereotypes can become problematic upon
closer examination. Attending to clues about context can
complicate one's understanding of Jewett's intentions.
If she calls herself wicked for allowing the ridiculous
aspects of the pianist to interfere with her obligation to
empathize, is she displaying xenophobia and nativism or
something nearly the opposite? In "To Each Body a
Spirit," I examine a difficult example of Jewett stereotyping
African Americans when she describes a Virginia garden in "The
White Rose Road." Jewett speaks in her own voice,
recounting the personal experience of admiring the
garden and learning about its owner:
Alas, she had grown too old and feeble to care for
her dear blossoms any longer, and had been forced to go to
live with a married son. I dare say that she was thinking of
her garden that very day, and wondering if this plant or
that were not in bloom, and perhaps had a heartache at the
thought that her tenants, the careless colored children,
might tread the young shoots of peony and rose, and make
havoc in the herb-bed. It was an uncommon collection, made
by years of patient toil and self-sacrifice.
One difficulty with interpreting racialized language is that
any acknowledgement of racial difference may be read as
betraying an intention to assert racial hierarchy and to
"other" its already marginalized subject. How can one
know whether Jewett intended such a distinction here? Is
there any way she could have signaled to the reader that the
tenants were African Americans without implying that
carelessness is to be seen as a unique defect of "colored
children?" Is this a
trap of
language of the kind Goldberg and Toni Morrison in
Playing in the Dark and others have
described as seemingly inescapable? Discussing a similar
reading problem, whether -- in
The Country of the Pointed
Firs -- the family's military-like march from the Bowden
house to dinner in the nearby grove should evoke images of
Nazi marches in 1930s Germany,
Laurie Shannon says:
"But it cannot be the case that all marches or gatherings must
echo and reflect forms of political violence. What is most
helpful here is to specify as particularly as possible the
discursive milieu in which these passages arise" (250).
However, as in the cases of the children in the garden, her
diary reference to the Black preacher, and her reference to
the "grabbing old Jew," there likely will be times when
context is lacking or insufficient. Often, though,
published texts that present marginalized characters provide
more context and are more revealing.
Survey of Jewett Texts that Represent
Racial and Ethnic Minorities
Next, I will survey in chronological
order the texts I am aware of in which Jewett represents
marginalized racial and ethnic groups. I will summarize
what, if anything, readers have said about race and ethnicity
in these pieces and will add other commentary as that seems
helpful. A main purpose of this survey is to suggest
directions for further study that may lead eventually to a
full and persuasive understanding of how Jewett thought about
race.
This may be a good point at which to be
explicit about why I include both race and ethnicity in this
discussion. One reason is that for Jewett and her
readers, race and ethnicity were not as distinct as they seem
to be for 21st-century readers. Another is that
followers of Bishop have characterized Jewett as
both
a white supremacist and a nativist. Nativism at the turn
of the twentieth century was fairly intent upon racializing
ethnicity -- e.g. dividing white Europeans into distinct races
-- but Jewett and her associates were more familiar with forms
of nativism that focused on national origin and on religious
and cultural differences to distinguish "true Americans" from
undesirable potential immigrants.
"
The
Orchard's Grandmother" (1871)
A central incident in this children's story
of refugees from England's Puritan revolution is a hostile
encounter with Native Americans. The natives are seen
through the eyes of a refugee child as hostile and
"wicked-looking," but their wild nature is complicated by
their foregoing an opportunity to kill or capture her.
The narrator says of this: "I am glad I know one kind thing
the Indians of those days did." While Jewett gives play
to English colonists' fears and stereotypes of the natives,
she also at least hints that the Native Americans are more
complicatedly human than those stereotypes would suggest.
"
Tame
Indians" (
1875)
This short story is based upon Jewett's
visit to the Oneida reservation near Green Bay, WI, during a
stay with family. The narrator at different points
undertakes, with some success, undoing anti-Indian sentiments
in the friends who visit the reservation with her, and in the
children to whom she narrates the story of that visit.
Charles
Johanningsmeier argues that Jewett sets out to challenge
stereotypes in her one extended piece dealing with Native
Americans.
"
York
Garrison: 1640" (1886)
This narrative poem for children re-uses
the encounter between New England colonists and natives in
"The Orchard's Grandmother," in which a little girl is spared
capture or death at the hands of merciless and animalistic
"Indians." However in this version, battle is avoided,
perhaps because Polly touches their "savage hearts":
What blessed mercy sudden shone
And covered many a sin!
The Indians shouted merrily
And Polly safe went in.
No tomahawks were thrown at her
And no one gave her chase;
Perhaps it touched their savage hearts --
That frightened little face!
The story seems for those dark times
A gleam of sunshine bright;
I hope they called the Indians friends
And gave them food that night.
Karen Oakes (
Kilcup)
sees Jewett manipulating stereotypes of Native Americans:
“Although the poem was ostensibly written for children, it
speaks vividly to the dominant culture’s exploration -- and
confirmation -- of power relations between Indians and whites,
while it points toward the transformative power of the
feminine” (172).
"
My
School Days" (1887)
This memoir of Jewett's time at the Berwick
Academy recalls considerable diversity among her fellow
students. Among her favorite schoolmates were sailors'
daughters who had traveled the world, a pair of charming Cuban
boys "with handsome dark faces," and a pair of Danes.
She valued these people, in particular, because they brought
her close to distant places with their stories, customs and
artifacts.
"
Mère
Pochette" (1888)
Set in Canada, this story provides a close
look at French Canadian village life, and it takes note of a
notorious feature of French Canadian migrant labor, showing
young locals seeking work in the United States when economic
conditions are poor at home. A significant portion of
Canadian immigrant workers considered themselves temporary
migrant labor, taking advantage of plentiful jobs in mill
towns, such as South Berwick and nearby Rollinsford, NH, but
planning to accumulate capital to return to Canada rather than
to become Americans. Though Jewett does not comment
directly upon this issue, her story may imply that, despite
the title character's disapproval of her daughter's marriage
to an American foreigner, the mixing of the two peoples in
that marriage has valuable consequences.
"
The
Mistress
of
Sydenham Plantation" (
1888)
Jewett sets this story in Beaufort, SC and
the adjacent Sea Islands, following her travel in the area
during an extended trip to Florida and South Carolina,
undertaken for the health of Annie Fields in the spring of
1888. The central event of their stay in Beaufort was a
visit with Laura Towne, the noted abolitionist and friend of
Fields. Out of her observations, Jewett created Mrs.
Sydenham, an elderly and mentally broken former plantation
owner, who commands Peter, her aged black servant, formerly
her slave, to accompany her on a trip to the Sydenham
Plantation. However, that plantation is no longer hers,
having been confiscated after the Union captured the area more
than 30 years earlier, near the beginning of the Civil War,
and the plantation house is a ruin. A main feature of
the story is repeated comparisons between the pre-war world
Sydenham believes still exists and the actual world of the
present. Peter, as a main point of view character,
observes many of these differences, but he wishes to protect
his mistress from the potentially devastating awakening from
her dream. The narrator frames the expedition within the
larger community's celebration of Easter, adding yet another
perspective on the events. Though quite short, this
story presents a complex view of an unusual corner of the
post-Reconstruction South.
This tale has a
history
of being read as a kind of reconciliation story. Gleason
summarizes these readings:
As both Mitzi Schrag and Sandra A. Zagarell have
argued, in her published short stories following The
Story of the Normans, Jewett attempted to use her
theory of Norman superiority to reconcile the national
rupture of the Civil War and the era of Reconstruction. In
two stories, "The Mistress of Sydenham Plantation" and "A
War Debt," Jewett draws on both her European trips and her
increasingly frequent convalescent stays at resorts in the
American South to advance a thesis that an infusion of New
England Norman blood into the crumbling southern aristocracy
would result in a resurgence of national unity and
international prominence as well as provide an antidote for
Reconstruction-era racial violence. In these stories, Jewett
laments the loss of the order and discipline she saw slavery
imposing upon African Americans, whom she represents as
"lawless, and unequal to holding their liberty with steady
hands . . . poor and less respectable than in the old
plantation days -- it was as if the long discipline of their
former state had counted for nothing" ("A War Debt").
(27)
Recent readings have questioned this interpretation. In
"To Each Body a Spirit," I argue that "in the persons of Mrs.
Sydenham and her white supremacist townsfolk, Jewett condemns
the South’s recourse to victimhood, which requires forgetting
history and leads to repeating the nation’s original sin,
exploiting and oppressing African Americans. And the only hope
for expiation and genuine reconciliation lies in fully
liberating and empowering those who have been truly
victimized" (142). In “'Fit to be Free': From Race to
Capacity in Jewett’s 'Mistress of Sydenham Plantation,'”
Vesna Kuiken explains the values of
placing the story's treatment of race against the background
of the failure of the Port Royal Experiment to fully affirm
the humanity of freed slaves.
The Irish Stories (1889-1901)
Jewett published eight stories about
the Irish and Irish immigrants:
"
The
Luck of the Bogans" 1889
"
A
Little Captive Maid" 1891
"
Between
Mass
and
Vespers" 1893
"
The
Gray Mills of Farley" 1898
"
Where's
Nora?" 1898
"
Bold
Words at the Bridge" 1899
"
A
Landlocked Sailor" 1899
"
Elleneen"
1901
Jack Morgan and Louis
A. Renza have
collected these into a
single volume. In their introduction, they contend that
Jewett was successful on the whole at conveying affection for
the Irish as a people and in the cultural work she undertook
of subverting the "Paddy stereotype" so apparent in much
contemporary writing and popular culture. Though they
see her sentimentalizing and romanticizing the Irish peasants,
they also show her exploring the complexity of the immigrant /
emigrant situation, recognizing that America for most Irish
was a kind of exile. She presents her readers with
evidence of how hard it was to adapt to a culture that was
highly individualistic and materialistic, coming from a
culture that was more communal and cooperative. They
conclude: "Her Irish narratives reflect ... a warm and
humorous interest in and concern for a people who had recently
undergone a cultural devastation of major proportions ... The
Great Hunger" (xliii). Further, these stories reject the
typical "one-dimensional saga" of immigrants shedding their
previous culture and transforming into Americans.
Instead, Jewett envisions a mutual cultural enrichment as
Irish immigrants change and are changed by their adopted
culture" (xliv).
"
Jim's
Little Woman" (
1890)
Set mainly in the multi-racial and
multi-ethnic city of
St.
Augustine, Florida, this story hints at tensions between
racial and ethnic groups, but it also presents a community of
mutual caring not unlike Dunnet Landing. At the center
of the plot is what earlier generations would have called a
"mixed marriage." Marty, a Protestant from New England,
seems to be of Scots-Irish ancestry. Her Catholic
husband, Jim, from Florida, had a Minorcan grandmother and a
"Yankee" grandfather. Madison Grant would have
characterized him and their children as mongrels reverting to
the lesser of the mixed races (17-18), but this does not seem
of concern to anyone in the story. Studying this text
next to
The Country of the Pointed Firs and "The
Foreigner" as a contrasting alternative image of an idealized
community would likely add useful dimensions to understanding
Jewett's racial thought.
"
The
Old
Town
of Berwick" (
1894)
In this essay on her home town, Jewett
reports local history stories told to her by old
residents. These include their memories of African
slaves owned by 18th-century residents: "... one may
still hear delightful stories of their strange traits of
inheritance and their loyal affection to the families which
they adopted as their own, and were always ready to
champion.... Cato was a native Guineaman, and the last
generation loved to recall the tradition of his droll ways and
speeches." Jewett does not question these accounts,
which seems a problematic deference to her sources.
Likewise, though she provides a good deal of local history
about relations with Native Americans, she offers little
commentary on these stories. The best-known of these is
the story of the 1690 captivity of Mrs. Mehetable (Hetty)
Goodwin, which Jewett retells in several of her publications,
such as
Betty Leicester (1890) and
The Tory Lover.
As a captivity narrative, it is fairly typical, including an
incident illustrating human sympathy in the midst of much
savagery, when a native woman helps Hetty conceal tears that
would have brought violence upon her from her male captors:
"'This squaw had a mother's heart,' the old people used to
say, in telling me the story."
Marion Rust has
studied this essay alongside a holograph text she has edited,
and she argues that Jewett's revisions indicate that she aimed
toward emphasizing greater diversity in the formation of her
community:
In this age-old dance of in- and exclusivity,
Jewett attempts to strike a balance. The substantive
emendations she made to the manuscript indicate that on
reflection she chose to broaden her conception of history to
include a wider spectrum of the region's inhabitants. Thus
she replaces the damning term "savages" with the more
neutral "Indians," and she adds a well-placed "great" more
accurately to reflect the "value" of non-English
contributions to the region.
It may be worth noting as an aside, that in
1891, Jewett's old friend, William Dean Howells, published
An
Imperative Duty, a novella that Jewett almost certainly
read. In that complex tale, Howells strongly challenges the
notions that racial identity is biologically hereditary and
stable, directly attacking the set of beliefs that
rationalized "the color line." A young woman raised as an
upper class white learns that she is 1/16th African, her
mother having been a slave. What is her "real" identity? Must
she place herself on "the right side" of the color line,
taking up a new life among segregated Blacks? Does she have a
duty to devote herself to helping the oppressed of "her own
race?" In responding to these and related questions, Howells's
male protagonist makes the case that racial identity is wholly
constructed, and therefore, she may in good conscience choose
freely how to identify herself and live out her life.
No evidence has yet emerged that Jewett
actually knew this book, but given her friendship with
Howells, it is hard to believe she did not read all of his
work. Examining her later writing in the light of what this
novella offers could prove useful.
"
A
War Debt," (1895)
Studying this story is complicated by
Jewett's apparent discomfort with her text, which resulted in
three fairly distinct published versions. Tom Burton of
Boston, the one remaining male in his family, undertakes a
journey of reconciliation, to return a symbol of old
friendship to the southern Bellamy family, similarly
devastated but also impoverished by the Civil War.
Having grown up at some distance from the war and recently
traveled in Europe, Burton enters upon his quest harboring a
number of naive opinions, some of which are changed as he
witnesses what the war has done to the South and to the family
he seeks. At the end of his visit in what presumably was
Jewett's final text, he seems ready to renew and deepen
friendship with the Bellamy family.
Like "The Mistress of Sydenham Plantation,"
this story has a history, in this case beginning with Bishop
(247-8), of being read as evidence of Jewett's purported
nostalgia for the pre-Civil War South. As I have shown
in "To Each Body a Spirit," such readings are problematic
(143-54). A main difficulty, indicated above, is that
Jewett's opinions cannot be so easily identified with those of
her character, Tom Burton. Even Burton's sympathy for an
aristocratic former slave-owning family with strong pre-war
ties to his own is repeatedly qualified by imagery of the
devastation at multiple levels, including material and
familial, that has resulted from the folly of insisting that
slavery could be compatible with American ideals.
"
Little
French Mary" (1895)
A charming young French Canadian girl
elicits the sympathy of a New England village for her
immigrant family. When opportunity calls the migrants
back to Canada, the villagers feel some resentment toward
these "foreigners" who have benefited from working in the
States, but have not chosen to become citizens. Still,
the good will little Mary has built in the community leads to
regret at their departure. In this story, then, Jewett
deals explicitly with one of the main American complaints
about French Canadian migrants, suggesting that even though
many merely are transient workers, still they can contribute
to their temporary communities.
The
Tory Lover (1901)
Jewett's "local history" novel follows the
fortunes of John Paul Jones and of a pair of young lovers in
an early year of the American Revolution, 1777-8. Jones
comes to Berwick late in 1777, recruiting sailors for the
Ranger,
planning to sail to France and take command of a warship being
built there. When this fails, he gains permission to use
the small
Ranger in a series of raids on the British
coast. Roger Wallingford, son of Berwick Tories, under
the influence of his lover, Mary Hamilton, chooses to serve
with Jones and sails to Europe with him. Captured in the
first raid, he is imprisoned in England. Mary and
Roger's mother sail for England to find him and seek his
release.
Of special interest for understanding
Jewett's racial thought is her portrait of 18th-century
Berwick, a slave-holding society. Focusing on a pair of
house slaves, Jewett presents their condition and treatment as
benign, especially in comparison to Harriet Beecher Stowe's
portrait of southern slavery, which was familiar to
Jewett. The two main slave characters, Caesar and
Rodney, occupy positions with their owners like that of Eliza
with the Shelbys in
Uncle Tom's Cabin (1852); they are
well-treated, almost members of the family. Still Jewett
leaves little doubt that the chief moral intelligences of the
novel see
slavery under any
circumstances as
an evil. In
Chapter 2, Jones opposes a local apologist for slavery:
The fierce temper
of the captain flamed to his face; he looked up at old Cæsar
who well remembered the passage from his native land, and
saw that black countenance set like an iron mask.
"I must beg your reverence's kind
pardon if I contradict you," said Paul Jones, with scornful
bitterness.
For reasons not perfectly clear, Jewett toned down Jones's
protest between the serial and book publication. In the
serial,
Jones recounts incidents of his experience in the slave trade
that determined him to avoid it thereafter, notably the
suicide of a captured mother separated from her child. Jones
concludes: "I shall never set my foot on board a hellish
slaver again. I had supped too full of horrors."
Except for my analysis in "To Each Body a
Spirit," there has been little discussion of race in this
novel and none, that I know of, about Jewett's depiction of
Berwick's early history and of the diversity of peoples
involved in its founding. Bishop and others who have
attended to this topic have focused on a repetition of the
Norman / Saxon opposition that also occurs in Chapter 2.
Major Tilly Haggens, an elderly Berwick leader, holds forth on
various topics and offers a theory of how the American civil
war against the British has come about:
The world was much with the major, and he was
nothing if not eager spoken. "People forget to look at the
antecedents of our various colonists; 't is the only way to
understand them. In these Piscataqua [River] neighborhoods
we do not differ so much from those of Virginia; 't is not
the same pious stock as made Connecticut and the settlements
of Massachusetts Bay. We are children of the Norman blood in
New England and Virginia, at any rate. `T is the Saxons who
try to rule England now; there is the cause of all our
troubles. Norman and Saxon have never yet learned to agree."
Bishop attributes this view to Jewett herself, despite the
narrative hint that Haggen's "eager spoken" views were
somewhat eccentric. From this he infers that Jewett was
offering, as particularly fitted to lead a new nation, the
admirable Berwick aristocracy, along with the Virginia
founding fathers, "who presumably enjoyed a less adulterated
Norman inheritance than their lesser brethren" (249). As
argued above, it is doubtful that Jewett herself thought of
Normans and Saxons as races still existing in 1777. That
Haggens
did think of them as distinct peoples seems
clear in his speaking of "Norman blood" and of certain
American colonists as directly descended from these
Normans. Later in the same passage Haggens claims
Huguenot
and Norman (French gallant) ancestry,
connecting himself as directly to the Normans as was possible
in his century. Jewett, however, did believe that the
attitudes toward change of the old Normans and Saxons
continued to manifest themselves as both strengths and
weaknesses in the British character. Several times in
The
Story
of
the Normans, Jewett presents statements like the
following about Modern England:
But whether the Norman spirit leads her to be
self-confident or headstrong and wilful, or the Saxon spirit
holds her back into slowness and dulness, and lack of proper
perception in emergencies or epochs of necessary change,
still she follows the right direction and leads the way. It
is the Norman graft upon the sturdy old Saxon tree that has
borne best fruit among the nations.... (Chapter
38)
Less extreme than Haggens, still she sees the Saxon impulse as
conservative and often unable to deal effectively with
"necessary change," while the Norman spirit of self-confidence
leads adventurers to found new nations, though it also
includes the dangers of being "headstrong and willful."
This novel also extends Jewett's
representations of Irish immigrants. One of the main
characters is Master John Sullivan, the Irish intellectual who
became a Berwick area schoolmaster and whose sons
distinguished themselves in the Revolutionary era in the
military, government, and law.
This survey shows that there is a rich and
not yet thoroughly examined set of texts in which Jewett
worked directly with materials that can help scholars develop
a more precise and persuasive understanding of her racial
thought. These texts are relevant both to her ideas
about race and to her relationship with nativism. From
her ten stories about Irish and French Canadians, one should
be able to learn a good deal about her views on including and
excluding groups and about how she understood the idea of
American identity. Morgan and Renza, for example,
suggest that Jewett's ideas about Irish assimilation did not
include conformity to some fixed notion of American racial or
cultural purity.
Readers surely will find other texts that
are pertinent to this inquiry, though perhaps not so directly
relevant. Among them would be "
River
Driftwood," (
1881), a sketch in
Jewett's own voice that includes meditations on her local
river. The opening is particularly revealing of her
Swedenborgian view of nature.
Speaking of the consciousness of animals, she concludes:
But the day will come for a more truly universal
suffrage than we dream of now, when the meaning of every
living thing is understood, and it is given its rights and
accorded its true value: for its life is from God's life,
and its limits were fixed by him; its material shape is the
manifestation of a thought, and to each body there is given
a spirit.
She closes with a metaphor of harbors:
One sees the likeness between a harborless heart
and a harborless country, where no ships go and come; and
since no treasure is carried away no treasure is brought in.
From this inland town of mine there is no sea-faring any
more, and the shipwrights' hammers are never heard now. It
is only a station on the railways, and it has, after all
these years, grown so little that it is hardly worth while
for all the trains to stop. It is busy and it earns its
living and enjoys itself, but it seems to me that its old
days were its better days. It builds cheaper houses, and is
more like other places than it used to be. The people of
fifty years ago had some things that were better than ours,
even if they did not hear from England by telegraph, or make
journeys in a day or two that used to take a week.
Both of these passages would seem to bear upon Jewett's views
on whether an ideal community would be more or less diverse
and inclusive. Another brief but potentially pertinent
piece is "
Unlearned
Lessons" (1889) in which Jewett addresses Berwick
Academy students on what she wishes she had learned more
thoroughly when she was at the academy. One among her
wishes is that she had learned to apply herself to study in a
more disciplined way. One of her conclusions bears upon her
understanding of the term "aristocracy."
Beside the needs of our personal characters, and
our duty to our neighbors we must not forget the need of
trained minds and clearheadedness in this young rich country
of ours. We are in great danger of degrading our national
wealth and power to unworthy ends. Through the possession of
culture only can we come to the real meaning and possession
of aristocracy: the rule of the best. The definition of this
word is as much degraded in common use as the meaning of a
word can be, but we must never forget the true sense of it,
and keep that high ideal always in our minds. We must not
have the rule of brute force in town or state, or the rule
of money, or of political trickery, but the rule of the
best. Knowledge is power, not ignorance; ignorance can only
delay, not advance.
Bishop finds a racial component in Jewett's sense of herself
as an aristocrat. What does this passage contribute to
understanding Jewett's aristocratic self-concept?
Colonialism
Another aspect of Jewett's racial thought
that has proven of interest is her attitude toward
colonialism. This is relevant to her racial thought
because she has been characterized since Bishop as
uncritically favoring British and American colonialism, which
often was rationalized as superior whites beneficently ruling
lesser races. Bishop points out that in an essay for
children, "
Cartridges"
(1874), Jewett offers a pro-British view of the Sepoy
Rebellion in India (243-4). The text seems to support at
least part of his assertion:
The Sepoys were native soldiers under the command
of foreign officers, and they had been well drilled and were
well armed and equipped; so they were formidable enemies,
and much more to be feared than if they were as ignorant and
undisciplined as the English found them.
Whether or not her account of the rebellion is wholly
pro-British, it seems clear that, near the beginning of her
career, Jewett saw the British as having improved Indian
military organization. Similarly, in
The Story of
the Normans, Jewett suggests that modern Britain's
greatness is shown in part by its colonial enterprise:
... let us never forget that much that has been
best in English national life has come from the Norman
elements of it rather than the Saxon. England the colonizer,
England the country of intellectual and social progress,
England the fosterer of ideas and chivalrous humanity, is
Norman England, and the Saxon influence has oftener held her
back in dogged satisfaction and stubbornness than urged her
forward to higher levels. The power of holding back is
necessary to the stability of a kingdom, but not so
necessary as the "Glory of going on and still to be -- -- --
-- " (Chapter
18)
It would not be especially surprising to discover that Jewett
saw British colonialism as bringing potential benefits to
colonized peoples, but as is clear in
The Story of the
Normans, Jewett does not succumb to the illusion that
conquest and colonial rule are always (or ever?) benevolent
processes. In the long perspective, William the
Conqueror brought certain benefits of Norman culture to Saxon
England, but at a very high cost in suffering and lives lost,
which is much more important to those directly involved.
This odd-seeming double perspective on colonial conquest
carries through Jewett's career, including her final novel
about the violent separation of a British colony in the bid
for independence by the United States.
Zagarell and Gleason call attention to two
examples of Jewett supporting imperialist dominance over other
"races," of the Irish by the British and of the various
colonies the United States obtained in the Spanish-American
War. In both cases, wide-spread popular opinion held
that supposedly inferior peoples were unable to govern
themselves and, therefore, in need of the benevolent rule of
colonial powers.
Zagarell says that in an 1886 letter to
Annie Fields, Jewett approved of British colonial rule over
Ireland (
"Country's Portrayal of Community,"
58). Jewett writes:
This morning I read Mr. Arnold's "Nineteenth
Century" paper with great joy. What a great man he is! That
holds the truth of the matter if anything does. It is all
very well to say, as Mr. Blaine does, "What business has
England?" The association of different peoples is after all
beyond human control: we are "mixed and sorted" by a higher
power. And looked at from the human side, what business has
one nation to keep another under her authority, but the
business of the stronger keeping the weaker in check when
the weaker is an enemy? It had to be settled between England
and Ireland certainly -- for the two races were
antagonistic, and England could not have said "no matter,
she may plague me and fight me as she pleases." Law and
order come in, and Ireland has a right to complain of being
badly governed, -- so has a child or any irresponsible
person, but we can't question the fact that they must be
governed. Ireland is backward, and when she is equal to
being independent, and free to make her own laws, I suppose
the way will be opened, and she will be under grace of
herself, instead of tutors and governors in England.
Everybody who studies the case, as Mr. Arnold has, believes
that she must still be governed. I don't grow very
sentimental about Ireland's past wrongs and miseries. If we
look into the history of any subject country, or indeed of
any country at all, the suffering is more likely to be
extreme that length of time ago, and I think as Mr. Arnold
does, and as Mr. Lowell did, that the mistake of our time is
in being governed by the ignorant mass of opinion, instead
of by thinkers and men who know something. (Fields, Letters,
#10)
Zagarell understands Jewett to be arguing that the British and
the Irish are different races, the Irish inferior to the
British. Thereby, Jewett justifies colonial rule on the
basis of a racial hierarchy. It would seem clear from the
text, however, that these are not Jewett's opinions.
Persuaded by Matthew Arnold's argument
about the question of Irish
home-rule in "
The Nadir of Liberalism," Jewett rejects
James G. Blaine's views in a June 1, 1886 speech in Portland,
ME. in which he advocated passage of William Gladstone's
home-rule bill, then being debated in the English
parliament. Jewett believes that, in the current
situation, British rule will benefit the Irish, because they
seem unable to rule themselves successfully. However she
does not see the two peoples as different races arranged by
nature or God into a permanent hierarchy. Instead, she
expresses here an argument to which she returns in
The
Story of the Normans, upon which she was working at the
time of this letter. She points out that "from the human
side," British rule really is "the stronger keeping the weaker
in check when the weaker is an enemy." British rule is
naked dominance carried out primarily in the British
self-interest, as was the case at the time of the American
Revolution as depicted in
The Tory Lover. But
she also believes that Divine Providence "mixes and sorts"
peoples for its own purposes, and she has faith that the
Divine Purpose for humanity as a whole ultimately is being
"under grace" of oneself, liberty and self-rule. For
this reason, she is confident that in God's chosen time, the
Irish will rule themselves. Though Zagarell rightly
suspects any rationalization of colonialism, this text does
not support the notion that Jewett's white supremacist beliefs
led her to view colonial rule as justified by a permanent
racial hierarchy.
In passing, it may be interesting to
compare this opinion to Robert E. Lee's infamous defense of
slavery in his
27 December 1856 letter to his
wife. While he acknowledges that slavery in itself is an
evil, he avers that American slavery is a greater evil for
whites than for Blacks: "The blacks are immeasurably better
off here than in Africa, morally, socially & physically.
The painful discipline they are undergoing, is necessary for
their instruction as a race, & I hope will prepare &
lead them to better things. How long their subjugation may be
necessary is known & ordered by a wise God." The two
arguments have superficial similarities, including Lee's
apparent belief that God will eventually free Blacks from
slavery. However, Lee's argument depends upon a premise
of white racial superiority, while Jewett's concerns a
nation's cultural readiness for self-governance. While
both arguments deserve a skeptical response, it would seem
clear that Jewett's view of the time when the Irish nation
will be ready for independence is nearer than Lee's notion of
the day when Blacks will be his equal.
Gleason points to another Jewett letter to
argue that she was a supporter of the Spanish-American War,
believing that the United States would be a better colonial
ruler than Spain (29). In a 10 June 1898 letter written
from France to Sara Norton, Jewett says:
I feel quite as you do, but I think I can see
better and better every day that it was a war which could
not be hindered, after all. Spain has shown herself
perfectly incompetent to maintain any sort of civilization
in Cuba, and things are like some sultry summer days, when
there is nothing for it but to let a thunder-shower do its
best and worst, and drown the new hay, and put everything
out of gear while it lasts. The condition is larger than
petty politics or mercenary hopes, or naval desires for
promotion, or any of those things to which at one time or
another I have indignantly "laid it." I feel more than ever
that such a war is to be laid at the door of progress, and
not at any backward steps toward what we had begun to feel
was out of date, the liking for a fight. I think that it is
all nonsense to talk about bad feeling here in France, as it
is certainly in England; for however people deplore the war
in general and pity Spain, they generally end by saying that
it was the only way out -- that we had to make war, and then
we all say that it must be short! If we could drown a few
newspapers from time to time, it would keep up our drooping
hearts and make us willing to bear the hearing of foolish
details, and even painful details. It seems like a question
of surgery, this cure of Cuba -- we must not mind the things
that disgust and frighten us, if only the surgery is in good
hands. You know how much I saw of those islands two years
ago? I cannot feel that the natural conditions of life are
hard in the way they can be hard to poor Russians, for
instance: a West Indian cannot freeze -- he is impatient of
clothes -- he can pick a good dinner at almost any time of
year off the next bush. But he can suffer in other ways, and
Spain has made Cuba suffer in those ways far too long.
(Fields, Letters,
#86)
Of this Gleason says:
In this remarkable passage, Jewett exhibits
tension between her desire for a benevolent US imperialism
and her anxiety over military excess and the brutal
realities of empire building. The process of wresting Cuba
from the "incompetent" Spanish is naturalized through its
metaphorical transformation to a thunderstorm, a violent,
immutable force that must run its course (and in the
process, "drown" a few newspapers for excessively reporting
the horrors of war). Much like the storm that figures
prominently in "The Foreigner," the storm of war, for
Jewett, is an irresistible process. (29)
It may be true that Jewett hoped the United States would
follow up the war with a benevolent attitude toward
Cuba. Two years earlier, during her Caribbean cruise
with Fields, the Aldriches, and Pierce, she was present at a
dinner aboard Pierce's steam yacht in Santo Domingo harbor,
given for
Ulises Hilarión Heureaux
Leibert (1845-1899), president of the Dominican
Republic. Fields, in her
diary of the
trip, is impressed with this apparently strong leader of
a Black Caribbean democracy, though, after his assassination,
his corruption and thuggery became generally known.
Fields reports in detail his hopeful opinions about the Cuban
revolution against Spain, then in progress (February 13-15,
1896). Its leader, José Martí, had died in battle in 1895, but
by early 1896, the rebellion had gained a number of
successes. The vicious Spanish response, causing the
deaths of hundreds of thousands of civilians, eventually drew
the American battleship
Maine into Havana harbor to
protect American interests, leading up to the Spanish-American
War. Assuming that Jewett believed Providence intended
national autonomy for the Cubans, just as for the Irish and
for American colonists in 1776, and that her admiration for
President Heureaux's supposed democratic ideals matched
Fields's, she probably shared his optimism and was deeply
disappointed by events in Cuba following her visit.
Gleason finds in Jewett a tension between
her purported support for American imperialism and her view of
the horrors of the war, but this is not what Jewett says in
the letter. Rebecca Walsh points out that the recipient,
Sara Norton, was the daughter of Charles Eliot Norton, an
opponent of the war who became a vocal member of the
Anti-Imperialist League (which was just beginning to form in
June 1898), and that Jewett's letter is calculated to console
her and her family for this key defeat of their values
(304). It is not surprising, therefore, that Jewett
returns yet again to the view she took of the Norman Conquest
and of Irish Home Rule in 1886. There are two ways of
looking at any violent and foolish human event. From the
point of view of those involved in a war or suffering under
oppressive colonial rule, anger and anguish, such as Jewett
and Norton have felt throughout the period of the 1898 war,
are perfectly reasonable. But she can reinterpret the
seeming inevitability of a war so many of her friends opposed
and, thereby, console herself and Sara Norton with the faith
that Providence governs the storm, that God is or guides the
surgeon, and that in God's time, future good will come from
present evil.
Jewett repeated this idea of
providence in history in a slightly different key in an
earlier letter, one of a pair from the spring of 1898 to her
nephew, Theodore Jewett Eastman, in which she brings up the
Spanish-American War. She writes as if aware that the
19-year-old Theodore is attracted to the prospect of a war and
an admirer of things military, perhaps somewhat afraid that he
might enlist. On 21 April, anticipating his joining her later
in Europe, she writes:
Miss [Rose] Kingsley was full of excitement about
the war, as we are: you cant think how it troubles us, and
being so far away and all. I hate to think of
our northern men going down into those steaming islands this
summer -- I do hope that it will not have to be. But
"there's a providence in it" as old Mrs. Raynes [ Jewett's
elementary teacher ] used to say, and I try to think that a
good stirring up will be good for some who might drift along
comfortably -- The aimless people sometimes get an
aim thrust upon them -- -- I can imagine how excited you and
all the fellows must be -- What would the fellows in the
Naval Academy have done if there had been no war and they
had to stay & pass their exams? -- but this is a very
trivial way of looking at a great affair, and I must not
speak so ---- After all, it does seem as if war was the
concern of older men -- You will see soldiering enough
and plenty of gay uniforms in the London streets -- I think
you will like to see the horse guards on sentry duty as you
go down St James's.
Writing carefully to a different audience, Jewett seems
concerned not to inflame her nephew's enthusiasm and not to
appear opposed to his opinions about the rightness of the war.
Earlier in this letter, she notes she is sending him a
clipping from the London
Times expressing support for
American actions in Cuba. In the above passage, though, she
confesses how troubled she is about what is to come, glances
at the "small" concerns young soldiers might have, and then
she asks him to take the larger view, to consider whether
there may something providential in how events are unfolding.
Here as in her letter to Norton, Jewett shows no positive
opinion of the war or its immediate consequences, but she
tries to trust -- in a way she believes her religious faith
encourages -- that from the perspective of eternity, "the arc
of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice."
Secular critics tend to ignore or repress
Jewett's Christian progressivism, an optimistic view of human
history that, while widely accepted among Jewett's
contemporaries, enjoys a good deal of contempt in later years
among both Christian and secular thinkers. Yet one's
skepticism, if it leads to ignoring Jewett's manifest faith,
is a mistake that will continue to produce misreadings.
Though it appears that Jewett was more aligned with
anti-Imperialism than with white racial domination of
non-white cultures, her rationalizations of British and
American colonialist actions must remain troubling,
particularly in the light of subsequent experience. Though I
believe that Zagarell and Gleason misread Jewett's letters, I
am not able to assert that Jewett was free of sympathy for
British and American colonialism. There are several
Jewett texts that scholars can examine in order to develop a
clearer idea of Jewett's position, among them
The Story of
the Normans and
The Tory Lover, both of which
deal with interactions between colonizers and the
colonized. Additionally, there is the rich and, as yet,
little studied manuscript by Annie Fields, "Diary of a West
Indian Island Tour" (1896). Examining Fields's
observations and reactions as she and Jewett visit British and
Spanish colonies, as well as independent Haiti and the
Dominican Republic, surely will reveal a good deal about how
Fields thought about both race and colonialism.
However, as this whole essay has urged,
caution is required. Fields's opinions in her diary are
complicated in a variety of ways and need patient and careful
contextualization to become clear. Further, one should
not
assume that Jewett and Fields saw the islands in
exactly the same way. For one example, I have mentioned
above a passage Jewett wrote about Port au Prince, in which
she said: "Then we went to Hayti, which was oh, so funny
with its pomp of darkeys. Port au Prince was quite an awful
scene of thriftlessness and silly pretense --" The view
of the port that Fields expresses is notably darker:
Here we passed Saturday morning -- a more
strangely barbarian place probably does not exist on the
face of the earth! Strangely barbarian -- because it
is not exactly the wild and native barbarian one sees just
as he may be found in the wilds of Africa, but after years
of occupation by Spanish, English and French -- here it is
the place at last abandoned to the colored people who have
multiplied like the ant, and without government or schools
or churches to influence them outside of themselves they
continue to multiply with the fertility of unchecked animal
creation, while drink and unthrift coupled with their love
of music and color and the shows of things produces a
condition of things happily not to be seen elsewhere --
(January 24, 1896)
Fields's reaction to Port au Prince is so strongly negative
that she broods upon it and returns repeatedly to expressing
the view that there she has seen the lowest level to which
humanity can fall. At one point, she says that Haiti
probably cannot be restored to a civilized order without
exterminating much of the current population (February 19,
1896). While it is quite likely that Jewett and Fields
discussed their impressions of Haiti, determining the extent
to which they agree would be as complex as determining what
either believes in the first place.
Much of what has been positively asserted
about Jewett's racial thought proves upon examination to lack
persuasive supporting evidence. She probably was not a
nordicist, or a nativist, or even an imperialist. She
probably did not think of Normans and Saxons as distinct races
persisting through history. Probably she did not believe
the Irish to be inherently inferior to Normans. Nor did she
likely believe non-whites (e.g. Cubans, Native Americans or
even African Americans) to be inferior to "white"
people. There is textual evidence that she at least
occasionally used language and stereotypes that implicate her
in the racialized thinking that Goldberg argues has been
generally shared in the West since about the turn of the 16th
century. Goldberg's thought is informed by the
21st-century scientific consensus that at the biological
level, race does not exist, and, therefore, race is entirely a
social construct. Even though this is well-known, race
remains a discursive reality in the western world.
Westerners claim, acknowledge, and confer racial identity in
myriad ways. Surely, then, in a period when racial
identity probably was universally believed to be grounded in
bodily reality, Jewett shared in some way in that
belief. Indeed, though Jewett seems to have little to
say about physical differences between groups, she does at
least sometimes take note of skin color and other physical
features, and her narrators and characters several times
indicate that they can detect bodily signs of a specific
ancestry, such as French or Norman. Whether taking note
of difference leads to Jewett accepting any specific
structures built on observed differences remains difficult to
ascertain.
There are at least 20 texts in which Jewett
works with materials directly relevant to understanding her
racial thought, most of them little studied. In this
essay, I have presented evidence to suggest that Jewett
thought of races, ethnicities and nations as varying through
time in their cultural value and power. She believed that in
1066, the Normans were culturally and militarily superior to
the Saxon English. She believed that in 1886, the
British were politically and militarily superior to the
Irish. But there also is persuasive evidence that
Jewett, as a Christian progressive, believed that God's will
for all peoples was self-determination. As a result,
when one attempts to view the whole of human history, one may
see that interactions and exchanges (violent or not) between
different peoples ultimately result in the progress of all
toward individual and national autonomy. Will further
study of Jewett's work confirm these conclusions? That
is less important than that scholarship on Jewett (and on her
contemporaries) enter into the discussion of race in a more
reasonable way than it often has in the last half century, by
approaching the topic dispassionately, focusing on evidence
that is truly relevant, and contextualizing with care.
Acknowledgment
I am grateful to the Midwest 19th-century
Americanists Group for comments and suggestions: Jill
Anderson, John Barton, Jessica DeSpain, Melissa Homestead,
Etta Madden, Laura Mielke, Amber Shaw, Vanessa
Steinroetter, Maureen Tuthill.
Notes
Ferman
Bishop,
"Sarah Orne Jewett's Ideas of Race."
New England
Quarterly 36:2 (June 1957): 243-9.
[
Back ]
Sarah Orne Jewett,
The
Story
of
the Normans (New York:
Putnam's,
1887).
[
Back ]
For Jewett's
ancestry, see
Frederick C. Jewett,
History and Genealogy of the
Jewetts of America (New York: Grafton, 1908), xv.
[
Back ]
Sandra
Zagarell, "Country's
Portrayal of Community and the Exclusion of Difference,"
in
New Essays on The Country of the Pointed Firs,
edited by June Howard, (New York: Cambridge UP, 1994),
39-60; and "Crosscurrents: Registers of nordicism,
Community, and Culture in Jewett's
Country of the
Pointed Firs,"
Yale Journal of Criticism
10.2 (Fall 1997): 355-70. Zagarell also uses
these ideas in "Troubling Regionalism: Rural Life and the
Cosmopolitan Eye in Jewett's
Deephaven,"
American
Literary History 10.4 (Winter 1998): 656-8.
[
Back ]
Patrick
Gleason, "Sarah Orne
Jewett's 'The Foreigner' and the Transamerican Routes of
New England Regionalism,"
Legacy 28:1 (2011):
25-46.
[
Back ]
Thomas F.
Gossett,
Race: The
History of an Idea in America (Dallas: Southern
Methodist University Press, 1963).
[
Back ]
William Z.
Ripley,
The
Races
of
Europe. (New York: D. Appleton,
1899).
[
Back ]
John
Higham,
Strangers in the Land
(New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1955). See
also Barbara Solomon,
Ancestors and Immigrants
(Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1956), 201-2. For
a brief account of the development of scientific racism see
Chapter 1 of Cathy Boeckmann,
A Question of Character:
Scientific Racism and the Genres of American Fiction,
1892-1912 (Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press,
2000).
[
Back ]
Madison
Grant,
The
Passing
of
the Great Race (New York: Scribner's, 1916).
I draw upon the 1918 reprinting, mainly from "Part 1: Race,
Language and Nationality."
[
Back ]
Gossett concurs with Solomon and Higham, but argues that
Theodore Lothrop
Stoddard was more
successful at reaching a mass audience with nordicist polemic
in his series of popular magazine articles and books,
beginning around 1920 (390-8).
[
Back ]
Annie
Fields,
Letters
of
Sarah
Orne Jewett (Boston: Houghton, Mifflin,
1911), 18; letter 7.
[
Back ]
David Theo
Goldberg,
Racist
Culture (Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1993). I draw
especially on Chapters 2 and 5.
[
Back ]
Edward
Saveth,
American
Historians
and
European Immigrants, 1875-1925 (New York: Russell
and Russell, 1965).
[
Back ]
Edward
A. Freeman,
Some
Impressions
of
the United States (London: Longman, Green, 1883),
137-8.
[
Back ]
See "
Jewett's
Sources
for
The Story of the Normans."
[
Back ]
For a discussion of
Aldrich's views on
immigration, see Terry Heller, "
Thomas
Bailey
Aldrich
and the Immigration Restriction League" (2014).
One point of this essay is to call into
question the general agreement about Aldrich's affiliation
with the Immigration Restriction League. Aldrich, it is
asserted, belonged to and supported the IRL and its policies,
though there is no documentary evidence to support this
belief. Because of their close friendship, Aldrich's
supposed anti-immigration stance, it is assumed, must have
been shared by Jewett.
Relevant to this point is a
December 1908 letter to Annie Fields in
which Jewett recounts a mutual friend's enthusiastic report
after attending the 1908 International Y.M.C.A.convention in
Washington, D.C. He was especially excited by the speech
of an immigrant professor of religion from Iowa's Grinnell
College, Edward Alfred Steiner, who argued that the problems
with the rush of immigration from southern Europe -- deplored
by the Immigration Restriction League -- were not with the
immigrants, but with Americans: "It seems that the Association
has already begun to send workers over to Italy and Hungary
etc. to know the people at home before they come in order to
work better among them after they get here." Jewett goes
on to suggest that these ideas would interest their mutual
friend, Georgina Schuyler
, a New York philanthropist
whose activities included donating the bronze plaque with the
sonnet, "The New Colossus," by her friend Emma Lazarus, that
appears at the Statue of Liberty.
[
Back ]
Jacques
Barzun,
Race: A Study in
Superstition (New York: Harper and Row, 1937, Revised
1965), Chapter 2, "The Nordic Myth."
[
Back ]
Elizabeth
Ammons in "Material Culture,
Empire, and Jewett's
Country of the Pointed Firs," in
New Essays on The Country of the Pointed Firs, edited
by June Howard, (New York: Cambridge UP, 1994), 81-99,
describes the Maine fishing village, as portrayed particularly
in the Bowden reunion, as "proto-fascist." She
concludes that
Country seems disturbingly
contradictory: the features of Dunnet Landing
"articulate a vision of preindustrial matrifocal harmony,
health, and happiness. But they also stand for white
colonial settlement and dominance" (96-7). Ammons, like
Zagarell, reads
Country as a nostalgic evocation of a
mythical, ideal community: preindustrial, matrifocal,
homogeneous, and Nordic. While the story presents a
village that feminist readers have found attractive, it turns
out that this community rests upon a foundation of genocidal
white supremacy and nativism. Zagarell contends that the
purpose of the novel is to create in readers a longing to
return to the simpler, more integral, ways of a pastoral
village, to recognize this state as their natural origin, to
give readers possession of themselves as belonging to this
community (
"Country's Portrayal of Community,"
50-52). In this way, Jewett imagines an ideal
America. From this utopia, Native Americans have been
erased, and the current idealized occupants are Nordic.
From this utopia, the different are excluded. Zagarell
goes on to argue that Jewett herself seems to have recognized
this problem, but only after publication, for, in "The
Foreigner," Jewett "problematizes the kind of homogeneity and
nativism she celebrates in
Country.... Evoking
the unhappy experience of life in Dunnet Landing for French,
Catholic Mrs. Tolland ...., she dramatizes Dunnet's
repudiation of a foreigner whose class, sexual expressiveness,
religion, culture, and nationality set her apart from the
community" (55).
Zagarell further rethinks the arc of
Jewett's racial thought in "Troubling Regionalism: Rural Life
and the Cosmopolitan Eye in Jewett's
Deephaven."
American Literary History 10:4 (Winter 1998): 639-63,
seeing her moving always further from valuing diversity after
Deephaven (1877):
"Country also endorses
nativism and other conservative creeds with which regionalist
practice was often consonant, emphasizing New England's
putative nordicism and portraying rural New England as an
exclusive community that preserves the origins of the nation
as well as New England" (657).
For an elaboration of the view that
Jewett steps back from valorizing whiteness in "The
Foreigner," see Mitzi Schrag, "'Whiteness' as Loss in
Sarah Orne Jewett's 'The Foreigner'."
Jewett and Her
Contemporaries: Reshaping the Canon. Eds. Karen
Kilcup and Thomas Edwards. Gainesville: University Press
of Florida, 1999, 185-206.
Gleason is skeptical of Jewett's
success in "The Foreigner" at problematizing the imperialist
nativism of
Country. He sees Jewett as
attempting the impossible, trying "to reconcile her support of
specific US imperial projects while simultaneously mourning
the erasures that those very projects bring about" and trying
to forget America's imperialist past (41-2). For an
interpretation of "The Foreigner" as complexly critiquing
colonialist notions, see Rebecca Walsh, "Sugar, Sex, and
Empire: Sarah Orne Jewett’s 'The Foreigner' and the
Spanish-American War," in
A Concise Companion to American
Studies, Edited by John Carlos Rowe (Malden, MA:
Wiley-Blackwell, 2010), 303-319.
[
Back
]
Sandra A. Zagarell, "Old Women and Old Houses: New England
Regionalism and the Specter of Modernity in Jewett's
Strangers
and Wayfarers,"
American
Literary Realism 34.3 (Spring 2002): 251-64.
[
Back ]
See Mark
Storey, "Sarah Orne Jewett's
Foreign Correspondence," in
The Edinburgh Companion
to Nineteenth-Century American Letters and Letter-Writing.
Edited
by
Celeste-Marie Bernier, Judie Newman, Matthew Pethers,
(Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2016),
682-96. Challenging much of the work published on
Jewett's letters, Storey finds in the Fields and Cary letter
collections that Jewett's international travel influenced her
understanding and depiction of her region, that she came to
see New England through a limited cosmopolitan lens. This is
reflected, for example, in "The Life of Nancy," when Tom
Aldis, after living more than a decade in Europe, returns to
Boston intending to sell his property in a coastal Maine
village. He changes his mind upon revisiting the
village: "his own 'new eyes' end up re-enchanting him as to
the value of his native ground" (686). While East Rodney
is not precisely his native ground, his experience during an
extended stay and becoming acquainted with Nancy, works on him
as Dunnet Landing works on the narrator of
The Country of
the Pointed Firs, helping him come to feel that the
village is a second home. Like the narrator -- and with
some differences -- like Jewett herself, Tom is familiar with
three different landscapes: his native Boston, a Maine fishing
village, and somewhere in Europe. His life outside the
rural region contributes to his appreciation of that region.
[
Back ]
Sarah Orne Jewett,
The
Country
of
the Pointed Firs Chapter
18.
[
Back
]
Josephine
Donovan, "
Jewett
on
Race,
Class, Ethnicity, and Imperialism: A Reply to Her Critics,"
Colby Quarterly 38, no. 4 (December 2002): 403-16.
[
Back ]
The
Houghton Library holds a
collection of Jewett's drawings and watercolors that may be
viewed
on-line.
[
Back ]
Sarah
Orne Jewett,
Diary
1869.
[
Back
]
Terry
Heller, "To Each Body a Spirit:
Jewett and African Americans,"
New England Quarterly
84:1 (2011) 123-58
[
Back ]
Toni Morrison,
Playing in the Dark
(New York: Vintage, 1992).
[
Back ]
Laurie
Shannon, "'The Country of
Our Friendship': Jewett's Intimist Art."
American
Literature 71:2 (June 1999) 227-262.
[
Back ]
Charles
Johanningsmeier,
"Subverting Readers' Assumptions and Expectations: Jewett's
'Tame Indians'.
American Literary Realism 34.3 (Spring
2002): p233-50. See also: Terry Heller, "Sarah Orne
Jewett’s Transforming Visit: 'Tame Indians,' and One Writer’s
Professionalization,"
New England Quarterly
86:4 (December 2013) 655-684.
[
Back ]
Karen
Oakes, “’Colossal in Sheet-Lead’:
The Native American and Piscataqua-Region Writers.” Sarah L.
Giffen and Kevin D. Murphy, editors,
A Noble &
Dignified Stream. (York, ME: Old York Historical
Society, 1992) 165-176.
[
Back ]
Notable among those who have
paired "The
Mistress of Sydenham Plantation" and "A War Debt" as
illustrating Jewett's sympathy for the defeated Confederate
aristocracy and her belief that restoring their old way of
life would help to reunify the nation are:
Josephine Donovan,
Sarah Orne
Jewett, Revised Edition. (Christchurch, NZ:
Cybereditions, 2001; First Edition 1980), 74.
Graham Frater, "'A Brave Happiness': Rites
and Celebrations in Jewett's Ordered Past."
Jewett and Her
Contemporaries: Reshaping the Canon. Ed. Karen L. Kilcup
and Thomas S. Edwards. (Gainesville, FL: UP of Florida, 1999.
251-64); see 259-62.
Alison Easton, “Nation Making and Fiction
Making: Sarah Orne Jewett,
The Tory Lover, and Walter
Scott, Waverly,"
Special Relationships:
Anglo-American Antagonisms and Affinities, 1854-1936
(New York: Manchester University, 2002), p. 157.
Sandra A. Zagarell, "Old Women and Old
Houses," 262.
Judith Fetterley and Margorie Pryse.
Writing
out
of
Place: Regionalism, Women, and American Literary
Culture. (Urbana: U of Illinois Press,
2003), 298.
[
Back ]
Vesna
Kuiken, “'Fit to be Free': From
Race to Capacity in Jewett’s 'Mistress of Sydenham
Plantation,'"
J19: The Journal of Nineteenth-Century
Americanists 5.2 (Fall 2017) 239-266).
[
Back ]
Jack Morgan and Louis A.
Renza,
"Introduction,"
The Irish Stories of Sarah Orne Jewett
(Carbondale:
Southern
Illinois UP, 1996).
[
Back
]
Marion
Rust, "'
The
Old Town of Berwick' by Sarah Orne Jewettt,"
New
England Quarterly 73 (March 2000) 122-58.
[
Back ]
Though several critics have argued that Jewett was sympathetic
to southern slave-owners and
nostalgic
for
the
social order of pre-Civil War America, there would seem to be
little evidence to support this view. Perhaps the
strongest direct evidence is in "A War Debt," but as I have
argued, this material is not straightforward. Two other
texts may shed a little more light upon Jewett's personal
attitude toward slavery. The tragic plot of "
In
Dark New England Days" (1890) is set in motion by the
theft of "devil's gold," money earned in part from the slave
trade. Walsh notes that the captains who rescue Mrs.
Tolland from Jamaica in "The Foreigner" are engaged in a leg
of the slave trade as they transport timber to Jamaica and
return with slave-produced sugar. The wealth that
Captain Tolland supposedly accumulates from this trade
disappears, as does the "devil's gold" of "In Dark New England
Days," and the attempt to recover it, after Mrs. Todd becomes
the most recent Tolland heir, results in more loss when Todd's
uncle burns down her inherited house while searching for the
lost treasure. These two stories tend to confirm Jones's
opinion in
The Tory Lover that the slave trade is
cursed. Joseph Church, in "Fathers, Daughters, Slaves:
The Haunted Scene of Writing in Jewett's 'In Dark New England
Days',"
American Transcendental Quarterly 5.3 (Sept.
1991): 205-24, has noted that race is a significant aspect in
that story.
[
Back ]
For an exploration of racial and ethnic
diversity
in
Jewett's
portrait of St. Augustine, see: "
The
Diverse
People
of 'Jim's Little Woman' by Sarah Orne Jewett."
Among the Irish stories, "The Gray Mills of Farley" is of
interest for its portrayal of a community similar to Jewett's
South Berwick, which was ethnically more diverse than Dunnet
Landing. See Sarah Way Sherman, "Jewett and the
Incorporation of New England: 'The Gray Mills of Farley'."
American
Literary Realism 34.3 (Spring 2002): 191-216.
[
Back ]
For fuller explanation of
Swedenborg's
influence
upon
Jewett, see Josephine Donovan, "Jewett and Swedenborg,"
American
Literature 65.4 (Dec. 1993): 731-50.
[
Back ]
Matthew
Arnold, "The Nadir of
Liberalism,"
Nineteenth Century 19:111 (May 1886),
645-663. See the
notes
for
Jewett's
June 1886 letter for more information about the
documents to which Jewett refers.
[
Back
]
Annie Fields,
Diary
of
a
West
Indian Island Tour, 1896.
[
Back
]
Copyright April 2016, revised September 2019 and February
2021, by Terry Heller, Coe College.